Kīlauea Update, Thursday, September 6, 2018. Transitions and Change
Well…So much for schedules. It was so much easier to write when I felt I needed or should write to pass along messages, to provide updates and interpretations, waking up really early and posting almost daily…Now it seems that much of the anxiety may be gone (please note the carefully couched phrasing), and that, perhaps, we should proceed with our lives.

But I canʻt seem to do that very enthusiastically. The excitement, and yes, trauma, of The Three Months (TTM) of May, June, and July, have left their marks on many. On our psyches, our perceptions, on the lands on which we dwell and have deep aloha for, and mayhaps most importantly, on how we envision The Future.

The weathers up here have been glorious and remarkable. Blueblue clear skies, warm to hot temperatures (for Volcano), gentle ʻōlapa-rustling breezes, no vog, crisply outlined features on mountains near and far, some mist-rain-drizzles, ʻio calling and soaring, and those deep voiced ʻōmaʻo always hidden and invisible to me, flitting about the understory.

Gives one time to mull muse and wonder. Are we still in malolo-mode, or is the pele in Keahialaka simply the last exhalations and burps? There is apparently no seismicity, no deformation, nothing to suggest a reactivation. But…

Whichever, from a USGS drone, the scene on Tuesday the 4th is painterly. It doesnʻt look real. Early morning rains left pele decorated with māhu (steams and vapors) wafted by trades. The muted but still vibrant oxidized reds add contrast. And for a long time, niggling in the back of my mind: ka ʻawa ʻililena iuka o Kaliʻu…

Hālau did/does this still. I can hear kumuʻs deep-throated voice, and if memory serves, the swish of aliʻipoe seeds in laʻamia, then later, the tap-tap of fingers on the ʻulīʻulī as it sat on the floor.

Kaliʻu is the name of the puʻu in the picture above, directly behind our new friend. And “puʻu”, “hill” in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, does not need to be added to the name of the feature. Kaliʻu is the name of the puʻu. So if necessary, for clarification, puʻu Kaliʻu. According to geologists, Kaliʻu is in the 400 – 700 year-old range, and sits in the ahupuaʻa of Kauaea.

Oh. And the text and context of the chant can be found on p30 of “Pele and Hiʻiaka”, by Emerson. Sweet sweet memories.

And what else????

Oh. Civil Beat people in Oʻahu. GoRead:

Expand HAVO: Michael Ryan

Excellent thinking!

I keep saying, and I donʻt know if anyone is listening: Pelehonuamea reasserts her authority. Inundate we fix inundate we re-pave inundate we rebuild inundate we spendspendspend. When we going learn??? Mr Ryan has some extremely interesting and provocative ideas.

Surfers and others are crossing fresh ʻaʻā and getting to Pohoiki from the MacKenzie side. To enjoy. Make a trail across the ʻaʻā, or bulldoze across the top. The trail is easy: on ʻaʻā, all you do is pick the route, and strong-backed ones toss the bigger stones to either side, the smaller gravel falls to the bottom, and thereʻs your path. People can walk. Two miles. No problem. Go. Just do it. Like the intrepid surfers and explorers. The trail option is way better. Itʻll help protect resources. And no, not everybody has a “Right” to go where ever they please, or to drive where ever they want. But a trail over a public road, to a public beach…why not? Oh. Need luas. Oh. “Liability”. Oh. Cannot. Oh. Not supposed to.

You know what…Figure It Out!!!

My extremely rough calculations, off the map posted on the Civil Defense website, to get from MacKenzie to Pohoiki:

1,440 feet road, 1,450 feet ʻaʻā, 400 feet road, 750 feet ʻaʻā, 600 feet road, 1,600 feet ʻaʻā, 6,000 feet road.

Total Distance = 12,240 feet (2.3 mi). 1.6 miles on road, .7 miles on ʻaʻā.

Black Sand Beach (likely sharpish grains of sand), and at least a couple protected pools, likely with warm water (waiwelawela), and from what I read, dead sea creatures.

And then up here at Kaluapele:

Clear skies…Canʻt wait to walk again to Keanakākoʻi.

OK…Oh. Norman the hurricane is no problem. Going up the top of the chain, hardly any rain or wind.

Gotta run. More scribblings likely on Saturday.

As always, with aloha,

[email protected]

Big Island Learning