On July 9, I posted about a visit to see the latest lava flow (exotically named the 61g flow) from Kilauea Volcano’s Pu’u O’o vent. At that time the lava was less than three-quarters of a mile from the ocean and I figured I’d go back when it got closer to the emergency road (about a tenth of a mile inland) and the water.
That, of course, was the cue for forward progress to cease. The flow was still active, but mostly in breakouts to the side. Day after day the lava was noted as being about half a mile short of the water. I checked again on Sunday, still no change. Monday, I forgot to look. So naturally, Tuesday’s lava report, not seen until the late afternoon, reported that the lava had reached the ocean at 1:15 that morning. Scratch the idea of being present when that happened.
However, my wife and I really wanted to see the lava’s ocean entry from the water and it sounded as though at least one boat tour company, Lava Ocean Guided Tours, was already running trips. A phone call later, we were booked on the sunrise trip the next morning. Check-in time was 4 a.m.. Current time was 5:30 p.m.. Drive time to the launch place is three hours – it’s the far corner of the island. That left seven and a half hours for getting organized and, oh yes, sleep.
Today’s photos show we made it. At the top is the view from the sea, and people ashore perilously close to the flow. Second photo is a frontal view. Below, the morning scene looking toward the sunrise. Tomorrow I’ll post more photos and details, but first, a good night’s sleep is in order.
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.
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.)
The start of the trail below the parking area at Kiholo.
The house built for Loretta Lynn at Kiholo.
The anchialine pool at the south end of the first beach.
The trail winds down to the bench before Mano Point.
This hike is a not-too difficult, out and back, 4-mile round trip. Aside from wanting to check out this part of the coast, I also wanted to try out a new pair of shoes, more suited to hiking, rather than the old pair of walking shoes I’d been flogging my toes in recently.
The access road to the trailhead can be rough, but on this occasion had been recently graded, at least down to the private road near the bottom. The hike follows the coast south from the Kiholo parking lot. There’s camping here Friday through Sunday, but on this day it was much quieter – three people on the beach when I set out, not many more when I returned. The day was hot, as it usually is on this coast, and the vog was thick enough to chew on.
The hike starts out crossing the first of three black sand beaches. It’s part of Kiholo State Park Reserve, which means it’s a park for which the plans have not yet been finalized. Behind this first beach is a house built by country singer Loretta Lynn back in the 1980s. It’s boarded up now, but is tabbed to be some sort of visitor/cultural center in the new park. Check back in 10 years or so to see how things are going!
At the south end of the beach is an anchialine pool. After the pool, the trail winds up and over a’a lava to another smaller black sand beach. There’s another up and over to the third beach, Luahinewai, which is backed by a large private residence, overlooking another anchialine pool and surrounded by vegetation. The second and third beaches were deserted, the a’a lava lumpy, the new shoes doing a splendid job of cushioning my feet.
After this third beach the trail heads up onto the lava for a while and crosses inland from Nawaikulua Point until it reaches a lava bench backed by vegetation. The trail, which is marked by some rounded stones in the trail and white coral markers on the edges, ends here. Mano Point is reached by crossing the lava bench, which is not difficult but, as always, requires keeping an eye on the ocean. On this day the waves were thudding against the edge of the bench, sending spray into the air and some whitewater onto the bench.
It was a day for keeping toward the back of the bench. A couple of days earlier, when the surf was higher, it would have been a place to avoid altogether. On a calmer day one could walk along the edge of the bench. This is an area of tide pools, arches, and collapsed lava tubes that have become surging inlets.
Mano Point itself is not much of a point, but it is easy to identify because it’s where most of the vegetation ends. It’s also marked by a black-bordered, yellow sign (only the back of which is seen from the land), which I think means that no aquarium fish collection (a contentious issue here) is allowed south of the sign. The return is back the same way. I took a dip in the water at one of the beaches on the way back, but the surge was fierce and I ended up discovering black sand in unlikely places for a couple of days afterwards.
It’s not an earth-shaking hike, but enjoyable in its own way. There was a breeze on the coast as there usually is, some whales to be seen offshore, and my new hiking shoes performed admirably. That said, crossing behind the last beach en route to my truck, I felt a pricking in my foot and took off my shoe to find a kiawe thorn that had penetrated the sole. Not the fault of the shoe though, just an occupational hazard of hiking here.
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).
Pu’us on the west side of the saddle between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, with the Kohala Mountains peeking above the clouds in the background.
The trail notice below the observatory.
The trailhead, a case of spot the cairns.
The trail, marked by the cairn, crosses the road. The rocks in the foreground are the road!
There are two hiking routes up Mauna Loa. One is the Mauna Loa Trail starting out from Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. This is a 40 miles or so round trip, a multi-day hike requiring a permit. See nps.gov/havo/planyourvisit/hike_maunaloa.htm for information. The other trail is the Observatory Trail, which is reached from Saddle Road. This is the trail I took.
The trail begins at the Mauna Loa Observatory, which monitors atmospheric change. The road up to the observatory begins a hundred yards or so Hilo side of the Mauna Kea Road – Pu’u Huluhulu Native Tree Sanctuary junction. It’s about 17.5 miles and, contrary to some reports, is currently in excellent condition having obviously been repaved in the none too distant past. It’s still single-lane and goes up and down and around many bends, so drive carefully.
This remnant of a lava tube gives some idea of how thin the top can be.
I intended this to be a day trip, which requires an early start. There are two ways to do this. One is to drive up in the evening, sleep in the parking area overnight (all the while acclimating to the altitude), and head out early. The other, which I chose, is to drive up to the observatory early in the morning, spend an hour or so acclimating, and then head out. I left home at 5 a.m. and arrived at the parking area at 7 a.m.. En route I nearly ran over a sheep wandering in the road in the dark and, at the junction, got to see an orange sunrise being welcomed by white-robed followers of what I assumed was some sun-worshipping group.
The trail starts at about 11,000 feet and goes up some 2,700 feet to the summit. It’s a high altitude trail prone to sudden weather changes so the usual cautions apply. There’s a sign at the trailhead that outlines why this hike could be your last. I joke, but the concerns are real. I’d picked a day of fine, settled weather, but packed food, water and clothing for an unscheduled overnight stop.
That said, I headed out on the very rough dirt road that is the start of the trail. This is a road for 4-wheel drive trucks with strong motors and lifted suspensions that make the truck bed seem detached from the wheels. I’ve hiked at altitude a moderate amount and not had any problems, but I know to take my time and be alert to signs of altitude sickness.
After about half a mile the trail proper takes off to the left. There’s a nice, clear sign marking the spot. The trail itself is less obvious. Most of this trail is marked by cairns. Sometimes there’s a splash of white or yellow paint, sometimes a stick or pole, but the cairns are the main guide. The only thing is, the cairns aren’t always obvious as the trailhead photo shows. It’s a good idea to identify the next cairn before leaving the one you’re at.
A lot of this trail passes over rounded pahoehoe lava. I prefer hiking on this to sharp a’a lava. At least with pahoehoe I have a solid surface to place my foot and to push off from. That said, there are times when the surface crackles and I’m keenly aware the area is riddled with lava tubes, some topped with a thin crust that could easily give way. That’s one reason why I try not to stray from the trail.
When I hike, I often have songs running through my head and, on hikes like this, I inevitably end up humming “Put one foot in front of the other” from the 1970 movie Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town (don’t ask). It is, however, a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of hike, a steady climb at a steady pace, watching ones steps.
About 45 minutes in, I crossed the dirt road I’d started on (which zigzags up the mountains most of the way to the summit). I’d walked up the road once before looking for this crossing and hadn’t identified it. Now I recognized that I’d walked past it. A lot of the trail is like this – a mishmash of lava and ups and downs, with a distinctive feature here and there. There’s a broken lava tube marked by two big cairns and another junction with the road. The trail follows the road at this point until it comes to a gate marking the national park boundary. Then it veers off, up the hill, to the right on an easily followed cinder section, crosses the road a third time, and finally winds up another half mile to the edge of North Pit, the northern most feature of Moku’āweoweo, the summit caldera.
Dare I say that this view isn’t the most spectacular? The floor of North Pit is only about 10 feet below the rim and, since it stretches out a good way ahead, that’s really most of what there is to see at this point. It’s still an impressive view. The trail to Mauna Loa cabin angles across the North Pit floor and in the distance are the higher cliffs of the main crater. Best of all, I was feeling pretty good, it was only 11:00 a.m. (three and a quarter hours to this point), and the weather continued to be and look great.
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).
The road ends at a locked gate. The trail takes off up to the right.
Graham's Island 