The Spell of Kilauea

We woke the intrepid group of workshoppers (worshippers) early for the trip up to the crater before dawn. Stars shone in remarkably clear skies after days of rain. It is about a mile walk into the crater, well marked, yet one of our group twisted an ankle on an unexpected rock. I carried a bouquet of tiny orchids and anthurium blossoms to offer to the goddess Pele. I passed around the stems to everyone, and each one placed their offerings at the rim of the crater. I don’t know what they asked of the goddess in exchange for this gift of sweet-scented flowers. I know that I only asked for this time to watch her in the shape-shifting steam rising from the molten lava that has broken through the crust of the lake. The orange glow swelled in a slow dance towards the sky and dissipated. Then rose again and again. As the sky grew lighter more steam vents became visible and the scale of the Halemaumau crater was evident. Two Nene geese, native to Hawaii and nowhere else, flew overhead honking. These birds, mostly ground-hugging creatures, descended from a couple of wayward Canada goose that got lost on their migration North or South and ended up in the islands, settled there and evolved into a different form of goose that does not migrate, but waddles through the woods and fields of Hawaii. Their principle predators are cars. On the walk out, silently, reverently changed by a morning’s mysticism, a Nene crossed our path and connected with her mate across the road, doing a slow synchronized stepping dance right in front of us. The sun began to rise above the horizon and blue skies greeted us for the first time since we arrived.