Mayon Volcano Is Showing Signs of ERUPTION — Up to 80,000 Lives at RISK

On the island of Luzon in the central Philippines, an iconic mountain looms large in the landscape—Mayon Volcano.

Famed for its near-perfect symmetrical cone, it is not just a geographical feature but an integral part of the lives of the people in the province of Albay.

The roads curve around its base, farms stretch toward its slopes, and towns are built with the understanding that this majestic yet volatile mountain has a long memory of eruptions.

In early January 2026, that memory stirred once again, sending alarm bells ringing among local authorities and volcanologists alike.

Monitoring stations began to record significant changes in the volcano’s behavior, prompting a response from the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS).

The lava dome at the summit, which had been slowly growing over time, began to destabilize.

Portions of the dome collapsed, and hot volcanic material spilled down the slopes, while dense clouds of ash and gas rapidly moved along channels carved by previous eruptions.

Within a matter of days, the alert status for Mayon was raised to level three—a clear signal that the volcano had entered a more dangerous phase of activity.

This status change is crucial because it marks a shift from mere background unrest to a situation that carries real consequences for those living in the vicinity.

Alert level three does not guarantee an explosive eruption is imminent, but it indicates that magma is close enough to the surface to generate dangerous events without further warning.

At this level, hazards are no longer theoretical; they are imminent threats identified by PHIVOLCS, including lava dome collapse, pyroclastic density currents, rockfalls, and ash emissions.

Pyroclastic density currents, in particular, are a critical concern.

These fast-moving mixtures of hot gas, ash, and volcanic fragments can surge down the slopes of the volcano, following valleys and outrunning anyone caught in their path.

This is why alert level three is treated as a threshold; it signifies that the volcano’s activity can quickly translate into danger for communities living on its flanks.

As a precautionary measure, authorities established a strict no-fly zone above the volcano—not because ash clouds had reached cruising altitudes, but due to the possibility of sudden explosive bursts that could occur at any moment.

Alert level three is about readiness; it signifies a transition into a realm where time is of the essence.

The behavior that pushed Mayon into this heightened alert status began with the collapse of the lava dome—a seemingly small event that carries enormous energy and potential for disaster.

At the summit of Mayon, the lava dome forms as thick magma rises and accumulates near the crater.

This magma, too viscous to flow easily, builds up layer by layer, resembling cooling wax.

However, lava domes are inherently unstable structures.

As they grow, gravity exerts pressure on their edges while internal gas pressure pushes outward, leading to cracks and eventual failures.

In early January 2026, monitoring confirmed that sections of Mayon’s summit dome had collapsed, resulting in material that did not simply tumble down as cold rock.

Instead, it fragmented, heated the surrounding air, and mixed with volcanic gases that were still escaping from the magma below.

The outcome was the generation of pyroclastic density currents that traveled down the volcano’s flanks through specific gullies.

While these flows remained confined to known channels and did not reach populated areas, their presence is significant.

They demonstrate that Mayon is capable of generating lethal hazards without a full explosive eruption.

Alongside these dome collapses, observers documented frequent rockfall events and continued lava extrusion at the summit.

This pattern is familiar at Mayon, which is known as one of the most persistently active volcanoes in the Philippines.

What distinguishes this phase from previous episodes is not only the activity at the summit but also its proximity to populated areas.

To comprehend the risk involved, we must examine the boundaries drawn around Mayon.

There exists a permanent danger zone extending roughly 6 kilometers from the summit, within which permanent settlement is discouraged due to the historical evidence of the volcano’s destructive capabilities.

Pyroclastic flows, lava streams, and ballistic fragments do not respect roads or property lines.

In light of the alert level three designation, authorities have reinforced no-entry policies within this danger zone and have heightened vigilance in surrounding areas.

The Department of the Interior and local government officials have urged local governments to enforce evacuations and restrict access.

Tourism activities have been halted, and aircraft have been warned away from the area.

While these measures may seem abrupt, they are grounded in decades of observation and experience.

Mayon has a history of producing sudden hazardous events with little warning once similar conditions arise.

Danger zones are not about inciting panic; they are about acknowledging probability.

When the likelihood of danger increases, preparation shifts from planning to action.

That action is measured not just in policies, but in the tangible movement of people packing their belongings and leaving their homes behind.

By the time alert level three was fully implemented, evacuations were already underway.

Government reports indicated that nearly 2,900 individuals had been relocated from high-risk areas around Mayon.

These families, living closest to the permanent danger zone, had experienced evacuations before and understood the process involved.

Evacuation centers were opened, and local officials coordinated transportation, health services, and basic needs for those displaced.

There was no mass exodus or last-minute rush; instead, the movement was deliberate and organized.

This is what effective preparedness looks like when it operates quietly.

People left not because disaster had struck, but because it might.

This distinction is crucial; it reflects lessons learned from previous eruptions.

Waiting too long to evacuate narrows options for those displaced, leading to real disruption in their lives.

Livelihoods pause, routines dissolve, and uncertainty stretches forward without a clear end date.

However, the alternative is far worse.

The decision to move people early acknowledges a fundamental truth about volcanoes like Mayon: their most dangerous moments often arrive not with dramatic warning signs, but during ongoing activity that suddenly escalates.

Understanding why Mayon behaves this way requires stepping back and examining the volcano’s nature.

Mayon is a stratovolcano, shaped by repeated eruptions over thousands of years.

Its steep slopes are the result of layers of lava and ash accumulating in the same location repeatedly.

Beneath the volcano lies a magma system fed by subduction, where the Philippine Sea Plate sinks beneath the Eurasian Plate.

This geological process melts rock deep underground, allowing magma to rise toward the surface.

At Mayon, the magma is often viscous, trapping gas and resisting free flow.

This combination leads to dome growth, pressure buildup, and episodic releases of energy.

Sometimes, that release is gentle, resulting in lava flows and small collapses.

At other times, it escalates into explosive eruptions.

The current activity fits within this known pattern; dome growth followed by collapse is classic behavior for Mayon.

What varies from episode to episode is the scale of the activity.

Currently, scientists observe enough energy in the system to warrant concern, but not enough information to predict a specific outcome.

This uncertainty is not a failure of science; rather, it is an honest boundary.

This is why monitoring intensifies once alert level three is declared.

The most critical work now involves closely observing what might come next.

With Mayon at alert level three, monitoring does not slow down; it sharpens and focuses.

Scientists track seismic signals that could indicate magma movement and watch gas emissions for changes in composition or volume.

They observe the lava dome for signs of renewed growth or further collapse.

A shift towards stronger sustained tremors could suggest magma rising more aggressively, while increased ash emissions might indicate shallow fragmentation.

Rapid dome growth would raise concerns about larger collapse events.

Conversely, stabilization is also a possibility; dome extrusion can slow, collapse frequency can decrease, and activity can plateau without escalating into a major eruption.

Both outcomes remain on the table, and this is the space that authorities and communities now occupy.

It is neither crisis nor calm, but a state of watchfulness.

Living with uncertainty is part of life near Mayon; it shapes decision-making and risk perception.

This leads to a final question that extends beyond this specific episode: What does it mean to live long-term beside a volcano that never truly rests?

Mayon has erupted dozens of times throughout recorded history, and each eruption becomes part of the local memory.

Each evacuation leaves behind questions about timing, judgment, and how much warning is ever enough.

The events of January 2026 do not conclude a story; they reopen another chapter in the ongoing negotiation between people and a landscape that does not adhere to human timelines.

Preparedness in this context is not about certainty; it is about recognizing that the processes shaping this mountain operate on scales larger than any single decision or generation.

The early evacuations reflect an understanding shaped by experience, but they also raise a quieter question: How long can communities remain displaced if activity lingers without a full eruption?

And how quickly could conditions change if the balance shifts again?

If the current unrest eases, what signals will confirm that it is truly settling?

If it intensifies, how much time will there be between the first clear warning and the moment when action becomes unavoidable?

For now, monitoring continues.

Instruments listen, and observers wait.

The mountain offers no answers yet, only the reminder it has always given: the ground beneath Mayon is active, it moves according to its own rhythms, and the future here is not something announced in advance, but something revealed gradually, one signal at a time.