Sunny Sunday, September 30, 2018, The Heat, the Icky Ikiiki...

Cannot help:  ikiiki is "stifling heat and humidity".  And itʻs icky.  Itʻs been this way for a week or more.  Hilo has been fairly horrendous, mostly because I havenʻt made time to submerge in any number of icy waters along the Keaukaha shore.  And I cannot, much as I try, remember such weather.  Up here, Iʻve left windows open day and night, for a week, for the first time in three decades.  Notable...

But the shade is most pleasant, mostly vog-free skies still amaze, and early morning walking to Keanakākoʻi is excellently quiet, cool, and relatively unpopulated.  Iʻm thinking that although many are happy that The Park has reopened, they may be disappointed if visitors donʻt return full-force.  There is no molten rock to be seen, no glow at sunset, no hiking across the coastal plain in search of flowing pāhoehoe.  Or, to be more precise, one can hike and search away, but itʻll be a fruitless endeavor.

So we do what we do...This morning it was a short-notice gathering of friends, "What you doing?  Come up!"  "You up here?  Come over!"  "What??? You where??? In the plane on Oʻahu ready to take off to Taiwan??!!  Good one.  Next time then..."  And in early morning cool winds we walked.  To the edge of Kaluapele and marveled yet again.  And the nēnē flew over, and the lighting was excellent, and the countless wisps and plumes of steams and vapors wafted this way and that, and I wished, really wished, that I had wide-angle vision, so I could sit and stare transfixed without headturning.  But so it goes.  And then we brunched on frittata, and salad, and lemon squares, and hijiki-shiitake-carrot rice, and tamagoyaki, and crusty baguette with fig jam, and strong coffee, and I am so very grateful and happy to, and for, my friends!!!  We all so lucky!

And here we are.

Our friends at USGS Hawaiian Volcano Observatory (remember The Three Months???) have compiled a tidy Fact Sheet:

2018 Summit LERZ (Lower East Rift Zone) Fact Sheet

Great info, easily digestible, extremely concise and informative.

Pretty sure itʻs not only me, but it seems that Iʻm awakening from a dream.  That The Three Months happened to someone else somewhere else.  Odd.  And yes, I still miss our lūʻōniu.  And that discombobulated frame of mind I kinda miss too.  Never satisfied.

So hereʻs something cool:

Itʻs the Summit Tilt in blue, and Puʻuʻōʻō tilt in green.  Summit down, Puʻuʻōʻō up, but not particularly concerning according to geologist friends.  ʻŌlaʻi (earthquakes) are still few and far between...

The thing I found interesting a few days ago, was the consistency of the shapes of the blue line.  Looks like pictures Iʻve seen of the Grand Teton range.  But so regular.  And in the middle of the day.  And why???  TryRead:

Volcano Watch for 092718

Short answer:  Middle of the day, up here, HOT and clear.  A diurnal or quotidian (that word again!), or happening every day, cycle.  Good to note.  

And because Iʻm really visual and really like nice pictures:

I REALLY wish I had planned ahead, done the research, and gone walking at the proper time that morning.  But I had to go town...

And below, from the Photos & Video section on the HVO webpage:

HVO Webpage


First, in Keahialaka, the Leilani Estates subdivision and Fissure 8 and its māwae (channel).  Note again how the leeward side of the vent (to the left and bottom right) is still greenish, while the windward (at the bottom) is brown and sulphur-burnt tephra-stripped.  Tephra is volcanic products (cinder, reticulite, Peleʻs hair and tears, etc.) that fall from the sky during fountaining.

Then below, at Kapoho.  Waiapele (a.k.a. Kapoho Crater, Kapoho Cone, Green Mountain) at the upper left.  The green lake of Waiapele was filled in by pele.  And too, Pele simply filled in the gap between the 1960 flow (left photo at top), and the 1955 flow (left photo at bottom).  I hope that we are no longer surprised when pele flows where She is supposed to.

And more, I hope and trust that our Government Officials understand that rebuilding infrastructure at our expense (or ANY expense) is a Foolʻs Errand in the long term.  And residents and former residents need to understand that too.  I hope.  

I feel a rant coming on, so with that, Iʻll go enjoy the rest of this beauty full afternoon.

Thisʻll be a crazybusy week, but I hope to post something nevertheless.

If any are interested in archaeology, the Society for Hawaiian Archaeology is holding their annual conference in Hilo this coming weekend.  Registration is $120 for members, $140 for nonmembers:

SHA Conference

Till next time, as always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com

Monday, September 24, 2018: After the autumnal equinox, with a gentle Ipoprod

Has it really been more than a week?  It was easy to stay in The Groove during all the works of Pelehonuamea and associates.  Fairly regular cycles, at least up here, of rocking and rolling, and wondering what next.  Now our collective guard is mostly down, though lurking in darkest recesses:  What if?

But life has generally resumed its quotidian-ness (is there such a word?).  Daily tasks keeping us more-or-less on track, and productive, healthy, and happy, have resumed their places in our lives.

And of course The Park re-opened, on The Autumnal Equinox, this past Saturday.  Iʻve been four times so far to Keanakākoʻi (KKOI) and surroundings.  Methinks early mornings are by far the best.  Cool (as in degrees F or C), fantastic lighting, and that sort of quiet, when it seems that most of the rest of the world is just beginning to stir.  The walk, 2 miles roundtrip, is on part of Crater Rim Drive that closed in early 2008 because the uahi ʻawa (sulphur smoke) wafted across part of the road downwind of Halemaʻumaʻu.  Wonder if theyʻll change the name of CRD, since some of it is in the abyss?

Getting used to seeing the head-turning expanses of pali faces, many many many layers of lavas, all shades of reds and greys of varying thicknesses, the big white pali, labeled on the south side of Kaluapele, pre-pali, as "Old Sulphur Beds" back in August 1886 by Dodge:

Itʻs enough to make one dizzy.

The weathers have been fair, hottish mid-day, and clouds build followed by light afternoon rains.  But to me, cool of morning is always the best.  The predicted crowds, at least at KKOI, didnʻt really materialize.  And Iʻm learning to share.  For the time being, companions and I wonʻt be the only ones strolling.  Iʻm happy that others are curious enough to 

be outside...paying attention

To this:

Metal plate over gaping crack allows safe passage.

And this:  Maunaloa with entire slope clearly outlined, top of white pali just visible, mantled by September 1982 flow.  To the right of the brownish-reddish patch on the pali, is a small light grey area.  Itʻs part of the caldera floor and Crater Rim Drive, complete with center stripe.

Similar to the pic in this Volcano Watch from HVO:

HVO: Volcano Watch, September 20, 2018

And then to the right, from a slightly different vantage:

Annotated, so we learn something about what weʻre paying attention to:

And below, with people for some sort of scale.  Me at left...

That "sharing" mentioned earlier became a life lesson that equinox morning.  I got to the Devastation Trail parking lot early.  Making the right turn, I saw three people already walking up the road.  Harumph!  Then a few minutes after I started walking, I heard others behind me.  More harumphing!!

As it turns out, we all know each other from various times and places.  It was an endearingly sweet morning, made all the better  because it was just us (yup...just a teeny bit selfish) in that enormous immensity, and better, that weʻre all friends.  What a remarkable time.

And, as I am wont to do, I came home and wrote this:

And because there can never be too much beauty and wonder in the world, this from friend Steve Bumgardner.  A time-lapse taken at night on Haleakalā on June 20, 2018.  Leleaka, or Hōkūnohoaupuni, the Milky Way, with bright Jupiter, the glow from Fissure 8, and Maunakea, Maunaloa and Hualālai.  Wow.  The right place at the right time... 

What times these are.

If any of you make it up here, Iʻm more than happy to stroll along.  Just ask.  No shame...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com

from the ma uka-most reaches of Keaʻau, Sunday, September 16, 2018

Hūi!  Yes...Iʻve been away, resorting at Lāhuipuaʻa with HK, enjoying winds, rains, pacific bobbing, eating ʻono foods...all those fun things.  In retrospect, The Three Months, as Iʻve taken to calling them, were taxing.  And though allʻs been quiet on the eastern front for six weeks now, doubts lurk.  At some point sooner rather than later Iʻll write one of my stream-of -consciousness prose things in an attempt to portray what those times were like up here.

Iʻve come to understand that The Blog is actually a pretty cool diary.  It was all so in-the-moment, uncalculated, and driven by lack of sleep, Iʻm curious to go back and read what I experienced.  Because life goes on, and we seem to adjust to new paradigms/para-dimes faster than perhaps is healthy and healing.

If all goes as planned, The Park will be open next Saturday.  No potable water, most trails will remain closed, including the most popular Kīlauea Iki loop.  All those ʻōlaʻi shook loose many many boulders from the faces of pali, and so trails are blocked in places, and/or cracked and fissured in others.  But views from Volcano House and from Crater Rim Trail between there and Wahinekapu (the main steam vents area) should prove to be stunning, at least to those of us who know Kaluapele "then".  Malihini (first-time visitors) may volunteer something like... "Oh.  Nice hole...But whereʻs the lava?"  Of course there isnʻt any.  For now.  No evening glow, no choking fume during kona winds, no golden Peleʻs hair being wind-wafted.  

But the aerial footage gives us an idea of the scope of change.  The colors on the faces of newly revealed pali, a multiplicity of kaulu (ledges) spacious and small alike, the many layers, colors, and textures of pele formed since the last major collapse of Kaluapele in 1790, all exposed in new walls.  

Kaluapele from a USGS HVO drone, September 6, 2018

One of the coolest things, I think, is that we wonʻt be able to see the bottom of the abyss from any overlook.  No matter how much we tiptoe, crane our necks, or climb up on walls, the bottom will remain hidden.  We donʻt need to see everything.  Especially when Pelehonuamea decides to be discreet. 

A couple words that may be apropos from the Pukui and Elbert Hawaiian Dictionary:

Nīele:  

nvs. To keep asking questions; inquisitive, curious, plying with frivolous questions (often used in pejorative sense, as of a busybody asking things that do not concern him); to quiz, pump; question. As an exclamation of annoyance: you are too inquisitive! Who cares to answer your questions! hoʻo.nī.ele Questioning, especially by leading up indirectly rather than directly; quizzing; curious; curiosity.

Mahaʻoi:

vs. Bold, impertinent, impudent, insolent, nervy, cheeky, rude, forward, presumptuous, saucy, brazen. 

To some the difference may not matter, but itʻs most polite NOT to be mahaʻoi...and itʻs not only about asking too many questions or being rude, itʻs about not going where you arenʻt invited.  No one has a "right" to go where ever they desire.  Especially now in The Park.

Some of us believe that now is a time for reflection, for being quiet and reverent, to contemplate stupefying changes we didnʻt even think about in April.  The challenge is that those who are visiting, who donʻt understand our cultures, and the majority who didnʻt experience what we did in The Three Months, much less during our lifetimes here, THOSE are the people we wish would also be quiet and attempt to learn about our ʻāina aloha.

Itʻs difficult to express and explain how we feel sometimes.  And Iʻm thinking Iʻm not doing a particularly good job right now.  Emotions are still raw, I guess.  And too, the ways in which Hawaiʻi is marketed to the world leaves a lot to be desired.  It shouldnʻt be about more More MORE!!! We just set another record!  But of course, now, itʻs just that.  Lip service is paid to the Aloha Spirit, to Sense of Place, to Authentic Culture, to Mālama ʻĀina, to Pono, but what does all of that really mean?  Really?  Use an ʻōʻō (digging stick) rather than a golden shovel to break ground for the latest highrise and itʻll make it all right?

I feel a rant coming on, but itʻs too beautiful an afternoon to get worked up.

So...

All remains quiet here at the summit.  ʻŌlaʻi are rare.  Friends and I were talking and agreed that MAYBE weʻve felt a couple in the last several weeks.  

And here you go:  for the last Month, 166 ʻōlaʻi at the summit.  One could almost count them on the image!  Imagine that!

And shaking my head, a similar view on August 7, for the previous Month, 15,527 of them:  

Just in case some of you forgot or something...

And then down at Keahialaka, HVO installed a webcam at Fissure 8, maybe a week ago...

Fissure 8 cam

The view this morning:

The colors are of course highlighted differently depending on where the sun is, cloud cover, etc.  Looks like a cozy little bay...

And then the Tilting...or absence of Tilting.  All appears quiet for the time being.  For now.

near Puʻuʻōʻō:

 and near the summit:

Some of us prefer flattish lines...

OK then...These posts will obviously be more erratic than they were.  And I need to mull and muse topics.  If you have some to suggest, shoot me an email and Iʻll oblige if I can.

In a few days, then...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com

A brief note on Sunday, September 9, 2018

Hūi!  

Another nearly cloudless morning here in the ma uka-most reaches of Keaʻau.  Summer still.

Iʻll be resuming posts on Friday or Saturday, after taking time to attend to other things.

We await the arrival of Olivia, on an unusual path, that may take her straight through ʻAlenuihāhā, the channel between us and Maui.  An entire apropos name, ʻAle-nui-hāhā means billows-great-smashing (or crashing).

The blue dot below Maui is the center of Olivia, courtesy windy.com as forecast for Wednesday morning at 4am.

I trust that all will be well.

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

Kīlauea Update, Friday, September 7, 2018, Canʻt help myself

Of course I can help myself...at least thatʻs what Ma always said.  You can figure it out  [Note to Readers:  I had polio at 4 years old.  Left arm muʻumuʻu...no work].  Tie shoes with one hand?  Yup.  Cut fingernails?  Yup.  Drive Dadʻs Willyʻs stickshift at 12? Yup.  Not that kind of helping myself...  The thinking talking writing kind... Being inspired...which, I suppose, is a point of all this...

four feet since solstice

kawaiapapane wall

shadow slowly moves

Dwelling as sundial.  Camping at Maniniʻōwali:  where will the sun puka (emerge or appear)?  As in hoʻopuka in hula...The Entrance.

At Kaluapele this morning, exhalations of māhu (steam and vapor) create heavy-bellied clouds over the pit.  The abyss.  That still incomprehensible place; those events we bore witness to...but still we wonder:  How can?

The Wonder, above from Volcano House, early morning light.

And then, because I felt bad yesterday, just teasing with Ka Wai Mūkīkī, hereʻs the page 30 text, and Emersonʻs English translation:

And Kaliʻu is barely visible at upper right, wreathed in steamy mists, yesterday, at 8a.

I canʻt seem to keep looking at images of the puʻu at Fissure 8.  Especially high resolution ones such as this from the HVO website, taken by drone.  Layer upon layer.  Boggles the mind to think that Hawaiʻi nei was built this way over eons, starting on the ocean floor...

Try Remember:  Fissure 8 was born on May 6, 2018.  Another image from HVO, one of many shown on the news on its birthday.  Four Months Ago...is that all???

And, finally for today, I note in the news that The County is contemplating opening Pohoiki to The Public.  And The State is contemplating the same for MacKenzie State Recreation Area.  Gotta try... I wonder how long thatʻll take???

I believe that we are a resilient lot here on the Island of Hawaiʻi.  At least many, if not most, are.  Walking at the Golf Course last weekend, we ran into friends of my companion.  Theyʻre from Oʻahu.  They asked how we fared during the Lane Rains.  We chuckled and said something like: Oh.  We from here.  Can handle...  Then last night a dear friend on Oʻahu related a similar story.  Sheʻs spent a lot of time in the Hilo area, and, as a neighbor approached her home on Oʻahu with Lane-board-up-windows plywood, she and cousin housemate declined his generous offer, saying something similar:  We from Hilo...we can handle.  We like watch!

And the morning puzzlement:  How come the rush to buy bottled water???  Hurricanes or other storms get big rain!  Put the bucket outside!  Get a new trash can, or line an old one with a clean plastic bag!  You folks forgot where our waters come from?  The Sky...not COSTCO or Walmart...  How quickly we forget.

Headed out for a walk...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

Kīlauea Update, Thursday, September 6, 2018. Transitions and Change

Well...So much for schedules.  It was so much easier to write when I felt I needed or should write to pass along messages, to provide updates and interpretations, waking up really early and posting almost daily...Now it seems that much of the anxiety may be gone (please note the carefully couched phrasing), and that, perhaps, we should proceed with our lives.

But I canʻt seem to do that very enthusiastically.  The excitement, and yes, trauma, of The Three Months (TTM) of May, June, and July, have left their marks on many.  On our psyches, our perceptions, on the lands on which we dwell and have deep aloha for, and mayhaps most importantly, on how we envision The Future.

The weathers up here have been glorious and remarkable.  Blueblue clear skies, warm to hot temperatures (for Volcano), gentle ʻōlapa-rustling breezes, no vog, crisply outlined features on mountains near and far, some mist-rain-drizzles, ʻio calling and soaring, and those deep voiced ʻōmaʻo always hidden and invisible to me, flitting about the understory.

Gives one time to mull muse and wonder.  Are we still in malolo-mode, or is the pele in Keahialaka simply the last exhalations and burps?  There is apparently no seismicity, no deformation, nothing to suggest a reactivation.  But...

Whichever, from a USGS drone, the scene on Tuesday the 4th is painterly.  It doesnʻt look real.  Early morning rains left pele decorated with māhu (steams and vapors) wafted by trades.  The muted but still vibrant oxidized reds add contrast.  And for a long time, niggling in the back of my mind:  ka ʻawa ʻililena iuka o Kaliʻu...

Hālau did/does this still.  I can hear kumuʻs deep-throated voice, and if memory serves, the swish of aliʻipoe seeds in laʻamia, then later, the tap-tap of fingers on the ʻulīʻulī as it sat on the floor.  

Kaliʻu is the name of the puʻu in the picture above, directly behind our new friend.  And "puʻu", "hill" in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, does not need to be added to the name of the feature.  Kaliʻu is the name of the puʻu.  So if necessary, for clarification, puʻu Kaliʻu.  According to geologists, Kaliʻu is in the 400 - 700 year-old range, and sits in the ahupuaʻa of Kauaea.

Oh.  And the text and context of the chant can be found on p30 of "Pele and Hiʻiaka", by Emerson.  Sweet sweet memories.

And what else????

Oh.  Civil Beat people in Oʻahu.  GoRead:

Expand HAVO: Michael Ryan

Excellent thinking!

I keep saying, and I donʻt know if anyone is listening:  Pelehonuamea reasserts her authority.  Inundate we fix inundate we re-pave inundate we rebuild inundate we spendspendspend.  When we going learn???  Mr Ryan has some extremely interesting and provocative ideas.  

Surfers and others are crossing fresh ʻaʻā and getting to Pohoiki from the MacKenzie side.  To enjoy.  Make a trail across the ʻaʻā, or bulldoze across the top.  The trail is easy:  on ʻaʻā, all you do is pick the route, and strong-backed ones toss the bigger stones to either side, the smaller gravel falls to the bottom, and thereʻs your path.  People can walk.  Two miles.  No problem.  Go.  Just do it.  Like the intrepid surfers and explorers.  The trail option is way better.  Itʻll help protect resources.  And no, not everybody has a "Right" to go where ever they please, or to drive where ever they want.  But a trail over a public road, to a public beach...why not?  Oh.  Need luas.  Oh. "Liability". Oh. Cannot.  Oh.  Not supposed to.

You know what...Figure It Out!!!

My extremely rough calculations, off the map posted on the Civil Defense website, to get from MacKenzie to Pohoiki:

1,440 feet road, 1,450 feet ʻaʻā, 400 feet road, 750 feet ʻaʻā, 600 feet road, 1,600 feet ʻaʻā, 6,000 feet road.

Total Distance = 12,240 feet (2.3 mi).  1.6 miles on road, .7 miles on ʻaʻā.

Black Sand Beach (likely sharpish grains of sand), and at least a couple protected pools, likely with warm water (waiwelawela), and from what I read, dead sea creatures.

And then up here at Kaluapele:

Clear skies...Canʻt wait to walk again to Keanakākoʻi.  

OK...Oh.  Norman the hurricane is no problem.  Going up the top of the chain, hardly any rain or wind.

Gotta run.  More scribblings likely on Saturday.

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com

Kīlauea Update, Sunday, September 2, 2018. Hmmmmm. Have we learned anything?

What a wonder!  Brilliant clear blue skies, gentle winds, chilly crisp mornings, some very restful sleeps...everything seems back to normal.  How spectacular!

Is it?  Normal?  The County asks for $800 million to repave roads, build housing, etc etc etc.  The Park will reopen sooner rather than later.  Last date Iʻve heard for that is September 22.

Am I the only one who wonders:  Really???  I admire the certainty with which plans proceed.  The sense that everything will be fine, and weʻll simply proceed to make it all normal again.  And I shake my head.

A friend asked the other day:  How are you?  I thought for a moment and said:  Iʻm frickin exhausted.  Exhausted.  The Three Months of earthquakes up here.  The tension.  Will it end?  When will it end?  Will it get worse?  How much worse?  The 26 inches of rain at my hale...just over a week ago?  When do we get to enjoy the blue skies of memory?  Then it turned chill a few days ago.  Added a quilt to the bed.  And I wondered how come itʻs so cold?  Then I remembered:  The Three Months:  May, June, July.  Consumed by it all.  Timeless on and on-ness.  Wake up, think, write, attempt to live "normally", try to sleep, repeat, repeat, repeat.  And now itʻs September.  Thereʻs supposed to be a crispness to the morning air.

And now, at 10:11 am, I just read the HVO Update:  Late last evening, F8 was spattering, and pele slowly covered the floor of the lua, an area of about 210ʻ x 45ʻ.  Pelehonuamea is still active.  I sometimes sound like a broken record, I know...  Read, Learn, Try Understand.  Reports for your edification have been linked here again and again.

Pele will not be pau, extinguished, in our lifetimes.  She has been active for untold generations, and her presence shall remain till long long after weʻre gone.  Why do we seem to have such a difficult time understanding that???  This is HER place.  We are in the way.  we build our roads, our buildings, our infrastructure.  They are inundated, and we build anew. And Anew and Again and Again...  Please, someone, explain to me why?  Are we so arrogant to think that This Time weʻll win???  Weʻll just spend more money and more money, and re-do everything.  

Remember that word Malolo.  A pause, a rest... Tomorrow makes ONE MONTH since the pause began.  We have seen history-making, historic, life-changing, stupefying (thereʻs that word again!), befuddling, perplexing, devastating, heartwrenching change.  In three months.  The Three Months.  You can go look up the stats.  I shanʻt repeat them.  Please:

be outside...pay attention       noho i waho...a maliu

please?  At least try and realize.  SHE is in charge.  We are not.  I donʻt know how else to put it.  We need more tourists, we need to market better, we need to collect money, we need to make money.  Thatʻs what HTA says, thatʻs what Business says.  Are we so clueless that no one pays attention to what Pelehonuamea says?

I am often criticized by some for always complaining, for being too critical.  All I want is for people to open their eyes, their hearts, their minds, and to try to see from a different perspective.  And to be correct in spelling and pronunciation (always the proofreader and editor).  

I would love, as a friend said, for people to be infected.  I want everyone to be infected with a virus.  The virus of Aloha.  Who said viruses always have to be detrimental?  Become infected with aloha.  Some of us are.  Perhaps many of us are.  The aloha that engenders aloha ʻāina.  That love and caring for the land, all of it, as we would love and care for a beloved and cherished family member.  Not the aloha of slogans and ads and trite commercialism.  Not that kind.  

The kind of aloha and aloha ʻāina that I feel that makes me weep when I experience change and the loss that entails.  I weep for that which is lost, while knowing that Iʻll come to have aloha for the new faces in our midst.  For the new beaches, the new pali, the different colors and layers and...all that.  We shall come to know and adore them too.

Down at Pohoiki, the sandbar has morphed into a beach.  Pohoiki Black Sand Beach.  From HVO on August 31:

I sure hope that the kumu niu, the coconut trees, are able to grow fresh fronds.  And as a bonus there appear to be at least two ponds for keiki and kūpuna.

Up at Kaluapele, a new drone video from HVO, shot on August 26, 2018.  A bit dizzying, so Iʻve also included a few still screenshots:

Drone Video: posted August 30, 2018 by HVO: Kaluapele

View toward east.  Orangish Puʻupuaʻi at Kīlauea Iki at top left.  Maunaulu on horizon at top right.  Center right is the grey September 1982 Lava Flow.  Multicolored pali revealed themselves during incremental collapses of the floor of Kaluapele during 62 lūʻōniu (collapse-explosions) between May 16 and August 2.  Colors result from weathering of lava by heat and gases, and deposition of minerals by steam.

View toward Maunaloa, Kapāpala Ranch barely visible at top.  A section of road can be seen on the slumped kaulu (ledge).  The Halemaʻumaʻu Parking Lot was in this area.

From the other direction, view more or less east, section of road also visible on slumped kaulu.

And yes, these blogs will be irregularly posted.  When Iʻm inclined, or when Something happens...please stay tuned.

as always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com