17 January 2022. Forty-six, One hundred twenty-nine, Remembering...

This morning, via HVO webcam, we were treated to a glorious sunrise on Maunakea, while we watched the sky turn color, and the mauna reddened.

Then, thereʻs this:

I seem to always wonder:  Do others have the ability to recognize places from afar?  Above, a photograph by Robin Holcomb, then of HVO, taken on January 12, 1974.  Itʻs of Maniniʻōwali, and the turquoise waters of kai kūono o Kua.

Manini-ʻōwali

Land section, Ke-āhole and Pua-kō qds.; undersea spring and rock between Awa-keʻe and Kū-kiʻo, Hawaiʻi. A girl named Manini-ʻōwali was betrothed as a child to Ulu-weuweu because their parents were close friends. When the wedding day approached the boy became ill. A kahuna made the diagnosis that he was in love with someone else. The kahuna prayed for the girl, but the gods turned both young people into rocks that can be seen at low tide. Lit., weak manini fish.

I first met this place Summer 1972, when TōB, whom Iʻve known since childhood, persuaded me to visit.  We backpacked in from the then new Keāhole Airport.  Once we got there, and I immersed myself in those spectacularly clear waters, I knew:  There was no better place.

Piha Mahina (the full moon) of January 1976, we returned, this time with a few friends, and backpacked in from the then new Queen Kaʻahumanu Highway, straight down an ancient ma uka to makai trail I happened across just after the highway opened in March 1975.  We had gotten a late start, and arrived at the shore just at sunset time.  I dropped my pack on that patch of sand on the right edge of the photo, and not long after, HK wandered over.  She and Naiʻa and dog Brandy were camped on the far sand.  We shared warm canned Olympia, and hours of conversation, and thus began an enduring friendship. Naiʻa, alas, has departed this life, and too soon, too, I just learned that our friend Melody recently left.  And we remember with fondness: their voices, their laughter, and our joy!

Kui Lee: Days of My Youth

Forty-six years ago this evening.  We had a commemorative 30th mooniversary gathering of dear friends in 2006, at Kikaua, after which I wrote:

And, though the photo below is from a different place and time, the sentiment remains:  how fortunate are we to be able to share precious rare lei with those for whom we have heartfelt aloha?   

Today is also the 129th commemoration of the Hulihia Aupuni, the Overthrow of the Hawaiian Monarchy.  We remember, wonder, and reflect.  My family all came to the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi in the 1880s, recruited as sugar plantation workers from Madeira and the Azores.  And here we are.

Today, so far, Pelehonuamea rests, with just a bit of pele showing now and again.  

That little pondlet, lower left corner of above two photos, and the larger orange ovalish on the thermal cam image, is a persistent mini loko ahi.  It seems to be connected to the west vent edifice, and never really cools off, as does the rest of the larger loko ahi.

Below, from almost the opposite side of the Lua, is a closeup, via a laser rangefinder:

During recent multi-day pauses in the ongoing Kīlauea summit eruption, a small portion of the Halemaʻumaʻu lava lake has consistently remained active: a small, ovular lava pond just north of the briefly dormant western fissure. This photo of the lava pond was captured on Thursday, December 30, through the lens of a laser rangefinder device, and the western fissure is just out of frame to the left. Measurements indicated that the lava pond measured approximately 30 meters (98 feet) from end to end at that time. On previous occasions when more vigorous eruptive activity resumed, new breakouts of lava from the fissure and upwelling lava from the pond have reactivated the nearby crusted-over lava lake (lower right). A vertical levee, standing approximately 4 meters (13 feet) tall, bounds the lake and far edge of the pond; distinctive layering in the levee wall marks earlier lava levels when the lake was more full. USGS photo by M. Zoeller.

Below, similar angle, for context:

And, in the world of plants, bloomings are increasing.  Not as much as recent seasons, it seems, but lehua are just getting started.  Kind of skimpy, and not too brilliant, but nevertheless a beauty:

And walking to Keanakākoʻi today, the littlest ʻōhiʻa.  "No matter, I going bloom anyway!"

Below isnʻt the best, but at Kūpinaʻi on Saturday, Zoya pointed out this dark-phase ʻio.  We think it may be a juvenile.  Too curious to stay away from us, and it was unsteady on its perch.

Hiki?

Be well, be safe, be cautious, be smart.

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC

maniniowali@gmail.com