Kaluapele

On the Island of Hawaiʻi, Kaluapele (the pit of pele or Pele) crowns the summit region of the volcano Kīlauea.

30 April 2019

Tuesday, April 30, 2019. Who knew???

Itʻs 4am here, breezes sigh through the forest in darkness, quiet but insistent choruses of crickets drone on, and in the distance, coqui... still low enough in numbers we can pick out individual voices.

A year ago, or a bit more, we saw the little lava lake on the floor of Halemaʻumaʻu overflow several times, covering much of the floor of the home of Pelehonuamea.  Puʻuʻōʻō had been swelling, itʻs floor rising noticeably, almost hour by hour.


Above, one of the last times we saw Her at Halemaʻumaʻu.  Winds were slack, air voggy.

 A year ago, we were in the habit of walking to Keanakākoʻi almost daily.  I made a crude tally at one point, and the number was a surprise.  Over two thousand miles in five years or so.  In clear winter chill bundled absurdly in a random collection of colorful odds and ends, in rains and mists, in buffeting winds, (on March 14, 2015, the air was in the low-30ʻs):


and too, on rare vogless days when crispclarity made for breathtaking views.  


And then...

A year ago today, at about two in the afternoon, amidst a tumult of rains and winds, the East Rift Zone of Kīlauea, just downrift of Puʻuʻōʻō, ruptured.  Apparently, the gradual increase of magma supply in the plumbing system of Kīlauea exceeded the carrying capacity of subterranean pathways, and we witnessed the breaking point.  Mere rock could not withstand the insistent strain of pele. 

Of course there was no way of knowing what would ensue.  Who woulda thought?  Some certainly knew what was possible, but thinking of possibilities, the what-ifs, maybe whens, the somedays...all those musings can easily be dismissed with...Nah...Not goinʻ happen.

And then...here we be.


Not long ago, scientists at the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory installed a new webcam on the rim of the abyss.  We can peer vicariously into Her home, all the time wondering...

K3 Cam

This, on a particularly clear and dry day, view from more-or-less the southwest:


And a closeup of accumulations of kūkaepele, yellow sulphur deposits on steep slopes.  


Yesterday during our walk, winds were variably kona, and moisture from weekend rains, mingled with sulphurous gases, and made for pungent hydrogen sulfide experiences.  Lest we think that no one is home, a not-too-subtle reminder...


Thanks to ef for the reminder of the view at dawn, above.  Iʻm gazing at Maunakea in the distance, while the rosy slope of Maunaloa is to my left.  Also to my left if you look good, are bluish sulphurous fume rising from Halemaʻumaʻu.  Wisps of steam ascend from countless places on the new pali, as well as from the broken floor of Kaluapele.

And what we saw and experienced during The Three Months happened before, and will happen again.  Details of the works of Pelehonuamea and other elementals will, of course, vary, but without her, and them, weʻd have no place to call home...

"He Kau no Hiʻiaka", below, uses ocean-related metaphor to describe volcanism several hundred years ago...

 Birds awoke a little while ago.  Cricket choruses slowly replaced by complex songs of ʻapapane.

As dawn broke, below seen from the familar KE cam, we are reminded...


Iʻm off to Oʻahu for the day.  Reminisce, wonder, and remember...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com
















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