“What time is it?” I muttered.  Rich had been reading in bed for some time, and I felt certain I was entitled to several more hours sleep.  “4:30” came the answer.  Just as I was turning over, trying to regain my state of unconsciousness, Rich piped up again.  “I have a crazy idea.  You can say ‘no’ if you want.  Let’s get up and go see the volcano now, while it’s still dark!”  While I tried to form the word “no” on my lips, out came a timid “okay.”  Rich leapt out of bed.

I suspect that his great sense of urgency was the on-again, off-again behavior of the Kilauea volcano.  It began erupting late in the fall, then stopped. We were thrilled when it started up again just prior to our visit, but there was no guarantee how long that would last.  Rich was still on a high from seeing the daytime lava dance and hated the thought of missing its nighttime glow.  My muddled brain understood, but still struggled to gain enthusiasm.

Soon we were streaking through the night, roads devoid of traffic, high beams piercing the darkness.  We had each packed warm layers just for this purpose, knowing the night air would be cold up high.  I wore them all, minus a few useful items that I missed in the hurry to leave, and watched the thermometer dip.

As we drew near the park entrance, cars materialized out of nowhere.  We were soon surrounded by folks on the same mission and the sunrise seekers.  The parking lot was more packed than it had been mid-day.  Gathering our things we hustled up to the overlook at the edge of the crater, but nothing prepared us for the view.

Down below, the gray oval we’d seen in daylight was now aglow with fiery lava.  No more was it a black hole with one big fountain of lava and intermittent sprays here and there.  It was a pulsating ring of fire.  Rivers of lava defined its edges and crisscrossed the molten lake, alive with motion.  Smoke and steam rising out of the ubiquitous vents surrounding the spectacle reflected the orange glow.  The vast coverage of the seething lava blew away the impression from our daytime view.  It was a scene that far outstripped our wildest imaginations – this was a real live volcano!  Even my iPhone was able to capture a reasonable facsimile of the spectacle.

The same boiling, jumping hot spot still dominated the view, and the darkness crystalized the flying fire that it spewed.  It looked bigger and more active than ever, particularly through Rich’s binoculars.  Rich himself was on fire with his array of cameras, lenses and tiny tripod.  He was deeply absorbed in his mission to capture still and video shots, in his element with a subject beyond compare.  His resulting images are spectacular.

I left him to his craft while I ambled to a higher viewing spot to catch the sunrise.  While it didn’t line up with the lava lake, the steam vents were still visible below the eastern glow in the sky.

By the time the sun made its appearance, we were both shaking with the cold.  I could no longer hold the binoculars still.  As the sunlight washed out the magical show, we happily headed back to the car and turned the heater up high.  The thermometer read 48-degrees by then.  But we got everything we came for, and more.  It was a blazing postscript to our volcano experience.

Service at the coffee shop was efficient and quick.  But my need for a latte changed the trajectory of our entire day.

We had set out to explore a number of waterfalls, starting with Rainbow Falls just west of Hilo.  When we left our guesthouse, Google informed us it was a 33-minute drive.  But shortly after I emerged with my beloved caffeine, we were informed with a familiar “plunk” that there was now a shorter route, and we were to turn left at the next intersection.  It turns out we had no choice in the matter.  The flashing blue lights and hand directions from the police forced us onto a local street to avoid whatever it was that had transpired on the main road and summoned the emergency vehicles we saw flying by.

Suddenly we were crawling along behind an endless stream of cars, creeping through neighborhoods on a narrow road that lost its center line and bits of its pavement.  Progress was imperceptible, frustration high.  There was no escape, only the inexorable inching forward.  The next 4.5 miles took us an hour and a half, and by then we had a new plan.  When our creeping serpentine of cars turned right hoping to regain the main road, we turned left.  Forget the waterfalls.  We were going to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park!

We felt liberated as we flew down the road toward our new destination, and I desperately thumbed through my guidebook to gain as much knowledge as possible before we arrived.  We had planned to visit the National Park during our stay, it just had not yet come up yet on our loose agenda.  But a quick consultation at the Visitor Center quickly gave us good direction.

Our first destination was the Kilauea Overlook.  “The view is especially good at this time of day,” the young ranger assured us.  The volcano had returned to active status just eight days prior, and although we were eager to see a “live volcano” we were unprepared for the sight.  As soon as we reached the roped off area overlooking the crater, we could see what looked like flames dancing in the oval shaped area of activity.  Thanks to Rich’s binoculars we could see lava bubbling up, flowing over and spilling out.  A real lava flow!  Even with our naked eyes, we spotted other areas of lava that seemed to come and go on the oval floor of the crater.  It was all over the place!  We had no idea that we would be watching a live volcano that day.  The fact that it was far away did little to diminish our fascination, and we made a firm commitment to return in the dark when we could see it glow.

Rich was able to get more detail on the bubbling lava with his telephoto lens.

I wanted to stop and see the Steam Vents on the way back.  Out on the edge of the crater, the cervices pumped out white steam, hot warm humidity.  They were interesting, but even better was the conversation I had with a Park Volunteer who was happily spending 3 months in Hawaii instead of her home in Iceland.  We happily commiserated on the cold and snow back home.  Better yet, she gave me some great tips on where to watch the sunset when we returned for our night viewing.

I was eager to do the 3.5 mile Kilauea Iki Crater hike, reported to be one of the best hikes in the park (and endorsed by our son Erik and his wife Katie from their recent visit).  It was reported to be an “easy, okay maybe moderate” hike in my guidebook.  But Rich would beg to differ.  We started in a shady forest, lush with greenery and a smooth path to follow.  It was easy going at the high elevation far above the crater’s floor and a pleasant walk. 

When we reached the far end of the crater, we began our descent.  Although there were helpful steps to ease the drop, it was undeniably rough and steep, and the forest greenery soon gave way to crusty lava.  I inched my way down, finding some drops a bit long for my short legs while Rich extended a hand to help.  We met some young men making their way up.  They had just crossed the lava lake.  “It’s like a relationship I had,” one told us.  “It just kept going on and on and never ended.”  We had to laugh at their attitude and assured them that better terrain lay ahead for them.

Once down on the floor of the crater, we picked our way across the rough lava, keeping to the rock cairns or “ahu” as the stacked rocks are known here.  In time that gave way to smooth lava flows, the lava lake that formed at the bottom of the crater.  The hot, unprotected sun beat down but was offset by cooling winds.  By the time we reached the other end, the tree coverage felt heavenly.  The ascent is said to be more gentle there due to the switchbacks which keep it to a milder grade. But it is still a formidable vertical distance.  Over 550 feet, as Rich points out.

Even so, I had to agree with the guidebook.  If you do only one hike in the park, that’s the one to do.  After all, how often do you get to walk across a lava lake?  Not a bad alternative to a waterfall.  Especially when there is a sudden change of plans.

Hello Hawaii!  We arrived in the dark, so this morning was our first real view of our surroundings here on the Big Island.  Our guesthouse is in a lush green yard with exotic plants alive with birdsong and surrounded by thick tropical forest, immediately adjacent to Lava Tree State Park.  The peace, seclusion and privacy in addition to the warm climate gave us an immediate feel of laid back island life.  So it was with great surprise, we learned about its near-miss in the 2018 volcano lava flow.

Our hosts, Kent and Melanie, welcomed us with open arms and Melanie immediately brought me into their home to show me aerial photos taken just four days after the eruption.  The juxtaposition of green and black painted a stark picture of the devastation.  Just 1/8 mile away the lava advanced inexorably, crossing roads, changing the landscape forever.  In order to see it for ourselves, Melanie gave us directions for a driving loop which we quickly followed.

We took the main road away from Pahoa, which Google labels with “End of the Road” just a short distance away.  It is literally covered by lava beyond that point. Taking the other fork toward the coast, the road has been rebuilt right through the lava.  Roadside views quickly transition from homes and greenery to solid lava lining both sides of the road.  It is easy to see the lava’s path, what trees and structures were spared and where it all lies buried beneath the black devastation.  A stark reality.

As we neared the end of the lava flow, the road took a sharp left turn and an equally sharp transformation.  Government Beach Road had major portions covered in lava, but was laboriously rebuilt in 2019 despite challenges including encountering still-hot surface temperatures.  The narrow road travels through a green canopy of tropical trees and plants, lending it seclusion as well as serenity with its 15 mph speed limit and the need for pull-outs to allow cars to pass.  When it reached the ocean, gigantic waves crashed against the shoreline.  We spent a long time watching the force of nature pounding against those rocky lava cliffs.

For the afternoon, I chose to drive down to the southern shore of Puna.  Prior to 2018 it would have been a short drive, but the road closure forced me into a round about approach.  However that took me along another narrow drive, paralleling the shore this time in closer proximity to the water.  There I was able to witness the impacts of both new and old lava.

The initial part of the drive was lush and green, as the tropical forest found footholds in old lava flows and reclaimed its dominance.  In some spots, pillars of lava poked up through the plantings, a reminder of the part it played in this geography. Continuing on, the path of the 2018 lava was evident once again.  The road passes through one section, re-emerges then eventually ends at Isaac Hale Park.  There the lava created the island’s newest black sand beach, which I explored.  Smooth fine sand mixed with harsh larger chunks of lava made for tricky walking, but didn’t stop sunbathers from stretching out their towels.  The picnic areas of the park had walkways that wound through flowering plants but often ended abruptly at lava walls.  And the altered layout of the park hindered my search for the warm springs that supposedly were there.  It gave me an eerie sense of life as a path interrupted.

I found myself fascinated by the co-existence of life and volcanoes.  When they choose to erupt, there is no stopping the flow, which follows no rules.  It reshapes the land, changes travel patterns, saves some areas and devastates others.  I can’t wait to explore more of Hawaii’s Big Island over the next two weeks.  I’m sure I will learn many more lava lessons.