When an earthquake threatens to turn part of an ocean into
fast-moving walls of water, tsunami warning scientists can do nothing
for the first five minutes except wait for information. But within the
next five minutes, they have to decide whether to issue a warning of
danger.
Brian Shiro has been a geophysicist at the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center for four years.
And you thought your job was high pressure.
"If we see a set of circumstances and it fits into our criteria for
[the] event, we just follow that criteria because we don't have much
time to think. There isn't a lot of time for decision-making," said
Paul Whitmore, director of the West Coast and Alaska Tsunami Warning
Center.
"Weighing back there [in your mind] also is the effect
of your decision. If the effect of your decision is going to evacuate
the entire West Coast waterfront, you don't want to take that lightly,"
he said.
With Tuesday's tragic tsunami that engulfed villages in
Samoa and American Samoa, the pace of events was so frenetic that the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center
in Ewa Beach, Hawaii --which tracks earthquakes and tsunamis for
countries throughout the Pacific Ocean, Indian Ocean and Caribbean Sea
-- had already been alerted to the looming disaster by the time the
seismometer evidence came in.
"The National Weather Service director in American Samoa
called the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center a few seconds before the
alarms went off here, so we had an advanced warning and we were already
sitting at the computer, looking at the data in real time," said Brian
Shiro, a Pacific warning center geophysicist.
It can take 30 seconds to five minutes for information from earthquake
sensors placed strategically around the globe to roll into the two U.S.
tsunami warning centers.
When there's a clear tsunami threat,
the center's operation room -- built to accommodate the two workers on
duty -- becomes flooded with people all jostling to offer assistance.
The phone lines consistently ring and "people are yelling at each other
so everyone will be on the same page, and you don't miss something
important that someone else caught," said Bill Knight, a West Coast and
Alaska warning center scientist.
Scientists must "locate the
earthquake and then determine based on the science data whether there
should be just a normal bulletin or whether there should be a warning,"
said Laura Kong, director of the International Tsunami Information Center.
She added that it took the Pacific warning center 15 minutes to issue a warning for Tuesday's tsunami.
This wasn't because the center's scientists were moving slowly, Shiro
said, but a result of the sparse number of seismic stations in the
Southwest Pacific region.
The fewer stations there are, the
longer it takes for scientists to receive adequate information. "There
was no delay yesterday," he said. "You're only restricted by the earth
itself and how fast the seismic waves can travel."
As a result,
workers at the two U.S. warning centers said they often have to make
decisions based on incomplete information, erring on the side of
caution by issuing a tsunami warning and canceling it later if more monitoring reveals a less dangerous situation.
"It can be a lot of pressure at first, and you have to get used to
that," Shiro said. "You do have a lot of responsibility on your
shoulders: You have to act quickly and sometimes you have to issue your
very first initial message based on incomplete information, because one
of the important factors is time and you want to get it out."
Since the catastrophic Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004, the question of
time has become more critical to tsunami warning scientists. The staff
has doubled at the Pacific warning center, and when they're "on shift,"
they sleep in on-site housing, said spokeswoman Delores Clark. The
warning centers have turned into 24/7 operations.
Scientist
Knight and director Whitmore at the West Coast and Alaska center said
constantly being on call does not interrupt their personal lives;
neither of them have kids at home.
Shiro, on the other hand, has
a 2-year-old son and has to strike a balance. At first, his wife and
son stayed with him when he was on shift, sleeping at the on-site
housing with him. When that proved too disruptive, his family instead
began visiting for meals and a bit of quality time during his weekly
two-day shift.
The Pacific center's on-site housing is unique,
created so the workers can react to a tsunami whether they're fixing a
meal or fast asleep, and while it may pose a slight inconvenience, it's
all part of the job, Shiro said.
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