Sunday, March 28, 2021. Māhealani o Nana

 We sit, again, amidst misty rain.  The summer-like days last week were a tease, but after weeks and feet of ua, the clear hot Friday weather was welcome. And thatʻs a major understatement.  However.  As these seasons are, rains have returned, though seemingly warmer, at 130pm itʻs 58dF. 

And life goes on, and we remember and recall, with fondest aloha,

the full Māhealani moon of the month of Nana in 1981.  "Poina ʻole" = Donʻt forget.  Forty years ago friends HK and TōB were wed.  And they remain so, productively and happily.  We should all be so committed and blessed.  Some of you were perhaps there for the celebrations.  Yes ("s").  We took bountiful leftovers and encamped at the beach while the newlyweds were hoteling a stroll away.  What a glorious carefree time!  Māhealani in March 1981 was also the Vernal Equinox, and so subsequently we were reminded twice in a month:  The date of the Equinox, and on Māhealani.  Lucky festive us.

It appears that my webcam browsings for interesting instances, given our low clouds, might be a bust this evening.  Though of course weathers have, can, and do change quickly.  Last evening I captured these, all three just after 8p.  The moon is fullish for a couple nights:  Hoku and Māhealani.

From the Maunaloa Strip Road, a moonlit Hoku night and bright plume emanating from Halemaʻumaʻu.  

Ka mahina Hoku above Kaluapele.  And a classic rendition from back in the day...

The Brothers Cazimero: Mahina o Hoku

With lyrics from huapala.org

And Hoku illuminating Kaluapele

I really like that moonlight allows us to glimpse in the dark, muted colors.  Red orange yellows of pele, cloud silhouettes, and the imagined blue of sky.

And though skies are brightening as I type, at 120p, socked in was the Lua.

Itʻs been interesting, at least to me, that ōlaʻi have been few.  Note the absence of red dots below.  The colors are, from most recent to oldest, Red, Orange, Yellow, White.  Cycles and phases of activities.  

From the HVO website, this taken on Friday, March 26, 2021.  Wispy plumes rise from the west vent complex.  The rusty reddish area at the bottom is the moku nui, the biggest island.  Note complex concentric rings in various places.  The loko ahi (lava lake) is impounded by a levee.  Former lake surfaces are also framed by levees.  Volumes of erupted pele fluctuate, and cause the loko to rise and fall.  Overflows build the levees layer upon layer. 

And a closeup of the west vent complex.  Several lua are visible, though not pele, but of course that changes with Her mood.  The bluish fumes are gases dissolved in magma escaping.  Also taken on March 26, sulphur dioxide was measured at an average of 650 tonnes per day, helping explain the wispiness.

OK?  Tomorrow is a town day, and postings will be intermittent this week.

Be well.  Mask, Social Distance, Wash Hands, No Big Gatherings, Get Your Shot if can!

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

Sunday, March 21, 2021 Oia mau nō? Well...

 Yes, the rains continue.  Yes, Pelehonuamea continues her work.  Her work in the Lua is often enshrouded in steamsvaporsfog.  And the chill persists.  And the rain.  Friends maintain a weather station up here.  As of today weʻve accumulated 63.86" of rain for the year, and 25.67" for March.  Weʻve of course surpassed that, but living in rain forest, I suppose we shouldnʻt be surprised.  But it does wear on one.  At least on this one.  We stay warm, entertain ourselves reading, cooking, pecking at the keyboard, whilst we dream of hot sun, white sands, and Maniniʻōwali blue waters.

And Iʻm endlessly fascinated, watching my mind wander.  Given the fairly static state of affairs up here in sodden Keaʻau ma uka, itʻs a bit of a challenge figuring out what to write.  And then...

The hazy purpling of thermal cams, the gusts of wind, and bands of rain, somehow come together.

ʻAle (ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, rather than pub beverage):

ʻale

1. nvt. Wave, crest of a wave, billow; to ripple, form waves, stir; to well, as tears in the eyes; rippling, stirring. See poale. Many types of billows are listed below. ʻAle lau loa, wave long and large. ʻAle poʻi, breaking wave, ʻAle pā puaʻa, pig-pen wave, of a wave striking the side of a canoe. Ka ʻale wai hau a ke kua, the snow water wave of the gods [it was believed that the gods made snow]. hō.ʻale Caus/sim.; to surge (PH 51). (PCP kale.)

2. n. Gust. Rare.

3. Also are. n. Are, a unit of measure. Eng.

Waves and billows, carried on gusty winds... ʻAle seems entirely appropriate.

Then thoughts turned to ʻale...hmmmm  Hao mai nā ʻale a ke Kīpuʻupuʻu...

as in the mele Hole Waimea (again, "hole" ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, rather than a pit of some sort).

hole

1. nvt. To skin, peel, file, rasp, make a groove; to strip, as sugar-cane leaves from the stalk; furrow. Cf. papa hole, pohole, puhole, penis. Hole Wai-mea i ka ihe a ka makani (name song for Ka-mehameha I, Elbert and Mahoe 52), Wai-mea strips the spear of the wind [the wind refers to warriors, and the song describes their making of spears]. (PNP sole; cf. Penrhyn sosore, Yasuda 66.)

2. vi. To squirm, twist, turn, fidget; to caress passionately. Cf. pīhole.

huapala.org

And we are pelted and bruised by the rains, however metaphorically.

My understanding is that Waikā is an ahupuaʻa by Kawaihae, that arid place on our northwest shore.  But up ma uka there, is dazzling rainforest.  And Mahiki is by Mud Lane, Hāmākua of the head of Waipiʻo and Hiʻilawe.

Kīhei de Silva writes on Kaʻiwakīloumoku:

Hole Waimea

He is admired for his scholarship, and for the clarity of his writing.

And the illustration of Clermontia kohalae, one of many many species of ʻōhāwai in Hawaiʻi nei, reminded me of the first one I met in the early 70s along the trail between Waipiʻo and Waimanu.  Stunningly memorable dark purple flowers...

A cool thing popped up while googling.  An herbarium sheet from Kew (of the Gardens) in England.

The two following images by Brooks Rownd, on 110611:

So.  Purple...

Weʻve passed Ka māuiili o ke kupulau, the Vernal Equinox which happened at 1137p Friday night.  Kinda hard to track the movement of sunshadows on living room walls when no moʻ too much sun.  But during those rare mornings when the sun does shine, as it did Friday, weʻre happy to see its progress.  

The Equinox is when the sun, at itʻs daily zenith, is directly over the Equator as it journeys north.  Pōʻai waena honua is that circle around the Earth, also known as Ke alanui a e kuʻukuʻu, or Ka piko o Wākea.

OK then.  Time to move on with the day... Let your mind wander, muse, and wonder...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

Sunday, March 13, 2021 Ka ua loku

 For now, in humid airs, with sun teasing us, memory of chill torrential downpours fades quickly.  Rain gauges are emptied (as if we need them to tell us "Itʻs raining!  Hard!") and lives proceed.  Iʻve been entranced by webcam views of the Lua, with varying qualities of light, often monochromatic palettes of greys playing hide and seek with peleviews.

Hiʻohiʻona:  features, as of a face or landscape (+) ʻāina:  land, or earth

Hiʻohiʻona ʻāina = landscape [as in the features of the land surrounding us]

And then thereʻs uhi, from the P/E Dictionary:

uhi

1. nvt. Covering, cover, veil, film, lid, solid tattooing, tent (Puk 26.12); to cover, spread over, engulf, conceal, overwhelm; to don, as a feather cloak. Fig., to deceive, hide the truth. Kākau uhi, to tattoo solidly. Uhi mai ka lani pō, the night sky spreads forth [ignorance]. Ua uhi ʻia kō lāua mau manaʻo i ke aloha (For. 4:67), their thoughts were overwhelmed with love. Uhi i ka moe, to make a bed. hoʻo.uhi Caus/sim. (PPN ʻufi.)

2. n. Large, bluish-brown birthmark.

3. n. The yam (Dioscorea alata), from southeast Asia, a climber with square stems, heart-shaped leaves, and large, edible, underground tubers. The plant is widely distributed through islands of the Pacific, where it is commonly grown for food. (HP 166–172, Neal 230.) Also pālau, ulehihi. In the past botanists have applied the name uhi incorrectly to the hoi kuahiwi. (PPN ʻufi.)

4. n. Mother-of-pearl bivalve, mother-of-pearl shank. (PPN ʻufi.)

5. n. Turtle shell piece used for scraping olonā.

6. n. Mark made by the gall of raw pūpū ʻawa (a shellfish) on tapa or on the skin as an ornament. (PCP u(f,s)i.)

Another of many many words with multiple meanings, wherein context is everything.  The applicable definition here is "veil".  As in, to my way of thinking with kōkua from pn,

uhia nā hiʻohiʻona ʻāina

Veiled landscapes.  Those we see dimly, whether because of weathers, or because of fading memory.  

The bottom view, above, is reminiscent of paintings Iʻve seen of the Volcano School genre.  Some are dimly lit, verging on abstractions, but they accurately depict various twilight or dawn scenes.  Glow of pele adds intrigue, different than monochrome version below.

The west vent cam view below and the view above "tell" us that Kona winds are blowing [below, bluish fume moves left to right], and an episode of ka ua loku (a torrential downpour) has just occurred.  Steaming walls, the east side of the loko ahi steaming abundantly, while the papa pele at the vent is so hot rain evaporates before reaching the ground.

The work of Pelehonuamea continues to evolve as we witness variations in volumes erupted (effusion rates) and topography of the papa, the floor of Halemaʻumaʻu.  The active loko ahi decreases in size, and the rising of the surface slows.

The active lake is much diminished (the palest grey at the fume source) in area, and clots of moku liʻi (small islets) are mostly fixed and slowly grow.

The lake is "only" 203 feet below the rim (green line) of Halemaʻumaʻu, but...

According to my calculations, the loko ahi, 653 deep on January 14, is today 725 feet deep.  An increase of 72 feet in 59 days, averaging 1.2 feet per day.  Lake depth has been "stuck" at 725 feet for 5 days now.  As Iʻve said before, itʻs probably not a good idea to hold your breath Waiting for Overflow.  Way too many variables.

Neither should you hold your breath waiting for Pele to visit Maunaloa.  Too many variables there too.  BUT...those potentially impacted by an eruption of Maunaloa should, at least, have a plan in mind.  

Note, especially, the RED area:  flows can reach houses in hours.  Unless fissures open in yards in places like Hawaiian Ocean View Estates.

The "XX Mm3/d" is Millions of Cubic Meters (erupted) per day.  The orangish area includes the Pōhakuloa Training Area, and the North Kona / South Kohala coast between Kīholo and Puakō.  Think about it.

BELOW:  Would be good if Folks-in-Charge would think too.  Actually, the lava flow isnʻt contributing to poor visibility.  The County officials who decided to use Federal Funds, bulldoze a route, pave to Federal Highway Standards, and reopen Highway 132 on a still-hot flow are the primary contributors.  I was taught:  Lava still hot?  Pele still home!  Leave her alone.

While on Sicily, Etna spectacularly erupts...

And then, had the floods on Maui (and elsewhere, of course)...Hawaiʻi Public Radio had a story by Kuʻuwehi Hiraishi, about Kaupakalua and the flood, and comments by a Mr Joey Caires.

Kaupakalua, Maui, flood

Kuʻuwehi said:  His ʻohana has lived in the area (Kaupakalua) for five generations and he says long-time families have a saying:

"The road of the river is the road of the river.  It might not come 20 years from now, it might not come 50, but when it comes, it takes."

[un]common sense!!!

If more folks Went Outside and Paid Attention, many problems might be averted.  Itʻs only a matter of time, but so many people seem so clueless about their surroundings, where they live, and why particular hiʻohiʻona play a huge role and are important to our wellbeing.

Eric Stinton in Civil Beat Honolulu, Today

Take a breath, Bob...As steams, vapors, mists, rise and waves splash upward...

We can see the boundaries of the loko ahi

And raindrops caught in pepeʻe uluhe unfurling

tkt 031121

Pūnohuokawai: [pūnohu: to rise, as...mist] [of the fresh water].  Turbulent torrent (is that redundant?), "he waikahe ikaika" in Andrews Dictionary, of unseen river and waterfalls, makes mist, much like pounding waves at shore make ʻehukai.

mw 030621

ʻOloʻā:  splashing on rocks, as a rough sea (P/E), mahalo piha mw! And that big rain-falling wind-blowing squall offshore.  Repeating from a previous post:  when I was small, looking out to the ocean from Honokaʻa, I thought that squalls were clouds sucking up water... And then we learn...

And Iʻll never learn too many decimals of pi...but today is Pi Day nevertheless.  Pi = the ratio of a circleʻs circumference to its diameter.  In case youʻre into mental challenges.  Just in case:  March 14 (3.14)... Pi (3.14..........)

That was a good catch-up and wander.

Stay dry, and stay well.  If can, go get vaccine.  

Wear Mask, Socially Distance, Wash Hands.  No Get Lazy!!!

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

Thursday, March 4, 2021 Tantalizing Tangential Distractions

 Perhaps itʻs ADD or merely a case of excessive curiosities, but sometimes itʻs exceedingly difficult to get on, and remain on track.  But we keep trying.  Iʻve been working on a complex blog about Waikoʻolihilihi, and attempting to keep various strands of thought from getting too tangled.  But then other bright ideas pop to the fore, and...

So please stay tuned.  After a week of blusteriness, and wearying damp cold rains and winds, yesterday was a stellar (thanks gh!) day!!!  Stellar.  Clear blue-skied, though cool in the shade, but sun made all happy.  Today is much the same as yesterday.  Below, from HVO.  Almost sparkling.

The loko ahi as of today, March 4, 2021, is 722 feet deep.  By my notes and calculations, Halemʻumaʻu was 929 feet deep at the start of the current work of Pele on December 20, 2020.  That makes 207 feet to First Overflow, onto the kaulu (ledge), the lowest one seen on the far side of the lake.  But.  Please donʻt engage in breath-holding.  The loko ahi was 653 feet deep on January 14.  Iʻll let you noodle with math.  Note, though, that the enclosing walls slope outward, making incremental rise slower and slower.

A distraction yesterday was learning of a Report in "Nature Communications":  "Land, Lava, and Disaster create a social dilemma after the 2018 eruption of Kīlauea volcano".

Big Island Video News [BIVN]

But itʻs a distraction of the most excellent sort.  A relatively short, easy to read paper about Volcanic Hazard, Inexpensive Land, and Consequences.  The link on BIVN is easy to follow, as is downloading the pdf.  As much as I try, those In Charge seem not inclined to listen or pay attention to serious concerns regarding "Rebuilding" or development in Puna ma kai.  The kindest part of me thinks that the problem is so complex and difficult, that folks rather ignore problematic issues.

BIVN also has a piece on just-released nearly $84 million of Federal Funds (our money) to be used for a voluntary housing buyout and relocation program for those affected by pele in 2018.   

As noted in the Update, the entire crust is rising, and as it does, pele leaks out along the edges, as at that short bright section upper left.  The hot surface of the loko ahi continues to diminish in size.  Slowly, but surely... it seems, over time, that activity is slowly slowly waning.  But what do I know?

Above is Two Day Tilt graph.  Wondering if the jiggle towards the end is a teleseism (a signal from a faraway ōlaʻi) of the M8.1 Kermadec Islands quake this morning, one of three today near Aotearoa.  Scary.  830a Friday Aotearoa = 930a Thursday Hawaiʻi...

 Below, for the last Month.

I remembered yesterday that the D-I Events, the downs and ups on the graph above, were happening pre-December 20, 2020.  I donʻt think that we should correlate them too closely with activities in Halemaʻumaʻu, though they may track similarly.  If Pelehonuamea pauses surface activity, the D-I Events may very well continue.  I think.

Itʻs all so very interesting... more soon.

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com

Monday, March 1, 2021 Tantalizing brightnesses

 We are teased, then the reality of "Shower Bands" hits home.  Or, "Bands of Showers"...

For nearly a week, chill damp here in Keaʻau ma uka.  In fits and starts, blustery winds and rains, followed by briefest windows of sun.  Though shadows are cast, they soon disappear.  In the forest, fresh greening continues.  ʻŌlapa are showing lau that are bright clean shiny green, and rather than fluttering in breezes, theyʻre windwhipped.

Kīlauea EcoGuides

A bit too dicey to go out and get photos today, but the above should suffice...One thing missing is the unique scent.  Some say turpentineish, I canʻt describe it, other than "ʻōlapa".  Too, pepeʻe hāpuʻu are slowly unfurling, a few lehua bloom, and uluhe reach out and up.

Up at Kaluapele, rain, steam, fog...  The KEcam, facing East-ish bears the brunt of weathers, as scudding low clouds yield to sun then rain again.

And yes, Pelehonuamea continues, though at a slower pace.  The loko ahi has risen about three feet in a day, and SO2 rates remain fairly low at 700t/day.

And as we saw last week, ōlaʻi in the summit region of Kīlauea are...negligible.  For now.  That big cluster on the SW Rift of Kīlauea near Pāhala continues to accumulate.  Most are between 19 and 22 miles deep, and about M2.0.  We canʻt feel them, which is a good thing.

The size of the active surface of the loko ahi continues to slowly shrink.  One opening of the west vent is that bright yelloworange dot bottom left of center.  Clotted islets grow in size.

And below, from HVO, is a fairly clear image of the floor of Halemaʻumaʻu.  The main, biggest, central moku with its bounding pali between 25 and 30 feet high, and smaller islets to the east above it in this view, are all firmly paʻa, stuck in the crust.

Smaller scattered younger moku liʻi are in the sea of pele, just to the right of fuming west vent.  

That darkish area top center is a small pali behind a down-dropped block (the flat grey surface) and where, if She continues, the first overflow will be.  IF is the operative word.

 

And finally for today, despite the off on rain wind brief sun here, Mokuʻāweoweo is remarkably clearish.  That vertical bank of cloud fascinates...

Hiki?  Stay warm and dry, and no get too cocky with low case counts and vaccines.  Wear masks, wash hands, stay socially distant.  Please...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com