Hawaii’s Leilani Estates, After Devastation by the Volcano Kilauea

Warren Fintz has spent years photographing^[1] and
filming the landscape on the Big Island of Hawaii, and no natural
wonder has been more meaningful a subject than the constantly
erupting volcano Kilauea. Fintz was on the scene, for instance, in
2016, when lava from the long-active Puʻu ʻOʻo vent began pouring
into the Pacific Ocean in a glowing rock waterfall^[2].

But he managed to miss his closest potential contact with the
volcano’s wrath. Two months ago, Fintz moved out of the Leilani
Estates subdivision^[3] that’s just been devastated by lava flows from newly
opened vents, retrieving the last of his belongings only a couple
weeks ago.

Commenting on the fortunate timing, the photographer muses that
he must have been warned by the fire goddess Pele, who personifies
Kilauea. According to traditional belief, Pele is prone to anger.
Her long hair forms the coils of lava called pahoehoe, a basaltic
eruption characterized by smooth, relatively slow-moving hot
rock.

But even the gentle eruptions at Kilauea can cause significant
damage. Since 15 new fissures opened up last week, lava has
inundated the Leilani subdivision, starting fires and destroying at
least 36 buildings. For the last few days, Fintz has returned to
his old neighborhood to assist the relief efforts. Of the 1,700
Leilani residents who have been displaced, he estimates some 200
were in temporary shelters Tuesday afternoon. Others have received
accommodations from family and friends, or in some cases, Airbnb
hosts.

Among the senior citizens of Leilani, some expected their
now-destroyed houses to be the last homes they’d ever need. Some
residents have lost everything, sometimes from properties
ineligible for insurance because of there proximity to the
volcano.

Asked why people would live in this danger zone^[4],
Fintz answers without hesitation: “The absolute sheer beauty.”
Leilani was actually an affordable community, offering heaven on
Earth for retirees, among others. The chance to live a dream life
made the gamble seem worthwhile, and the district that includes
Leilani has been the fastest-growing in the state.

And until recently, Kilauea’s flows, though sometimes
spectacular, followed a relatively set course away from the
community. According to Fintz, geologists speculate that the norm
may be something quite different from now on, with Pu’u O’o and the
active summit supplemented by a new vent in the area of the freshly
opened fissures.

Lava that’s flowed so far appears to be a remnant from an East
Rift Zone eruption in 1955, Hawaiian Volcano Observatory
geophysicist Jim Kauahikaua told the Hawaii
Tribune-Herald^[5]. But
if fresh magma reaches the surface, it will be less viscous and
therefore faster moving, he cautions. The 1955 eruption eventually
covered 3,900 acres over the course of 88 days, the
Tribune-Herald notes. (Quick read: What’s the difference
between magma and lava?^[6])

For now, the lava flows have cooled enough to allow carefully
monitored access to some of the affected homes during the daytime.
Fintz reports that one of the tasks for volunteers is locating
residents’ pets. Other people, who have been unable to get into
Leilani, have approached him and asked if their house was still
there. Those affected have been frustrated by what they experience
as slow and inadequate information sharing. At least one farmer
couldn’t check on 300 head of cattle until May 10.

Another affected area, Lanipuna Gardens, remains inaccessible,
because sulfur dioxide fumes from the fissures remain at dangerous
levels. Even in the accessible parts of Leilani, the smell of
sulfur is pervasive. Despite wearing a filtered painter’s mask,
Fintz could literally taste the sulfur, describing it as feeling
like glass on the tongue, and his clothes transferred traces into
his car that were still noticeable away from the site.

The feeling of the emissions on the skin is a kind of
stickiness, like humidity, an effect perhaps augmented by the wet
weather. In the short term, at least, acid rain isn’t
expected^[7]
to be much more likely or copious because of the
sulfur dioxide levels. But the gas itself is hazardous to breathe
in the concentrations present near the vents, especially for people
with respiratory problems like asthma.

Clouds of smoke also make driving around the site treacherous.
The vog^[8]—volcanic smog—made visibility so poor that Fintz almost
drove into a huge flow blocking a road.

Despite the dangers, Fintz and his colleague Ehitu
Keeling^[9]
have taken every opportunity to document the
damage caused by this awe-inspiring, sometimes devastating,
subject.

Keeling, who has family in the area, even filmed during the
dramatic overnight hours Friday through Saturday, capturing what he
describes as the breathing of the vents, which sent plumes of
glowing liquid into the air. Keeling says that he had always wanted
to experience the lava in this way, describing it as a connection
to the stories of his grandparents and the lives of his ancestors.
Like Fintz, Keeling has much experience with the island’s natural
phenomena, including the lava, in its gentler days.

Volcanic activity along the East Rift Zone is expected to
increase again, but the future duration and intensity of the new
eruption pattern are still unknown.

Beyond Leilani, volcanologists also predict that the lowering of
the lava lake at Kilauea’s summit may lead to activity reminiscent
of an historic eruption in 1924. Magma coming into contact with the
water table could lead to steam-powered explosions^[10], sending up rocks
weighing 10 tons or more. The more expensive development of Volcano
Estates, and the town of Volcano, have been spared the effects of
the new vents but may still be in the line of fire for ejecta if
there’s an explosion at the summit. For that matter, ash from a
more explosive eruption could fall across the island.

Still both Fintz and Keeling speak of the inspiring community
spirit of volunteering and togetherness, and they look forward to
being able to rebuild.