Ever since arriving to Oahu, I've been dreaming of heading off the island to see more. OK. So I am easily distracted and once I feel like seeing something I search for what lies beyond the river bend. In my case, I look forward to island hopping in order to keep me from feeling the classic signs of island fever. So, once my parents made their plans to come and visit us here in Paradise, I began planning our trip to the Big Island, Hawaii. After more than four months of planning, my dream to head off to explore another island in the chain was to become a reality.
As we began our descent into Hilo, large cliffs dropped into the waiting endless waves crashing along the shoreline. It was pretty clear that we were no longer in a booming metropolis, but would experience a slow island pace with buildings that were no higher than two or three levels. The land, or 'aina, was the spotlight on this island. A care and close watch on what Pele, the goddess of volcanoes, could create over thousands of years. The baggage claim is akin to what a rural airport may have once been. The plane may have been full, but the crowds non-existent. It was as if we had landed on foreign land that had been left untouched.
We were greeted by a friendly employee of the Kilauea Military Camp, who would drive us up to the National Park to our lodging. The voyage through Hilo would have been missed if I had blinked three times. Mostly rural and comprised mostly of houses, it is hard to know where the people were employed. Although, don't get me wrong...I reinirate that this is not the chaos of Oahu with crowded interstates and endless shopping malls.
Approaching the land of the Volcanoes National park, we couldn't help but giggle at the signs warning us of the poor air quality. Have three active volcanoes? Let our clan come and stay a while right under the plume. Got gas? Well, point our clan in that direction and we'll be sure to marvel at the beauty of Pele's waste (sulphur crystals) that line the openings of the sulphur banks. Kilauea is one of the most active volcanoes in the world and we were thrilled to be in the vicinity of nature's destruction, rebirth, and renewal. Honestly, I've never felt more in awe of God's creative powers or more willing to flee for fear that the earth would tremble under my feet.
KMC is adorable. Set right out of the early 1940s, the lobby was not as thrilling as the stained glass of Kilauea erupting. Nestled comfortably at 4096 ft, the air was cool and crisp. We couldn't check into our cottage until 3 in the afternoon, so, we headed for lunch in the cafe and then for an exploration of the camp facilities.
Once we had LD down for a nap and grandma and popop happily relaxing in our cottage, HH, HS, and I took a hike around the crater rim road. Our first glimpse into Kilauea's caldera and view of the explosive steam vent rising out of Halema' uma' u' crater was what mars must look like. The crater floor was void of green and steam rose from cracks in the floor. I shudder to think how many feet the side of the crater rim equaled. All that saved us from plummeting down a very steep cliff was a visible reminder that humans were not in charge of the earth around this area.
The steam vent field filled with steam coming out in various locations was surreal. It is obvious that Pele is at work, busily creating and building frustration and then releasing it via earth cracks. We didn't see many tourists, but the ones we did earned the "Darwin award" for their stupidity in standing as near to the steam vents as humanly possible. I guess no matter how many signs one places up, people will do what the want. We finally arrived at the visitor's center where HS picked up a Junior Ranger packet and swore that he would return with it completed.
We headed back to KMC via the Sulphur banks, which smelled of boiled eggs mixed with some bad gas. I couldn't help myself. I made jokes about the two men in my life the entire way through that portion of the hike. On reflection, this hike was probably one of my favorite that we would take. We marveled at the prehistoric ferns, unfamiliar birds songs high in the canopy of the 'ohi 'a lehua trees, and were in awe of being in the precense of a volcano.
By the time we returned, Nene were enjoying a nibble before they settled in for the night and we sat down to have dinner, relax with a nice cold Mehana Red Volcano brewed locally in Hilo, and chat around the fire. I was officially in heaven. Fire. Family. Finally away.
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