This is not about dogs. Really.

So, about a week ago, I was sitting in my living room with friends, when Sisa Mati the Dog, began frantically barking and whining and running from the balcony, through the living room, into the bedroom, and back. She could not be persuaded to calm down. I figured that she was reacting to the thunderstorm outside, or maybe just the volcano sounding off, or something. It was not until the next day that I realized what had been going on.

There is a little river, (more of a stream, really) the Bascún, that runs along the edge of town, and into the Pastaza River. A lot of people live along the stream and the valley it runs through, and although it is currently considered a high-risk zone (due to the volcano), the land is gorgeous and fertile and the road is capped at its high end by a set of volcanic hot springs that are just lovely. Many people in that valley, directly or indirectly, live off of the tourism generated by the hot springs, which are the second-most-visited in Baños.

This is what it used to look like.
It does not look like that anymore.

Unbeknownst to me (although not unbeknownst to local officials, who had been warned repeatedly by people living in the area), a natural dam of sorts had built up, further up the mountain, from accumulated volcanic debris and tree trunks, etc.. A large lake (50 meters wide by 100 meters long, by who knows how deep, they say) had formed, in the course of a week or so, and when the heavy rains over the weekend weakened the makeshift levy, it broke, sending a 50-foot wall of water, boulders, and mud down the chute. Unfortunately, the rainstorm hit its apex at about 11:30 pm, and most people were sleeping when the wall of debris hit around midnight. There was no real warning, and houses were washed away; lives were lost. Even the hot springs, which have been there for as long as people can remember, were scraped away from the hillside. This, for example, is what is left of the El Salado baths.
It all happened in a matter on minutes. There are stories I have heard, of a mother trying to save her 3 children, and having to chose which to save, in the middle of the night, in the dark, cold, boulder-filled water. She and the baby are still in the hospital. The bodies of the older little ones have not been found, and likely won’t be. There were only neighbors and passers-by to help. Had I known what was going on some 3 blocks from my house, I would have at least tried to be one of those neighbors, I think.
But, the authorities, in fact, seemed to just be arriving in force around the same time that I did; at 11 am the next day. By that time, the rains had passed and there was nothing to do, save for look at the (nearly straight) path that had been carved through the valley, where houses had been, and where the water and mud and rocks had actually come up over the lesser of the two bridges that cross the valley, which sits some 50 feet over what is normally the streambed. The larger of the two bridges (also part of the main road into town) had one of its immense concrete pilings almost completely taken out at the base. Hopefully, the mayor will think to fix that sooner rather than later, and not say (as he is now rumored to have said about the dam) that “It will come down when it comes down”. And come down, it sure did.