We have done mountain and seaside hikes, forest hikes and walks through the plains, but never any hikes through volcanoes. It was a little over 4 miles around the top of the crater, down the side, across the bottom, and up the other side of Kilauea Iki Crater in Volcanic National Park. Bolstered by the fact that it is a circle-ish sort of trail and we had three adults with us at the time, Joe decided we were up to the task despite not having any child carriers, and being generally optimistic people, we rushed in with littles for a hike that was almost too much for me.
We always aim for hikes that are exciting and different (who doesn’t), but I’ve never done a hike that encompasses so many different views as this one. We had done a few hikes through the park already; we’d seen some sulfur bubbling out over the plains, and a few small still smoking craters. We’d walked along a road with Mauna Kea in the distance. But this hike brought all the different parts of the Park together in one trek.
Kilauea Iki is a small crater next to the main crater of Kilauea. This particular crater was created in 1959, and after months of small and increasing earthquakes, the lava finally found its way out and erupted through a small vent with so much force that it created fountains of boiling lava shooting straight up into the air, then falling back into a lava lake below that surged and glowed hot for months.
We saw nothing like that on this crater trip, although I did discover later that some parts of the crater floor are still hot enough to burn. I guess that was the reason for the carefully marked trail and the vents of steam still coming out in some places, and while it might have been nice to know that before the hike, I’m consoling myself with the fact we all made it out without any injuries.
This hike showed most of all how a cataclysmic life event can create such different worlds. The deep forests still lay on the edges of this crater, showing where the lava lake had seethed and boiled fifty years ago, and inside it almost nothing grew, even though all those years had passed. Fifty years had not come close to making the harsh edges of the rocks and caves smooth, and it was like walking through a different world; one that was quiet out of watchfulness instead of peace, and barren because of disaster instead of choice.
About three quarters of the way through two small boys started to have their own outbursts. If there is any similar geographic feature that is close to a toddler having a bad day, I think a volcano is probably it. One moment, their outsides are smiles and cuddles and they are running happily through a quiet forest…. and the next moment hot lava starts blowing out.
It’s easy to blame the small people around us. But often we react the same way; quiet, calm and happy, and then the next moment someone cuts us off, or we drop the second bowl that morning, or our toddler won’t stop crying, and we also blow up. Sometimes it’s with yelling, or sometimes it’s with imposing consequences on the people around us where we think ‘That’ll show them”. Sometimes people will try to tell you that adults are better at managing outbursts then toddlers, but often that’s not the case.
It was hot, it was a rocky and difficult walk, and the distance was more than they could handle, and sometimes the things that we try to keep down find their way out anyway; and sometimes when we tamp them down they find their way out in worse ways, like in lava fountains that split the sky (or screams that split our ears or fights that split the people in our lives). So, like the seismologists, we keep track of the smaller earthquakes, we take the temperature of ourselves and others, and we work on the same things in ourselves that we want to see in our toddlers.
We address the real issues, not the escaping lava. “Yes, we know it’s hot”, (instead of “Stop screaming”) and “We’re sorry we don’t have more fruit snacks”, and “It is a long way to the end of the trail.” And when the outrage has ended we give real suggestions like, “We can help you by carrying you” and “You can have some water instead of more fruit snacks”.
We don’t take it personally when an explosion happens, any more then we think volcanoes erupt because they hate the trees above it. And we try to keep that grace with the other people around us too.
And we hope, while we watch and help these little eruptions, that we become better at managing ours; calmer, quieter, more in control of ourselves and more aware of what lies underneath our own exteriors.
Rachel Donahue says
Yes, yes, yes! Great analogy. That imagery will stay with me. Thanks for sharing!