This is the time of year when silverswords bloom. These plants, members of the sunflower family, are endemic to Hawaii. There are slightly different silverswords growing on Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea and Haleakala on Maui. The plants are very susceptible to root disturbance and the activities of goats, pigs and humans has led to their decline. They’re making a comeback now thanks to fenced enclosures and careful management.
These photos were taken on Mauna Loa a few years back. The flower stalks were about 6 to 8 feet tall. The plants live for up to 30 years, but once they bloom, they die (like the one in the background of the top photo).
In the second photo, the ongoing eruption of Kilauea’s Pu’u O’o vent can be seen.
At twilight, lava flows down Pūlama pali while, at the top of the hill, a smaller breakout can be seen. In the center are two onlookers, illuminated by the glow of flashlights.
In the early evening, the flow descends the pali, starting fires in surviving stands of trees and shrubs.
As the light fades, the glow from the flow reflects off passing clouds. The white lights are the flashlights of people hiking to or from the flow.
The lava flow burns brightly as darkness falls.
In April, I posted here about a trip last year to see lava bubbling up at Kilauea Volcano. That activity was in the Overlook vent of Halema’uma’u Crater. On May 24, Kilauea’s other active vent, Pu’u O’o, began a new breakout of lava toward the southeast. This is a path that flows have taken many times before. The first active lava I saw was back in 2010 when such a flow reached the sea and put on a spectacular show.
This May 24 flow is also headed to the sea. By June 28 it had reached Pūlama pali, a steep slope leading down to the coastal plain. On July 7 it was less than three-quarters of a mile from the ocean, and creeping slowly over previous flows that have taken this path. That’s when I went down to take a look and took these photos.
At its current rate of progress, the flow will reach the ocean in a week. But it could speed up or stop, so it’s really a case of wait and see.
There is one note of irony. I have a map from 1975 showing the road that ran along this coast before being covered by various flows from the volcano. In 2014, a flow from the Pu’u O’o vent headed east, threatening the town of Pahoa and the main highway into that corner of the island. One response to that situation was to bulldoze an emergency highway along the coast, at a cost of $10 million or so, following the route of the old road. It was never used as that flow stopped short of Pahoa. If the current flow travels another a half mile or so, the emergency highway will be covered again without ever being used. Such is life.
This little dome is where simulated Mars missions take place. Currently there’s a crew of six living in the dome on a 365-day mission, the longest such experiment to date. The previous crew lived in the dome for eight months.
The dome, at around 8,000 foot on the north side of Mauna Loa, is situated a little way off the Mauna Loa Observatory road. In the photo below it can be seen about ¾ of the way up in the center.
I like the different perspective when seeing things from the water, in this case Hualalai, the third most active volcano on the Big Island after Kilauea and Mauna Loa.
The lava lake in the Overlook vent at Halema’uma’u Crater.
The slightly cooler surface is broken up by bubbling lava.
A hotspot illuminates the crater wall.
The quiet group reverently looking on had the appearance of a cult at times …
… Gathered around the mystical ring of fire.
Today marks the anniversary of a trip my wife and I made to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. That’s where Kilauea Volcano, active since 1983, has two vents spewing lava. Flows from Pu’u O’o vent have, over the last few years, reached to the ocean and threatened to take out the town of Pahoa.
The other vent is in Halema’uma’u Crater. It’s known as the Overlook vent since it’s below an old viewing overlook. Since it became active in 2008, it’s been a bubbling pool of lava, varying from 60 to 400 feet below the floor of the crater. By night the lava glow was visible. By day, mostly what could be seen was steam and smoke.
In early April of last year, the lava lake started rising. It rose so much that the lava became visible from the Jaggar Museum, which gives a good view of the main crater. It was time to check it out. The problem was that the spectacle of active lava visible from an accessible spot led to a crush of visitors. The park warned that large crowds were showing up and advised visiting at off peak times.
Lava viewing is more vivid at night, but the scene in daylight is also interesting, so there were two options. Showing up in the afternoon and staying through sunset would be iffy because it was guaranteed to be crowded. The alternative was to arrive before sunrise and stay until it got light. The only snag? We live 100 miles away.
The day before the trip, we turned in early and I set my alarm for 12:01 a.m. We got up and were on the road by 12:35. Driving in the wee hours was actually pretty nice. The stars were out and the roads mostly empty. In Hilo, we stopped at Ken’s House of Pancakes, the Big Island’s only open-24-hours restaurant, and had breakfast at 2:45 a.m., a slightly surreal experience. Then back on the road before pulling into the viewing area parking lot at the Jaggar Museum a little before 4 a.m.
It was cold with the wind making it feel cooler and we weren’t really dressed for the occasion. But there weren’t too many people there, the night sky was gorgeous, and the lava very visible and active. We watched it bubble and spatter, often vigorously. Daylight crept in. As it did so the scene changed and more people began to show up. By 6 a.m. it was light so we left, getting home just after 8:30. It was strange to think that at that relatively early hour we had driven to the farthest side of the island, watched the volcano for a couple of hours, and driven back. Usually at the time the most I can claim is that I’ve made coffee.
First light silhouettes the onlookers.
As darkness dissipates, lava bubbles in the crater.
Soon after our visit, part of the crater wall collapsed into the lava causing a big explosion. The lava lake also reached the rim of the Overlook vent and began to spill out onto the main crater floor. We thought these developments were worth making the same trek again. And then the lava went into retreat. It fell back below the rim of the vent. Within days, the lava lake in the vent disappeared from sight and sank back to its former levels, which is where it remains, currently more than 100 feet below the Halema’uma’u Crater floor. (For scale, the active vent opening measures about 500 feet by 700 feet and the distance from the main Halemaumau Crater floor to the rim is about 270 feet.)
This is where the planned Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) is supposed to be built. I say ‘supposed to’ because the project is currently going in reverse. Construction should have started in April of last year, but protests derailed that. Then two court decisions late last year mean the permitting process has to start again. As it stands right now, The TMT people have said they need approved permits by early next year. In the meantime, alternative sites are being checked out, in case things don’t come together.
Personally, I don’t think the telescope will be built here. The protesters aren’t going to go away, I don’t think there’s the will in Hawaii officialdom to get it done, and I don’t think the TMT people want to do what it will take, which would leave them looking like the bad guys running roughshod over Hawaiian cultural practices.
It’s more complicated than this of course, but if I were a betting man, I know where my money would go.
The lava comes in many colors, seen here where the trail crosses the road.
Clouds hang over the west side of the saddle between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea.
These two big cairns mark a collapsed lava tube.
The collapsed lava tube is full of colorful rock.
The observatory comes into view. Note the rough a’a lava on the right and the more rounded pahoehoe on the left and in the foreground.
This is a continuation of yesterday’s post, the third and final leg of the hike.
I made a rapid descent. Despite not feeling well, I was still able to put one foot in front of the other at a good pace. Unlike the Mauna Kea descent that I did a few weeks previously, this wasn’t as steep so the going really was easier. I made good time back to the trail junction at the edge of North Pit and better time from there on, barreling down the slope.
The weather continued to be perfect – cool, but sunny and clear. And going down, the views are always there. On this trail, unlike the Mauna Kea descent, views open up to both sides of Mauna Kea as well as the mountain itself. There were still clouds over Waimea and the foothills, and some clouds to the Hilo side, but these had been there all day and had not advanced at all up the saddle.
The farther I descended, the better I felt. There was some unnoticed point at which my concern for how I felt was replaced by appreciating what I was seeing, because I wasn’t feeling bad anymore. I wound down through the cinder section, followed the road again and came to the two big cairns marking the broken lava tube. From there it was just a short hike to the rough and ready road and the last string of cairns, with the observatory off to the right and Mauna Kea clear in front.
I ambled along the last section of road back to my car. I hadn’t seen a soul all day, but as I approached the parking area, four vehicles pulled up and disgorged a clump of tourists who sounded like they came from somewhere in Europe. Some wandered off. Others seemed to be going through some sort of personal growth ritual. I got curious looks as I peeled off shoes and socks, giving my battered feet some air. I didn’t much care. I felt pretty good again and very satisfied with the day.
It’s a hike I’d do again. I’d start earlier, have better footwear, take it a mite slower for acclimatization purposes. And I’d hope too make the summit next time, though I’m not too bothered that I didn’t. For me, a day alone on a big mountain is reward enough.
For more information about the Mauna Loa Observatory Trail, go to bigislandhikes.com/mauna-loa or instanthawaii.com (under Things To Do, check Scenic Drives for the road up to the observatory and Hikes & Trails for the trail).
Having arrived at the North Pit around 11:00 a.m. I had to decide what to do next. I could explore the North Pit. I could turn around and head down. I could continue on to the summit. The summit is another 2.5 miles or so – I’ve seen different numbers. It’s not steep, but it is relentlessly up, traversing more rough lava and all of it above 13,000 feet.
Still, I was here in better time than I expected, the weather continued to look good, and I continued to feel good. So off I went onto the Summit Trail. Near the start there’s a shelter which is really just a good-sized pit. It’s a good place to shelter from the wind if it’s blowing (and it can really blow), but not so good if it’s raining or snowing.
The trail rumbles uphill. It’s mostly steady going with occasional forays over more challenging a’a lava. The biggest thing, at least as far as I was concerned, is that it just keeps going. There are a succession of crests, not really ridges, just places that look like they’re a ridge. The first one or two didn’t raise any hopes because I knew I hadn’t gone that far. But after that, it’s a series of raised and dashed hopes – ‘maybe that’s the summit, oh no, there’s another one.’
I trudged on, not feeling too bitter about these constant let downs. What did concern me was that I was starting to feel less well. I reached a point where I was sure that the next ridge was the summit and swore that if it wasn’t I was going down because of how I felt. Of course, it wasn’t the summit, but the next ridge really wasn’t far, so I carried on. I repeated this delusion a second time and, when I topped that rise, finally saw the summit. It was a half mile off.
I could probably have slogged that last leg, but I really didn’t feel good and the only cure for altitude sickness is to lose altitude. So I rested a while, had a bite to eat, and enjoyed what was still an awesome view of Moku’āweoweo. I’d been drinking water steadily all the way up and continued to do so. Dehydration sneaks up fast at altitude.
After a short while, I packed up my gear, gave the summit a final rueful glance and headed back the way I’d come.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the hike back down.
For more information about the Mauna Loa Observatory Trail, go to bigislandhikes.com/mauna-loa or instanthawaii.com (under Things To Do, check Scenic Drives for the road up to the observatory and Hikes & Trails for the trail).
Graham's Island 