Uē ka lani, ola ka honua

I woke up this morning, and was initially confused as to why. It took my sleep-befuddled mind a few seconds to realize it was because my alarm was going off, because it was almost muffled by an equally loud, but initially unfamiliar sound: pouring rain.

This October was the driest October on record in Hawaii, with most of the state in moderate to severe drought and multiple rain gauges around the state breaking records for lowest recorded rainfall. Needless to say it's been quite dry the last several months, so it was with a sense of relief that I woke up to pouring rain this morning from the Kona low hanging out to the west of islands.

With the sudden and steep onset of rain, I took an opportunity to drive up to Waiʻale Falls today. Just after midnight yesterday, the flow was about 12 cubic feet per second. It doubled to about 24 cfps from the first light showers from the approaching system yesterday, then this morning shot up to around 7,950 cfps when I got there to take this photo:

It's always pretty impressive to see the Wailuku in flood. This front also brought the first snow of the season to the mauna peaks, and will hopefully go some way to alleviating the drought. I'm still sorting through photos and videos from my Arizona trip, but I thought I'd celebrate the rains' return in a quick post. Oh, and the post title? It's an ancient Hawaiian proverb, “uē ka lani, ola ka honua”: the heavens weep, the earth lives. A hui hou!

Visiting Arizona: the Titan Missile Museum

It's been pretty quiet here on the ol’ blog this month, due to me spending the first two weeks in Arizona: first at the ADASS 2023 conference, then a week visiting my parents for an early Thanksgiving. Those were two rather packed weeks, so after a week to decompress I'm finally sifting through the many photos and videos I took at various places; enough for a few posts, at least.

The first place we visited, after I flew in overnight and a day before ADASS started, was the Titan Missile Museum, located twenty minutes' drive outside of Tucson. It's a real Titan II missile bunker, the only one not destroyed as a result of disarmament treaties (though rendered permanently inoperable), and contains a real Titan II missile in its launch silo (though sans warhead, of course). You can walk down a few floors to the underground command station, see the authentic computers still in place, and then walk down a long corridor to see the missile itself.

Here it is, though this is only about half of the it; the rest extends downward further below. You can see how the top of the shaft is half-blocked by the immense door covering it, ensuring this silo is truly disarmed and can't be used.

Remarkably, when I asked about whether there drone restrictions in place, it turned out there weren't. Which allowed me to get this great shot of the entire complex:

You can see the outside of the silo here (what little there is of it above ground), and the half-open door blocked by huge weights. When it was active, it could apparently fully open in just 58 seconds. The glass roof allows looking in at the missile, both for viewers on the ground and – no joke – spy satellites, to ensure the missile doesn't have a functional warhead.

Not sure how they can actually see in, though.

Overall it was a neat experience, one that can recommend. It was also a somewhat sobering experience to hear the guide dispassionately explaining just how quickly these missiles could be launched (58 seconds), with their 9 megaton-TNT-equivalent warheads (large enough to pretty much vaporize 30 square miles). Definitely worth checking out if you're in the Tucson area and enjoy a bit of history! A hui hou!