Running is a highly unpredictable pastime. One never knows its outcome. Will you trip on your shoelaces and break your fall on a pillow of dog poop? Will you inhale enough gnats to produce polka dot snot? Will you drink too much Gatorade and vomit blue? Will you lose yourself in a garish powder fog? When you lace up your sneakers and head out onto the asphalt there’s no telling what mayhem awaits you.
Yes, we were rad.
This picture was taken before we blasted each other in earnest.
This year we again participated in Color Me Rad, a 5K with shade. We’ve done this race for years with my brother and his wife but this time we added some smaller targets; our niece and nephew joined our familial rainbow.
I looked like a rainbow in a hairnet.
Jadon took to being painted pretty well, even with oozy liquids. Isabelle, on the other hand, only appreciated pink hits. She was pretty mopey about every other hue. Still, a good time was had by some of us at all points and all of us at some point.
Jadon was okay with powder showers.
Isabelle only liked the pink parts of the race.
Color Me Rad is a cool mix of sprint and tint, one we will gladly radly run again.
Utah’s winters suck. Temperatures well below freezing and blizzards that make driving terrifying are all part of the package. But, as we Utahans recently discovered, not having a winter sucks even more than suffering through one. I am referring to our last encounter with those months that should have had us cursing Mother Nature’s frigidity. Instead, pleasantness was present and snow was absent. It was bizarre and distressing and for snowboarding it was catastrophic. And yet…
When reflected off fresh powder, sunshine is all the sweeter.
Smiles go with boarding even when it’s too cold to see them.
I was coming out of deep powder. That’s all I have to say about this awkward pose.
Jason and I went snowboarding exactly five times this season, our lowliest amount in years. We were ever ready to go but it’s a bit tricky to snowboard without snow. However, all was not lost. We did have a few good storms and Jason and I hit every single one of those. Like crazed kids at a carnival, we gorged ourselves on powder whenever it presented itself yet walked away from the season feeling rather unsatisfied.
The snow sculptures Brighton builds every year are always fun.
Strange things are met on the slopes, like my husband.
I was detectably moving here, I promise.
I hope our next winter deserves its accustomed loathing. You can say the climate hasn’t changed but it sure looks like it’s wearing a different outfit to me.
The beaches of Hawaii may be exceptional but the volcanoes are absolutely unique. There are only a few spots on Earth where you can walk on ground younger than you, the Big Island is one of those places. It’s got plenty of youthful dirt and more fiery births than Baby Story.
The waves at South Point were the biggest I’ve ever encountered.
The Big Island is home to five volcanoes. Only two of them, Kilauea and Mauna Loa, are currently active but that couple’s commotion more than makes up for the sleepiness of the others. Kilauea is the most active volcano in the world. It has been continually erupting since 1983 and spews somewhere between 300,000 and 1,000,000 cubic yards of lava out every day. Additionally, Kilauea’s Halema’uma’u Crater has the divine distinction of being home to the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes, Pele. She knows how to pick quality real estate but her residence was a bit disordered during our stay.
South Point is not safe for swimming…or anything else really.
Although Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park, which contains all of Kilauea’s craters and rift zones, was more than a couple hours from our hotel, we decided it couldn’t be missed. We therefore planned a two-day excursion to the brink of that federally-funded inferno.
Halema’uma’u Crater was a blistering wound on the blackened landscape during the wee hours of the morning.
We took our time heading to Kilauea, pausing for a few distractions. South Point, the southernmost spot in the United States and a great place to witness the awesome power of the ocean, was our first diversion. There, the currents are so strong that if a vessel ventures out too far its next stop will be Antarctica. (Fishermen tie their boats to the shore when at South Point to prevent unplanned penguin parties.)
Kilauea Iki, a pit crater next to the main caldera of Kilauea, erupted in 1959. Its cracked basin looked more like a manmade mess than nature’s handiwork.
We also detoured to Punalu’u. This black sand beach, curiously, had lots of sightseers milling about on it like they didn’t know what to do with a beach. Incompetent tourists or just confusing colors?
Construction rubble or baby stone?
Later that afternoon, we arrived at Volcanoes…along with a whole bunch of other people. You see, a few days before our southbound journey, a series of small earthquakes blocked Halema’uma’u’s vent forcing lava usually hidden 100-200 feet below the crater floor to spout above ground in a breathtaking display. Nothing so dramatic had been seen at Halema’uma’u since 2008. While we were thrilled that we happened to be on the island at the right time to catch this magma magic, we weren’t the only ones eager to observe it. The locals were pouring in from all over the islands to witness Pele’s tantrum and congest my park experience.
These streaming rocks resulted from a 1972 eruption of Mauna Ulu.
After walking a mile that evening around the Sulphur Banks Trail, which showcases colorful minerals deposited by volcanic gases, we went to bed early and woke up at 3:30 AM so we could see Halema’uma’u’s glow show minus the crowds. It was spectacular but freezing, despite the 1500-degree magma.
Holei Sea Arch, hollowed from lava rock by the relentless ocean, epitomized the everlasting battle between fire and water.
Following an indispensable three-hour nap, we did several more hikes in Volcanoes. Our first was through Thurston Lave Tube, a 500-year-old cave formed by lava flow. Next, we hit Kilauea Iki Crater. Kilauea Iki, which is offset from the main Kilauea summit, exploded in 1959. We trekked four miles through the leftovers of that eruption. The scene looked more like a demolition zone than a piece of nature. Finally, we rambled a mile and a half to the Pu’u Loa Petroglyphs, the biggest petroglyph field in the state. Thousands of markings stud the frozen lava in this area. It was a fascinating glimpse into Hawaii’s past.
Jason “sensed” lava everywhere.
That was the end of our volcanic adventures. Pele was a mesmerizing yet violent hostess.
Next time, for the last part of our Big story, I will recount the highly engrossing tale of our journey through the skies and history of Hawaii. Plus, there will be seahorses.
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