If I Were Going...: Waiting for a Volcano

An encouraging moment

I was dreading the long drive from Kona back to Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park. I hate night driving, I knew that the road was dark and winding, it was potentially going to be raining or foggy and I was tired.

I had chosen to drive Route HI-11, which arcs along the southern coast southeast to Waiʻōhinu and the heads northwest to Volcano just past Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park.

I took the upper route to Kona and the lower back; Map: Google Maps

The drive is about 11 minutes longer than going more directly east on the saddle road across the middle of the island, but I was concerned about fog on the other road.

It was a good choice. There was virtually no traffic and the entire highway was marked with reflective striping and brilliant reflectors.

I was concerned about being able to see the road, but it was no problem at all

When I got to my little house in the ferns, I was once again glad that I had checked in earlier. It was foggy, virtually impossible to read the neighborhood street signs that were set oddly back from the cross street (I found later it was easier to count the streets until I reached 9th) and the small driveway was tricky to spot.

Oh, that hot shower and king-sized bed felt good

I was going to have a busy day the next day.

The USGS site said that Kīlauea was supposed to erupt June 26, so I woke up every couple of hours to check the Kīlauea Webcam and Kīlauea Update to see if anything was starting.

Both tools provide lots of information

I got up early the next morning, dressed hastily, took a bottle of water and drove quickly to the National Park, concerned that, because THIS was supposed to be the day and it was a Saturday that I wouldn’t be able to get a parking space – or, worse, I wouldn’t be able to get into the Park.

Photos I had seen showed it could get crazy, but it wasn’t. Photo: Big Island News

I had heard that the Keanakako'i Overlook on the southeast part of the crater, which is reached via the old Crater Rim Road, was the best place to view the eruption because it looks at the vent head-on in the context of the full crater. It is where we went in 2022 to see the flowing lava before sun-up.

I knew that the Kīlauea and Uēkahuna overlooks on the northwest side were closer, but, based on viewing the steam vents the day before, I assumed that the crater lip would block the view of an eruption.

This is the Uēkahuna perspective

But they – especially Uēkahuna – were also supposed to be good.

The two choices actually face each other

I drove to the Devastation parking lot, which is right by the closed old Crater Rim Road, and got one of several open parking spots. I grabbed my cameras, tripod, water bottle and gear and headed to the lookout.

By the way, the Devastation area is named for the total destruction of a lush rainforest during the 1959 eruption of the Kīlauea Iki Crater.

The Iki Crater has a trail through it now

The relatively level (with some steeper parts) wheelchair-accessible route to the overlook travels about a mile down a paved road to the edge of the crater where temporary trails and viewing areas are set up, depending on exactly where the eruption is. Parts of the road cracked or fell into the caldera due to eruptions and summit collapses 2008-2018.

But, it is in great shape for walking

When I visited in 2022, I had gotten a couple of lifers while walking the trail. This time, I heard lots of birds, but never wanted to stop long enough to look.

I heard and think I saw an 'Apapane, but kept going; This is 2022

When I walked the path after dark (and when I walked into my rental house at night), there was a loud chorus of Common Coquí Frogs. This species of frog native to Puerto Rico but introduced to Hawai’i is named for the loud call the males make at night; the "co" repels other males and establishes territory while the "quí" attracts females.

Coqui Frog; Photo: Big Island Invasive Species Committee

When I got to the overlook, I surprised that there were not more people there, but the vents weren’t erupting.

We had a bit of intermittent rain, but not enough to cause issues

I was able to get to the front of the area right up against the tape barrier. I set up the tripod and waited.

Awesome view; I just needed an eruption

Not too long after I got there, the vent started to spatter.

Was it starting?

Volcanic spatter is highly molten, malleable blobs of lava that are ejected a short distance into the air by expanding volcanic gases. Because they are thrown localized distances, they do not have enough time to cool completely in the air. When they hit the ground, they remain fluid and sticky and weld together with previously fallen lava fragments to build steep, miniature volcanic mounds called spatter cones or wall-like structures known as spatter ramparts.

Larger amount of lava, but still spatter

Volcanologists distinguish between an overall eruption, an episode and precursory spattering based on the scale of activity and underground plumbing mechanics.

So, maybe ...

An overall eruption is the macro-event that encompasses the entire period that magma actively travels from deep underground to the surface. An eruption can last for years or decades, even if there are short pauses in surface activity.

Resting

I realize that my desciptions may be confusing because what I was waiting for was actually an eruption episode. In this case, episode #50.

An episode is a distinct, high-energy phase within an ongoing eruption.

An episode is characterized by major, sustained outputs like towering lava fountaining ...

... and high-volume, effusive lava flows

We were not seeing an eruption episode. But, minor spattering and jetting, which we were seeing, are often a precursory activity.

An eruption episode may be on the way

Spattering often serves as a low-energy prelude lasting hours to days before a main fountaining episode begins, or it continues as a low-vigor residual sputtering from a minor vent while the main vent handles the real volume. Watch it here ...

Because spattering represents a low-volume, localized gas release rather than a major shift in the volcano's pressurization or magma output, it is treated as a minor fluctuation within the larger, ongoing eruption lifecycle.

Still, this was the most active volcano I had ever seen

The spattering went for awhile and then calmed down.

Lights out!

I waited. I talked with fellow volcano enthusiasts, especially Kim from Connecticut and Abhi and Shirsata from northern California. We waited. We talked. We waited. I used my poncho as a ground cover so I could sit. I wished I had a chair, but that would have been a lot to carry,

It was hot and sunny and I realized that I had left my sunblock back at my room. My water was running low and the snacks I brought weren’t cutting it. By early afternoon, I decided that, even though an eruption could be imminent, I needed a break.

At this point, she was just smoking

I gathered my stuff, booked it up the path, left my parking spot (with great trepidation wondering if I would be able to park when I came back) and drove as quickly as I could to the house. How much of a hurry was I in? I saw another Hawai’ian Hawk (closer than the last one) and didn’t stop.

I ate a quick lunch, reapplied and packed my sunblock, grabbed more water, used the restroom and hurried back. I was surprised to get a parking spot.

I walked back, rejoined my new friends and waited some more. By sunset, Kīlauea was still only smoking.

Smoking pretty good!

I wanted to wait in case the volcano decided to erupt in the middle of the night

It started to get cooler and then to rain and then to get cold (yes, it gets cold at Hawai'i Volcanoes).

The rain came in after sunset

I was tired, a bit sunburned, probably dehydrated, hungry and covered with windblown volcanic grit.

After the day I spent talking with people and checking the update website, I knew that I would have time to get back if an eruption started. So, I trudged back to my car (and, I believe I was the dictionary definition of trudge as I made my way back) and headed home.

I was so glad that the girls and I had not followed one of the scenarios we had come up with – to stay just one extra day. I don't think I could have taken them to the airport after that long hot day and they would have given up prime sets for nothing.

They did get to see it glow; Photo: Becca Stevens

A hot shower! Leftover pizza and a lettuce/tomato salad with a dressing I concocted of mayo packets and the balsamic glaze that came with Becca’s pizza!

Absolutely delicious; Photo: Uncle George's Lounge

Then, collapse into bed. Ahhhhh…

But, sleeping was tough. I checked the website every hour or so, but no eruption.

Webcam on a foggy night

The next morning, I packed a bit better – more water and sunblock, a warmer jacket – and I got in the car.

I had two big scares.

First, I checked the webcam and saw a huge spout of lava – I was missing it!!!! But, then, I noticed that the landscape looked off and the sky was too light. Sometimes the live webcam inexplicably switches to a historic video.

This was Mauna Loa in erupting in 2022. Whew!

Just as I got my heart rate back down and started to back out, Scott called and asked, “Did you see it?” I said that it hadn’t erupted yet and he insisted that it had and that he and his friends at the blues festival he was attending had been very excited.

I was puzzled and panicked because I knew it wasn’t going off at the moment. Had it been an exceptionally short eruption between the times I checked the webcam? I looked up the update and was assured that, nope, we were still waiting.

I think Scott had mistaken the brilliant orange night glow for an eruption

So, I hurried to the Park.

I'm going to discuss this day – June 27 – in my next post. But, first, let’s talk about the volcano …

About Kīlauea

An active shield volcano, Kīlauea is between 210,000 and 280,000 years old. It rose above sea level about 100,000 years ago. Since Hawai’i was settled, it has been the most active of the five volcanoes that together form the island and among the most active volcanoes on Earth.

Kīlauea 's Pu'u 'O'o Crater, June 29, 1983; Photo: Live Science

Historically, the five volcanoes were sacred to the Hawai’ian people and, in Hawaiian mythology, the crater served as the body and home of Pele, goddess of fire, lightning, wind and volcanoes.

Pele; Illustration: Herb Kawainui Kane

Kīlauea is the second-youngest product of the Hawai’ian hotspot and the current eruptive center of the Hawai’ian--Emperor seamount chain. Because it isn’t particularly prominent and its volcanic events have historically coincided with those of Mauna Loa, just 21 miles (summit-to-summit) away, Kīlauea was once thought to be a satellite of its much larger neighbor. But, now, it is recognized as a separate volcano.

Double eruption: Kīlauea, left, and Mauna Loa, right; Photo: NPS

It has a large caldera at its summit and two active rift zones, one extending 78 miles east and the other 22 miles west. An active fault of unknown depth moves vertically an average of 0.1 to 0.8 inches per year.

Rift zones; Left: Rachel Tilling; Right: USGS

The bulk of Kīlauea consists of solidified lava flows, intermixed with volcanic ash and tephra produced by lower-volume eruptions. The oldest exposed lavas date back 2,800 years, but 90 percent is from the last 1,100 years and much of its bulk remains underwater. Kīlauea’s 579-square-mile surface makes up 13.7 percent of The Big Island's total surface area.

Solidified lava at the terminus of Chain of Craters Road

Kīlauea is a Hawai’ian word that means "spewing" or "much spreading," referring to its frequent outpouring of lava.

2018 eruption claims Leilani Estates; Photo: The Guardian

Its earliest lavas date back to its submarine pre-shield stage. A major eruption of Kīlauea around 1410-1470 is the first to be mentioned in Native Hawai’ian oral history. The first eruption after written history began killed 400 people in 1790, making it the deadliest volcanic eruption in what became the United States. After that, repeated eruptions have occurred at the summit or eastern rift zone.

1924 eruption; Photo: Geology in Motion

Since 1918, Kīlauea's longest pause lasted 18 years between 1934 and 1952.

Kīlauea's eruption from 1983 to 2018 was by far its longest-duration period of activity in modern times, as well as one of the longest-duration eruptions documented on Earth; it produced a cubic mile of lava and resurfaced 48 square miles of land. In 1990, continuous lava flows from Kīlauea's Kūpaʻianahā vent completely buried the historic town of Kalapana and the neighboring village of Kaimū under 50 to 80 feet of molten rock.

Aftermath; Photo: USGS

Here's a (very bad) video from our trip in 1999, showing coastline forming.

Between 2008 and 2018, Halemaʻumaʻu, a pit crater located within Kīlauea's summit caldera, hosted an active lava lake.

Lava lake, 2016; Photo: AP

Beginning in May 2018, activity shifted further downrift from the summit to the lower Puna district, during which lava erupted from two dozen vents sending rivers of lava into the ocean in three places.

Aerial view of Kīlauea filling Kapoho Bay with lava on June 4, 2018; Photo: USGS

The eruption destroyed Hawai’i's largest natural freshwater lake, covered substantial portions of Leilani Estates and Lanipuna Gardens, and devastated the communities of Kapoho, Vacationland Hawaii and most of the Kapoho Beach Lots, destroying 716 dwellings.

It even created a cinder cone in the middle of a neighborhood; Photo: Gizmodo

The lava lake within Halemaʻumaʻu drained and a series of explosive collapse events occurred at the summit, with at least one emitting ash 30,000 feet into the air.

This activity prompted a months-long closure of the Kīlauea section of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

The Kīlauea section of Hawaii Volcanoes closed for months; Photo: Science Photo Library

The 2018 eruption ended in September.

The eruption I hoped to see would be #50 in series that began December 23, 2024, and had had episodes every two-three weeks ever since.

Shortest interval was 8.3 hours and longest was about three weeks

According to USGS, the fountaining episodes average 11 days between eruptions. The longest pause was just under 30 days and the shortest was less than one day.

Episode #34, one year after the first episode; Photo: NPS

The duration of the fountaining episodes has shown a wide range, averaging about 15 hours with the longest lasting just over 140 hours (about 6 days) and the shortest 4.5 hours. The episodes start with spattering that grows into a tall fountain, ranging from 500 feet to as high as 1,770 feet.

Episode #43 is the highest so far; Left: Alyssa Lee; Middle: 808Hiker; Right: USGS

Kīlauea has a large summit caldera named Kaluapele (the pit of Pele), measuring 2.5 by 2.0 miles with walls up to 400 feet high, breached by lava flows on the southwestern side. Its age unknown, Kaluapele likely formed over several centuries beginning about 500 years ago and it is possible that it has appeared and disappeared multiple times. Its present form was finalized around 1470-1510.

Halemaʻumaʻu, the pit crater within Kaluapele, is approximately 3,018 feet in diameter and 279 feet deep, but its form has varied widely; its floor is mostly covered by flows from its 1974 eruption.

Kaluapele

Kīlauea's activity has a major impact on its mountainside ecology, where plant growth is often interrupted by fresh tephra, drifting volcanic sulfur dioxide and acid rains, particularly in a barren area south of its southwestern rift zone known as the Kaʻū Desert.