Until. Until you visit Kaluapele and see what was wrought. Until you try go Puna ma kai and see, and understand that many roadblocks, figuratively and literally, exist. And yes, I keep saying that Yes, Iʻll try be more on a schedule. And then the quotidian things in life happen, I get distracted, and here we are.
Iʻm hoping that the really interested among you have Followed or Subscribed, so youʻll receive notifications of new postings. There are all sorts of Topics (thanks, La-Rain) topically banging around in my head, and given my new attention to my inattentiveness, misinterpretations and distractiveness, my trusty black and white Composition Book gets written in daily. Reminders and cues and ideas abound. Then the Where Do I Begin arises.
Oh. And by the way...after 100+ posts, I canʻt remember what-all Iʻve written. So please, I ask forbearance. If I repeat something, repost a photo or graphic, perhaps thatʻll make the information a little more paʻa (stuck) in your memories.
Off to the races:
The clarity of vog-less sky still surprises and astounds. Iʻve likely said before that I almost get tired of seeing. Our perspective and scale of seeing things afar is apparently as it was in the 70ʻs. Not that I remember remarking then on the clear blues of sky and sea, or the many other unmuted colors of vegetation and lavalands and mountain heights, and....everything. But the headswivelling, pull over on the shoulder, not to cell talktext, but to see, has been a fairly regular thing. I remember the views. Haleakalā from Laupāhoehoe as I drive toward Honokaʻa. And if not there, then certainly when you round the bend Honokaʻa-side of Paʻauilo, there she stands. And if itʻs really clear, Kaʻuiki at Hāna might be sighted too. Like those kamaʻāina of the uplands in Kona ʻAkau who revel in the seeing of Kahoʻolawe, West Maui, Molokaʻi, Lānaʻi, and yes, even Oʻahu on crystalline-skied days, seeing is sometimes an amazement. Iʻve been lucky too in Kona ʻAkau, startled by the redness of Kahoʻolawe. You canʻt quite believe what youʻre seeing.
These leiʻohu adorning our mauna are quite believable, having something to do with temperature inversion layers and humidities, but I love just seeing.
Maunakea, quite green from recent rains, with more moving in from the east (left)... And yes, a bit of snow on the heights in the crater toward the right.
And Hualālai, though the day was overcast, the silhouette of the mountain vogfree...
And then, the faintest of ʻanuenue pālua, double rainbows in the ua kūnihi off ʻŌʻōkala in our North Hilo District. Ua = rain, and Kūnihi = steep or precipitous, as the faces of rain falling in squalls offshore. I think I said before, when I was small and saw ua kūnihi from our home in Honokaʻa, I thought that the clouds were sucking up water from the ocean. Who knew???
And at Kaluapele, ao pālua sit side-by-side over the pit, and under the cirrused winter sky. ComeLook!
Then this from friend Moniz, wow...on the way to Keanakākoʻi.
And since weʻre at Kaluapele, hereʻs something to contemplate.
Kīlauea Military Camp:
The image above is from Bing. From Crater Rim Drive to the rim is about 350 feet. Or so.
The big building at the top of the half-circle drive is Headquarters. Above that (with the bed symbol) is the Mess Hall / Cafeteria, and above that is the Rec Room / ʻŌhiʻa Room. Those whoʻve had the opportunity to visit or stay at this recreation area may recognize it.
I was struck by something a couple weeks ago. Driving through the Camp, I didnʻt see any signs of damage because of TTM. No orange fencing, no yellow flagging tape, no Warning!
Keep Out signs, nothing. So I started asking around, puzzled that after 62 lūʻōniu (collapse explosions) and tens of thousands other ʻōlaʻi, and in places 1,000+ foot collapse of the floor of Kaluapele, there didnʻt appear to be any damage.
Keep Out signs, nothing. So I started asking around, puzzled that after 62 lūʻōniu (collapse explosions) and tens of thousands other ʻōlaʻi, and in places 1,000+ foot collapse of the floor of Kaluapele, there didnʻt appear to be any damage.
The three buildings mentioned above date from 1916 (Nineteen Sixteen). One hundred two years ago. They are single-wall construction on post-and-pier foundations. Nothing fancy. Other buildings date from the 20ʻs and 30ʻs, variously constructed, some with cement foundations, some with stone walls, some on stone posts, all single-wall. No rigorous building codes to Ensure Our Safety back then. Just really good quality wood, construction techniques, and hand-hammered old-fashioned nails. The catchment water system also survived completely intact. The three greenish circles near the top of the camp are the tops of steel water tanks. You can see them from the main highway. Each hold 50,000 gallons or more. All were and are fine.
Damage? Maybe $75k in broken liquor bottles and other fall-off-the-shelf casualties at the store. Maybe a crack in the masonry of one of the stone cabins. Thatʻs it. The crack was noted, but maybe it was there before TTM.
I have to wonder: Why all our detailed, rigorous building codes? Who are they for? Us? Or Engineers, Architects, Contractors, purveyors of building supplies? What if we took a step back and built with integrity and care and simplicity? Look at the old plantation houses throughout Hawaiʻi nei. Still standing after many many decades. Last I checked, a great-grandfathers house was still standing in Paʻauhau. Hurricanes, big wind, earthquakes, torrential downpours... still the buildings stand.
Time to write new-old codes or guidelines. Small houses, clean, tidy, nothing fancy. No need marble and granite (carbon footprints anyone?). Wood or plywood. Post-and-pier. Hand-hammered nails, good quality iron roof, wood framed windows. Affordable. Nuff.
OK, then. Iʻll wrap up for now...
Till next time, as always, with aloha,
BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment