Dispatches from Volcano: April 30, 2023 After Five Years, Here We Are

Yup. Itʻs been awhile...Nevertheless, here I am.

Itʻs always been important to me that events are commemorated in some way. A sentimentalist I am.

Five years ago this afternoon at 2p, the East Rift Zone of Kīlauea ruptured at Puʻuʻōʻō, unleashing what would become the Hulihia of 2018. The floor of Kaluapele astonishingly and uncomprehendingly incrementally collapsed, while three days later, on May 3, 2018, the Lower East Rift Zone in Keahialaka began unzipping, allowing the eventual formation of 24 fissures. By early August 2018, collapses at the summit ceased, and by early September Pelehonuamea rested once again.

The aerial above, taken by K. Mulliken last October, depicts a scene much the same today. Compare with the main blog photo.

November last year Maunaloa reawakened for a few weeks after slumbering since 1984. Photo below by J. Ibasan, at dawn November 28, 2022, we enjoy Pele at play in Halemaʻumaʻu at left, and up on the NE Rift of Maunaloa at right.

Fortuitous timing and weathers create magical scenes when Pūʻiwa nearly overwhelms. From the 1865 Andrews Dictionary of the Hawaiian Language:

PU-I-WA

s. Amazement; a surprise; a stupefaction on account of wonder; a starting from fright; sudden excitement.

Now...many or some of you may be aware of my change in circumstances, and may have experienced a different sort of pūʻiwa. Having contracted polio in 1955, and mostly recovered, with the noticeable exception of a paralyzed left arm, I later learned of post-polio syndrome. Wherein muscles, major and minor, compensating for those paralyzed, major and minor, finally [and with finality!] say Enough!!! Weʻre done working overtime. And so it was, last Fall, I began a slow decline, that increased and increased, till by December I could no longer walk. I had used up all reserves in my legs. Some doctors and other health practitioners cautioned me about walking "too much", lest I start down the post-polio road. But no one could say how much was too much, and when (and which) muscles would cease to function. So rather than sit and wait, listening to the ticking of the clock, I walked. Two miles, almost every day to Keanakākoʻi (except when the Park was closed), from July 2013, when I "retired", till September 21, 2022, the Autumnal Equinox, when the alarm went off.

With extraordinary help from many friends, I moved to a care home in Orchidlands Estates, still in Keaʻau, but now ma kai where itʻs warm. The process was challenging, but I survived. As I seem to be wont to do.

Weʻll likely talk more about this later, but for now Iʻm well, happy, and am fortunate to be in a place where caregivers truly care. They are selfless and amazing people...

Many, many selfless and amazing and generous friends and acquaintances have donated to a GoFundMe account, helping me get a suitable wheelchair expeditiously, as well as a small van that I can park the wheelchair in while various friends drive in search of adventure. If youʻre inclined to kōkua, hereʻs the link. If youʻve already contributed, Mahalo Piha for your kindness and generosity.

GoFundMe for Bobby

The maps below are more or less current. Maunaloa is NOT erupting, and for now, neither is Kīlauea. I chose the Kīlauea map because it depicts the increasing depth of the lava lake in Halemaʻumaʻu.