A vivid description of a photographer’s adventures in securing
pictures of the eruption of Makuaweoweo, in Hawaii. With pen
and camera Mr. Davey depicts the awe inspiring grandeur of
the lake of fire in the crater of Mauna Loa, the pyrotechnic
display afforded by the active cone on the mountain-side, and
the horrors of night amid the lava-wastes, where death menaced
the party on every hand.
On Tuesday, July 1, 1899, reports reached Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands,
that the volcano of Makuaweoweo, situated at the summit of Mauna Loa,
thirteen thousand six hundred and seventy-five feet high, on the island
of Hawaii, had burst forth with all the fury of years gone by. I was
anxious to get some photographs of the eruption if possible, and so
made all the haste I could to get my paraphernalia together and catch
the steamer _W. H. Hall_, bound for Hawaii.
[Illustration: “PAHOEHOE” LAVA, WHICH APPEARS AS THOUGH IT HAD COOLED
WHILE FLOWING QUIETLY.
_From a Photograph._]
I left with the intention of reaching the scene of action from the
Kau side of the island, but when, upon arriving at Kailua, Kona, I
telegraphed to Mr. N. S. Monsarrat, at Kapapalu, I found that he had a
house full of guests bent on the same journey, and that all his horses
had been engaged. Rather than lose time, therefore, I decided to take
the most difficult route of all--right over the great mountain from the
Kona side. The obstacles to be overcome may perhaps be imagined when I
state that Mauna Loa is a volcanic mountain, nearly fourteen thousand
feet high, and that one has to make one’s way for the entire distance
over every kind of lava formation.
[Illustration: “A. A.” LAVA, WHICH LOOKS AS THOUGH IT HAD SOLIDIFIED
WHILE TOSSING LIKE A SEA IN A STORM AND THEN BEEN BROKEN UP BY
EARTHQUAKES. [_From a Photograph_.]
It was with great difficulty that I managed to get horses and mules
from the natives, who knew the condition of the country, for the
animals inevitably get badly knocked about, their legs being terribly
cut by the lava, which is divided into two classes--“Pahoehoe” and
“A. A.” The former term is applied to tracts of comparatively smooth
lava, which appears as though it had cooled while flowing quietly; the
latter is applied to stretches of broken lava which seem to have cooled
when tossing like an ocean in a bad storm, and to have afterwards been
broken up by earthquakes. No words of description can convey an idea
of its roughness and hardness, which may be faintly realized from an
inspection of the above photograph.
During the time I was hunting for horses a number of gentlemen arrived
and expressed their desire to join me in the expedition. I was only too
pleased to have their company, so five travellers threw in their lot
with me: Professor Ingalls, Colonel McCarthy, and Messrs. Sterns Buck,
J. Ballard, and H. C. Klugel. These, with three guides, completed our
party.
We were up early the next morning. The first part of the journey was
one of the most delightful rides I ever had. We rode for hours through
magnificent tropical growths. There were giant ferns, some of which
must have been thirty or forty feet high and three feet in diameter,
groves of guavas, coco-nuts, and other fruits, miles of wild mint and
bright-coloured flowers, and orchids of most delicate shapes.
At dusk we reached the edge of the timber-line, in a drenching rain,
a downpour such as is experienced only in the tropics, where the rain
descends in sheets. We ate our supper and then spent the night huddled
miserably together, trying in vain to keep dry.
We resumed our journey at daybreak, over the most terrible country that
can be imagined. The sharp edges of the lava cut through our stout
boots like broken glass, and the poor animals suffered greatly. Still,
however, we persevered, and finally reached the summit just as it was
getting dark. Near the centre of the mountain-top an area of about four
square miles sinks to a depth of one thousand feet. This is the great
crater of Makuaweoweo, which we had endured so much to see.
As I stood there in the cold, in the midst of those cheerless and
God-forsaken wastes, I gazed down with speechless awe upon the
untrammelled frolics of the God of Fire. The tempest-tossed lake of
molten lava below the rim of the great cauldron was a typical workshop
of Vulcan. The face of the lake of liquid fire alternated continually
between black and white, like molten iron in a furnace. Oxidation
and cooling of the fiery fluid would blacken the surface with a pall
that covered it in darkest gloom; then a trembling, caused by further
subterranean outbursts of steam, would break this ice-like oxide into a
fretwork of tens of thousands of incandescent cracks, lighting up the
smoke-charged pit with a fierce glare. Another moment, and in different
parts of the lake geysers of fire of every imaginable colour would rise
like fountains in a public garden.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR SURVEYING THE CRATER OF MAKUAWEOWEO FROM A
PINNACLE OF LAVA.
_From a Photograph._]
The great forbidding-looking walls of this “home of everlasting fire”
sparkled with the unusual light, and then, as the spouts of flame died
away, the surface would again turn black, leaving the whole mass to all
appearances dead.
We found that the worst outbreak was about five thousand feet farther
down the mountain-side. Some of our party were seized with such a
sickness of horror at the crater’s edge that they rolled themselves
up in their blankets and refused to look down upon this fiery
maelstrom--and that after two days of arduous effort to reach a point
of view!
When the time came for sleep, another man and I turned into a
“blowhole” in the lava; it was an immense bubble that had cooled
and left an opening so that we could crawl in. We little thought
that there was another hole at the other end, and the piercing wind
blew through this like a funnel; but we had to stay there, for it is
dangerous to wander about over the rifts and chasms of jagged lava in
the darkness. Here, in this strange bed-chamber, we slept, or tried
to sleep--shivering and shuddering through the chilly solitude of the
night in those desolate mountain wastes.
[Illustration: THE CRATER OF MAKUAWEOWEO, SHOWING THE AWFUL LAKE OF
LIQUID FIRE.
_From a Photograph._]
Walking across the congealed masses of lava next morning, one began to
think that at any moment one was liable to drop through to the very
gates of Hades and be precipitated to the most horrible of deaths.
Underneath one was a bottomless abyss of mud, sulphur, and rock; and
to contemplate being cast into that fearsome-looking lake of fire and
brimstone was not at all comfortable. The Biblical description of hell
does not convey even a faint idea of that terrible lake of fire below
us, which appeared to be fretting and fuming as though anxious to get
loose and destroy everything in its path. The crater of Makuaweoweo at
that time, without doubt, afforded the spectator a more awe-inspiring
display of the forces of Nature than has been granted to man elsewhere
on earth without the sacrifice of life.
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR AND HIS COMPANIONS AS THEY APPEARED JUST
BEFORE LEAVING THEIR HORSES TO VISIT THE WORST OUTBREAK.
_From a Photograph._]
Soon after daylight we prepared for the descent to the point that was
throwing out molten lava at a white heat. It was practically impossible
to take the horses farther, so we tethered them to stones near the
yawning depths of Makuaweoweo, and left one of the guides to look after
them. We were very thirsty, but it was some time before we could find
water, though snow and ice were plentiful. Farther down, however, we
discovered water in a deep crack in the lava, filled the canteens,
and started on our downward journey. I was suffering from mountain
sickness; my head felt as if it would burst and my stomach was upside
down. We stumbled along with difficulty for about two miles, when I had
to get the assistance of Mr. Buck to carry my camera. Two of our party
who had started out in advance gave it up and returned--they could not
stand the strain of the rough travelling. This left but four of us,
with two guides.
Presently we reached a cone where the lava had piled up to the height
of about one hundred feet, then, bursting out at the side, disappeared
into the ground, to reappear about a quarter of a mile farther down
and repeat its action. These cones averaged two hundred feet in width
at the base and one hundred feet in height, and we passed five “dead”
ones. A sixth was still smoking, but was not active. Two of the party
tried to climb to the top of this cone, but were unable to do so.
We then pushed on to cone number seven, which was belching forth huge
volumes of steam and sulphur. The fumes, most fortunately, were being
blown away from us. At this stage one of the guides refused to go any
farther; it was too dangerous, he said, so he proceeded to retrace his
steps, while we others continued our journey toward cone number eight.
This was the last and largest, and was, I should estimate, about two
hundred feet high; in fact, a veritable miniature volcano, spouting
red-hot lava a hundred feet in the air with a ripping boom that could
be heard for miles. Boulders that must have weighed a ton were being
hurled high into the air as if shot from a cannon. Others followed
to meet those coming down, and as they met they burst like explosive
shells, scattering molten matter on all sides. This flowed down the
incline in cascades like water, showing red, yellow, blue, and all the
colours of the rainbow.
[Illustration: TWO OF THE “DEAD” CONES PASSED BY THE PARTY.
_From a Photograph._]
It is impossible to describe the grandeur of the effect, and a
knowledge of the force that was causing the display made one feel very
small indeed. Some of the ejected masses were as large as a horse, and
when they were belched forth were at a white heat. They went so high
that they had time to cool and return to the vortex black.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon when we reached this wonderful
display. It had taken us nine hours to reach the volcano, and we were
thirsty and well-nigh exhausted. We could not approach very near on
account of the heat, but I made some photographic exposures, and then
sat for an hour watching the wonderful sight. As the sun went down the
magnificence of the scene increased. The ground shook at each explosion
to such an extent as to make us sick. We found quantities of what is
known as “Pele’s hair.”[1] It is caused by the wind blowing the liquid
lava through the air, forming fine threads like human hair.
[Footnote 1: Pele, according to the native legends, is the goddess of
the volcano, and dwells in the crater.]
As we approached cone number seven on our return journey the wind
changed, and to our consternation we saw a cloud of sulphur blowing
right across our path. These masses of vapour are so impregnated with
sulphur and poisonous gases that it is impossible for any living thing
to exist among them, and to get caught in their midst means death.
Alarmed, we started to go around the other side, but found the lava was
too hot; the surface was cool, but there was living fire beneath, and
we dared not proceed. We kept on until the lava began to move under our
feet, and then beat a retreat to face the sulphur again, for it was
better to be smothered to death than slowly roasted.
[Illustration: CONE “NUMBER SEVEN”--IT WAS ABOUT TWO HUNDRED FEET HIGH,
A MINIATURE VOLCANO, SPOUTING RED-HOT LAVA AND GIANT BOULDERS WITH A
ROAR THAT COULD BE HEARD FOR MILES. _From a Photograph._]
We made a number of attempts to pass that deadly barrier of vapour, but
were forced to return each time, nearly suffocated. It looked as though
we should soon be choked to death--the fire at the back of us, the
sulphur in front. Professor Ingalls remarked that we had better make
the best of our time by taking notes, and then prepare for the worst.
Just at this critical moment I happened to turn round and saw an arch,
as it were, in the sulphur smoke, where the wind was blowing it up from
the ground.
“Look! look!” I shouted, in great excitement. “Run for it!” And how
we ran! Providence gave us the chance and fear lent us strength, for
under ordinary circumstances we could never have run as we did, owing
to the condition of our feet. The danger, however, made us forget the
pain, and we ran for dear life. We had scarcely got through that arch
of clear air when down came the cloud again, as though lowered by some
great power. The only guide who had stayed with us fell exhausted at
the edge of the vapour-mass. How I managed to drag him along I do not
know; I hardly realized what I was doing, but I managed to save him.
Once past the danger-point we crawled along at our best pace, for at
any moment the wind might turn in our direction, when we should be
again overtaken by that terrible death-cloud. I had left my camera
behind in our wild flight, but fortunately I saved several plates.
It was now night, and the only light we had was the lurid glare from
the volcano. Suddenly, as we stumbled painfully along, we came upon
a man sitting by the side of a dead cone; it was the guide who had
returned. He said he did not expect to see us alive again, for he had
seen the deadly smoke blow across the mountain.
If it had not been for the light from the volcano we should undoubtedly
have perished of cold and thirst, as we should have been compelled to
stop walking. As it was, we dared not halt for any length of time, or
we should not have had warmth enough to keep the blood circulating.
All that night we crawled over that terrible lava. We fell down at
intervals of about twenty feet, often breaking through the black crust,
sometimes up to our waists, cutting ourselves on the sharp projections
until our hands and legs were woefully lacerated. Almost as soon as
we fell we dropped asleep; then, as we got colder, we would wake up
and force ourselves on again for a few dozen yards or so, only to fall
asleep, wake, and struggle up once more. The agony of the situation and
the pain of our wounds were enough to make a man go insane.
At last it began to get light, but still we had come across no water,
and that in our canteens had long since been exhausted. Very few
people, fortunately, know what it means to have their throats and lips
so swollen and cracked that they are bleeding for want of water. I
could scarcely speak. We hunted the depths and crevices of the lava,
sometimes going down ten or fifteen feet, looking for water, only to be
disappointed again and again. At last I got so weak that Mr. Buck had
to take my package of plates off my back, where I had tied them.
Suddenly I saw a break in the lava nearly full of beautiful water. I
pulled Mr. Buck’s arm, pointing to it, and mumbled, “Water.” Slowly he
pulled off his coat and started to climb down the crack. It was about
eight feet wide, narrowing to three. I leaned over the side, holding
the canteen for Mr. Buck to fill. He went down a few feet, and then
stopped. I motioned to him to fill the bottle, croaking, “Water.” He
did not look around, but mumbled, “I see no water,” as if in a dream.
Picking up a piece of lava, I tossed it down and cried hoarsely,
“_There_ is the water.” But to my astonishment the pebble went down,
down, down, out of sight, with no sound of a splash, into a fathomless
abyss. The crevice was so deep that we could not see the bottom, and
the shock of the discovery made me faint. How Sterns Buck managed to
return he does not remember; it is a wonder he did not fall, to be
mangled upon the sharp corners of lava.
I came to my senses dazed and almost bewildered, and Buck and I sat
motionless for some time staring at each other. After a time we
scrambled on again until we came upon the guide sitting upon the edge
of a high crack, eating frozen snow, and tearing at it with his teeth
like a hungry dog. We followed his example, not without pain, but the
snow tasted good.
Some of the party who had previously returned met us near the summit
with coffee. When they saw us coming they got things ready so as to
make us as comfortable as possible. After washing our lacerated hands
and feet we took a good sleep, and awoke much refreshed. The journey
home was, comparatively speaking, easy, but the memory of that night
amidst the lava will last me to my dying day.
[Illustration: Our Leopard Hunt.]