Lava and Two Step on the Big Island

The Big Island of Hawaii is most famous for its volcanoes, three of the five of which are still active. Because of their sizes Mauna Kea (dormant) and Mauna Loa (active) dominate the landscape from about any point on the island. But it's Kilauea with its seething caldera and rift zones in the heart of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park that is the star attraction.

However most people visiting the island stay far away from the park, along the Kohala or Kona Coasts on Hawaii's western side. It's no coincidence that they're enjoying the drier leeward side of the island; combine the inviting climate with sandy beaches and you have the perfect recipe for luxury resorts.

But there's no escaping Hawaii's volcanic history from the very moment you touch down at the airport; the runway is atop a lava flow from the 1801 Huʻehuʻe flow from Hualapai, the volcano (active) that dominates the Kona Coast's eastern horizon. At the same time, the highway to the luxury resorts on the Kohala Coast just to the north cuts through a stark landscape created from the 1859 flow from Mauna Loa.

Believe it or not, a lot of what I've learned about volcanoes and lava began in Arizona, my home state. Flagstaff is home to Sunset Crater National Monument, where almost a thousand years ago a volcano erupted, leaving a massive cinder cone and acres of lava flows.

One of the park's hikes is on the A'a Trail, named for a'a (pronounced "ah-ah") lava which is a lot like the stony, coarse briquets you might find in your backyard's gas BBQ grill. The scenery on the drive to the Big Island resorts was mostly comprised of this type of lava, often boulder-sized and black, in jagged, sinewy shapes.

The other common type of lava is pahoehoe (pronounced "paw-hoey-hoey") which is smooth and unbroken, frequently covering acres at a time, in a thick, hardened, cake-like batter of curving, parallel lines or undulations.

These recollections and the landscape's geological history filled my mind as I headed to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, a hundred miles away. It was a two night visit to the more seismically percolating side of the Big Island. The route I drove on Highway 11 followed the cliffs and shoreline along the Kona Coast, passing through Kailua-town, past Keauhou and Kealakekua Bays, and veering close to Two Step, one of the most talked-about snorkeling spots on the island. I couldn't resist the temptation to stop for an hour and have a swim.

The location is on Honaunau Bay, adjacent to Pu'uhonua O Honaunau National Historical Park. The archaeological site is also known as Place of Refuge, where pre-contact Hawaiians who broke sacred laws or lost battles could find sanctuary and a path to forgiveness. It's protected by the ocean on two sides and by an L-shaped wall on the others, its grounds filled with ceremonial structures. The stunning location infuses the visitor with a sense of power and awe; no wonder many people still consider the space sacred. Even if only by proximity to such a wonder, Two Step next door was bound to be special also.

The pair of steps in the name are actually volcanic ledges, part of a lava flow - the smoother, flatter pahoehoe variety, fortunately - that literally give you a seat at the water's edge. You can step down and then safely don your fins before timing the ebb and flow of the waves for your plunge in. It's just as easy exiting the water when you've had your fill of the bay. (But caution, I was there on a day with low seas and no big swells.)

While Pu'uhonua has some areas of sandy beach it is "kapu"- meaning forbidden - to enter the water from there. There is also some sand by a boat ramp but I heard the water is colder there because of fresh water seeping in from underground; it's also a longer swim to the reefs and fish. So I was happy to consider the spacious flow of pahoehoe lava as a beach for the morning and to navigate Two Step's two steps.

However it's not always clear where the actual steps lie. From the road and parking (street side is limited, but there's a $5 lot) you're near the wide expanse of a centuries-old pahoehoe lava flow with elaborate undulations and tidal pools. Of course, you can enter the water anywhere, minding the rockiest outcrops of hardened lava, the waves and the sea urchins. But to find the renowned gateway to Honaunau Bay you might need to look for other people. During the pandemic I suppose the crowds are diminished but the Sunday morning in February that I visited there were several individuals gathered on and off-shore. Each was waiting a safe and polite distance to take his or her turn entering or exiting the bay. I couldn't miss them or the steps.

Dense schools of yellow tangs were visible even as I peered into the clear sea from the shoreline and the steps. The black lava acting as an underwater backdrop might have enhanced the effect, but it was also the water's clarity. The lack of sand in the immediate area was certainly a big help. In any case, I've discovered that when I see yellow tangs clearly before my masked face is in the water, I know I'm in store for some good snorkeling.

The other sea life waiting off shore was indeed no disappointment. The profusion of yellow tangs was joined by a guidebook of other fish specimens: orangespine surgeonfish, palenose parrotfish, spotted puffers, multiband butterflyfish, reef triggerfish, whitespotted surgeonfish, a whitemouth moray eel, to name just a few. I enjoyed photographing one especially yellow trumpetfish, a fascinating creature posing a lot like the sea horse he's related to. In addition, there were lots of coral varieties to check out.

However my obsession of the morning was an individual rare longnose butterflyfish. While the fish isn't uncommon - rare is just part of the specie's name - the variation I ran into is not usually seen anywhere else than right there, off the Kona Coast. The creature was colored dark brown, lacking the large, bright yellow and white patches of the species elsewhere.

Like on all of my Kona and Kohala snorkeling adventures, I entered a couple of zones with blurry visibility. The optical phenomenon might be the effect of haloclines (varying salinity gradients) or thermoclines (varying temperature gradients) related to the underground freshwater seeping or channeling into the ocean from higher in the mountains.

While I have seen turtles on the beach over at the Place of Refuge on a many years ago trip, I failed to see any in Honaunau Bay while snorkeling. More disappointing was not seeing any of the spinner dolphins that the bay is famous for. Of course that mission would have involved swimming out into deeper water in the middle of the bay, making me late for my planned noon lunch stop at Punalu'u Bake Shop. (Vacation priorities!) Besides, the dolphins are only there if they're resting after a night of hunting and eating; posted signs near the road warn you against disturbing them.

It was finally time to dry off the best I could on the smooth lava beach that was beginning to heat up in the late morning sun. And after all, besides lunch with a donut, hot lava of a different sort was on the day's agenda up in Volcanoes.