Chasing Lava ~ Kīlauea’s Episodic Eruptions Put on a Show

We had been watching the updates for days—refreshing forecasts and trying to make plans around something that, by its very nature, is quite unpredictable. Kīlauea was in one of its episodic eruption phases, a rhythm of pauses and spectacular outbursts. Scientists could estimate windows, but nothing was guaranteed. Still, the possibility was enough.

We booked a family visit to the Big Island. The mission? Help a six-year-old girl fulfill her dream of seeing lava. We weren’t just chasing sunshine or scenery—we were chasing fire. The kind that reshapes land in real time.

By the time we landed on the Big Island and settled into the Kona side, the skies were clear and generous. Two days of sun gave us just enough confidence to believe things might line up. The night before our intended plan to drive up to Volcanoes National Park, we noticed the gurgling lava on the Kilauea webcam which seemed to be more activity than we had been noticing in recent weeks.

The following morning we set out the Volcano portion of this trip. The transition was dramatic. Blue skies gave way to heavy clouds, then mist, then sheets of sideways rain as we approached the national park. The level of anticipation was high (especially with two restless little girls in the back seats of the car).

Kīlauea’s recent activity has been defined by what geologists call episodic eruptions. Instead of a continuous lava flow, the volcano pulses—short-lived but intense bursts of activity separated by quiet intervals. Pressure builds beneath the surface until it releases in dramatic fashion: lava fountains, glowing lakes, and plumes of gas and steam. Then, just as suddenly, it stops. Each burst is sequentially numbered. Upon our arrival to the park, the volcano was between episodes, but that would quickly change.

We had just entered the park, circling slowly in search of a parking spot where our two-year-old could nap while the rest of us attempted a short hike. That’s when a ranger, calmly directing traffic in the rain, delivered the news:

“It’s started again. The volcano is erupting.”

Any thought of a “short hike” vanished. Parking near the prime viewing areas was full. Cars filled every available turnout despite the horrible weather. So we took what we could get—farther away than planned. We loaded up the kids, wrangling a stroller, and stepping out onto a few mile journey in order to obtain a view of the eruption.

The hike took us to the crater’s edge after about 30 minutes in a cold rain, but the reward was immediate. Through sheets of rain and low-hanging clouds, we could see it—lava erupting in a brilliant burst of orange and red. The color of the eruption, was subdued by the weather conditions but it was nonetheless spectacular.  A fountain rising from the earth, glowing through the surrounding grayness of clouds and rain.

It didn’t matter that we were soaked. The kids stood there, drenched but unbothered for the moment. Total troopers and a six-year-old’s dream coming true in front of us. The toddler, bundled and wide-eyed, added to the entertainment of other spectactors with renditions of “Wheels on the Bus”.

Eventually, the cold set in. Fingers and toes cold and pruned, clothes heavy with rain as we were not dressed ready to hike through a downpour.  

The plan was simple: dry off, warm up, and return later for another look. We weren’t the only ones with this plan, apparently. By the time we were ready to head back into the park, the roads were overwhelmed with traffic stretching for miles. Word had spread. Episode 42 had drawn a crowd, and access by car was literally impossible. We accepted that we were fortunate to be in the park when the eruption began and to witness the show we had glimpsed.

Before sunrise the next morning, we returned. No traffic or crowds. The eruption had ended. In its place was a glowing lava lake, mesmerizing in the early morning darkness and even more thrilling for a six year old. The air was calm, the rain gone, and the sky just beginning to soften with the first hints of dawn.

Chasing an eruption means accepting uncertainty. You don’t control the timing. You don’t get guarantees. You show up and if you’re lucky, you witness something extraordinary.

We experienced the full arc of an episodic eruption: the anticipation, the sudden ignition, the wild scramble, the spectacle, and the quiet aftermath. Most importantly, we made a six year old’s lava dreams come true.

Written by Eric Bronstein