An explosion of steam, smoke, and tephra erupts from the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For licensing or fine art prints, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.

Ah, Hawaii, isle of luxuriant white sand beaches, fruity tropical drinks with tiny umbrellas, and widespread smiling aloha. A perfect getaway for an overworked, stressed mainlander!

And yet for eight days in early June instead of drinks with tiny umbrellas I opted to go to Hawaii to ice my fingertips off in sub-freezing conditions, to spend a few days under skies so thick with vog (volcanic fog) that I couldn’t see the mid-day sun overhead, and to have some hot tephra burped into my eye by a fiery lava deity. And not once did I don a bathing suit!

But I took lots of photos.

With that out of the way, let’s skip right to the end. On the last morning of my trip, my friend Jeff and I decided to get in a boat and go photograph the ocean entry. About a month before, Hawaii’s most active volcano (Kilauea) had begun to get a lot more feisty, issuing forth vast quantities of lava, resulting in dozens of fissures and an enormous lava river that raced toward the sea, fanning out delta-like upon its approach. In the first few days of my visit to Hawaii, while I explored the “sunny” side of the island, which was actually totally vogged over, all of that new lava flow finally reached the ocean, overtaking the beautiful Kapoho Bay in the process. Days later, I signed up for a boat trip to this area for a sunrise shoot. 

The 3:30 am meeting time in Hilo was followed by a quick safety briefing and a reminder that we’d be in the open ocean (read: rough waters) for 75 minutes before getting to the ocean entry. By 4 am we had left. Within a few minutes we passed the long dark breakwater that separates Hilo Bay from open ocean. And that’s when the real fun began.

For the entire week I was there high-surf warnings had been issued all around the island, and this particular morning was no different. It’s hard to imagine a multi-thousand-pound boat skipping over waves, but it wasn’t long before the ocean first fell away from the underneath side of the boat and we dropped, belly-flopping back onto the sea with a reverberating “thuuung.” I issued forth a feeble “wheeee.” The captain made a slight adjustment in his bearing, and we soldiered on. Then, about 15 minutes into the journey, the puking began. And it didn’t stop for another couple of hours.

It was dark, and the only thing my eyes could fixate on were the few lights onshore. Most of them came from Hilo, although nearly the entire trip I could see the giant fountain of lava emitting from Fissure 8, the eruption’s most productive fissure. We worked our way along the coast, bumping along, sometimes violently, getting closer and closer to the lava-lit clouds that represented the ocean entry to the south.

With 36 passengers on the boat, our guide was busy shuttling 10 blue plastic puke buckets to a fro, occasionally washing them out with seawater and handing them back. Eventually all 10 puke buckets were in use. A smaller metal bucket labelled “FIRE” was enlisted for barf duty. To my left, three members of a family shared two buckets. The situation was getting bad.

“Is it usually like this?” I asked the guide. 

He gagged while rinsing some yellow bile out of a bucket. “No. I’ve never had to give out EVERY bucket.”

At this point I was thankful to be unaffected by the ocean’s motion, but I knew that could all change at a moment’s notice.

We arrived at the ocean entry around 5:15, and small windows in the clouds on the eastern horizon where the sun was rising had allowed some light through. The scene was horrific: Huge columns of orange-colored smoke rose from farther inland, while the sea around us roiled with crashing waves and billowing explosions of smoke, steam, and bits of lava and tephra. The devastation was all-encompassing and surreal, and the waves were relentless. Inland was a blackened, smoldering wasteland. Nothing remained of the once beautiful bay.

I immediately got to work shooting photos. The first of the series had a much higher percentage of blurry, out-of-focus shots than the later ones. The same waves creating those amazing steam explosions also made for challenging shooting conditions for anyone trying to take photos. The experience was a little bit like trying to photograph a rodeo from the back of a bucking bronco. While fireworks go off around you. In the dark.

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Lava steams in the low light as it enters the ocean at Kapoho Bay, Hawaii.
“Night lights at the ocean entry,” lava steams in the low light as it enters the ocean at Kapoho Bay, Hawaii. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

High surf causes massive amounts of steam and smoke at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For licensing or prints, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Lava steam bath,” high surf causes massive amounts of steam and smoke at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For licensing or prints, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

High surf triggered dramatic explosions, sending bits of lava and tephra flying. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Lavalands,” high surf triggered dramatic explosions, sending bits of lava and tephra flying. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

Lava snakes its way to the sea at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Roiling waters, Kapoho Bay,” lava snakes its way to the sea at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

As the sun rose and more light hit the scene, the shooting got easier. I continued firing away as the boat made multiple passes along the coast, alternating between having the left side and the right side face the shore. Occasionally we were washed over by steam and laze. My lens completely fogged over as we passed through an all-encompassing steam cloud, and I briefly worried about whether our captain could even see where we were in relation to the lava.

And we got close.

Like, real close a few times. At one point an explosion to my right side showered my side of the boat in black sand tephra, a hot piece of it landing directly in my right eye. For a second I seriously thought that a piece of lava had hit my eye. That I was doomed. I blinked a couple of times in a near panic, and the sand cleared my eyeball. I blinked it out and continued shooting, relieved.

[narrative continue below]

 

A woman records video of the ocean entry at Kapoho Bay during a boat tour, June of 2018. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Woman with selfie stick, ocean entry,” a woman records video of the ocean entry at Kapoho Bay during a boat tour, June of 2018. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

The rising sun turns the clouds pink over the Kapoho Bay lava ocean entry, Hawaii. For prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Ocean entry at first light,” the rising sun turns the clouds pink over the Kapoho Bay lava ocean entry, Hawaii. For prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

The rising sun turns the clouds pink over the Kapoho Bay lava ocean entry, Hawaii. For prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Ocean entry at first light II,” the rising sun turns the clouds pink over the Kapoho Bay lava ocean entry, Hawaii. For prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.
Water boils at the Kapoho ocean entry, Hawaii. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Land of fire, sea of steam,” water boils at the Kapoho ocean entry, Hawaii. For fine art prints or licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

An explosion of steam, smoke, and tephra erupts from the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For licensing or fine art prints, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Pele’s fist,” an explosion of steam, smoke, and tephra erupts from the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For licensing or fine art prints, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

 

Smoke and steam billow upward after an explosion at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For fine art prints and licensing, please message me using the "Contact Me" form.
“Mushroom cloud, lava ocean entry,” smoke and steam billow upward after an explosion at the Kapoho Bay ocean entry, Hawaii. For fine art prints and licensing, please message me using the “Contact Me” form.

After half an hour of passes, the captain turned us for home. Bits of black volcanic rock covered my white Canon lens. I had the same grit stuck to my face, as did the people who were sitting around me.

I marveled at what I had just witnessed, trying to suppress my gleefulness for the sake of those on board who were seasick and still throwing up. 

We returned to port in Hilo at around 7 am. What a way to start the day.

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