Following Head, not Headlines: To the Big Island
The volcano was erupting 50 or so miles away, as the crow flew.
People said we were crazy.
You’re going to Hawaii?
Ya.
Not the one with the volcano?
Ya--that one.
We did our research—we looked at the web sites—NASA, Civil Defense and others—we used our heads, ignored the headlines.
We decided to go.
And I’m so glad we did.
Dad, my husband Dan and I flew to the Big Island on May 26, what would have been Mums 63rd birthday. The flight's typically brutal—6 hours to LA?, another 5 or so to Kona on the Big Island?—and was that day too.
“At least we’ve got the Admirals Club,” Dad says, something he likes to say often. In the 70s, while married to “a stew” as he likes to say (the stew was not my mother), she convinced him to buy what they no longer offer: a lifetime membership to the Admirals Club. Dad postures this was the best thing that happened in their relationship and I don’t wonder it was. Thanks to the stew's advice, my husband Dan and I get to nibble at their banquet of food and drink the free wine and beers in the more than 50 Admirals Clubs worldwide. The clubs are sectioned off from the airport, equipped with a kitchen, a bar, TVs, sitting areas, showers, bathrooms with C.O. Bigelow soap and lotion (for some reason, that last detail never ceases to impress me). Dad's favorite perk is how we “avoid the cattle” who have to sit at the gate.
I'll just pause there--the Admirals Club could divert us to an entirely different essay but for now, we’ll just say it comes in handy on long flights to have a sit and a brew.
After Black Panther, Shape of Water, Sy Montgomery's The Great White Shark Scientist, two AC visits, and seventeen Biscoffs between the three of us, we landed in Kona. I could’ve sworn I smelled sulfur on exiting the craft, but it was the only time the whole week I did and let’s face it, someone could’ve dropped a cart of eggs or let one rip.
Outside of the Civil Defense messages we heard on the radio every day, announcing meetings and advisories to people in the neighborhoods on the eastern side of the island near the volcano, and the donation cans and collections for people impacted, there was nary a word about the situation. Triathletes were pedaling and running, as always, on the brutal stretch of pavement surrounded by shadeless lava rock that is Highway 19. We surfed, we drank, we ran, we ate, we gaped at laconic honus in the lagoon and wondered at the bottle nosed dolphins. We stood in line for a half hour for a scoop of ice cream which Dad promptly dropped and watched, shaking our heads, as it skidded like a luge down the hot stretch of sidewalk. In other words, 50 miles away, as lava engulfed the Leilani Estates, threatened to cut off escape routes and caused mandatory evacuations, life seemed almost normal along the Kohala Coast. The half Ironman took place the day we left, June 2. Only occasionally would we look up at the vog and furrow our brows, uttering silent prayers for those in Pele's path.
Writer Peter Matthiessen once said “To know you have to go.” Or something like that. And what I take it to mean is this: You've got to see for yourself. More, you have to make up your own mind, weigh the risks and measures your own self, but my advice is this: DO that. Don’t rely on spoon fed headlines and click bait. Don't let other people make your decision about whether or not you should go somewhere. Read the information painstakingly pulled and made available to you by trustworthy institutions. Tourism is a critical piece of Hawaii's economy; when potential tourists start cancelling plans or deferring trips based on incomplete information, it directly hits the island and the people who live there.
My husband, dad and I were scared--we weren't sure if we were making the right decision but we at least knew we had arrived at the decision to keep our travel plans through rational thought and reason. The weather changes; what we deemed safe two weeks ago may not be the case now, but below you'll find two resources to help you make informed decisions.
Aloha to all those impacted by the Kilauea volcano.