It bubbles and seeps and flows and gurgles and tiptoes to the edge of the crater before dodging away flirtatiously into the depths of the caldera.
At Halemaʻumaʻu crater, inside the Kilauea Caldera, every day provides the thrill of insecurity.
You never know if today it will overflow or sink or explode or just continue to rumble below the surface, waiting.
At night, the crater glows bright in oranges and crimsons and fiery yellows, hinting at the restlessness of Pele below.
During the day, the smoke and tears and noxious gasses close half the roads in the park and warn against joy rides in the convertible. Trails to the craters edge are enticingly empty, and it’s all I can do not to defy the danger signs and sneak in close for an intimate peek into the mouth of a swelling volcano.
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