Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Elly Extravaganza, Volcano

After our drive down the Kona coast and around the south point, Elly and I kept going east around the island and came to Volcano. (They aren't real creative with their town around these parts.) On this end of the island is a real, live, active volcano--Kilauea has been erupting regularly for 26 years. It flows all the way down into the ocean, continually adding to the mass of the Big Island. Lucky Hawaiians...they're the only Americans for whom ocean front property is a renewable resource.


We happened to find the most darling lodgings at a little place called the Inn at Volcano (not to be confused with the Volcano Inn at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park). Here's what we loved about the place:
  • The sweet communal kitchen and living area with a cozy fireplace (a big plus since it was rainy and cold)
  • A killer hot tub overlooking a beautiful garden and koi pond (the best spot for morning coffee and perusing the National Enquirer)
  • Funky little lodgings from the 1800's with ceilings so low that Elly was literally inches from hitting her head at every moment
  • An amazing VHS collection, complete with every horrible film made between the years 1989 and 1996 (I know you were wondering where you could find such hits as Two Much and Dr. Giggles...look no further)


We got to the hotel just in time for cocktail hour, which we celebrated with our new fancy cups and a game of cards on the lanai overlooking the advertised "virgin rain forest" (really just some jungly looking trees, but still very lovely and tranquil).


The next morning we set to exploring the Puna side of the island. It's gets a lot more rainfall over here so everything grows like crazy and its muggy and soupy as hell. It must be something in the air that makes folks a little nutty. I heard lots of warnings from folks on the north end of the island about staying away from the Punatics--the crazy hippies who live on trust funds or dope money, and who occasionally get a little overly enthusiastic about their property boundaries by wielding their firepower. Elly and I made a point not to jump any fences.

Our foodie stop of the day was the Volcano Winery. I thought myself quite the swanky hostess to be able to take my wine aficionado friend to taste some grapes while on a tropical island. I quickly realized that this was the worst place for me to make a good impression of my taste and distinction as a wine lover. I didn't have a clue how many ways you could make wine completely unpalatable until we encountered this establishment. They served our tasting in tiny little shot glasses with stems (wine glasses for very tiny people) and even this modest amount was too much. We found ourselves pouring out the sample when the nice lady's back was turned. The real piece of resistance of the tasting was the sweet dessert wine that they blended with black tea. It tasted like really bitter cough syrup mixed with over-steeped cold English Breakfast. Horrid. But Elly did get some great socks at the gift shop.

In addition to its crazy hippie population, Puna is known for its beautiful coral reefs and warm ponds heated by the volcano, or so we'd been told. Elly and I went searching for one warm pond in particular, lured by the romantic name--the Champagne Ponds. The locals told us that we had to park at the end of a long dirt road, make sure to leave our windows down so that they didn't get broken when our car was inevitably ransacked by hooligans, and to walk across a mile of lava rock to find our way to the beautiful heated pools. So we trekked across the hot black rock only to find some rather disappointing brackish (and not at all warm) little bay, only to discover that the shore was adjacent to a small suburban neighborhood, completely accessible by road.


Do you see my angry finger pointing out the long stretch of black, hot and unforgiving lava which we had to walk back over after our disillusioning visit to these supposedly glorious "champagne" ponds?


Do you see the ridiculous footwear and inadequate sun cover that my companion was so foolishly wearing for this long, hot and arduous walk back to our stranded rental car?


We were a little burnt, our shoes pretty mangled and pretty disappointed by the time we walked all the way back again. Luckily, at least, our vehicle was not ransacked by Punatics. Which was truly fortunate, because we were desperately in need of some refreshments. We pulled into the nearest town, Pahoa, which was just as charming as all the other small towns of this island. It had a tiny little main street with clapboard facades and a savior of a Mexican restaurant where we chowed down on nachos and lilikoi margaritas.


We actually came to the lava flow by accident, after having gotten turned around on the way back to our darling hotel. After the morning debacle to the warm ponds, we were planning to don proper footwear, dig out some headlamps and grab some marshmallows to roast over the steaming magma. Imagine our surprise when we happened upon the entrance to the lava flow at sunset and found that we did not need any of those supplies. It was like Disneyland, complete with everything a girl could need or want for a quick jaunt down to the ocean to view the lava. There were folks selling flashlights, a roach coach with plates of steaming Hawaiian food and vendore with big photos of the lava and volcano all matted, framed and ready to hang back at home. It felt like a Friday night football or a U2 concert with the crazy-bright lights and the parking attendants. Super touristy.


It really was a short walk down to the ocean, exaggeratedly well marked with what seemed to be median markers set out by a blind person. We really didn't need sensible footwear or headlights or anything. There was a crowd of Japanese tourists with orange reflector vests that single-handedly led our way in the dimming light. And it wasn't that far. We especially didn't need those marshmallows because the lava flow was at least a half mile from where we were. It was clogged with tourists and the lava was hard to see from our vantage point, so eventually Elly and I took to photographing and observing our fellow tourists...much more interesting.




On the dark way out, Elly and I followed these nice little old ladies with flashlights back to the parking lot and bought a spoon coconut from a dread locked young man who chopped it open for us to sip on our drive home (another score for the straw-spoons). We were pretty beat by the time we got back to our hotel to watch our VHS video and drink fruit juice and rum cocktails from our coconut.

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