Going Big on the Big Island

The dividing line between natural and unnatural is obvious. The Ala Loa runs straight-as-an-arrow through brutal fields of a'a.

A big lava cave used as a shelter by early Hawai'ians

What it looks like is complete brutality! Ala Loa is smoother than the surrounding fields of shattered A'a, but it's still cut-you-to-ribbons nasty stuff that clinks underfoot like running on shattered cinder block rubble. Looking up-slope, you can follow the black lava flows all the way up to the huge bulk of Mauna Loa many miles away (weather permitting). I ran a couple miles of this in the hot sun north to the Puako area, then gratefully made my way through the trees past ancient fishing ponds to the waterfront. The beaches in this region are some of the best in the world, and each resort has staked out it's picturesque bay. But public access is taken seriously on this island and there are nice trails by which I could run in one side and out the other of each place.

Typical South Kohala coastline.

At length, I reached the trail to the Puako Petroglyph Field and ran three quarters of a mile through scrubby forest. The petroglyphs are clustered in a basketball-court-sized field of old, brown lava. They're mostly stick-figure humans with a few odd exceptions, and they're mostly facing the mountain. It was pretty interesting stuff and I was impressed at how un-marred it was by more recent additions.

South Point

The southernmost crazy people in the USA.

Thursday: The drive around the south end of the island is long and doesn't have a whole lot of major tourist attractions along the way. On a whim, I followed the signs to South Point down ten miles of marginally-paved one-and-a-half-lane road to the southernmost point in the United States... and it was surprisingly interesting! First of all, it's incredibly windy here and the ocean is whipped up into frothy whitecaps that are anything but Pacific. After running out to the actual southernmost point and back (hold onto your hats!), I spent a while on the sea cliffs near the parking area. The cliffs are about 30' tall and are in the somewhat sheltered area of the water. The water below is on the order of one hundred feet deep and you can tell this because it's absolutely crystal clear all the way to the bottom. South Point is popular with both fishermen and cliff divers and it was quite a festive, windy scene. The fishermen tie inflated garbage bags to their lines and fly them far, far out to sea like kites. A number of garbage bags could be seen perhaps half a mile out bobbing on the impressive waves. The divers stand poised at the cliff edge waiting for the right wind conditions before taking the leap. There is a rather sketchy-looking ladder to climb back out or you can swim around to the south and "wait for a wave to wash you up on that ledge, then just scramble back up". Though they encouraged me to join them, this is an extreme sport I am more than happy to just watch.

Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park

Kilauea Iki

Kilauea Iki from the trailhead. The trail follows the right rim, then comes back across the middle.

Hawai'i, land of rainbows.

Running across the Big Brownie.

The first mile was along a beautiful trail on the north rim of Iki, through rainforest with occasional precipitous viewpoints down into the crater. Small though it may be, Kilauea Iki is still a mile across and probably 500' feet deep. Iki last erupted in 1959 in an event that shot plumes of magma 1900' into the sky and filled the crater with a deep lake of lava. The lake filled and emptied several times in rapid succession leaving a bathtub ring of dried lava on the rim and a smooth, gray floor. Fifty years later, it's still hot down there and there are numerous steam vents in the cracked crust.

Rounding the western end of the crater, I dropped steadily through the dripping forest and ended up on the bare, black lava. The trail was marked with rock cairns, and ran straight as an arrow across the center of the crater. The surface was smooth on the large scale with low humps several yards across, but there was a dry flakiness to it and thin shells of rock would crackle under my feet whenever I veered off the main, well-trodden path. It was like walking on a giant brownie. Here and there, steam issued from cracks in the surface and a few hearty plants were starting to gain a root-hold. This was a completely novel environment for me and I marvelled at what young earth looked like. The transition from crater floor back to the rainforest of the edge was startling and abrupt.

Mauna Ulu and the Napau Wilderness

The smaller crater within the huge Kilauea Caldera. For scale, the steam plume is about 400' across at the base. Breathtaking!

This is the kind of thing I would never do by myself (probably), but the thought of other people up there gave me a bit more courage. As with alpine terrain, distances across lava are hard to judge since you have no scale references. While it looks huge, Mauna Ulu is actually quite small and I quickly made it to the rim of the still-steaming caldera... or at least as close to the rim as I dared to tread! This mountain is the same age as me and the caldera is a gaping wound a few hundred feet across. Large cracks around the edge show that pieces have been falling for some time now and that the process isn't over yet! I peared into the crater but couldn't see the bottom without standing closer to the edge than I was quite comfortable doing. Amazing!

Mauna Ulu from the summit of Pu'u Huluhulu. Notice the lava lake in the foreground.

From the summit, I headed east down the slope to catch the trail as it cut across the lava plain. I followed the right hand side of a deep lava channel going by dead-reckoning. This is definitely virgin terrain here and thin lava crust kept breaking underfoot leading me to wonder what manner of hollow cavities and pools of magma might lie beneath. After about half a mile, I saw reason and decided to backtrack back to the trail the way I'd come up.

Surely this is what Dante had in mind when he described the entrance to Hell.

Back on the officially sanctioned trail, I set out toward Napau Crater another 5 miles away. The rain of earlier in the day had given way to bright sun which made everything in this shadeless realm hot and arid. The string of cairns lead inexorably to the east and I ran/walked doggedly along. This stuff wasn't quite as bad as the Ala Loa a'a but my shoes were still taking a real beating. I wondered what it would be like if I tripped and fell on this stuff. Certainly not pretty!

This is as close to the rim as I was willing to get.

Fantastic drippy lava formations along an outflow channel.

At length, I reached the large Makaopuhi Crater (Eye of the Eel) and stopped for a quick lunch. Forest on the other side spoke of welcome relief from the sun and jagged terrain. I was definitely not looking forward to running back across the four miles of hot ground. After half a mile of blissful forest running along the edge of Makaopuhi, I reached a trail junction for the Naulu Trail which lead 3 miles south to a different trailhead.

On the principle of seeing something new, I headed south along gorgeous, jungly trail which is clearly not one of the more popular in the Park. The jungle gave way to lava flows again and the trail was very difficult to follow. I spent quite a while standing at one cairn scanning the horizon for the next.

After a half dozen miles across the lava, I was starting to recognize different variations of the two main types: a'a (the jagged, rubbly type) and pahoehoe (the smooth, ropey kind). Along the edges of the forest, I started to notice occasional patches of something new--completely flat, smooth, gray lava interspersed with the more typical pahoehoe. I must have traversed a mile of the stuff off and on before I found a patch with a faded while line painted down the middle. Ah! Half a dozen miles into such an unearthly wilderness, I'd found the remains of the pre-1969 Chain of Craters Road! The cognitive dissonance was unreal.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out what all this smooth, gray lava was.

Running on this stuff is not easy!

I arrived at the spectacular Waipi'o Overlook and prepared for another strenuous run down into the valley and perhaps up the other side when my plans took an unexpected but welcome turn. At the conference, I'd met Jake and Miriam, a young couple on their honeymoon, and compared notes. As I prepared for my run, Jake and Miriam pulled up next to me and we agreed to combine forces. As more milling commenced, we were joined by Sarah and Susan, a pair of German sisters on holiday. The five of us set out before we attracted too many other tourists and became a mob.

This view of Waipi'o Valley you can have for free. Anything closer and you're going to have to work for it.

The twin Hi'ilawe (right) and Hakalaoa (left) Falls.

One can, in theory, drive down into the valley. There is a road and it is paved. However, it's one of those roads that is paved because it's too steep not to be. In one mile, it drops 900' at a grade of up to 25%. Even walking down this thing was a little exciting. Needless to say, my rental car would not have enjoyed the process.

At the bottom of the road, we were presented with a choice: turn right to the beautiful black sand beach, or left to explore further up the valley including several notable waterfalls. We chose left and hiked down a sleepy road through a small community. Rounding a corner, we spied the end of a side valley where a pair of astonishingly tall waterfalls plunged down the vertical green wall. These were Hi'ilawe and Hakalaoa Falls.

Snorkeling Adventures

Bouyed by my success at the resort, I hiked a mile down the coast to Anaehoomalu Beach (aka A Beach) where a similar equipment shack rented me gear for the same rate. This beach is one of the better ones in the state and featured actual clear water with alternating sandy patches and towers of coral. What a world of difference from the lagoon at the hotel! In the first five minutes, I saw an octopus, a large moray eel, and countless fish I'd only previously seen behind thick panes of glass.

They may be endangered, but I saw no shortage of Honu (Hawaiian Green Turtles).

A pencil urchin as seen through my face mask.