The contrast could not be starker. Two elements, water and fire, were the focus of my last full day on the big island of Hawaii. I had completed the Backroads portion of the trip and now had three days to myself. I wanted another snorkel tour in an area that was said to be ideal. I couldn’t figure out how to get on Kealakehe Bay by myself, so I found a company online that had excursions and booked one last minute. This was another serendipitous adventure in that there were only six other people on the boat. They would have canceled the trip if only five people signed up, so I had tipped the scale.
At the bay, our leader said that she would join us in the water as a guide, stating that the other companies only provided a lifeguard type leader. Cool! We geared up and jumped in and were immediately eye to eye with fish of untold number and variety. I could name a few of them myself, but the leader pointed out several species that I was unaware of. I won’t bore you here spelling them out, but there were so many colors, sizes, and shapes. We floated along the shore, lined with coral, and marveled at the clear turquoise water and the sea life. Snorkeling is one of my favorite things to do. I hear only my own breath and feel merged with the ocean, my mind clear as the water. After an hour, we climbed on board and made our way back to the marina.
While on the boat, Captain Stephanie told us that the volcano was erupting and that we should make it a point to drive to see it. I had already been in this area with Backroads, riding bicycles and hiking where we had witnessed the smoking volcano. While there we were told that this particular volcano, Kilauea, has been erupting since December 2024, about every seven to ten days, and lasting about twelve hours each time. Our Backroads tour had missed an eruption while we were there, but I had another opportunity.
My first instinct was not to go. It meant driving unfamiliar roads in a rental car for two hours one way. I imagined hordes of people. But them my Airbnb host texted me that I should really make the effort to go. Now, that’s personal attention from an Airbnb host! By this time, it was mid-afternoon, and I was worried that if I drove there, I wouldn’t get in before they closed the gates of the national park. When I looked up the hours and found they were open 24-7, it was the last push I needed. I loaded a fleece jacket, shoes, and binoculars from the townhouse and made for the volcano.
The first portion of the drive was a challenging twisting, curving mountainous two-lane road that made me wish for my Miata. The second half was straight and fast. As I approached the area, I became aware of the volcano’s plume of smoke on the horizon. Closer, I even saw shooting lava just above the tree line. I was exclaiming out-loud, “Oh, my God!” over and over. I even told myself that if the crowds were too large and I couldn’t gain admittance to the park, this sight was enough.
But I did get in and joined the line of cars that snaked toward the volcano. Cars were parked all along the sides of the road, but I kept going until the line came to a standstill. I rolled down my window and overheard a park ranger say that there was a wreck further down that might clear in two hours. I took a sharp left into the parking lot of a lookout and found an unofficial spot to park the car.
It turns out that this lookout was one at which our Backroads bicycle tour had stopped, and I remembered that it had a good view of the volcano. I threw on my jacket, pulled on my shoes, and made my way to the vantage point. There were lots of people of course, and the excitement was palpable.
When I reached the viewing area, my hands went to my heart, my eyes widened, and I gasped. The volcano, about a mile and a half away, was spewing brilliant orange lava continuously, about a thousand feet into the late afternoon sky. Everyone around me was talking and exclaiming, and I vehemently wished they would be quiet so that I could experience this phenomenon in silence. It was still magical, but I wanted to be alone with the volcano.
There was a nearby trail that followed the overlook rim, so I took off, along with several other visitors. They were more viewing areas along the way, and the farther I went, I met fewer spectators. I found a quiet spot to myself where I could meditate on the awesomeness and powerfulness of the volcano.
I could feel no heat. The plume was headed away from me. The sound was a deep rumble, like a monstrous distant waterfall. Besides the eruption, I could make out lava flowing down the sides of the caldera. As time passed, and sunset approached, the sky darkened, and the lava flows became more visible and the eruption more vivid. The flume and surrounding clouds caught the colors of the sunset, and along with the bright light from the volcano, the sky lit up in magenta.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, but long enough to feel the chill that crept into my bones. I began the hike back along the trail in the dark, and as I approached my car, I turned around often. My favorite photo was captured on this portion of my adventure—a glowing sky and a low-slung moon.
The closest experience I’ve had in witnessing the power of nature was a documentary on surfing shown in an IMAX theater. The sound and sight of huge monster waves had left me in awe. And that was a film! I’ve written about the destructive power of water, but seeing this volcano, and imagining what destruction it could do, was on another level. We humans are nothing compared to its awesome majesty. Looking into the vastness of a night sky fills me with a sense of my smallness. Watching the volcano, albeit from a safe distance, filled me with a sense of my frailty. And with that, a greater appreciation for this one precious life of mine.
(The volcano last erupted July 9, so it should be doing so again soon. Click to watch this live webcam!)