Plume: What It Is, Its Various Meanings, and Definitions

Alright, let's dive into this mess. We've got a trio of plume-related incidents making headlines, and frankly, the disconnect between what's being said and what the data suggests is, shall we say, noteworthy.

First, we have the Hayli Gubbi volcano in Ethiopia. Dormant for millennia (allegedly up to 12,000 years), it decided to throw a tantrum on November 23, 2025. Sentinel-5 Precursor satellite imagery shows a hefty plume of sulphur dioxide drifting eastward, then dispersing along the Arabian Peninsula. The good news? The area’s sparsely populated, so immediate human impact is minimal. The less comforting news? This satellite data is essential because the area is so damn inaccessible. It's a stark reminder that we're still reliant on remote sensing to understand events in vast swathes of the planet. Are we truly prepared for other "dormant" threats to awaken in similarly remote—but perhaps strategically vital—locations?

Trouble in New Mexico

Then there's the Los Alamos National Laboratory (LANL) chromium plume. This one's been brewing for decades. Turns out, dumping chromium-laced water into Sandia Canyon between 1957 and 1972 wasn't the brightest idea. Now, that toxic soup has migrated onto San Ildefonso Pueblo land. Officials are quick to reassure everyone that there’s “no imminent threat to drinking water.” But Bruce Baizel, the New Mexico Environment Department’s director of compliance, isn’t buying it. He states that the Department of Energy’s containment efforts have been "inadequate." A classic understatement, if you ask me.

The hexavalent chromium levels found on Pueblo land ranged from 53 to 72.9 micrograms per liter, exceeding the groundwater standard of 50 micrograms per liter. It's not a massive overshoot, but it's a breach, and breaches tend to widen over time. The DOE spokesperson, Stephanie Gallagher, says they "remain committed to remediating the hexavalent chromium plume," and that they're "proactively assessing, monitoring, and collaborating." Standard PR boilerplate. Actions speak louder than press releases, and the action so far has been a plume that keeps…pluming.

Here's the part I find genuinely frustrating: Between 2018 and 2023, the DOE was pumping, treating, and re-injecting water. Then, in March 2023, they stopped because chromium concentrations increased. So, the "solution" made the problem worse. How much money was spent on that failed remediation effort? And what accountability measures are in place to prevent such counterproductive measures in the future?

Alaskan Air Apparent

Finally, we have the Mat-Su Central Landfill in Alaska. This one's less about toxic chemicals and more about… trash vapor. A new evaporator system is scrubbing and pumping decomposing trash water into the air, creating a visible plume. Landfill Manager Jeff Smith assures everyone that the vapor carries "no measurable air pollution" and that any trashy smells are "most likely due to unrelated gas."

Now, I'm not an atmospheric chemist, but the phrase "no measurable air pollution" sets off alarm bells. Measurable by whom? With what instruments? And what about the cumulative effect of releasing this vapor over 200 days a year? Smith also highlights the environmental benefits, noting that it stops the practice of trucking the leachate to Anchorage and dumping it into Cook Inlet. He points out that Anchorage's treatment process still leaves "zinc and other particulates" in the water that ends up in the fish we eat. It’s a fair point, but it’s also a classic case of shifting the problem, not solving it. Instead of polluting the water, they are now polluting the air.

The system cost $6 million, but is projected to save the borough $270,000 a year. That is a 4.5% return on investment. Not exactly a home run.

The Illusion of Progress

These three plumes, disparate as they seem, share a common thread: They highlight our tendency to prioritize short-term fixes and PR spin over long-term, sustainable solutions. We're constantly chasing symptoms while ignoring the underlying disease. The Ethiopian volcano reminds us of the unpredictable power of nature. The LANL plume exposes the legacy of environmental negligence. And the Alaskan landfill… well, it's a metaphor for our collective ability to generate waste faster than we can responsibly manage it.

I've looked at hundreds of these environmental reports, and the gap between the stated goals and the actual outcomes is consistently depressing. We pat ourselves on the back for "innovative" solutions that often create new problems or simply mask the old ones. It's like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, except the Titanic is the planet, and the iceberg is our own unsustainable behavior.

The Data Is Depressing