Hawai'i the Big Island is twice as big as the other islands combined and, thanks to a rambunctiously active volcano that periodically bleeds lava into the ocean, it's growing. But the Big Island isn't just where raw creation occurs. It's where the fruits of that process are presented in dizzying diversity. Eight of the world's 13 climate zones exist here, encompassing Martian lava deserts, emerald jungle, paradisical valleys that front black-, white- and even green-sand beaches, snowcapped mountains, coral forests and an enchantingly unique population of locals, hippies, transplants, eccentrics, bartenders, teachers and more. In less than 40 minutes Mokulele Airlines zips us from Maui over the coral reefs to the Big Island. We land at Kona International Airport, hire a car and head for Hilo.
The Waipi'o Valley Lookout provides a jaw-dropping view across the valley—a spectacular natural amphitheatre, as if an enormous scoop has subtracted a chunk of coastline. The valley goes back 6 miles, its flat floor an emerald patchwork of jungle, huts and taro patches crowned by the awesome sight of Hi'ilawe, a distant ribbon of white falling 1450ft, making it the longest waterfall in the state. It's one of Hawaii's iconic images.
Akaka Falls State Park offers and enchanting path that loops along the lush cliffs above a river, reaching the truly grand Akaka Falls, which plunge 442ft into a deep green basin.
In the morning we take in some history at Hilo's museums. Above are examples of antique lei in the Lyman Museum & Mission House. The lei custom was introduced to the Hawaiian Islands by early Polynesian voyagers, who took an incredible journey from Tahiti, navigating by the stars in sailing canoes. With these early settlers, the lei tradition in Hawaii was born. Leis were constructed of flowers, leaves, shells, seeds, nuts, feathers, and even bone and teeth of various animals. In Hawaiian tradition, these garlands were worn by ancient Hawaiians to beautify themselves and distinguish themselves from others.
Sandi joins in the Polynesian spirit and adds to her tropical jewelry collection with a vintage puka shell necklace (from Bryan Booth Antiques in Hilo) and a vintage pikake necklace (from Discovery Antiques in Kealakekua). Shaka baby.
A morning of museum-viewing calls for a hearty lunch so we settle into the ever-popular Café Pesto with its winning blend of Parisian flair, bayfront location, upbeat mood and predominantly Italian menu.
As night falls numerous telescopes are set up outside the station, each one trained on a different celestial object. We move from the Ring Nebula to the Andromeda Galaxy to the galactic cluster to Jupiter's moons. It is a unique and profoundly memorable experience.
Of all of Hawaii's marvels, none equals the elemental grandeur and raw power of the two active volcanoes contained within Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. The entire island chain is the result of the volcanic processes on display here, which is nothing less than the ongoing birth of Hawaii. The elder sibling is Mauna Loa, whose recumbent bulk slopes as gently as Buddha's belly, as if the earth's largest volcano (which constitutes over half of the Big Island's land mass) were nothing more than an overgrown hill. But, at 13,677ft, its navel is a frigid alpine desert that's snow-covered in winter.
It's younger sibling is Kilauea—the Earth's youngest and most active volcano. Since 1883 Kilauea's East Rift Zone has been erupting almost nonstop from the Pu'u'O'o vent, adding nearly 500 acres of new land to the island and providing residents and visitors with a front-row seat at one of the best shows on Earth.
The view from Kilauea Overlook outside the Jaggar Museum.
In Hawaiian myth, Pele is the goddess of volcanoes. She is a popular figure in many stories of ancient Hawaii.
The exhibits at the Jagger Museum are a nice compliment to the Visitor Center.
Wooden boardwalks weave through steaming Sulphur Banks, where numerous holes and rocky vents have been stained yellow, orange and neon green by the hundreds of tons of sulphuric gases released here daily. The smoldering foul-smelling area looks like the aftermath of a forest fire.
The immense underground Thurston Lava Tube is big enough for a bus.
Long-bodied Mongooses are to Hawaii what squirrels are to British Columbia. They scamper around everywhere.
The endangered Nene, Hawaii's state bird, is a long-lost cousin of the Canada Goose. Nene usually nest in sparse vegetation on rugged lava flows.
Pele graced this serene grove of palm trees and spared them from her burning hot lava flow.
The end of the road. Quite. Chain of Craters Road ends where the lava says it ends, having swamped this coastal section repeatedly over the past three decades. In years past, this was the starting point for hikes to the active flow.
We wander into the Mordor-like terrain until the surging, frozen, oily veins surround us, looking like they cooled only yesterday.
The one and only true God lovingly, gently and beautifully reminds the tourists that He's in charge, not Pele.
These photos show the lava flow heading down the mountain to the sea.
We're staying just outside the park in the small village of Volcano. Its splurge is the only high-end kitchen around, with a menu that seeks to hit all the major categories (plus antelope). Located in the Kilauea Lodge, the vaulted beamed ceiling, historic stone fireplace and eye-catching paintings of Hawaiian mythology create an upscale rustic atmosphere.
If you only have time for one hike, choose the Kilauea Iki Trail. It's the park's most popular trail for good reason—it captures all the summit's drama and beauty in one manageable, moderate 4-mile package.
Our first view of the crater's hardened lava lake.
We're almost at the bottom of the crater floor.
A pioneer species on new lava, Ohi'a prevails as the dominant tree in most mature Hawaiian forests. Honeycreepers sip nectar from its red lehua flowers.
It's helpful to have a reliable guide who studies his guidebook.
The lava is so lightweight and airy it reminds Sandi of a Crunchie bar.
Making our way across the crater floor.
Sandi thinks this lava looks like an Aero bar.
Ohia trees grow out of solid lava.
The well-trodden trail on the crater floor.
We drive to the end of Hilina Pali Road to gaze at the grassy coastal plain and beyond.
In 1969 eruptions from Kilauea's east rift began building a new lava shield, which eventually rose 400ft above its surrounding; it was named Mauna Ulu (Growing Mountain). By the time the flow stopped in 1974, it had covered 10,000 acres of parkland and added 200 acres of new land to the coast. The Pu'u Huluhulu Overlook Trail takes us there. A Walking Stick bug greets us as we begin the hike.
On the fissure's inner walls (above and below), iron and other minerals in the lava quickly oxidized in the residual steam and turned bright red and yellow.
When lava flowed through the forest, it hardened around cool tree trunks. As the flow receded, it left behind fragile molds known as “lava trees”.
Sandi thinks this lava tree looks like a cat.
The overlook trail ends at the top of a 150ft cinder cone, Pu'u Huluhulu, which is like a crow's nest on a clear day; the vista nets Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea, Pu'u 'O'o vent, Kilauea, the East Rift Zone and the ocean beyond.
Heading back.
The remnants of a lava tree becomes a welcome seat for weary hikers.
Tim's reward cocktail after a day of hiking tastes even better sipped from a tiki cup in the lounge at Volcano House with Kilauea smoking in full view.
Kilauea Caldera is just as amazing by night. The lava lake still glows molten-red every night.
Sandi thinks these delicate palm leaves blowing in the wind outside the window of our B&B look like ostrich feathers. More than anything on this trip to Hawaii, we have marveled at the wondrous intricacy, variety, beauty and power of God's creation.
Exotic Anthuriums are everywhere in Hawaii. So stunning. Tomorrow we're on the road again with the beaches of the western Kohala Coast as our destination. It's sun, surf, sand, snorkelling and R&R time.
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