News Watch &#187; Sofia Ruzo

Comedy and Near Tragedy in the Field

Sofia Ruzo — Wed, 27 Jun 2012 13:23:25 +0000

National Geographic Young Explorers Grantee Andrés Ruzo is back in the field doing research to create the first geothermal map of northern Peru. Follow along as his collaborator and wife Sofia reports from the field about their ensuing adventures.

A Dot in the Desert: Sofia at the well. Photo courtesy Andrés Ruzo.

Petroleum underneath our fingernails.

Hair matted with dirt and sand.

The steely odor of crude oil.

Yes indeed, we’re back in the oil fields of northern Peru! It has been an incredible experience to be able to work once more out in the desert. And this time, we are completely outside. Due to the safety regulations of some companies with which we are working, we cannot take our rental car into some of the fields where we get temperature readings from wells. So every day, we drive to base camp and transfer our equipment and supplies onto a truck, which then drives us out to the well we will be logging and drops us off there for about 4-5 hours to log the well. On the days we have time to log 2 wells, we are hauled to the next well in the same truck to spend another few hours completing the second log for the day. We finish the day by packing up and heading to base camp to reload everything into our rental car, and then make the evening commute to Máncora a half hour away.

The Short and Somber Tale of our Tent

We begin our descent into the oil wells in the early mornings, when the skies are clear and deep blue, and the wind is just enough to cool us down as we manually crank the thermometer down the wells. As midday hits, the clouds and cool skies give way to the hot sun, and the challenge to keep our energy high and our body temperature low begins. With the average daily temperature of over 100 degrees Fahrenheit (over 38 degrees Celsius), we keep ourselves distracted from the heat and sharp winds by taking turns cranking the thermometer down so one of us can explore the area a bit. These breaks are usually so Andrés can take pictures and observe the geology of the area, whereas for me, they serve a more primordial function—when the effects of my unceasing chugging of water compel me to quickly find a nearby crevice and an outlying tree branch to serve as my toilet paper dispenser.

The beautiful topography of the desert. Photo courtesy of Andrés Ruzo.

Between these necessary breaks and annotating measurements, Andrés and I talk about our plans for this field season, our hopes for the future, and laugh at the funny things that have happened to us so far, of which there is no shortage. Just last Monday, my “brilliant find” at a convenience store in town turned out to be a complete disaster. When I found out we were not going to be able to drive into the lot with our car, I dreaded the thought of hours in the desert with no structural protection from the sun (trees don’t count when they don’t have leaves). I insisted we visit the nearest convenience store to see what we could find to use for shade. Luckily enough, we found a pavilion tent on sale in the recently-built “Plaza Vea” (Peruvian supermarket chain) in Talara, I assume for people to use on the beach while sipping Pisco Sours underneath its shade. Andrés looked at it with skepticism, as we had heard that the winds are so strong where we were going that it has blown motorcycles off roads nearby. I dismissed these rumors as I thought that surely the wind would blow through the poles and that we’d be able to hammer nails with rope to hold the structure down. I’ll confess, there was also an ulterior motive, as I was secretly hoping we would have some extra time so we could hit the beach on our day off and I could be the one lazily sipping Pisco Sours underneath its shade.

Well, dear readers, would you like to know how many days the tent lasted? One! I knew we were in trouble once it began to sway from side to side, but not wanting to give up on my “great find,” I yelled above the deafening winds to Andrés, who was busy cranking, “No, don’t worry, it’s holding up just fine!” But then, as if on cue, the winds began to pick up, covering us in dirt and forcing us to stop talking, as opening our mouths meant another mouthful of sand. All of a sudden, we heard a creak, then a loud crack, which turned into a slow, drawn out groan, and as if in slow motion, the awning caved in on top of me.

The Beginning of the End: holding up the tarp as it began to give way. Photo courtesy Andrés Ruzo.

The End: I am underneath. Photo courtesy of Andrés Ruzo.

Well, I paid for my insistence to purchase the tarp despite Andrés’ warning, as I sat for the remainder of the day propping up the tent with my head. Since then, we’ve put the remnants of the awning to good use. Andrés, who I swear could survive the Apocalypse, took a knife to the material and fashioned an attachment for our helmets, à la ”Lawrence of Arabia,” to protect our necks from the sun.

"Andrés of Arabia": Andrés' recycled use of our tarp. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

Disaster Strikes!

Everything was moving at a great pace until yesterday evening, when we were wrapping up our last well log for the day. As Andrés pulled out the thermometer from the well, he noticed fraying at the end. It was clear the line was damaged, likely as a result of the high down-hole pressure in the well. Once we got back to our hotel room, he immediately called his professors at SMU. It was a tense few hours as we had no idea if we would have to stop well logging immediately.

The damage. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

But great news—we will persevere! Andrés’ professors gave us the go-ahead to keep logging as long as possible. Today, in between meetings with 2 oil & gas companies, Andres has spent all day wrapping the instrument in Teflon, electrical tape, fishing wire, and everything else he can think of to make sure the thermometer remains on the line. It now looks ready to be launched into space—it is completely encapsulated in layers upon layers of tape and wire and looks pretty much indestructible. All we can do now is transport it extra carefully into the field, lower it very slowly down the well, and hope it lasts as long as the next 6 wells we have to log. We have no idea what will happen tomorrow, so please send good wishes and prayers our way!

Next week, Andrés and I head off to Cusco, Peru for a break to traverse the Inca Trail with our families. I can’t wait to write about our adventures walking in the Sacred Valley and climbing up Machu Picchu. We’ll be returning here afterwards to log more wells as long as the equipment holds up. In the short term I will definitely keep you updated on whether tomorrow we leave with another well logged, or with the equipment which we call “El Muerto” (“The Dead One”) truly muerto (“dead”).

You can also join the Geothermal Map of Peru Facebook group and follow us on Twitter @AndeanMemoirs.

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Dust, Dirt, and Bird Feces: The Dirty Side of Creating a Geothermal Map

Sofia Ruzo — Thu, 14 Jun 2012 15:00:51 +0000

Abandoned dormitories, now home to bats, at the petroleum lot where we are working. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

When my family asked me what Andrés and I had been up to for the past few days on a recent Skype call, I answered, “We have been baking in an aluminum oven in the middle of the desert for three days.” It seems like a far-fetched description, but it is in fact quite literal.

Andrés and I have been cooped up in a giant warehouse with aluminum walls for three days. Civilization is a half-hour, extremely bumpy truck ride away. We work inside this infernal pit from morning until evening, and we emerge covered from head to boot full of dirt, dust, and pigeon feces, the latter of which covers the floor, walls, and shelves of the warehouse. It mixes with the pungent smell of dust and sweat that hangs over the entire place.

The reason we are in this place of torment is because the oil company with which we are working keeps their “cutting samples” in this warehouse, i.e. the rock samples that the company excavates as it drills thousands of feet deep to create each oil well. These cutting samples are important to the creation of a geothermal map, which could also be described as a “thermal conductivity” map. That just means cutting sample analysis reveals how different layers of the earth conduct heat, which then indicates how heat flows through the upper crust of the earth. Essentially, this is what a geothermal map is—a map of how heat flows through the upper crust of the earth. Therefore, before we can even go out into the field and log wells, Andrés has to prepare by working with petroleum companies to take samples of their cutting samples to analyze back in Dallas, Texas.

Andrés must also gather each well’s geological and geophysical logs from the oil and gas companies to complement the data we ourselves gather when we log wells. He will then take the logs and cutting samples, and analyze all of them for each well back in Dallas. With all this data, he can then begin to create the geothermal map of northern Peru.

Well #11142's cutting samples, as well as a sample of the pigeon feces in the foreground. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

The first time we opened the enormous doors of the warehouse, we had to wait for the giant cloud of dust to settle before looking in. The warehouse hadn’t been opened for the past two years, and you could immediately tell by the smell. I looked around at the endless rows of boxes, some overturned with soil spilling out of them, others neatly lining the racks several feet above our heads. The manager of the warehouse handed us our helmets, offered his assistance if we should need it, and before we could take him up on his offer, saluted us and scurried off.

Endless rows of disorganized boxes we had to search through to find the samples we needed. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

By midday, the heat was overwhelming. We were literally in a giant microwave, the aluminum walls of the warehouse creating an oven around us, with nary a hole to let in a gust of wind. While Andrés waited below, I climbed the shelves to bring down the boxes of rock samples so we could line them across the floor. I kept hearing a noise near my head as I peaked into the crevices and corners of the warehouse, looking for the boxes of the wells we needed amongst hundreds of boxes piled everywhere. The noises kept getting louder and more frantic, and sounded like a mix between a chirp and a squeak. I didn’t worry, as I imagined the noises were coming from the same birds that were responsible for the dried-up pigeon feces I kept having to wipe off the boxes (and on which we sat all day, since it was everywhere). It wasn’t until later that the guard informed us that the noises were coming from a large nest of rats.

For three days, we sweated and worked in this infernal pit of dust, feces, rats, and the two scorpions that Andrés found as he was working amongst the piles of boxes. Andrés had to locate which wells were most important, take out the samples he needed from the cores, and organize all the data on an Excel spreadsheet so he could ascertain we had a good representation of each region’s layers. Sometimes the samples we expected to be in the boxes didn’t exist, so he had to go back to the well’s corresponding boxes and decide which samples we needed to use instead.

Andres choosing samples. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

We then painstakingly poured piles of individual rock samples onto pieces of paper . . .

Taking samples of the cutting samples. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

which we then folded . . .

Folding paper filled with cutting samples. Photo courtesy Andrés Ruzo.

and poured into a Ziploc bag.

Carefully pouring cutting samples into labeled bags. Photo courtesy Andrés Ruzo.

Finally, we labeled the bags with the well name, name of the rock formation (layer of earth), the depth in feet of the formation from which it was extracted, and the number of the bag.

When we finished each well’s collection of rocks samples, we double wrapped each bag and taped it, set the bags aside, and put each box back where we found it. The sampling of each well’s cutting samples took approximately one hour per well. When we finished this afternoon, both Andrés and I agreed that this has been one of the most challenging tasks of the project so far. I am not sure whether it will be harder than logging the wells out in the field for eight hours straight in desert climate, but I will be able to tell you for certain after tomorrow, when we log our first well!

Before I head to dinner to enjoy Máncora’s famous ceviche, I do have to brag a bit about Andrés! Even though we had a tight schedule to keep yesterday, and we were both worn out from all the work, he took the time to save a bird’s life. He noticed a Blue-footed Booby sitting on the beach, and it wasn’t moving. Rather than leaving it and heading on our way to work, he asked two of the hotel staff to help him corral the bird to the hotel patio. He bought the bird some fish, and checked up on it as soon as we got back from work.

Andres taking care of the Blue-footed Booby. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

It turns out the bird was malnourished, a consequence of the overfishing in this region, a huge problem in northern Peru, which represents less that 0.1% of the earth’s ocean, but produces more than 10% of the world’s fishing. It is a sobering reality, and Andrés and I are eyewitness of its depressing consequences every day. Our friends at Pacifico Adventures here in Máncora made an excellent Spanish-language documentary, called “Madre Mar,” about overfishing here in Máncora, and I invite readers to watch it. The overfishing has left much of the wildlife here struggling to find food, like the Blue-footed Booby we found. When we got back from work today, the bird, well-nourished and visibly stronger, was able to get up and fly away.

On the road to recovery. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

It was a sad reminder of how much damage human beings can inflict on our ecosystem when there is no education or incentives to fish in a sustainable way. On a brighter note, however, it was a beautiful reminder for me of one reason why I love being married and working with my husband—as an explorer, he approaches the world with a passionate curiosity that leads him to see details that the majority of people don’t notice; as a geologist, his respect for nature’s power and his understanding of how man can work alongside nature is inspiring. Whether it be a rock that fascinates him or a Blue-footed Booby that endears him, I am blessed that our mission is one that brings us intimately close to the earth’s natural beauty—even if it does mean I get a bit of bird poop in my hair.

You can now join the Geothermal Map of Peru Facebook group and follow us on Twitter @AndeanMemoirs!

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From One Field Season to the Next: New Faces at Familiar Places

Sofia Ruzo — Sun, 03 Jun 2012 22:34:50 +0000

National Geographic Young Explorers Grantee Andr és Ruzo is back in the field doing research to create the first geothermal map of northern Peru. Follow along as his collaborator and wife Sofia reports from the field about their ensuing adventures.

Lima

Our last day in Lima was a rush to get everything done, packed, and ready to transport to Máncora, including the bane of our existence, “El Muerto,” (The Dead One) so called because it weighs as much as a human corpse. Yes, a morbid metaphor, but you would also think morbid thoughts if you had to lug this 132 pound (60 kilo) chest carrying the thermometer and scientific equipment. Every time we go to check in our luggage, it’s the usual: incredulous looks from fellow travelers, the counter attendants shaking their heads and saying it’s impossible to check it in, and having to explain repeatedly that we need it to conduct our research. So far, we’ve been able to travel with it (of course, not without having to pay a heavy fine, no pun intended), but it causes such a ruckus wherever we go, that I think when we finally travel without it, we’ll feel like has-been celebrities who no one pays attention to anymore.

"El Muerto," a.k.a our bane and claim to fame. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

Talara

We arrived in Talara yesterday afternoon, and the dry heat that filled the jet cabin as the door opened was instantly gratifying. Soon, we saw a familiar face: the airport porter, a middle-aged man who measures 3 feet (1 meter) in height and has a sizeable tattoo of the Star of David on the tip of his nose. He smiled a toothy grin as he saw us, and rushed to help us with our luggage while the locals waiting outside the small airport stared at “El Muerto” (no surprise). Once we rented our car, a sedan that’s somewhat worse for wear (with windows that don’t close shut, producing a steady, high-pitched whistle every time we drive), we headed to our hotel in Máncora an hour away.

Our “Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang” automobile. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

Máncora

This morning, we awoke to the sounds of the ocean waves and birds singing. Andrés rolled over and said, sleepily grinning, “We’re in the tropics!” As we took breakfast on the porch overlooking the beach, we talked to Andrés’ godfather, the owner of the hotel, who had just returned from the Galapagos and had dozens of pictures of wildlife and the preserved park to show us. Once we finished our tea and coffee, we headed into town to find a carpenter who would be able to build a small crank for us. The small crank will have a fishing weight on its end and about 1,312 feet (400 meters) of fishing wire; it will be lowered into each abandoned oil well before lowering the thermometer. We call it “El Muertito” (the mini-Dead One) as it gives us as many problems as its larger counterpart.

BEFORE: Our mini-crank at the beginning of Field Season I. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

AFTER: Our mini-crank at the end of Field Season I. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

The reason we lower “El Muertito” into wells before we lower the thermometer is because we want to make sure there are no obstructions, natural (such as tar and thick mud) or human-made, that could damage the thermometer. We have learned first-hand that many of the abandoned oil wells, because they are left open with just the casing that prevents the dirt from caving in, are used by locals as port-a-potties. As you can see above, this is how “El Muertito” met its demise. Andrés and I are still not sure what rationale leads people to choose the oil wells instead of hundreds of miles of desert (which the waste would fertilize anyway) when “nature calls,” but there you have it.

We didn’t find a carpenter today. Why? Because there will be four soccer games in the next two days in which Peru is playing, so the carpenters inform us that no one will be working for two days. It’s not what we expected, but there you have it.

A few things have changed since we left five months ago:

Chiquirri, the little black-headed caique that lives at the hotel (and for which Andrés and I made a cage) is now a pre-teen:

Chiauirri, the caique bird that lives at hotel. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

The Siamese cat who is the “hotel manager” had kittens:

Kitten #1. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

Kitten #2. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

Andrés’ aunt and uncle have adopted a peacock named Keko:

Andres' aunt and uncle's new peacock. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

And Andrés’ aunt brought us back five bars of the most delicious, organic chocolate from Ecuador:

The wonders of chocolate. Photo courtesy Andrés Ruzo.

It’s almost sunset, so Andrés and I are going to run up the high plateau behind the hotel to catch the view, so stay tuned for some pictures of the beautiful sunset next time! Our plan in the next few days is to take safety courses with Petrobras before we head into their lot, select which wells we will be logging, and get that mini-crank made (hopefully, Peru wins so that we find a carpenter in a good mood). Until then, warm wishes from Máncora!

The “Hotelier” hotel with the plateau in the background. Photo courtesy Sofia Ruzo.

You can now join the Geothermal Map of Peru Facebook group and follow us on Twitter @AndeanMemoirs!

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Revealing Peru’s Hidden Energy Source

Sofia Ruzo — Thu, 31 May 2012 20:28:50 +0000

National Geographic Young Explorers Grantee Andr és Ruzo is back in the field doing research to create the first geothermal map of northern Peru. Follow along as his collaborator and wife Sofia reports from the field about their ensuing adventures.

Setting the Scene

“Can you believe we’re actually here again?”

“Nope.”

My geologist husband/National Geographic Young Explorers Grantee Andr és Ruzo and I are sitting outside in the garden of our “home away from home” in Lima, Peru. Andrés has just returned from an early morning meeting at an international petroleum company, one of many he’s organized since we’ve been back in Lima. We’ll only be here a week, but in that time, he has to meet with at least twelve oil, gas, and mining corporations to explain what we are doing here and why they should care about our project.

Map showing Lima, Peru, the starting point of the Ruzos' expedition. Map courtesy National Geographic Maps and Esri.

The Background

As he plops down on the couch beside me, I put down my ukulele (a bit of summer I brought with me for winter below the Equator), and we think back to our first Field Season in Peru exactly a year ago, when we spent seven months traveling throughout the country introducing private, public, and academic institutions to the concept of geothermal energy, and letting them know that Andrés will be creating the first-ever Geothermal Map of Peru. Andrés and I spent most of our time in the desert, lowering a thermometer down abandoned oil and gas wells, measuring the temperatures as we cranked the thermometer down 400 meters (1,312 feet).

The still heat of the desert, reaching above 130 degrees F, and the dusty, cracked terrain that pelted us daily were a far cry from Andrés’ sterile laboratory and my spotless office back in Dallas. But after we learned to accustom ourselves to the rough conditions (and decided not to bring any more sweet lemonade, which once caused a swarm of bees to alight on our camping ground), we grew to care for the oil workers, see the beauty in the creviced valleys, and consider the sand pelting us to be a free exfoliation treatment for our entire bodies.

Here I am lowering the thermometer down in one of the abandoned wells. Photo by Andrés Ruzo.

The New Mission

As we prepare to embark on our second sojourn into the desert, things have changed a bit—Andrés has decided to focus his studies on Northern Peru in an effort to produce a data-rich, highly accurate map rather than a general overview of the entire country. Moreover, he’s writing a manual (in Spanish) that he’ll make free of cost for governmental entities so they can learn how to create heat flow maps on their own.

Andrés annotating the heat measurements in his log; behind him is the Peruvian flag we carry into the field. Photo by Sofia Ruzo.

I have added a new DSLR to the video camera I will be using to record our expedition, and am excited to write of our research and adventures here on National Geographic’s Explorers Journal, and about the historical and cultural significance of Peruvian gastronomy (and share a few recipes) on NG’s Intelligent Travel blog for the “Food Fridays” series.

Peruvian sashimi--the sushi here is to die for! Photo by Sofia Ruzo.

Next week , I’ll be writing from the deserts of Talara, where vultures are our daily companions and evening showers leave our bathroom floor with an inch of sand from our day in the field. Until then, saludos desde Lima!

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