Volcanoes Beckon

 Click Here for a crunchy Video of Kilauea Crater and steam banks

I was in Volcanoes National Park many years ago, before it was fancied up as it is now. We drove down the road to the edge of the Kilauea crater, and could actually hike across it if we wanted. Extraordinary, considering Mauna Loa and Kilauea are among the most active volcanoes in the world, and Kilauea has been spewing lava – often changing the landscape - every few years. One eruption was along a rift zone called Pu’u’o’o’ on the east side of the park; it lasted from 1983 to 2018. Another, from 2008 to 2018 caused the Kilauea summit – where we would have been hiking - to collapse. The latest eruption was in 2021, though it’s quiet for now except for dozens of little earthquakes. 

 

One word to describe this park is “vast”. To the north, the summit crater of Mauna Loa is over 13,600 feet. The entrance to the park, Kilauea Visitor Center, is near the Kilauea summit crater at 4000 feet.

 

 

Marked "August 1887"

It was intermittently cloudy but warm when I started on a 1.75-mile hike recommended by a ranger, beginning at the visitor’s center along the crater rim, ending in the steam banks, crossing the road to the sulphur banks and back through a forest to the visitor’s center.

The sulphur banks

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Since the ranger said the Thurston Lava Tube would be most crowded between 10 and 2, I opted to drive the 20-mile-long twisted Chain of Craters Road through a rain forest down to the sea. 

The forest opened up to mind-blowing vistas – what I initially took to be the bluest of sky turned out to be the sea set against miles of new land created by the eruptions. I was disappointed that the petroglyphs required a mile-plus walk in the hot sun; I had to choose between them and the Thurston Lava Tube if I was to leave before dark. I’d advise visitors to begin around 10 in the morning to see everything, not starting at noon as I did. The Chain Road takes time to drive, especially if you stop off at one of the many sites along the way.

The end of the road

I was pleased to find that, though Hawaii is the "newest" island, another one is forming out in the Pacific to the south, about 30 miles away and 300 feet below the surface of the water.

I returned to Volcano House, waited a few minutes for a table at the small restaurant, and had a decent sandwich to revive myself. Then it was back down the road to Thurston Lava Tube. It’s situated in a beautiful, dripping, screaming green rain forest, and when I was there, was nearly deserted (about 5PM). The tube itself reminded me so much of the caves of France and Spain; it was surprisingly long, cool and wide. A must-see.

I made my way out of the park, west along the Hawaii Belt Rd. (Rte.11), foolishly assuming that sunset would be around 7:30. I forgot I was much closer to the equator, and by the time I was ready to find the turnoff to my next AirB&B, the sun had fallen with a thud. 

It's pahoehoe, not Aa, or ow ow, which is what you say when you step on it

This proved to be a problem.

 

Stars Aplenty

 

Moon over Mauna Loa

I picked up my friend at 5:15 and we headed back up on the Saddle Road through the rain and clouds to the Mauna Kea Astronomical Observatories. The telescopes are operated by 12 separate nonprofits from all over the world working in concert with each other – at least until recently.

Courtesy of Mauna Kea Observatory

 Plans to build a huge 30-Meter Telescope (TMT - so glad it wasn't a 30 INCH telescope) have met with opposition from Native Hawaiians and other groups, causing a scramble on both sides of the fence. Possibilities could include decommissioning older telescopes, efforts to restore the natural landscape and reducing the level of activity on the summit. Mauna Kea is the world’s premier site for astronomical observation due to its high altitude, calm air, excellent visibility and dark skies.

Courtesy of Mauna Kea Observatory

If you have four-wheel drive, you’re allowed to drive almost to the summit where the observatories are, more than 13,000 feet. Lesser folks (the rangers wouldn’t take my word that a Chevy Spark actually WAS a 4-wheel drive) can park near the Visitor Information Station at over 9,000 feet. Yes, you definitely feel it, trudging up to the only thing open, the gift shop, next to the restrooms. There are plans to create more of a learning environment in the future, and to bring back the casual astronomers and their telescopes, something I remember from the past. The entire facility was shut down until July 2021 due to Covid.

It was windy and cold; though we were hoping to catch sunset there, we were surrounded by clouds. It appeared to be clearing, and I suggested hiking to the top of a nearby cinder cone. We weren’t sure we could make it, given the low level of oxygen, but my friend started up, and I tried to take the car up a nearby (very rutted) dirt road. We managed to lose each other – one was up while the other one was down. I walked to the top of the hill (over 10,000 feet at that point, from sea level a few hours before) until I began to see the nerves pulsing in my eyes about 20 feet from the top. Maybe stopping would be a good idea. The clouds were streaming by, coloring the world and path darker shades of gray. I made it down (the last person on the trail), and found my friend warming her backside against the car hood, both of us relieved we had found each other. She brought a picnic lunch with hot tea (yes!), which we devoured in the car. Then we turned out the car lights and went outside. This was the reason I was here, even though I missed my sunset.

There were galaxies spinning, the milky way smeared across the constellations that had never seemed so close, so bright. The sky canopy had completely cleared into a background of inky velvet. 

Courtesy Sam Kolder

You couldn’t help but keep turning to appreciate yet another vista of sparkling light surrounding the steady beam of Jupiter and Venus. In the dictionary, under “Awe”, Mauna Kea at night should be added. My friend remarked that this place is packed for the meteor showers, and it’s no wonder – or rather a wonder a minute. She saw two while we were standing there. Finally, the cold got to us, and we drove back to quiet, humid Hilo through the light rain.

When I dropped her off, the coquis were in full chorus. These little frogs sound exactly like birds, with a call like “bob white”, the second note bending up like a whistle. I’d never heard these anywhere else, and am grateful they find their true loves by midnight every night, because they are many and LOUD.

 

Home of the $20 Pineapple & Lots of Marching Around

Lots of great street art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The farmer’s market in old town drew me in the next day. I was there fairly early (10ish), and only the produce stalls were set up. I can’t stress how few tourists were there then and throughout the rest of the day in old town along Kamehameha Ave, the main drag. The Governor’s request a few days ago that visitors postpone their trips had real impact.

Oh, the flowers and fruit. Nearly everyone had the same foods, so it was a random choice except for a gorgeous bouquet of Anthurium and other local flora in a hand-made basket of leaves for my friend – I bought the last one there and wished I could get one a week for my own table. 

Planning on spreading the wealth, I went to another vendor and selected a papaya, a mango and a pineapple. For which I was charged $31. After I picked myself up off the concrete, I went to my car making one mental excuse after another as to why that was OK. I drove around the block, parked in the same spot and marched back. I took the fruit out of the bag one by one, and asked the prices (which I should have done in the first place). Papaya= $2. Mango=$9 (“But it’s special, imported!”) – she got that one back. Pineapple=$20. I didn’t see the gold leaf on it, and she said, “But it’s a white pineapple, and I can’t take it back because I’ve already taken the green leaves off.” 

I was handily had, with a very expensive pineapple. I marched to the car, got my phone and marched back. I took her picture, told her she should be ashamed of herself, and that I would make her famous (well, infamous, but I didn’t want to go into detail). Haole Revenge! So here she is, The Premium Pineapple Purveyor of Hilo Farmer’s Market; do not buy from this scoundrel! Or at least ask the price...

You can't hide behind that $6 mango, lady!

The fruit was delicious, even the pineapple. Even the one third of it that was close to rotten, but darn, I paid for it, I’ll eat it!

The big, not particularly inviting KTA

Hilo Surplus

I did walk around old town, passing lots of hairy brown-tinted surfers and the occasional change-requester, joint in hand. The buildings remain charming, though crying out for a loving touch of maintenance here and there. The real local action is on the side streets, with the big KTA discount grocery (on Mamo St. near Keawe – good lomilomi by the pound here)... Hilo Surplus (great camping equipment, Mamo near Kilauea),

Puna Chocolate Co. (Keawe St. near Furneaux – what can I say: brilliant chocolate, locally grown, ground and packaged), and my secret go-to, L&L barbecue on Kino’ole St. at Mamo. Yes, it looks like a dump with a steady stream of customers, and everything is actually made to order. I miss L&L already.💖

But that night is when things really got interesting…

Big Island Dreams

 

 It's been a while!

Climbing down the outside stair ramp from the airplane at the Kona airport, I was relieved that no air personnel needed to use their recent mask-fu training on me or anyone else. Now that they know they can slug us, they don’t feel the need to employ the “pretty please” voice when they tell you “Mask OVER the nose”).

Kona airport is small, and therefore completely manageable. In a few minutes, I was in my tiny rental Chevy and on the way to the Saddle Road (aka Daniel K. Inoue Hwy, but nobody calls it that). The day was overcast, humid and in the 80s.

It’s been more than 25 years since I last set foot on the big island, and I wanted to revisit a few of the things that thrilled me then. I had forgotten that this is the newest of the Hawaiian Islands, and much of the land surface is covered with gritty lava. The black ground was dotted with crowns of bright golden grass – the kind landscapers pay a bunch for a bunch.

The land changes coming up from Kona on the Saddle Road. More of a tinge of green, small trees and…goats. Wee feral goats graze on the wayside, and an occasional tusked pig makes an appearance. Coming from the mainland, the vast emptiness of this plain, on the slopes of Mauna Kea, looking south to Mauna Loa is breathtaking. You can see the enormous bases of both mountains, totally obscured by clouds.

More than halfway to Hilo, near the road to the Observatory Station, the terrain changes again. I’ve been passing through wispy clouds for a few minutes, and now they’re turned to chilly rain. And a forest of tall trees whips past my windows. From there, dropping down into Hilo, which still looks like Hawaii to me. Green growth everywhere, Houses on stilts for air circulation, sun-faded buildings, slickness kept to a minimum.

Along Kamehameha Blvd

Of course, it’s not all old-school. My first stop was at a faintly clinical Macy’s to use the facilities.