Considering the hike only covered about five miles of distance, as the crow flies, it was much more grueling than I'd expected. Given that I stopped numerous times to do photography or to fly kites for KAP, it took roughly seven hours to go from point A to point B (or K in this case.) I brought 120 oz of water (3.65 l) and plenty of food, and I consumed it all. If reading this makes you think you want to do this hike yourself, be forewarned. It's a toughie.
I launched just south of A-Bay, but because of the early hour the onshore wind from the thermal convection off the lava fields hadn't started yet. So I downed it and switched to my 6' rokkaku.
The winds were unstable until around 11am, so most of the shots I took at first were a wash. One of the nagging questions I wanted to answer during this hike was whether a circular polarizer had utility on a KAP rig. The tests I'd done earlier indicated it might not be worth it. The shots came out muddy, I lost half my light to the polarizer, and overall I was a little disappointed. But the volcano was blowing out a lot of gas that day, so I really couldn't be sure. With clear skies and increasingly good winds for flying, I risked it. The results speak for themselves.
When I saw how well the shots of this bay came out, I left the polarizer on for the remainder of the KAP flights I made during the hike. It really did a good job of cutting sky reflection off the water. The one catch: Polarizers are made to rotate so you can set them against the angle of the sun. I can't touch the polarizer once it's up on the kite. Having some means to secure the polarizer in position would've helped. Chalk this one up to duct tape being a good thing to bring along on a hike!
Just past that bay was the second of several private houses. Private houses typically mean private trees, often very close to the water's edge. Rather than risk losing my kite, I downed my rig, packed everything away, and hiked past. The folks there were very friendly, but I didn't stop to chat.
By the time I passed the house the wind had picked up, so I re-launched my Flowform 16 with a single 3m length of tail, and kept going. I knew that somewhere near there was a place called Golden Pools. But the pools are inland a fair way, and I didn't really want to keep stopping to check out every clump of trees I saw off in the lava. I don't have a video downlink system for my KAP rig, but for recon like this it's just as easy to send the rig aloft, take some pictures, bring it down, and see what can be seen. In this case it paid off.
Not far off was a clump of trees with a curious color at the base! A quarter mile hike across what turned out to be a very good trail brought me to the Golden Pools. Before going out I'd done a fair bit of research, and had seen some pictures of the Pools. But they really didn't do them justice. The colors are amazing, and what I thought was a pond choked with red/brown algae wound up being something else altogether.
The color comes from an organism that lives in a very thin layer coating the rocks in the pools. Deeper parts of the pool aren't covered, so I'm guessing whatever it is it lives off of photosynthesis. The pools are filled with fish that feed off of the gold colored stuff, so whatever it is it's edible. I stopped to take pictures, but I didn't test the waters myself.
Even though the main idea behind the hike was to do kite aerial photography, I also packed along a tripod and my Hoya R72 infrared filter. To be honest most of the hike was incredibly monotone: black lava rock, white coral, dark water, light clouds. An infrared picture would look a lot like a normal black and white. Ah! But the Golden Pools offered something entirely different! Vegetation, and an unknown!
Just as I'd hoped, the golden organism showed up. Color digital infrared images typically have lots of interesting tones in the image, but it's not a good idea to read too much into them. It's typically residual color bleed, and doesn't indicate a lot about the infrared response of the subject. So I can't tell simply from looking if this means there's chlorophyll in the gold stuff. But it made for a nice picture, anyway.
Just past the Golden Pools was another residence. Past that was one of the most amazing stretches of coastline I've ever seen, with what looked like shallows extending several hundred yards from shore. I hate to say it, but I didn't take a single picture.
The problem with going on a hike like this is that I had a pre-determined pickup time at the end. I had to stick to a schedule of my own making, so finding something serendipitously wonderful like that didn't necessarily mean I was at liberty to stop and take my time with it. I almost cried when I walked past it, especially since the view ahead wasn't all that promising.
Even with all the research I did for the hike, I'd forgotten there was a huge expanse of lava between the last house and Kiholo Bay. It took hours. Rolling pahoehoe lava, long stretches of sea-rounded boulders, and even patches of sand stood between me and Kiholo Bay, which was what I'd actually come on the hike to photograph. Even though this stretch of the hike used up nearly half my water, I think I came out better than some.
In the end it was worth it. Because at the end of the hike was Kiholo Bay, and Wainanali`i Pond.
The pond has the color of a moraine lake, and for completely different reasons. The water is a mix of salt water and fresh water, which forms a highly stratified body of water. The mouth of the inlet is extremely shallow, which helps to maintain the stratification.
A friend of mine has gone snorkeling in Wainanali`i Pond, and said the blue does not actually indicate the bottom of the pond. It marks the separation between the fresh and salt water layers. He said that swimming above it is like swimming in a completely crystal clear pool with a blue floor. As soon as you dip below the blue, everything goes opaque. The bottom is actually rocky. From above you'd never guess.
In addition to the fantastic water at Wainanali`i Pond, it's also home to one of the largest populations of honu, or Pacific Green Sea Turtle, on the Big Island. In going through my photographs from the day, I found more than twenty turtles. And considering the number that would come up out of the water and disappear back into it, I think I was only seeing the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.
One of the more gratifying aspects of going back through the pictures I took was to see the honu out in the water. Keep in mind they are a protected species. You are not supposed to approach them or touch them. Nonetheless, they're curious by nature, and I've wound up swimming with them several times since they like to approach swimmers and see what they're doing.
But none of that compared to seeing them fly through the water the way they do.
Eventually, it was time to go. I'd hoped to have enough time left over to hike a little further. Not half a mile away is a cold spring that would've been welcome relief after the long hike I'd had. But it was not to be. I'd run up against the clock, and had to hike straight out.
This is another case where it pays to do your homework prior to a long hike. But also, it pays to take your notes with you in case you forget what you learned when doing your homework! Not a hundred paces from where I hiked out, there was a perfectly serviceable trail. But somehow, I missed it.
It took longer than it should've.
In the end I wound up reaching the highway, squatting under a bush to cool off and drink the last of my water, and enjoy the first shade I'd had in close to five hours. Sitting on the side of the road might not sound like much, but to me it was heaven.
Tom
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