A day of volcanoes, Part I

Upon tripping out of the tent in the newly risen sun, I noticed that my anxieties from the night before had been unfounded. Not about the vog rolling in and smothering us in our sleep, though that didn't happen either. After several cups of water and 1/3 of a bottle of wine I'd been bordering on paranoid that many potty breaks would be needed throughout the night. Although the tent has a door on either side (brilliant invention), I slept in the middle. My little bladder persevered and only once did I stray into the star light for a late night trip to a bush. And that happened when Jon got up first, then The C. Fortuitous. 

After stumbling out of the tent and realizing that it was morning and that I no longer filled the inside of my sleeping bag, my eyes opened to beauty. A complete lack of vog or cloud allowed the sun to shine down out of the clear blue sky. Everything around had a clarity that comes with early morning sunshine. Mauna Loa and even far off Mauna Kea stood out crisply and for a moment I gawped in wonder. In the night 2 other tents took their places within the campground but none of their inhabitants had yet stumbled into the sun. The still air was silent. Maybe no creatures had yet stirred or the vog had killed off everything in the area, I don't know. Without a word we three grabbed our cameras and began to wander around taking pictures. Not too distantly the plumes from the actives vents could be seen, plumes which began to haze over the clear blue as we watched. Hunger pangs started to sound out, prodding us into movement. A very wet tent returned to its sack and the rest of our gear got stowed in the trunk with no discernible order. While one of the other tent's inhabitants moved blearily into the world, we and the Civic drove off to eat breakfast from the Kilauea Caldera overlook before the vog closed in once again.


The volcanic plume

Me and Mauna Loa

Because of the early hour, we had the caldera rim to ourselves. The tasty Thai food from the night before tasted just fine cold, and we munched while trying to get pictures to capture the brutal, moonscape-ish beauty of the caldera. By the time other tourists arrived so had our coffee cravings and a nice thickening vog. Before going to Volcano House for coffee we stopped at the steam vents again for clearer pictures and to stand in the steam and warm up. When finally we walked into Volcano House (a hotel near the park entrance with an amazing view) our eyes burned. As soon as we left the VH with full cups of coffee, our eyes started tearing and our throats began to burn, prompting sick sounding coughs and wheezing. I've breathed foul air before, air thick enough to have density (Beijing), which didn't compare to the air now burning our chests. There didn't appear to be much in the air, but it was like standing in the middle of a raging bonfire of noxious materials. Ouchie.

How did we respond to this killer air? An air conditioned drive to a crater off the easternmost edge of the Caldera and then a 4-mile hike down into the crater, across it, and back up again. Fortunately the air remained clear for the hike. It was my first time on this trail and it was gorgeous. As we hiked along the rim our progress halted repeatedly for pictures down into the crater and pictures of the splendid foliage. One time a group of maybe 20 school kids and their chaperones caused us pause. These kids bounced and laughed down the trail, little backpacks and the occasional hiking stick. Like us they were headed into the crater but our route took us counter clockwise and their led them clockwise. "See ya on the bottom!" Chirping birds used their wiles to escape my visual attention, successfully for the most part. On occasion a flash of color would catch my eye while a warbling cry spun into and beyond my ears. Outside the thick tree cover the sun shone onto the black lava and created heat mirages. After some time passed the trail dumped us out onto the crater floor. It's amazing, seeing the remnants of a lava flow. The cracks and fissures, the brittle but skin-shredding lava rock seeming to pulse beneath a pair of worn sandals. We scurried up ridges and crackled down their backside. A faint white color somewhat marked a trail, helped along by numerous cairns. Halfway across the crater our school kid friends passed by. A trudgery now marred their steps and only the lead teacher still bubbled and skipped. Before leading her straggly band past us, she let us know that rangers had almost kept them from coming down the trail because of the terrible air quality. As they pondered turning back the wind shifted, the air cleared and they clambered down before it shifted again. This left us hoping that squalid air would not be greeting us on the climb out. 

As amazing as it is to see the old lava flows, what astounds me the most is the plant life that grows through it. The ohia tree is the first tree to grow back in a lava flow. Seeing this tree punching up through the rock is astounding. Nature is pretty rad. 

Our hike ended without any of the three of us succumbing to toxic poisoning so we headed to the Thurston Lava Tube for a quick poke around. It's neat, this large cave-like tube, which once carried oodles of lava through it. That's all I have to say about that. 

Kilauea Iki

Lehua blossom on Ohia tree

Thurston lava tube

Into the haze

Did you know that the southernmost point in the USA is located on the Big Island of Hawaii? It's called Ka Lae ("The Point") (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ka_Lae) also known as South Point. It is windy. And south. Every time I've been there the sun has shone and the crazy waves crashed in abundance. It's a popular fishing spot and I've heard tell that locals jump the cliffs into the wildly currented water.

South Point is a point rife with cliffs. The primary viewpoint is atop 35ish foot cliffs. I've never seen anyone jump from the cliffs, and that still holds. However. There is a lava tube back a short way from the cliff face, an ocean entry I would never dare to use. The large waves rushing into the tube seemed to raise and lower the water level by at least 10 feet. As I tried to peer over the edge from many feet away an older guy with a long white beard and scraggly long hair stepped off into the void, down into the roiling water. Soon after a young Aussie guy followed. The small crowd rushed over to the cliff face and we watched them struggle up a ladder bolted into the rock. Jon began stripping his shirt off, convinced that he too could defeat the ocean's wrath. We lured him away with the promise of malasadas at the Punalu'u Bake Shop which claims to be the southernmost bakery in the US (http://www.bakeshophawaii.com/). Reluctantly, drool slipping down his jaw, Jon re-donned his shirt and collapsed into the back seat.

Sugary sweet malasadas and unnecessary cups of coffee propelled us along the southern coast towards the volcano. As proof that an active volcano does reside on island, the haze of the vog grew thicker the nearer we got. By the time we arrived in the park (http://www.nps.gov/havo/index.htm), dusk preludes streaked across a sky hidden from our eyes by fog or vog or cloud. At the visitor's center we learned that a decent portion of the park has been closed because of the proliferation of poisonous gases. Maybe more because those gases can be deadly than the simple fact of their existence. After Jon finished taking pictures inside the center the Civic brought us to the Kilaeua Caldera overlook, where a magnificent view did not greet us. A solid wall of gray obscured all but the closest rocks. Inside the caldera a couple trails and a road typically allow visitors to get a ground's eye view. Unfortunately, that part of the park is closed because of recent activity. Within the caldera is the Halema'uma'u Crater from which is issuing a large plume of deadly gas. This we could not see. Instead steam vents back toward's the visitor's center provided us moist amusement until finally the decision was made to find our camping grounds for the night. These camping grounds, according to park maps, lay just beyond the border of the red cross-hatched "CLOSED" area. If the wind stayed right, all would be fine. If they shifted wrongly, well, hopefully we'd not find out. Back around the Caldera and down to a one-lane dirt road that brought us to the Kulanaokuaiki camping area. One tent had been pitched and a couple was eating a fast-food take-out picnic at one of the picnic tables. Otherwise the place was empty. From the trunk we grabbed our tent and sleeping bags and chose one of the free camping spots away from the parking lot. With true darkness descending we left the park and drove a couple miles down the road to the Town of Volcano for dinner.

On past visits, the C and I had tried in vain to eat at Thai Thai (http://www.yelp.com/biz/thai-thai-restaurant-volcano) a restaurant of great repute in the town of Volcano. All we had ever experienced was a "Closed" sign. Luck remained beside us this night and it was open! And the prices....a bit higher than we'd hoped. Nevertheless, hunger spoke louder than far off abused bank accounts and we grabbed a table. Oh my the food was worth the price! Spicy, very flavorful and great service. And portions big enough for half to be saved as breakfast. Yum!

Back in the campground a clear sky greeted us. Jon beseeched all the gods he could think of after dinner, desperate for stars and a decided lack of deadly gas. Some how he pulled it off. Our lone bottle of wine came out and while The C shivered in the tent, Jon and I stood and stared in amazement at the brilliant night sky. It was the perfect end to a damn good day. After finishing off the wine the three of us crowded into the tent for a cozy night's sleep.