Travel Essays Archives • Page 5 of 69 • Andrew Crusoe

Often when travelling, a wave of opportunity will come to you, and if you ride it with confidence, it is truly incredible where you can be washed ashore.

My first weekend in Hawaii was a shining example of this in action, and as we drove southbound on the Mamalahoa highway, I truly had no idea what I was in for. Not only would I see Devil’s Throat, a deceptively-massive pit crater, but I would also get the chance to see the raw, volcanic power of this island in a way that most locals never even get a chance to. I was about to visit Halemau’uma’u Crater, one of the most active volcanic areas on the planet, and all because I was in the right place at the right time (vis-à-vis couchsurfing).

Devil’s Throat

After having a relaxing picnic in a field surrounded by koa trees, we headed off to our first destination, a pit crater which is so young that it lacks a Hawaiian name. Our guide (a friend of my new Couchsurfing friend) had worked for the USGS in the past and led us deep within Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park.

We carefully made our way down gravel paths until a massive hole in the earth appeared ahead. This was Devil’s Throat.

When it was first discovered in the early 1900s, it was so small that riders would often jump the small opening with their horses, never knowing that it was over 30 meters deep and growing wider with depth. Today, the size of Devil’s Throat is much more obvious, and according to the USGS, probably the best example of a collapsed volcanic crater in the world.

We rested there for a while, playing a logic game with rocks and seeing if we could decide which of ten rocks was different by only using an imaginary scale three times. It wasn’t easy, and if anyone is curious how to play, I can outline the rules in greater detail in a future article.

Halema’uma’u Crater: Home of Pélé

We returned to my friend’s cabin to retrieve the 3M gas masks that were required for the trek. In years past, access to the crater required no special protection, but recent activity within Mount Kilauea had been spewing out Sulfur Dioxide gas into the air around the crater. Without filtration, a simple change of the wind could result in us choking and vomiting from the volcanic gas.

We parked at a nondescript parking lot and began the long hike over to the crater. Thankfully, the path was shockingly level, and soon the ominous red glow of the crater was obvious.

Once the rock became rougher, our guide told us to look down to the volcanic glass, known as Pélé’s hair, that covered parts of the ground, arranged in weblike structures of natural glass that felt prickly to the touch. Our guide warned us to be careful as they could be sharp.

Carefully, we were led up to the edge of the crater. Closer and closer. Soon we would see the raw power of the Earth. Soon we would see Halema’uma’u, home to Pélé, the Goddess of Hawaiian Volcanoes. To many living on Hawaii, Pélé’s existence isn’t merely a legend — it’s a reality. For thousands of years, Pélé has been honored by the Hawaiians as a powerful being that is meant to be respected, and as we hobbled over to the edge of the rough path, the sight we beheld clearly illustrated why.

Below us was a football-field-sized lake of terribly magnificent fire. The lava lake roiled in unspeakable patterns which slowly changed as new cracks in the surface formed. We were hundreds of meters away, but even from a distance I could clearly hear the quiet roaring of the lava as it seethed within the crater. Never before had I seen an earthbound phenomena so positively mesmerizing, and in that moment I knew that the spirit of Pélé must be real.

Aftermath

We stood there for some time, marveling at the destructive beauty of one of the most active volcanoes on the planet. Thankfully, the winds were in our favor that evening, and after some coaxing, I removed my gas mask as the others had done earlier. Now, I could feel the faint warmth on my skin, the warmth of distant lava.

It almost felt like the sun.

Someone had brought wine, and in the midst of great gratitude toward my friend and our guide, we toasted to Pélé on the edge of the world.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” were the words that went through my head once I realized that I was the source of red haze in the otherwise pristine water.

I was about to learn a lesson in respect.

I walked over to the beach to assess my condition, and there it was, not a cut but a kind of gash, undoubtedly made when my foot grazed one of the nearby volcanic rocks. It didn’t look deep enough to require stitches, but it was certainly deep enough to cause me grief for a good while.

Cursing in frustration, I gingerly walked over to my pack. My first day. My first damn day on the island, surrounded by the stunning Makalawena beach, and I make a stupid mistake like this. How could I have been so careless as to walk on these rough black stones? Even if I was being careful, it wasn’t worth the risk. My only consolation was how lovely the beach was. As you can see below, Makalawena beach (pronounced makala-vay-na) is breathtaking.

Thankfully, I’d brought a plastic bag with some food and some paper towel. After rinsing the wound, I wrapped it and then put my foot in the plastic bag. Hopefully, this would keep any blood from getting to my shoes. I had a long, rocky trek back to the highway, and the sun was setting fast. It’s not like on the mainland where there’s at least 30 minutes of dusk. When the day ends here, it ends with a suddenness that I wasn’t prepared for and no one had mentioned.

Along the way, a few kind people gave me some alcoholic wipes and a better plastic bag, but no one would give me the short ride back over the rocky trail to the highway. Literally everyone was going the other way. Damn.

Squish Squish

I knew the wound had bled beyond its wrapping now. I wanted to believe it was salt water that was making the sound, but my heart knew better. The bag was filling up with blood, and there was little I could do about it. I had to get to the highway. I had to clean this wound properly and get a real bandage over it, otherwise I would risk getting a staph infection (aka. Staphylococcus aureus, a bacteria that can really ruin your month).

I pushed all of this out of my mind, and continued plodding along, feeling a slight squishing every time I walked. A feeling of concern swept over me again… No. I’d cleaned the wound with an antiseptic wipe. That was all I could do for now. Think positive. It’s going to be just fine. Just fine.

A half hour and a world of daylight later, I finally reached the highway and stuck out my thumb. I always disliked hitchhiking at night. It’s riskier, and you don’t get picked up as fast. Then again, I’d never hitchhiked in Hawaii at night before. Perhaps it was easier here.

It was. In a miraculous stroke of luck, in just a couple minutes a sports car pulled over and opened the door.

I slowly approached the car, paying close attention to what my intuition was telling me. Inside was a guy in his 20s who seemed friendly enough. More importantly, it felt right, so I sat down.

“What’s up, brah?”

His name was Russel, and he worked at one of the resorts nearby. He drove as if the roads were his own, taking serious turns at 50 mph or so, and the g-forces were palpable. “Just what I need,” I thought. “My heart rate to go up more…”

Yet despite his tendency to drive with a kind of reckless abandon that is normally reserved for off-road racing, we somehow arrived at my destination unscathed. In fact, I scarcely could believe we arrived as soon as we did. Maybe it was the blood loss at this point, but it was almost as though he knew a secret route to the south end of the city.

I waved him farewell in abundant thanks and waddled into my Couchsurfing host’s house. I called out to see if anyone was around, and a melanin-bespeckled woman with a warm smile appeared at the top of the stairs. It was Jeanette, my host’s mother, and she graciously provided everything I needed to clean the wound, including a really cool hydrogen peroxide sprayer.

After taking a shower, I felt reborn, confident, and thankful to everyone who had helped me. Because of the kindness of people I had only recently met, I was patched up and on the road to healing. Jeanette and I talked until past 9PM, and the funny thing about it is that if I hadn’t gone out, I may not have stayed up that late and stumbled into the best introduction to Hawaii that I could ever ask for.

You see, just a little while after Jeanette went to sleep. A friend of my host stopped by and after talking with me for a while, she asked me a most wonderful question.

“Would you like to come on a volcano adventure with me?”

Turns out, her and a couple of her friends (who were also friends with my host) were going on a hike the following day out to the Kilauea Volcano, and apparently they had some “connections” to get closer to the crater than is necessarily allowed.

How could I refuse? 😉

Continue →