La Palma is both a volcanic island and a potential point of rupture in the novel’s global ecological crisis. Its dramatic underwater topography conceals methane hydrates and provides a setting where the activity of anomalous worms may destabilize the western flank of Cumbre Vieja. Scientific surveys reveal the danger gradually: first as an unexpected geological deposit, then as a threat that could connect seabed disturbance, volcanic instability, and a devastating tsunami.

Island and Submarine Setting

The Canary Islands rise from an ocean floor roughly 3,000 to 3,500 metres deep. Their steep sides help explain why conventional charts did not indicate methane deposits in the region: sediment and organic matter tend to slide down the slopes rather than settle in the way researchers expect on flatter seabeds. Erwin Suess Frost suspects that this picture is incomplete. The underwater mountains are steep, but not uniformly smooth; ridges and terraces interrupt their slopes, creating places where sediment—and potentially hydrate deposits—could accumulate.

Frost’s proposed deposits are not necessarily large exposed masses on the seabed. He thinks hydrates may run through the volcanic rock in narrow veins and lie beneath sediment on terraces. That difference matters: a chart that misses the deposits can make a hazardous landscape appear comparatively unremarkable. For Frost, La Palma is the most urgent of several volcanic locations he considers potentially at risk. The island’s visible slopes are only part of its geology; the submerged terrain is essential to understanding what may happen there.

Survey and Discovery

Frost, a volcanologist rather than a hydrate specialist, asks Gerhard Bohrmann to help assess the possibility. Their expedition uses the Polarstern research vessel, equipped with a Victor 6000 ROV. Underwater cameras are also fitted to help detect invading organisms. The survey turns Frost’s theory into a concrete finding: off La Palma’s western coast, Victor descends along the volcanic face and reaches a field of overlapping terraces at about 400 metres. The terraces are sediment-covered, and the predicted hydrate deposits are present. A large population of bristly worms occupies the area above them.

The discovery links a previously overlooked geological structure to the biological anomalies spreading through the story. It also changes what the expedition is looking for. La Palma is no longer simply a place where hydrate deposits might exist; worms are active on the very kind of terrain Frost believes could contribute to instability. The researchers cannot treat the organisms and the geology as separate problems when the former are operating on the latter.

Cumbre Vieja and the Risk of Collapse

Frost’s concern rests on the history and condition of the western flank of Cumbre Vieja. He points to the 1949 eruption, which opened a fault running for kilometres along that side of the island. During the event, part of the ridge slipped about four metres into the ocean. Frost believes the rock may have been fissured and that a substantial quantity of groundwater is trapped within it. In his assessment, a future eruption could heat and rapidly expand that water, generating pressure within the rock. He also warns that the island’s eastern and southern flanks press against the western one, which he considers already destabilized.

The scale of the possible failure is immense. Frost estimates that around 500 cubic kilometres of rock could collapse into the sea. He describes two possible routes to destabilizing the western flank: an eruption of Cumbre Vieja or an underwater avalanche. In the scenario he presents, the worms are contributing to a landslide. The resulting disturbance could detach part of the volcano, produce a minor earthquake, and perhaps trigger an eruption; Frost warns that the flank could break away in either case. These are his geological projections, not a confirmed account of an eventual collapse.

The tsunami risk makes the island’s instability a threat far beyond its shores. Frost argues that a wave of 50 metres could flatten New York City and release more energy than the United States uses in a year. His warning is not that every tsunami must have that height, but that the force of a major event would be transmitted through the bases of buildings and overwhelm them. He also fears that the process could move faster than the earlier worm-driven disturbance off Norway, leaving less time to respond.

Expeditions and Emergency Response

A later survey places Gerhard Bohrmann aboard the Heerema, a semi-submersible platform deployed at La Palma. The vessel’s stability and manoeuvrability make it suitable for work in difficult conditions: it has a draught of 21 metres, a displacement capacity exceeding 100,000 tonnes, and a transit speed of seven knots. Two large cranes support the operation. One lowers a suction tube; the other handles a lighting unit with integrated cameras. This equipment brings the investigation closer to the seabed, where the threat can be examined directly rather than inferred from charts and remote geological models.

When the apparatus approaches a terrace, sonar reveals a ridge covered with worms. The visible section is only about 40 metres across, but it is enough to confront Bohrmann with the possibility that the infestation extends across the flank. The sight suggests that the team may already be too late to prevent the process, though the evidence does not establish the outcome of an attempted removal. The expedition therefore becomes both a scientific assessment and a race against a geological timetable the researchers cannot confidently control.

La Palma’s danger also enters international crisis planning. The United States president is told that the island is close to collapse while worm colonies are growing off the coasts of America and Asia and political regimes are failing. Judith Li rejects the suggestion that the United States and Germany are pursuing separate missions, describing their work at La Palma as coordinated under the broader emergency effort. The exchange shows the island becoming a point where geological urgency and the organization of international response meet, even as the crisis strains the capacity of governments to act.

Place in the Wider Crisis

La Palma gives the novel a particularly clear image of how hidden processes can turn a remote landscape into a worldwide danger. The visible island is only the crest of a much larger volcanic structure; its underwater terraces, hydrate veins, and worm activity remain beyond ordinary observation until specialized equipment reaches them. That gap between what can be seen and what may already be happening beneath the surface shapes the investigation and limits the confidence of its predictions.

The crisis eventually recedes on a global scale. After the Independence sinks, Scratch signals are detected, the attacks stop, worm colonies disappear, and the hydrates are reported to be stabilizing. These developments do not provide a specific account of La Palma’s geological condition or confirm that its western flank is safe. Instead, the island remains a vivid example of the novel’s broader uncertainty: the danger depends on interactions among organisms, seabed deposits, volcanic structure, and forces that human observers can identify only in part.