I’m going to give you some really great advice here. When your alarm goes off in the middle of the night on the Island of Hawaii, rousing you from a comfy bed so you can embark on an adventure to see where the lava flow from the Kilauea volcano pours into the Pacific, do not roll over and go back to sleep.
I promise that early morning wake-up call will lead to one of the best experiences of your life.
You’ll have to work for it though: first comes the drive out to the remote Isaac Hale Beach Park on the eastern part of the island in the pitch black for the 4.30am Lava Ocean Tours meeting time (there are tours during the day too, but seeing it in darkness is so much more impressive).
Then, while it’s still on dry land, comes a climb up a 3m ladder on to the Lava One, a big catamaran built by tour operator Shane Turpin.
Finally, there’s the swift theme park-esque tow into the wild ocean on the back of a tractor before the 50km/h belt out to the lava flow site. Come prepared and make sure your body is up to what can be a rough journey on open water.
We’re warned we’re likely to get wet — like shower wet — but the ocean is calm today and only a few sprays of seawater are flung our way on the 40-minute journey to the lava flow at Kamokuna.
Protect your digital gear — Shane gives passengers plenty of opportunity to get a good look at the lava when the boats get to it.
Up to 49 guests clad in rain ponchos perch on bench seats in the boat — which is powered by four 250hp outboard motors — holding on for dear life to the steel bars in front of them, as instructed by Shane’s offsider Jake.
As we head off, the only light, apart from an expanse of twinkling stars in the clear night sky, is a glow, somewhere off to our right — the summit of Kilauea.
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Advertise with NZME.The lava flow appears first as a distant orange shard. As we get closer, it’s as though we’re hurtling into the pits of hell. Pele must be really mad.
The legendary volcano goddess, said to call Kilauea home, has been boiling and spitting with fury since 1983. And, despite letting off plenty of steam over the past 35 years or so, she’s showing no sign of easing off.
Of course, we’re no strangers to geothermal activity in New Zealand, but the hypnotic sight of Kilauea’s relentless stream of molten rock pouring about 20m into the ocean like a waterfall is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Clouds of steam and ash noisily hiss and billow around the 2m-wide flow, as lava fragments explode violently in every direction.
The boat gets close enough to feel its heat — a relief, to be honest, after the chilly boat ride — and Jake dips a bucket into the water so we can feel for ourselves that it’s just like really hot bathwater.
We bob around for about 20 minutes, moving backwards and forwards so everyone can get a good look, but you’re not allowed to move from your seat in case the boat loses balance. Despite everyone’s excitement, the warning is heeded.
All too soon it’s over. Shane turns the boat around as a beautiful sunrise peeks over the horizon. We’re elated. If you do one thing in Hawaii, and you’re physically able, make it this.
Snow is, obviously, not the first thing that springs to mind when you’ve planned a holiday in a Pacific paradise; less so when you’re visiting an island that’s home to the most active volcano in the world.
Yet, that’s what I spy from the plane window as my Hawaiian Airlines’ flight reaches Kona on the Island of Hawaii, known fondly by many as the Big Island.
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It may be 30C but early March is still winter in this part of the world and the peak of volcano Mauna Kea — the highest point on the island — is 4200m above sea level.
Hence, snow.
The Island of Hawaii is the southernmost and youngest in the state, at about a million years old, and thanks to its two active volcanoes is still growing bit by bit each year. It’s the third largest island in Polynesia after the two islands of New Zealand.
It’s a land of contradictions — from the air it seems scarred with black streaks; at ground level much of it is rugged and stark, seeming almost extraterrestrial, with stretches of spartan basalt rock as far as the eye can see, and black sand beaches. In contrast, there are also huge patches of lush rainforest and white sand beaches.
Visitors have two options when flying into the Big Island and which you choose depends on what you’re there for.
Kona (50 minutes from Honolulu) is in the west, and is more beachy, with lots of resorts; while Hilo, in the east (55 minutes) is a jumping-off point for the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park (US$20 entry).
Millions of people flock to the 100-year-old park each year to see Kilauea (which translates as “spewing” in Hawaiian) in action.
A flight from New Zealand to Honolulu is about nine hours overnight, so if you get some sleep on the plane (check out the well-priced lie-flat seats in its recently upgraded swish Business Class section), you could be tackling that volcano by mid-afternoon.
We’ve spent a couple of days at the Royal Sea Cliff Kona by Outrigger condo at the bustling township of Kailua-Kona, and our drive to Kilauea takes an easy 2.5 hours east.
Taking the southern route means you can stop at the black sand beach at Punalu’u to see the green sea turtles sunbathing, protected from overbearing tourists by vigilant lifeguards and a crude but effective ring of rocks.
A chatty local we met outside a coffee truck on the town’s outskirts recommended we take a wander to the right of the beach to the rock pools, and his advice struck gold as we watched a couple of turtles swim lazily around the pool, poking their sturdy necks quickly out every now and again to get a gulp of air.
Once you reach the park, your first port of call should be the visitors’ centre, where helpful rangers can advise you on the best way to spend your time and shed some light on the plants, wildlife and conditions you’ll encounter.
A few must-dos include a visit to the lava lake on the summit which you can view from several scenic outlooks near Volcano House and the Crater Rim Trail, the Thomas A. Jaggar volcanology museum and the spectacular Hoileo Sea Arch at the end of the Chain of Craters Rd.
For the more adventurous there are hiking trails and campsites throughout the park, though remember that you’re high above sea level so weather conditions can be raining and chilly, and vog — volcanic gas that looks like smog — can strike, containing high amounts of sulphur dioxide.
Check the air quality if you’re going to be spending any time out in the open.
If you’re pushed for time, be sure to stop by the 500-year-old Thurston Lava Tube, near the visitors’ centre.
This 20-minute walk, through lush emerald rainforest, which hollows out into a large cave at the bottom of a crater, is so reminiscent of New Zealand, with its ferns and birdsong, that you’ll momentarily forget where you are.
It’ll remind you just how closely we’re related to our friendly Pacific neighbours.
• Shandelle Battersby travelled courtesy of Hawaiian Airlines, Hawaii Tourism and Outrigger Hotels and Resorts. For more information on Hawaii visit gohawaii.com, or hawaiianairlines.co.nz
