Tiny Montserrat Struggles in Shadow of Steaming Volcano

OLVESTON, Montserrat — After more than a decade, Danny and Margaret Sweeney have nearly lost track of the number of times their lives have been disrupted by angry outbursts from the towering volcano that looms over this speck of a Caribbean island.

"We lost our water sports business, we had to evacuate our home and we've had to move our restaurant, Jumping Jack's, several times," said Margaret Sweeney, a sunny-faced Brit who married an islander and moved here in the 1980s. "It's swings and roundabouts. You lose and then you gain. I guess we haven't done all that badly."

Her willingness to roll with the punches doled out by the steaming Soufriere Hills Volcano is typical of the attitude of die-hard residents who have refused to leave since the long-dormant mountain roared to life in 1995, killing 19.

Repeated eruptions have sent roiling flows of mud, ash, rocks and dangerous gas tumbling down the 3,000-foot mountain's slopes, prompting authorities to cordon off more than half the 40-square-mile island.

The once-thriving capital, Plymouth, has been abandoned, its quaint buildings covered to the eaves and higher with ash, mud and rock. Lost, too, were the city's docks and the island's airport, while the population has plummeted from more than 12,000 to less than 5,000.

Most who left moved to the United Kingdom, which supported its colony by providing packages to help islanders relocate and sent aid to help clean up from the volcano's repeated rampages.

Those who have stayed are a hardy bunch. They've busily set out to rebuild and recapture some of the tourists who once were the island's lifeblood but who now largely shun the place out of fear and the difficulty of travel.

After a significant eruption in January, activity inside the mountain fell off in April. Scientists don't know when or whether the activity will resume, leaving islanders living with uncertainty.

"We have lost 80 percent of our infrastructure and an estimated $2 billion in assets, but the volcano has no impact on the north end of the island," said Chief Minister Lowell Lewis. "We have plans and we are working. Hopefully in three to four years we'll have economic stability."

Already a new air strip has opened, providing a vital daily link to nearby Antigua. There is a small makeshift port in place, along with a tidy village of new housing erected for displaced islanders.

There are plans for an upscale yacht marina and a new capital city in a protected cove, where a flank of tall hills would protect it from Soufriere Hills.

Recently a sparkling new cultural center opened, financed largely by donations gathered by Sir George Martin, a long-time visitor who was the producer for England's rock legend, The Beatles.

For all its death and destruction, most here say the volcano could be Montserrat's economic engine in the future: a unique tourist attraction.

Plymouth, now off-limits most of the time, is already likened to Italy's ancient Pompeii, another city covered by a nearby volcano.

"Plymouth could be a real attraction," said John Ponteen, head of the Montserrat Tourist Board. "People like Montserrat because it's quiet, tranquil and safe. It's great for hiking and diving, and you can mix with the indigenous culture. And then there's the volcano. Some people see it as a real opportunity."

But everybody knows that opportunity will not become a reality until the volcano's current eruption cycle ends, a question that has no clear answer.

Vicky Hards, a British geologist, heads a small team of scientists stationed on the island who monitor every hiccup the steaming mountain makes.

They work from an observatory that is open to tourists on a limited basis and offers stunning views of the volcano. The researchers rely on a network of sensors and visual observation, including frequent — and dangerous — trips to the crater by helicopter.

"Our primary purpose is safety and providing impartial advice to the island's government," Hards said. "Our front line is seismic monitoring, which is 24/7."

The scientists relay their data to a committee set up by the government, which then makes recommendations about possible evacuation orders.

For all the high-tech gear, there is no way to know how much longer the volcano will remain active, Hards said.

Most islanders simply shrug it off.

"All of us are scientists a little bit now," said Winston Telesford, a retired deputy police commissioner who lost two homes to the volcano and now runs a rental car business. "We've learned how to live with it. We don't have to look over our shoulders all the time."

Jean White, a New Yorker, married a Montserrat native and moved to the island in 1992. She now works at the National Trust, which runs a small museum and gift shop on a protected area of the island.

"I didn't bargain on the volcano," she said. "It was overwhelming in the beginning, and the ash flows are the worst. It's like snow, except it doesn't melt and won't go away unless you move it. But I think the people here will hold on. We need a port and a ferry, but Montserrat is tranquil and unspoiled. It's too nice to leave."