Hawaiian Highways

Accompanied by a little green friend, the author drives circles around the lush and mystical Big Island

By Laura Byrd

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IT’S TIME TO DRIVE to the volcanoes. I’ll go south again, on Highway 11 to Kailua-Kona. And then. . . another detour beckons.

The Mamalahoa Highway, parallel to the coast, winds through old Kona coffee country, plantations with Kona plants stretching over rock walls and coffee shacks. There are peekaboo views of the ocean along the narrow road.

Wandering randomly, I stumble on the whimsical Painted Church. I think about visitors who don’t stray from the beachside resorts, and I feel lucky. Back on High way 11, I stop for lunch at the quaint Theatre Café, where that little green Frankie joins me on the deck.

Volcanoes National Park is 115 miles away. A warm drizzle begins, and the road begins to rise. At 1,500 feet, a cliff-side café, the Coffee Shack, offers a perfect spot to photograph Kona below. Sixty-five miles farther south, the elevation is 4,000 feet. The temperature has dropped 20 degrees.

Just before Volcanoes National Park, a sign reads, “Fault line—watch for cracks.” Inside the park, a ranger explains that the volcano can’t be viewed without leaving the car and walking. He senses my reluctance and divulges information about a remote road where locals go to see the volcano. A warning: It’s one lane of two tire tracks, straight up, with no signs or turnouts for 8 miles.

Bring it on. I’m driving a goddess, remember?

Mythical stories are built on places that inspire. Inspiration created this unpaved road. Here, the gods draped canopies of tree limbs over the road so thickly it reminds me of a jigsaw puzzle. Eight miles up into dense forest, I suddenly come to an open field of rock with one giant black boulder rising up like an easy chair. Pulling over, I climb atop the massive rock and witness Pele’s stifled temper. The volcano off in the distance is spewing a plume of steam. From this secret perch, I can see much of the coastline I’ve explored for three days and 600 miles.

I thank Pele for letting me loop the Island of Gods without trouble, and I take her picture. Then I head back to say goodbye to the gecko of my dreams.