Tuesday, January 16
We left at 7:30 am for a drive to the east side of the island to Volcanoes National Park. We had decided to take the 12k Volksmarch walk inside the park, and we wanted to make sure we’d have enough time to complete the walk by dusk.
Today we put on our hiking boots, as the map indicated a tougher walk than we usually take. We filled our daypacks with plenty of water, Balance bars for energy, sunscreen, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and bananas. Each of us carried two trekking poles, and we wore our panama hats. It was just about noon when we left the starting point.
We left the visitor center, descended through the rainforest to Kilauea Crater, and walked across it. We climbed up the other side of the crater in a series of rainforest switchbacks, using our trekking poles as third and fourth legs. Down again, into Kilauea Iki crater, and across, stopping at numerous steam vents. Back up via another series of switchbacks. Walked through the Thurston lava tube. We then headed back to the visitor center along the top of the craters. As we were nearing the end of our walk, at the Volcano House, we could see that the new crater was an offshoot of the bigger one. The steam vents were moving from west to east.
This was an exhilarating walk! The length of the walk was about seven miles. There were some steep ups and downs, and it was warm. All the times I've put on my walking shoes at home and trudged out my 45 minutes paid off big time. I could do the walk without much difficulty at all.
My legs are strong. Even my arms are strong. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for the Challenge I took on in July. "Thank you, God. I can do this!" (I have made a commitment to walk 500 miles in a year. At the time of this trip I had completed about 350.)
Back at the Visitors Center, we were told by a ranger that the lava was flowing near the end of Chain of Craters road, that they could see it from the road.
We returned to our rental car and headed for Carson’s Volcano Cottages, the bed and breakfast I had selected for this one night on the eastern side of the island. Our room was in an outbuilding to the main house. We walked up the path through rainforest to get to it. The décor was what I would call faux Japanese – the room was cute and quiet.
Once registered and unpacked, we left again and drove back to the National Park, driving down Chain of Craters Road to watch the lava flowing. It was about a half hour before dusk when we arrived. Dozens of people had parked their cars and walked on the lava that flowed across the road in 1996. We could see a small red glow on the mountainside three or four miles away. As the dusk settled into night, the glow got brighter and larger. The park ranger told us that the lava was flowing through lava tubes and on the surface with increased volume, growing larger as it spread out down the hillside. Trees were burning in its path.
The scene at the end of Chain of Craters Road reminded me of 4th of July events – people sitting out in the dusk and early dark, waiting and watching.
By the time we got back to our room, showered and changed for dinner, it was 8:00. We had an unexpectedly difficult time finding a place to eat, as the five restaurants in Volcano were all closed. We ended up with Thai takeout in our room.
On this day we walked a total of nine miles. I wasn't exhausted. We were a little stiff for a couple of hours after the walk, but the next morning we got up and were ready to go again. Not bad for a couple of middle-aged haoles!
Wednesday, January 17
In the morning Art and I considered taking an eight-mile hike outside the National Park, to within a mile of the current eruption of Kilauea at Pu’u ‘O’o. But the writers of our guidebook recommended that we arrive at the trailhead by 7am to be sure we were back out by dusk. Since part of the pleasure of a bed and breakfast is the sumptuous morning meal, we figured we couldn’t start until nearly 10, so we reluctantly gave up the idea of the adventurous hike.
Instead, we spent a leisurely day making our way back to the west side of the Big Island. We drove around the south side and headed first for South Point, the southernmost point in the United States. South Point was at the end of a 12-mile, sometimes-single-lane road. It seemed as we drove as though we were headed right off the edge of the world. The landscape was farm and grassland, sparsely populated. The trees grew nearly horizontal, bent constantly by the prevailing winds. We saw wind-powered energy generators; the noise of the blades beating against the wind sounded like earthling attempts to contact life forms in outer space.
On the South Point road we ran into a group of Volksmarchers on a tour of the Big Island, covering the last six miles of the road as their walking event for the day. We stopped to chat with a few of the walkers. There were about a dozen of them, and I thought briefly that it might be fun to take a Volksmarch travel tour, but then I recalled the limitations of a tour and our preference for independent travel.
Our next stop was at the Pu’uhonua o Honaunau, or Place of Refuge. Our book says:
“In ancient times, commoners’ lives were governed by the kapu system. Those of lower classes weren’t allowed to look at or even walk on the same trails as upper classes. Men and women were forbidden to eat together, citizens were not allowed to get close to a chief or allow their shadows to fall across them, etc…. The penalty for breaking any of the laws was usually the same – death by club, strangulation, fire or spear”.
If a wrongdoer managed to escape his punishers and get to the Place of Refuge, he could gain asylum after performing certain rituals mandated by the kahuna pule (priest). Then all was forgiven, and he could go home.
“Defeated warriors could also come here to await the victor of a battle. They could then pledge their allegiance to whoever won and live out their lives in peace.”
Art says that, since they had many battles, they could live out their lives in peace until the next battle.
Pu’uhonua o Honaunau is a national park now, a restored and maintained Hawaiian village complete with park ranger giving talks to busloads of restless, wiggling fourth graders. It’s a very calm-feeling place on the edge of the ocean, and the lava rocks on its shore are basking places for sea turtles.
As we continued around the island, we came to Kealakekua Bay, known as one of the finest places for snorkeling on the Big Island. All the pictures I’d seen of this bay showed waters that were dead calm and bright blue. On this day, though, in midafternoon, the water was choppy and grayish.
We looked out across the bay to the Captain Cook monument. Captain James Cook was one of the first white men to reach the Hawaiian Islands, and he met an untimely end at the hands of some native people.
Art and I had discussed the idea of going snorkeling during this trip. Neither of us have ever snorkeled and, to be honest, I wasn’t nuts about the idea. I haven’t been fond of my appearance in a bathing suit for a number of years now, and the idea of putting on a mask and fins and exposing my middle-aged body to the sun and surf of a Big Island snorkeling spot wasn’t too appealing. But I’d been told by several people that it is an awesome experience. What was especially alluring to me about the idea of snorkeling was that dolphins live in the bay, and it’s common for them to swim alongside boats and even with people in the water. I was interested in that. So I’d reserved a couple of seats on an inflatable that traveled to Kealakekua Bay and the Captain Cook monument, with stops for snorkeling (the ad said they’d provide the equipment and teach us) and exploring caves along the shoreline.
As I looked at the uncalm waters of Kealakekua Bay, I knew I was going to cancel the snorkeling reservation. I felt a strong mix of relief and regret. The trip would have been out of my comfort zone somewhat, but I try to do something like that every now and then to prove to myself that I’m not a conservative, fear-based coward. I expect Art felt relief as well; he’s not a fan of water activities anyway, and he would probably only have gone along to be a good sport and keep me company.
Sometime later in the week, Art was chatting about snorkeling with some “natives”, who assured him that we’d made a good choice. There had been a storm the day we arrived, and it churned up the water. The visibility for snorkeling was terrible.
The last stop of the day was at an organic vegetable stand, where we picked up a collection of lovely baby salad ingredients. Art did not get a good deal on this purchase money-wise, but when we fixed a salad at the end of the day, drizzling the tossed greens with lemon juice, he proclaimed it delicious.
Thursday, January 18
I’d made plans for this day before we left Seattle. Several years ago when Art and I were in Sedona, Arizona, we hired an archaeologist to take us on a hike. We made discoveries we would never have seen otherwise, and learned more than we could have picked up on our own. I wanted to have a similar experience on the Big Island. We chose Hawaiian Walkways as the company, because the groups were small and I had a positive exchange of email with Dr. Hugh Montgomery, the owner, beforehand. He had assured me my fear of heights (actually, it’s a fear of falling from heights) would not be a handicap.
We joined Hugh, his wife Kaulana, and five other hikers for a 3.5-mile trek in the rainforest on the north end of the island. Much of the land is owned by the Bishop Estate, which has leased out acreage to small tour operators. So our tour was truly exclusive – only Hawaiian Walkways walkers get to go on this particular part of the land.
We took an off-road vehicle to the starting point. The trail was occasionally steep and root filled. We labored down a small, steep cliff with the help of rope and tree roots to have lunch by a beautiful, isolated waterfall. Much of the trail was along the rim of the Waipi’o Valley. (We had considered walking into this valley, but the road descends 900 feet in less than a mile, and the thought of walking back up or paying for a ride back up, resulted in our decision to pass on the walk down.) In spite of my fear, I managed to make my way along the rim without holding up the rest of the group. Again, I was gratified at my strength and endurance on this walk.
Art and I had saved up questions during the five previous days, and we asked our guide, Hugh Montgomery, all of them. He had answers for every question – whether history, botany or geology, his knowledge was wide ranging. Just what we’d hoped for.
For example, we had learned earlier in the week that the last sugar plantation on the Big Island had gone out of business in 1996, and we wondered what had happened. Hugh told us that originally, when sugar was harvested by hand, the cane was cut off close to the soil but the roots were left intact for another crop. When the harvesting became mechanized to increase productivity, the machines chopped the cane and then bulldozed the roots. Then the winds came along, and without the roots to hold the soil, the topsoil blew away. So for the next planting the fields had to be moved to access fresh soil. Eventually the cost of producing the sugar, and transporting it from the more distant fields, became too costly to compete with beet sugar being grown elsewhere and with artificial sugars such as NutraSweet being developed.
Now that sugar is no longer being raised in the area, the land is used to grow fast-maturing trees such as eucalyptus, which is used in papermaking.
Hugh also told us that you can tell which plants are indigenous to the area and which are not. When fields are cleared, the nonindigenous plants come back and dominate the area. This is because the indigenous plants grew and thrived at a time when there was no competition for survival and no natural enemies. So they didn’t develop defense mechanisms such as bad taste or thorns. But the imports had adapted earlier to more competitive environments, so they quickly take over when they are introduced.
The rainforest was exactly like we had seen in books and movies. Just fantastic.
In the evening we went to an AA meeting near our condo. We try to hit a meeting everywhere we travel. We’ve had some great experiences with meetings in Ireland and Canada and Mexico as well in a number of states. We may be far from home geographically, but AA meetings are home wherever we are. We’re lucky that way. I wonder sometimes where non-AA’ers go to touch base when they’re away from home.
One of the couples at the meeting used to live in Thousand Oaks, California, which is where my former in laws lived for many years. My mother-in-law, Doris Granholm, was a prominent “early settler” there, and the woman at the meeting recognized her name. Doris and her husband Jackson live a quiet life in Oregon now. I saw her recently and told her that the woman at the meeting had commented that Doris had made significant contributions to her Thousand Oaks community. A compliment from the Big Island. Small world.