Go With the Flow
On a windswept road, we stop in the middle of a century-old lava flow. There are no trees, just undulating layers of jagged, black rock. It's a strange place for a housing development, in the shadow of the Mauna Loa Volcano. But the isolated homes of Ocean View sit on the frozen lava--directly in the path a new flow would most likely take. And Mauna Loa is more than a decade overdue for an eruption. "It's just a matter of time," says my volcano guide (and retired geology professor), Lee Meyerson.
Geology is the past, present, and future on Hawaii's Big Island. And the star of the show is Kilauea, one of the world's most active--and accessible--volcanoes. It has been erupting continuously for over 20 years, but you never know quite what you're going to see. For maximum volcanic action, I've signed up for tours by land, air, and sea.
Stoned. I'm surprised to learn that my wife and I have another escort besides Lee and his wife, Betty. Even before we reach Hawaii Volcanoes National Park for an all-day driving and hiking tour, the Meyersons start talking about Pele, the tempestuous fire goddess reputed to inhabit Kilauea. As the legend goes, Pele wreaks vengeance on ingrates by sending lava flows to their homes. "Taking stones from the volcano will incur Pele's wrath," Lee warns. I chuckle. But they're serious: Former clients on an unlucky streak have mailed them rocks to return to the volcano as a peace offering.
At Kilauea's 4,000-foot summit, we stop at the massive caldera, the depression at a volcano's center, which held a lake of lava for most of the 19th century until it dried up. "This is where Pele lives," says Lee, gazing into the crater. And Pele has been a very busy goddess. The plateau we're standing on is composed of new rocks (they're silvery) and older ones (they turn dark black, then brown, over time). Some are smooth and billowy, like coils of ropes spread across the ground. Called pahoehoe, they were gaseous flows that moved smoothly across the ground. Other flows, called aa, are marked by jagged edges and rough pebbles. Flip-flops are not the footwear of choice.
The highlight is the active lava erupting several miles away. It flows from a rift zone--a series of cracks and faults--down to the ocean. The road cuts off several miles short of the lava. A few miles away, the hillside is spotted with red-hot lava. Three glowing clouds shoot into the sky where it meets the Pacific.
By sub. Eager for additional volcano perspectives, I try an underwater tour--a 35-minute ride in a battery-powered sub. Since the Big Island is more than 33,000 feet tall (Mauna Kea's summit, measured from the seafloor), the bulk of Hawaii's volcanoes are submerged. The highlight: seeing hundreds of colorful tropical fish feeding off a coral reef that has grown out of an ancient lava flow.
Birds (and helicopters) get the best view of the eruption. Guess who came along for our ride? "Pele was anticipating your arrival," the pilot says. "A big lava flow broke out on the last flight." Below us, lava spits and froths out of a hole that seems to reach to the volcano's molten center. Heading toward the ocean, we find an aa flow, a small stream of lava bright red in the middle and edged with silvery and black chunks. Flying over with the pilot's door open, we can feel the heat 500 feet below.
advertisement
