Mamma Told Me There Would be Days Like These

Tomorrow is my 34th birthday. I will be spending it in Hawaii in the rain. But rain in itself is not something I would normally complain about. Rain pouring down on me, seven miles out on a lava shield with nothing around me but a forest of ferns and a field of Pahoehoe lava, is.

When we began our preparations today, the weather was holding. First we went to the Visitor's Center to obtain a back-country camping permit. We were greeted there by one of the most enthusiastic park rangers we have met so far. He filled out the paperwork and then spent twenty minutes talking to us above hiking in active volcano-land.

"You'll actually be walking over a river of molten magma flowing two miles beneath you," he told us. But don't worry, you won't encounter a breakout in that area." Then under his breath he added "Probably".

"I do want to warn you about the gases though." Suddenly the ranger stopped talking and ran outside. When he ran back in again, he said, "The wind seems ok today. If it were still blowing like yesterday I'd tell you not to go. But in case you do happen to see a blue cloud, go up-wind."

I looked at him and tilted my head.

"It's deadly Hydrochloric acid," he told me, "and it will really rip up your lungs. We had a film crew from Paramount out here a few years back, for the movie Sliver. They wanted to film a helicopter crashing into the crater. But they didn't realize that the crater has a false bottom so they really did crash. One guy was down in those gases for three days while rescue-rangers risked their own lives to save him. That guy probably took twenty years off his life. I asked the Producer later whether it was worth it. He answered, I haven't seen the footage yet."

But chances of that type of gas while you're out there are slim. You might encounter sulphur gases, but they're ok. You'll just stop breathing for a minute or so, like someone just punched you in the stomach."

At this point, I was looking hard at John. Were we sure this hike was such a good idea?

"One last thing," the ranger added. "If there's a lava breakout, go uphill. This isn't the kind of lava you find near the coast. Out there it's cooler. You're boots will catch on fire, but you can walk right across it. Here the lava is over 2000 degrees. It can change directions in an instant and surround you. And if the active volcano crater collapses -could happen- just stay in your tent and breath through your sleeping bag. We'll bring respirators and come find you."

Ok, I was sufficiently nervous. When do we start?

At 10:00, with permit in hand and loaded packs on our backs, we began. Everything was going well even when it began to mist at Pu'u Huluhulu Crater, after the first mile. From there the terrain became rough. We were crossed two lava flows of Pahoehoe basalt. We had to pick our way across ripples and folds of lava, over crunchy pumice and across cracks and broken ground. It was a twisted landscape of black and red with occasional golden dots of pumice so light it crumbled in my fingers.

The entire trail, marked only by piled lava cairns, was becoming more and more difficult to find as a dense fog set in around us. I stopped once only feet from the edge of Mauna Ulu Crater. I peered down onto a floor laced with white steam. At five miles toward our destination of Napau Crater, it began to rain. At the seven mile mark, just as we reached the campsite, the rain became heavy, and that is the way it stayed.

Ah the joy of setting up a tent as the sky is opening. Ah the joy of crawling in with wet packs. Ah the joy of trying to cook while crammed together with everything we brought. Who could ask for anything more?

"Happy birthday!" John beamed.

"Grrrr," I answered back.

Now I am captive in a tent and I am beginning to wonder whether we are actually going to complete our itineary. We had originally planned to camp at Napau Crater and then in the morning hike in another two miles to the foot of the Pu'u O'o lava flow. The third day we were going to head back to the Chain of Craters Road. In preparation for all of this, we had packed enough food and nine liters of water (the equivalent of about 30 lbs). If the rain continues and we abort our mission, I hope we have hearty appetites. There is no way I am carrying that load back out of here.

This morning began as yesterday had ended; in rain. After twelve hours of restless sleep, my back was killing me. John and I discussed the weather situation for all of one second and decided to head back to the car. The fog was still thick and the rain was getting heavier.

But first a hearty breakfast; cereal, peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches, oranges, two Pop Tarts and hot tea. The tea was boiled just outside the rain fly and most likely consisted of 50% acid rain. (To save weight we hadn't brought the pot lid).

After breakfast, it was another mad scramble to pack up. Why we bothered shaking the water off of anything is beyond me, the rain was coming down in buckets. Finally it was one quick stop at the pit toilet and I'd be ready to go.

The toilet was situated down a path several yards away. I fought sagging ferns and heavy brush to get there. When I did, I had to laugh. There, resting on a cement platform, was only a toilet seat. They had to be kidding. I looked into the pit and saw that attached around the inner rim of the seat, was a perfect spider's web. It was a shame to have to destroyed this handiwork.

Finally we were on the trail. The initial pace through the fern forest fern forest was faster than what I thought, considering water was running down my legs at a constant rate and I had to stop three times to squeeze out my socks. (After that, I just gave in to the slosh.) Two hours into the hike, I pulled the crumpled map from my pocket to get my bearing. But alas, the rain had turned the paper back to its previous pulpy form and it was useless.

Usually a return trip seems shorter than the initial one. Not knowing where the end lies seems to lengthen the trail. But in this case it was the opposite. Our quick starting pace had given way to a slower one; the wind gusting at our backs and the rain pelting our faces was wearing on us.

Finally, after a very long four hours, we crossed the last mile and approached the road. I was exhausted. Just as we arrived at the car, guess what happened? The sun came out. (Does this sound like cheap fiction or what?) We decorated the car in fashionable tent-ware and laid ourselves out to dry.

"Happy birthday," John muttered.
"Grrrr," I answered back.