Colombia: Narrow Escape from Field Trip Bus

Following the conference of the International Soil Conservation Organization (ISCO) in Medellin, Colombia, we had a choice between two one-day field trips on Friday, July 12. One trip visited a coffee growing area around the city of Venecia and the other looked at profiles of volcanic soils and commercial flower cultivation east of Medellin. I chose the latter because I’d seen enough of coffee cultivation during the pre-conference field trip. The choice provided more excitement than I’d expected from the trip description.

Medellin, site of the 2013 ISCO Conference, is located in the Central Andes Mountains of northwestern Colombia.

We met at 7:00AM next to the Plaza Mayor convention center in Medellin where two buses (one for each trip) awaited us. As soon as I figured out which was the bus for my trip, I grabbed a seat next to the window on the right side immediately behind the door. I wound up with an empty seat next to me as there were only about 20 of us on a bus that held about 30. As the green and white bus headed east on Calle 49 (49^th Street), I slid the window open and started shooting photos of the neighborhoods we passed. However, I soon decided to close the window between photos because of the bus’s exhaust fumes. Calle 49 became a steep upgrade and the bus was apparently belching a lot of smoke as I noticed pedestrians holding their noses as we passed them. Since I was near the front, I couldn’t see how bad the exhaust actually was but other riders later reported that it was black and nasty. Calle 49 eventually became a narrow road leading out of the valley where the city is located (elevation 1500-1600 meters or about 5100 feet). We continued to climb up the steep mountainside past forests, little farms, and modest houses with dramatic views. 
 

7:14 AM Joel Monschke, a civil engineer from Richmond, California, boards our ill-fated bus.
 

8:11 AM.   Climbing up the steep grade out of Medellin, older neighborhoods and new apartment buildings such as this one eventually give way to small farms and rural homes perched on steep hillsides.

Suddenly, as we rounded a corner, the engine became noisier and smoke started to seep from around the edges of the plate over the engine which was located immediately behind the driver’s gearshift. My mind flashed back 27 years to Botswana (southern Africa) where I had seen the same thing happen on a bus I was riding back to the capital city. So I immediately knew this bus engine was history and our field trip was over. The engine noise soon turned to the clanging sound of metal on metal and we quickly coasted to a stop. I was unpleasantly surprised that the dead engine continued to smoke and the fumes started wafting back into the passenger area. I opened my window to get some air and grabbed my pack figuring it was probably a good time to get the hell out of there sooner rather than later. The driver seemed oblivious to what was going on behind him and someone shouted to him twice, “Open the door!” before he obliged and we orderly descended the steps out into the fresh air.

8:34 AM  Our driver seems oblivious to the smoke starting to emanate from the engine compartment to his right.

Smoke was now pouring out from under the bus. The driver climbed under the front of the bus and sprayed the engine with a fire extinguisher. He and another man directed a couple of fire extinguishers at other smoking areas around the front of the bus. I had scampered up a small hill on the side of the road for a better view of the action. I noticed an American colleague, Joel Monschke, run behind the bus, open up the luggage compartment, and retrieve his suitcase which he had brought along because he had a flight home later in the day. Joel was soon to find out that he was damn lucky that the driver had not locked the luggage compartment.
 

8:35 AM  With everyone safely off the bus, the driver crawls under the front of the bus to attack the smoking engine with a fire extinguisher.

The smoke subsided somewhat and I figured the now empty fire extinguishers had brought things under control. Not so. Seven minutes after the engine blew, smoke started pouring out of the bus and a minute later flames began shooting out the windows. The front window soon cracked to pieces from the heat and a tall plume of black smoke headed skyward. I kept backing away from the bus but a couple colleagues moved to within about 50 feet to get a closer look at the action. I ran up to them and suggested they might want to move back. “If the fuel tank explodes, this could really get ugly,” I warned. I have the impression that people usually don’t take my advice but in this case they did.



8:36 AM  It seemed like the fire extinguishers were working as the smoke died down at the front of the bus.

8:39 AM   Without much warning, the smoke intensifies.  Flames are now visible below the bus.

8:41 AM  Holy inferno! Our bus has sprouted fiery wings! Diabolically, the headlights have come on.

Actually, I figured there was less than a 50-50 chance of an explosion. I recalled from my hazmat training that diesel fuel is less explosive than most petroleum products. Nevertheless, I was taking no chances and moved back a couple hundred feet making use of my camera’s zoom lens to record the fire’s progress. There never was an explosion although at one point there was a loud bang which I later assumed was the cap blowing off the fuel tank as it was missing when I looked at the tank after the fire was out. One of our Madagascar colleagues later told me she saw a long hydrocarbon stain along the road below where the bus engine gave out. I’m assuming all the oil had leaked from the engine.

Within five minutes of the initial flare-up the entire bus was engulfed in flames and it was obvious that nothing would be left except for twisted metal and ashes. A colleague who had been sitting across from me somberly reported that he had left his daypack in the rack above the seat. His passport and some money were in the pack. I felt really bad for him. I don’t think any of us figured on an out-of-control fire when we got off the bus to avoid the smoke.
 

Left: 8:43AM  A huge plume of black smoke billows skyward.
Right:  8:47AM  The entire bus is engulfed in flames.  

I had my backpack and camera but where was my nice cloth camera case? No, it wasn’t on my shoulder or in my pack. SHIT! In my haste to get out, I’d left it on the floor below the seat. My spare $40 battery was in the camera case. I usually would have had my battery charger and computer download cable in the case, but for once I had left them back in the hotel room. My passport and some of my credit cards, ATM cards, and some money were in the combination safe in my hotel room (I only had a photocopy of the passport on me); my other credit and ATM cards and some Colombian pesos were in the pouch around my neck, and some of my US dollars were in my money belt. Neither I nor any colleagues had been burned or otherwise injured. Hey, life was good.



8:48 AM   One by one, impatient drivers start to make a run for it. What if the fuel tank exploded as they were scurrying past?

8:54 AM   Not much left by now. Lucky the fire didn’t spread to the trees just off the road.

Within a half hour of the engine starting to smoke, the fire had consumed just about every burnable part of the bus when “los bomberos” (the firemen) arrived. I don’t really fault them for taking so long to get there given the heavy traffic in the city and the steep, winding road they had to negotiate. Hoses came out and they proceeded to spray the bejesus out of the bus carcass. A plume of white smoke billowed from the hot metal frame. In another half hour, it was all over and a few of us cautiously approached the remains. What a friggin’ mess. What were once a passport, camera case, etc. were now indistinguishable ashes. I had learned that a colleague seated behind me had also lost his camera case. The field trip leader, a local soil science professor, had lost a bunch of equipment that he was bringing along to help us examine soil pits.

9:03 AM   Los bomberos (firemen) have just arrived from Medellin to go after what’s left of the fire.

Police set up cones and directed traffic around the toasted bus once the fire was out. An ambulance arrived right after the first fire engine. The American colleague who had lost his passport had a blood pressure condition and got it checked by the ambulance paramedic. It was elevated (180 over something) but not of concern. Outwardly, he was very philosophical and appeared a helluva lot calmer than I would have been under the same circumstances! Another colleague checked the list of foreign consulates on his map of Medellin but found that the US does not have a consulate there. Our colleague with the nuked passport couldn’t get out of Colombia and back into the US without his passport or another official US document. Using his cell phone, we called the US embassy in Bogota, Colombia’s capital. The colleague with the missing passport handed me the phone as he couldn’t hear the embassy operator very well. Oh “flock”, they had put us into voicemail. “Hey, we’ve got a bit of an emergency here,” I told the machine. “An American citizen lost his passport in a bus fire and has a flight back to the USA tomorrow. Please call this number as soon as possible.” Jeezus, you call the US Embassy and all you get is voicemail! I made a mental note to send an indignant email to Secretary of State John Kerry (for all the good that would do!) but a counsel officer called back within less than a half hour. Yes, they could get him a temporary passport but it was Friday and they would be closed on Saturday and Sunday. Plans were quickly made and a bilingual Colombian colleague decided to accompany our unfortunate colleague to Bogota. The two of them and another American colleague hailed a cab and headed off to the airport in hopes of catching the first flight to Bogota, their only option as getting from Medellin to the capital by car would take the better part of a day. Fortunately, he didn’t need a passport for an internal flight. A couple days later, I learned that everything went smoothly. They were able to get to Bogota Friday afternoon, secure his temporary passport, and get back to Medellin in time for his Saturday flight (Whew! Don’t ever lose your passport!)

9:33 AM  She’s all ready now for the tow truck.
 

10:19 AM   I’m pointing to what’s left of my seat.   Note bus panel on the ground behind me which reads, Su mejor opción (Your best option) – Oh, really?

We learned that another bus was being sent up the mountain to take us back down to the city. Our three very perceptive colleagues from Madagascar talked over the situation and decided that we would all be pretty bummed out if we went back to Medellin and hung around our hotel rooms for the rest of the day. Why not get our minds off the fiasco and continue with at least part of the trip? They approached one of the conference organizers with their idea and he came around to us individually and asked if we wanted to go on with the trip in the new bus. Why not, we all agreed. So after more than a two hour interruption, we climbed aboard the replacement bus and continued the trip.



10:59 AM  We’re off again on another bus.



We made two long stops. The first was at the Paysandu Agricultural Center in rolling tropical highlands at 2520 meters (8266 feet) elevation. We saw cows being milked with modern milking machines but that wasn’t the purpose for our visit. Instead we gathered around a large, previously excavated pit to look at and discuss a very interesting soil profile. The original A and B horizons (topsoil and subsoil) developed in slope deposits of weathered metamorphic bedrock more than 18,000 years ago. They had now decomposed to white and orange silty loam respectively and were covered by about a meter of layered volcanic ash deposits representing several periods of intense volcanic activity to the south over the past 18,000 years.

Andisol (volcanic soil) profile at the Paysandu Agricultural Center.   Volcanic ash deposits overlie the white band (a former topsoil layer) in the center of the photo.

Some of us “paid” for this soil science lesson. As soon as we arrived at the farm, word went out to the local gnat population that fresh meat had arrived. The little bastards were so small and quiet and their bites initially rather painless that it took a while to realize we were being devoured. I eventually doused my exposed skin with insect repellent and provided some of the stuff to a couple colleagues but by then we had welts on our necks, hands, ears, etc. and they started to itch like crazy.

Lunch was brought into the experimental farm and we then rode a few kilometers to a commercial operation supplying high-quality cut flowers to US and Canadian markets. There wasn’t much of connection with the soil conservation theme of the conference but I found it quite interesting from an economic geography perspective. Upon hearing that the flowers were flown in carefully packed, refrigerated containers to Miami, I wondered how on earth the business could compete with local North American greenhouses. My skepticism gradually faded when I put together the following:

1. Labor costs in Colombia are considerably less than in the US for this very labor-intensive business.

2. In most parts of the North America, greenhouses have heating costs if they operate in winter and need to be constructed from metal-framed glass. The tropical highland climate above Medellin (year round spring-like weather with no frosts) is ideal for growing flowers. Only polyethylene sheets on slanted frames are needed to protect the flowers from tropical rainstorms.

3. Irrigation water is abundant and cheap. The flower operation has a large stream-fed pond on the property.

4. They are located only a couple miles from Medellin’s international airport so local transport costs are virtually nil.

Large-scale production of flowers for export to the USA and Canada.

Despite the loss of a passport and some other items of lesser value, I think this group of Colombian, Malagasy (people from Madagascar), Mexican, Spanish, Venezuelan, and Norte Americanos sort of “bonded” over the experience. When I met another group for a three-day field trip the following day, the burning bus was the “hot” topic of conversation and everyone was eager to see my photos.

I’ll have more to report on the conference and Colombian geography and environmental concerns in future posts.