Many communities around Kilauea Volcano on Hawaii's Big Island live with the threat of it erupting. Photo / 123RF
At one of the world's most active volcanoes, Paul Davies witnesses the work of Pele, the Hawaiian fire goddess up close.
As greetings go, it's not a cheerful one. "This is a civil defence announcement. The Puna lava flow has advanced 200ft over the last 24 hours. No more roads are threatened at this time." The ominous welcome sat jarringly between reggae pop hits on the local radio station.
As I
drove towards one of the world's most active volcanoes many scenarios ran through my mind. Around Kilauea Volcano on Hawaii's Big Island (the biggest in the island chain), many communities live under constant threat of destruction from one of the world's laziest natural disasters. It's an action movie in slow-mo - nobody knows which way the lava will continue its journey to the sea, creating a Russian roulette for households in the area.
Hilo, the island's biggest town, sits on the east coast and is close to the action. It's a sturdy place, having stood the test of time through earthquakes, eruptions and devastating tsunamis. The volcano provides tourists and revenue for the town - people want to see a true force of nature and Volcanoes National Park allows them to do just that. A 45-minute drive inland (and uphill) from Hilo you enter the world heritage site, home to the volcano known as "much spreading". A hive of activity exists at 1200m above sea level - tourists get up close and personal with steam vents and calderas formed by the Hawaiian fire goddess, Pele. The Jaggar Museum sits above the Kilauea caldera and shows scientific and cultural theories behind the movements underfoot. Walks around the caldera remind me of home, with subtropical vegetation similar to native bush in northern New Zealand and volcanic rock that could have been from Rangitoto Island. The Hawaiian version of pohutukawa, ohi'a lehua, protrudes from the scoria-covered moonscape where it looks like no plant should grow. Perhaps its toughness is why it was used for the construction of temples for Hawaiian high priests.
Some groups let you get so close you can poke a stick into the molten lava, though this is subject to favourable lava flows. Watching such a spectacle from the safe position of a helicopter is my preferred option. Blue Hawaiian Helicopters launches you on to the frontline from Hilo Airport. Long, slow doughnuts above the Pu'u O'o vent show just how powerful Pele is. Small forest fires reveal the head of the flow and its massive trail shows nothing will stand in its way. Isolated patches of old highway are surrounded by lava from the eruption which has been going since 1982. As we glide over the newly formed coastline, the pilot tells us more than 240ha of new land has been spat out into the Pacific Ocean over the past 23 years.
