So I bought a kayak…

Yes, I've gone and done it, and added another to my already-far-too-long list of hobbies: kayaking!

My new kayak, fully assembled.

Much like with drone flying, I got somewhat interested in kayaking while cooped up indoors in lockdown over the (southern-hemisphere) winter of 2020. I'm not sure why; my family doesn't have a particular history of watersports (other than owning a swimming pool as I grew up), and I'm not especially comfortable being in large bodies of water I can't see through (a pool is fine, the ocean not so much). Nor have I traditionally been very attracted by physical exercise, and yet there I was, imagining myself kayaking. Of course, much like with drone flying, I was a poor graduate student at the time without a car or other way to transport a kayak even if I'd had one, so it had to wait a few years until I'd moved back to Hilo. But back in September I took a chance and found myself in possession of a new foldable kayak from a California company called Oru Kayak.

The “foldable” part is important, since this isn't your ordinary solid-body kayak. It's more like a piece of origami, folding into a suitcase-sized pack when not in use, which makes storing it in a small apartment and transporting it in the trunk of my car much easier. Once down at the beach, ten minutes' work transforms it into the watertight seaworthy vessel seen above (and a similar amount of effort converts it back into its conveniently-portable box form).

Anyway, for a variety of reasons (including a two-week stint of back pain) it took me several weeks to get it in the water, but I finally managed it last week! I set off from the beach in Reeds Bay, a small sheltered bay within the broader Hilo Bay where I'd previously had the chance to go kayaking a few times at various picnics or get-togethers. 

View from a little cove in the bay.

For a first outing it was very pleasant – the sun was behind clouds and there was a light breeze over the water that kept things from becoming too hot – until I capsized on my way back from a small trip down the coast (fortunately no more than ~10 meters away). This necessitated swimming my flooded kayak to a conveniently nearby sandy shore and emptying as much water as I could, before re-embarking and making my way back to where I'd launched (and parked the car…). At least the water was a lovely temperature for an impromptu swim! It turned out to be a great learning experience, for lessons like “don't forget your life jacket,” and “attach the dry bag with your car keys securely to something.” (As a side note I know the dry bags I bought work, considering they all spent a good ten minutes in the drink with me!)

Everything drying out after a good rinsing off.

So that was my first foray with my new kayak. Overall I quite enjoyed it, and I look forward to future expeditions (and learning to keep my balance better). I've love to get a video of the process of converting the kayak between its box and boat forms, and maybe bring my GoPro with my on the water. It's interesting finally having some outdoor hobbies, and especially one involving physical exertion and exercise. I could certainly use it, so hopefully I'll have plenty of opportunities to take my boat out into the bay. (Maybe even up the mouth of the Wailuku river? I've seen kayakers do that.) But that's all for this post. A hui hou!

Checking out the aftermath of the 2022 Mauna Loa eruption

Earlier this month I got up before the Sun and drove up the Mauna Loa access road to where the lava crossed it in its eruption last year to try to get some drone photos. I originally tried back in March when the access road was first re-opened, only to have the wind blowing so hard when I arrived that I had to brace myself with every gust to keep from falling over. Needless to say, no drone flying happened that day!

This particular day, however, had almost perfect conditions, with a mere gentle breeze blowing and crystal clear skies overhead. I got to the end of the road within fifteen minutes of the Sun making an appearance in order to get those long early morning shadows for contrast, as various guides to photography suggest you should do. In retrospect, I'm not sure this worked in my favor in this particular case; with the Sun still low in the sky it meant serious lens flare if I took a photo looking anywhere close to the east, and the vast lava fields didn't really have much in the way of notable topography when seen from afar to make interesting shadows. Still, it was a good learning experience!

Cars for scale.

Here you can see the road, the flow covering it, and where it continues past the flow. There are actually two places the flow crossed the road, and this is the smaller of the two. I flew out along the road further to where the main overflow happened, and I could barely see to the other side of that one; I'd estimate it's at least three times wider.

Here's another shot from upslope, looking across to Maunakea. You can see how the flow really doesn't continue very far below the road there. Also this perspective (and the extreme low angle of Hawaiian shield volcanoes) makes this view a bit misleading: it looks like it's basically flat across to Maunakea, but in reality this point is over 2,500 feet (750 m) above the saddle between them!

While I was there, I tried flying my drone up the slope as far as I could, to see if I could crest the ridge and look over towards Kīlauea. DJI drones have a 500 meter (1,640 ft) limit on how high you can fly above your take-off point, which is specifically for flying up mountains, since legally you can't fly higher than 120 m/400 ft above the ground. I flew as far as I could, but even at 500 m above where I took off the ridge was still higher! At least there was this neat-looking puʻu near where I had to stop, so I took a photo of it (one case where I think the low angle of illumination helped).

Finally, with my last battery, I tried flying down the slope instead. Coincidentally, where the lava crossed the road turns out to be almost directly mauka (upslope) of NASA's “HI-SEAS Analog Habitat,” a small shelter where people come out and stay for months on end simulating missions to Mars. (Interestingly, I know from an article I saw that the place is equipped with the exact same hydroponic garden set-up that I have.) It wasn't too far to reach, and I was able to get the photo above. It's the white dome nestled next to the cool rift vent system in the foreground. (But I couldn't resist getting Maunakea and Haleakalā in the background too! I couldn't get much lower down as I'd have had to fly below my local horizon.)

Overall it was a pretty fun experience, and I'm glad I finally got around to making the trip again (and the dawn chill reminded me to be thankful for the balmy temperatures in Hilo!). I got some video footage too, so I'll have to see if there's enough interesting material to make a video out of. At some point I expect the road will be re-built over (or through) the flows to regain access to the Mauna Loa Observatories where I used to work, at which point I'll probably come up again to check it out. But for now this will serve as a snapshot in time of when the road was closed. A hui hou!