Day 9 (Tuesday) Last resort day
Bruce is suffering bad bursitis, He had a really bad night. Damn. His facility for lugging luggage is compromised. Worry.
No one is hungry for the big breakfast. There is leftover pizza which B wants. American strawberries and Blackberries which Sa bought at Target - fascinated to find that they are all Driscolls. Driscoll has a world monopoly on berries? Yes it does. The company, Google tells her, began 100 years ago in California and has grown with intentions of being the world’s berry suppliers to have farms throughout the world, all over the US, Europe, South America, Australia… And it has high-profile active policies on modern slavery and human trafficking which, apparently, has been an issue in the world of corporate pickers.
In our little daily world. the days have been starting with CNN coverage of the Hamas/Israeli horrors.
Well, maybe not for Ru and Ro, TikTok burbles away with its own information sources.
We go down for a morning sun and swim, like proper resort people.
We’ve given up on the lagoon. It just does not invite and initial plans to occupy the giant inflatable paddle swan have been dissected to a sense of “blah, you can paddleboat anywhere”. $60 US is saved. We go across the swinging bridge to our fave bit of pool, which is not where the girls do their night swims. But it is relatively peaceul if you don’t count the construction work on the water slide. 
The Rs go up to the room after a while and Sa reads her battered Hawaii book before we all meet at the cafe by the dolpin pool. The girls had shown little interest in hands-on dolphin activities and we’ve seen a lot of it from the shore. It has been getting our hackles up a bit.
So many ga-ga girl trainers whooping when their dolphins do tricks for the customers. The dolpins have decent space but they are definitely prisoners kept in the name of the tourist dollar. For the girls’ age group, they charge up to $1000 for a day’s activities with the animals and trainers. The in-pool encounters seem to consist of getting the dolphins to swim upside down in front of the customers who are encouraged to feel the dolphins’ undersides with their hands. There are diverse reactions from the humans and a lot of whoopee from the trainers. The hotel publicity insists the dolphins are an imporant research project. Cynical Sa is feeling less and less comfortable. Then, she meets a visiting vet by the pool and asks her opinion of the dolphins’ roles at Waikaloa. The American vet is polite but emphatic. They are all about tourism. But they seem healthy enough. The oldest female is in her 50s.
And, of course, they are fabulous to wach at close prioximity - which is this cafe.
We have masses of packing and organising to do.
But Ru alone has promised to do the art walk with Sa. Sa wants to write about this art collection and the phenomenon of such a massive display of Pacific art. We take the train to the breakfast pavilion and walk down the gallery looking at astounding collections of buddha heads in glass cases.
Sa takes lots of snaps, albeit reflections are frustrating. There is so so much art that some of the photos are bound to be great. And if anyone takes on her long-planned arts feature, they will only publish a few of the myriad images. It is absolutely epic. At the end of the property, adjoined by golf links, stands the great white Buddha at Buddha Point. We have to ask diretions to weave our way there through another area of swimming pools and water slides. 
The resort is huge. But we get there and ring Bruce asking him to come out onto the balcony to wave to us. We can see him, tiny in his blue T. He is not sure that he sees us and, annoyingly, has not told Rosie.
The resort is huge. But we get there and ring Bruce asking him to come out onto the balcony to wave to us. We can see him, tiny in his blue T. He is not sure that he sees us and, annoyingly, has not told Rosie.
We wend our weary way back through the complex to rest and finish packing.
Dinner has been promised as a special treat from the upscale restaurant on the opposite point of the property. B and S had been there before and were keen albeit that it is a very costly treat.
One dines there open air and watches the sun go down.
They had assigned us a good table. B had a whiskey and Sa ordered a G&T which was oh, so strong,
The don't measure their spirits in the US as we do in Oz. Spirits are cheap. So perhaps that is why Sa was so offended by the stupidity of the tall, lanky, middle-aged, loser waiter.
The don't measure their spirits in the US as we do in Oz. Spirits are cheap. So perhaps that is why Sa was so offended by the stupidity of the tall, lanky, middle-aged, loser waiter.
Ru argues that compassion should be shown to anyone who ends up as a hotel waiter at his age. Sa says he should know his job. It is quite an ongoing contretemps.
Anyway, the food is OK. The sun sets over the sea. No one is poisoned. And B tips the dumb waiter despite Sa’s protestations.
Day 10
Despite the big dinner, breakfast could not be resisted by the three Harrises who take the train down to the breakfast pavilion. It is very crowded down there and we have to wait for our names to be called. At last, Sa gets her eggs benedict. They have come back on the breakfast specials rotation.
Now comes the crunch and we have an immense amount of luggage, a nightmare now with two cases each.
They do not fit in the cadillac. Two cabin bags have to perch between the girls and the mass of excess provisons at Sa’s feet. But we get off in good time to make the drive across the saddle of the island, noting the fascinating changes in both landscape and vegetation.
Cinder cones, lava, grasses, flowering shrubs, wispy trees, coming into a strange jungle of interesting arid plants. Sa manages a Facetime call to Peter from way up there, amid the cinder cones.
And then, the silky smooth road leans into its great downward path to Hilo where all is lush and verdant. Such a dramatic contrast. From lava desert to tropical jungle.
And there, beneath the great banyan-like tree with its cascdes of aerial roots, is the Hilo Bay Cafe where B and I dined seven years ago. B brings up the photo of that day, with me shawled in my yellow sarong with a mug of tea smiling through the pain of shingles. We take a “today” shot in that very place on the balcony where we have been given a table for four.
It is hot but there is a lovely view of the vivid blue bay and people besporting upon its waters. B tells of the day when a great tidal wave emptied the bay and returned with a wave 50 ft high, 3 storeys, and wiped out most of the habitation and lots of the people. We shudder. The girls have mocktails called Bloom.
They come in proper cocktail glasses and taste like flowers. They have a fried lunch. The olds have salad. S is coming to the end of her love for raw fish.
We buy bits and pieces and are charmed by the friendliness of the shopkeepers
The living fruit and veg market is a greater drawcard.
We buy mangosteens and rose fruit in the market because fruit-loving Rosie has never tried them.
There's a guy with coconuts - who turns out to be a wiry Brit. He slices open $6 coconuts so the girls can drink them fresh. They are underwhelmed.
But the fruit is lovely.
And the fruit vendors.
Ru, who has a headache, is distressed by the beggars and homeless. That is the not pretty picture of the USA. It is really bad here. People have rough shelters across the road and, while one man plays beautiful flute to a classical soundtrack.
Another screams incoherent nonsense about his dogs to no one in particular. He has a very complicated setup and two tiny dogs snoozing in its shade.
He sees Sa raise her phone and shouts threats at her.
We give generously to the flautist and snub the manic shouter.
B has been uncomfortable leaving the loaded Caddy in this worrying world of homeless people.
He is keen to move on.
And, he wants to replenish the gin supply and have a pee. Travellers must pee when and where they can. So, we pop in on Hilo’s Walmart which is a significantly better one than the one in Kona. Good place for a pee, too. Sa is really relaxed with American conveniences because of the loo-seat covers. Why does Australia not have them?
Back into the Caddy for what turns out to be a longish drive to the Volcano National Park. The roads are very busy. So much more so than seven years ago.
Proving its Hilo climatic promise, it rains a bit. When we reach the park, it is noticeably cooler at 1300 meters elevation.
Volcano House seems a bit like a ski lodge with its armchair lounge and year round wood fire burning. 
Sa is horrified that our booking is for two “standard” rooms.
As much as she checked and pleaded with our agent, Volcano House rooms looking at the carpark was not the idea.
Sa is shattered. She regretted using the RAA agent. She recalled the huge USA roadtrip and all the stunning bookings she was able to make through Booking.com and Expedia, her two favourites. She begged for upgrade. "These girls have come from Austraia for this experience. It is a very long way," Sa argues. But, oh, no, this is America and everything is full. This is also one of the uncertainties of travel. You can never be sure.
"Well, there is one room," said the receptionist. "It has 'a partial view'. Would you like to see it?"
It is Room 1, directly opposite our allocated Room 2.
Sa notes the odd musty smell in the room and looks at the view. It has a decent crater view, partial indeed, but way better than a carpark. She says they will take it. But the girls don’t want it. They like the twin queen beds in Room 2 which is also fresh and fragrant. Room 1 has a King. There is a lot of “no, you have it…."no, YOU have it” and the argument that there is no view at night anyway wins over and the girls happily colonise fresh air fragrant Room 2 while Sa sets about puzzling over the smell in Room 1. It is a disabled room. There is even a piece of bed apparatus in it which apparently stops a person from falling out of bed. Never seen its like. The room smells strangely sour, as if all efforts to cover its musty odours have failed, Sa is not good with smells but she always travels with an armament of fragrances. She sprays the Pot Poorie generously, sprinkles cologne on the bedding, etc. She checks to see if the mattress is sour. It has layers of very clean mattress covers under the sheets. And it seems a decent mattress. The safe is locked. Receptioist Lisa’s keys open it, but it refuses to to function. Chuck the veteran handyman is sent in to do his magic. He says the volcano is stirring and volcanologists are excited. It could erupt any time - today or in months. No telling. But this ancient smoke-spewing wonder is sending messages that it is ready.
Volcano House provides Mimosas for new guests. We gather them (not for kids…they are entitled to free cookies) and we take them to the lounge area having absurdly booked for a lateish dinner and sit to watch the video reels of Kilauea’s fiery action over the years.
The gift shop is the best we have seen. Good retail entertainment. We potter and plan a bit. Irony! Now we have spent up, there is an Aladdin’s cave of fascinating trinketry? Dammit. And what will our luggage weigh? Dilemmas.
There is no view now. Cloud has descended over the volcano. Whiteout.
We have to wait for our late booking dinner. They are running behind schedule. Staff shortage is punishing for staff and guests. The staff keep smiling. The menu is strange. For some reason B and I choose roasted marrow bone as a starter. B has Opa, moon fish, servied on a hodgepodge mound of exotica - celeriac and enoki mushrooms. Both girls wisely have New York strip sirloin steaks with chips, and they clear their plates. My stuffed Big Island chicken is as dry as a nun’s tit. And then we had the holiday treat - the shared dessert, which was beyond heavenly. 
Thus sated, we waddle off to our bedrooms up there in the clouds at the rim of the volcano..
Thus sated, we waddle off to our bedrooms up there in the clouds at the rim of the volcano..
Day 11 (Volcano)
Girls skip breakfast after the over-rich dinner.
Sa needs real coffee and discovers the excellent egg chef for a cheese and tomato omelette.
It is the day for volcano learning and exploring. 
We hit the museum, learning about the natural history environs of the area, the bird life, the plants, the few spiders, the smiley face being one, the few insects but a tiny drosophila which it shows as a huge model.
We hit the museum, learning about the natural history environs of the area, the bird life, the plants, the few spiders, the smiley face being one, the few insects but a tiny drosophila which it shows as a huge model.
Afterwards we explore the rim path walk with its eerily steaming vents. It is a perilous walk with vertical drops on both sides. Sa stressed out, the responsibility of keeping the precious girls safe weighing heavily. No risks, please. Careful. Danger.
It is indeed a very perilous path and it could not be a more perilous place. But that is part of the thrill and fascination. We don’t go all the way. Once we have felt the heat of the steam hissing from black holes in the ground, seen the condensation on the plants, realised that there were lots of these steam vents and god knows what, there beneath our feet,
we turn back taking in the views of the smoking volcano between the trees and noting the trees perched on the cliff faces, and the interesting ferns and flowers of the safer part of the path. It's a walk we won’t forget in a hurry. Bruce is explaining the science of it all as we go, so it is a five-star, first-hand on-site lesson on these aspects of the earth’s molten core. But it is not yet done. There is a lava tube to experience.
It is indeed a very perilous path and it could not be a more perilous place. But that is part of the thrill and fascination. We don’t go all the way. Once we have felt the heat of the steam hissing from black holes in the ground, seen the condensation on the plants, realised that there were lots of these steam vents and god knows what, there beneath our feet,
we turn back taking in the views of the smoking volcano between the trees and noting the trees perched on the cliff faces, and the interesting ferns and flowers of the safer part of the path. It's a walk we won’t forget in a hurry. Bruce is explaining the science of it all as we go, so it is a five-star, first-hand on-site lesson on these aspects of the earth’s molten core. But it is not yet done. There is a lava tube to experience.
We girls go for early lunch at the Volcano House bar, with a prime window table from which to peruse the restless power of Kilauea.
The places from which she smokes and steams vary. The quantities of smoke vary. She has moods and reaches. We devour our burgers and salads and then hit the road in the black Caddy on the Bruce volcano tour.
There are bloody traffc jams of others trying to see the immediate sites and a very grumpy park ranger telling us off because someone had blocked ”her” carpark. Its the first unplesant national park ranger Sa has met. The problem is not of our making and it was wrong of her to walk down the line of cars and pick on hapless us trapped in the queue.
Liberated, we find a park and look at the crater view of Kilauea Iki and then, thinking the tourists would still be overwhelming, find another park at the next significant attraction and follow the steep path down the hillside to see the Thurston lava tube.
It’s a tunnel. It is underground weird like the Naracoorte caves, no, more like a road tunnel. It is illuminated a bit, but it also is drippy and full of puddles and fairly nasty underfoot. Ruby hangs onto Sazi protectively, and her support is much needed. We go only part way. We get the message. We get the sensation. And B reminds us that we have seen the film footage of just how these tubes are made. What is the process? Firming of the surface layer over a river of lava. Later the source ceases and the inside runs out, leaving a hollow tube down the mountain.
Next, we take the chain of craters road and discover that there is indeed a chain of ancient craters , various in their shapes and sizes. We pile out of the car to gaze into several and then become a bit ho hum about them, seen one, seen ‘em all. It’s not quite true and they are all definitely rather scary. 
But the climate is hot and swiftly induces lethargy. We drive through different lava fields, Ru and Rosie being tested as to whether they are a'a or pahoehoe.
But the climate is hot and swiftly induces lethargy. We drive through different lava fields, Ru and Rosie being tested as to whether they are a'a or pahoehoe.
A'a is rough and rocky. Pahoehoe is sheeted and layered with smooth surfaces and is significantly more beautiful. 
This whole side of the island is cascading lava fields and the road winds through elbow bends down down down to the sea where there are lava plateaux on the water and, of course, the lava which in the odd millennia will become new fertile land. It is a long, vertiginous drive, the sort that makes Sa nervous, but it is a dramatic revelation of the might of lava flows.
Down at sea level, where the air is heavy again, we turn around eschewing the petroglyphs people are traipsing across the lava to peruse. The B tour is strictly science, kids. And it is hot out there.
The drive back up the mountain shows the flows in another light. We are all getting zoned into lava. It is a spectacle like nothing else, a fascinating design up on mountainsides complete with occasional striking islands of miraculously spared mature forest, called kipukas by the Hawaiians, says B
Back at Volcano House, Kilauea is still simmering away. Lazily ominous.
And then the cloud descends again.
There is a constant stream of visitors arriving to see the volcano. A zillion people of all ages and nationalities have done selfies there on the wall outside Volcano House. It is fun to watch. Some are touring the national park and some are coming to stay in Volcano House. Some, especially the very elderly, come with tour guides. They all pass through the viewing room with its big wicker chairs, and exclaim. It is a “Wow” moment. When the volcano is in white-out, it is sad to witness their disappointment.
We dine early in the bar. 
Burgers and steaks and another luscious shared dessert.
Burgers and steaks and another luscious shared dessert.
It’s a big packing and organising night. Ro has tipped her suittcase contents on the floor in search of something. Sa starts to fret about her needing help with it but Ru is on the job. Ro has had a few other problems. She’s had a sore, red ear. B thinks it may be a brewing boil. We prescribe hot flannel compresses. Poor kid. She also comes up with an itchy rash. It looks like a heat rash. Sa applies cortisone cream.
Day12
A simple breakfast. Fruit and toast and eggs.
Luggage.
The black Caddy struggles to accommodate it all, but B finds a way to lessen the back seat load so it is roomier for the girls on the road back down to the coast. Everything is a long way but the traffic is not so manic on this part of the island and we pass through some lovely tropical villages, one of which is having a craft market on the green. 
We stop and explore it. It is very new-age with soaps and oils and healthy aromatics, home-dyed clothes, jewellery, and even local fruit. The people are lovely. It is a nice window into Hawaiian communities which comprise people who have come to live here from all over, especially mainland USA. We meet a long-term local with her fruit stand. Girls eat a local mandarin. Sa buys a passionfruit. And also lovely island fragrance distilled by an Estonian woman, another long-term local.
We stop and explore it. It is very new-age with soaps and oils and healthy aromatics, home-dyed clothes, jewellery, and even local fruit. The people are lovely. It is a nice window into Hawaiian communities which comprise people who have come to live here from all over, especially mainland USA. We meet a long-term local with her fruit stand. Girls eat a local mandarin. Sa buys a passionfruit. And also lovely island fragrance distilled by an Estonian woman, another long-term local.
And we drive on through increasing habitation to our destination for this one last night - the Outrigger in Keauhou, Kona.
There was a major issue getting accommodation for this last night and our RAA agent could only do it for thousands of dollars. 
Sa found the Outrigger on booking.com and it is a triumph. We swoon and wish we had proper time here. The charge us $50 for early checkin and kit us out with the best room keys ever, ones which one wears on the wrist. The answer. Waterproof for swimming. We are rapt.
Sa found the Outrigger on booking.com and it is a triumph. We swoon and wish we had proper time here. The charge us $50 for early checkin and kit us out with the best room keys ever, ones which one wears on the wrist. The answer. Waterproof for swimming. We are rapt.
We have complimentary valet and service and a 4th floor 2-room family suite with two entrances two baths, and two balconies. The girls bliss out.
Garden, sea and mountain views; simply gorgeous.
While B fills the car we girls find the poolside cafe and order lunch, noting that one section of the resort’s huge pool is reserved for adults only.
We walk the superbly manicured grounds with their flower-laden frangiapani trees. Everyone takes a rest. The girls are really happy with their private balcony which is even in the sun.
The resort is big and needs some getting to know. but Ru is a natural navigator and leads us back to the pool area for swim buddies Sa and Ro to have a swim. It is not crowded. How refreshing. So is the ice-cold complimentary pineapple served poolside. 
They take their in the water time. It is their longest swim.
Ru lolls expertly and then accompanies Ro to discover where to get on the water slide. Whoosh! They found it.
The resort has a clubroom for guests and we are apparently members. Sa is welcomed with a big tote bag gift. Free snacks and drinks are provided. We pick at the options and sit out on a deck overlooking the sea. B goes to town and loads his plate, making a complete meal of the assembled appetisers. We try a bit, but Sa wants a real meal, 
We linger there watching the red-capped sparrows and the grand old sunset. Our last Hawaiian sunset. It is lovely. B posts a photo on FB.
We linger there watching the red-capped sparrows and the grand old sunset. Our last Hawaiian sunset. It is lovely. B posts a photo on FB.
Finding the hotel restaurant is a challenge but we do. It is large and dimly lit. There’s Hawiaian live music at one end, really good. Even a dancer. Soup of the day is carrot and ginger. Sa goes for it. B for seafood chowder. Ru has chicken fingers and chips while Ro felt she could not leave the USA without trying a cheese melt. The soups are not hot and the waitress replaces them and offers a free dessert as an apology. We choose a creamy macadamia towering treat of a thing, our last ritual shared dessert. Divine.
Packing and bed, Early start for the airport. Sigh.
Day 13
Even the melatonin kids are up before sparrowfart. Departure day. None of us has slept much. 5.30 is our exit time and the valet fails to front to take the cases. We lug them down ourselves and the valet helps load the Caddy.
We’ve given ourselves goodly time which is just as well because the famous Ironman competition is happening and roads are all sectioned off with cones and no one is driving. We are the only car. In some places, people are walking on the roads.
We’ve given ourselves goodly time which is just as well because the famous Ironman competition is happening and roads are all sectioned off with cones and no one is driving. We are the only car. In some places, people are walking on the roads.
But the mood is laid back with crowds growing along the route of the race. Finally, police direct us off this course and onto another which ends up being the main road to the airport. B drops us at departure and takes the car back to Herz. We find a woman booking passengers through the luggage and ticketing process for tips and take advantage of it. Suddenly, we are ticketed thru to Adelaide, albeit we have a night to spend in Sydney. 
The airport wait seems epic. Hurry up and wait, We buy the girls a pizza and for their parents some Mongoose brand Kona coffee. Very expensive. But we knew that.
The airport wait seems epic. Hurry up and wait, We buy the girls a pizza and for their parents some Mongoose brand Kona coffee. Very expensive. But we knew that.
It’s a short hop to Honolulu - just over an hour. But a scarily short turnaround in Honolulu, until we get there and discover that the protocols are less complicated and the airport is efficient.
Officials have been very nice to us throughout. Hawaii is definitely the place to enter and leave the USA.
The trip home feels long. It is long. And we have to spend a night at the Rydges Airport Hotel in Sydney. With all our luggage.
An early, early departure on the red-eye flight to Adelaide - and, reunion!!!
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