FEATURE
“Dark and Silent” by Rob Pacheco, introduced by Sarana Schell
Thurston Lava Tube, the original cover photo in the March/April 2013 issue.
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION:
“Once inside, a child-like fascination and wonder takes over.”
The darkness and silence Rob Pacheco describes, marveling at its rarity in 2013, strikes me as even more powerful 12 years later. The darkness and close quarters of a cave can feel like a retreat, protected and primal—as Rob says, “Deep down, it seems, we all have an inner caveman waiting to get out.”
It also, he relates, is a place where wonder can bloom. Out of the spotlight of the artificial light so many of us spend our days in, away from the noise—literal and figurative—of politics and social upheaval, cynicism can drop away. A cave literally holds space for curiosity to unfurl. As long as we avoid flashlight beams, no one can see our faces as we turn our eyes up towards roots or stalactites dangling from cave ceilings, or to the sides where we might find unfamiliar critters. How cool is the name troglobite?! I want to see one!
As I take an imaginary lava tube tour with Rob, I imagine visitors’ focus likely shifts from not putting a foot wrong socially in the surface world, to not putting a foot wrong literally. The difference from open air, or from built enclosed environments like a metro system, is visceral.
A tropical scene of turquoise waters gently lapping at a white sand beach might be the archetypical image of a relaxing getaway, but the dark and quiet of a cave seems to offer a more fundamental reset: a welcome respite of a deeper nature.
ORIGINAL ARTICLE:
Dark and Silent
By Rob Pacheco
Twelve of us are standing silently in complete darkness and quiet. We are 1,200 feet inside of Kaumana Cave on Hawai'i Island, and I’ve just asked all my guests to find a comfortable place to stand, turn off their flashlights, and stay quiet. I count 30 seconds off in my head. Whispering, I ask if anyone can see anything. With whispers, they answer back, “Not a thing.” A young boy softly but anxiously asks if he can turn his light back on now, so I turn on a soft light and start a story. How often in our daily lives are we able to experience true dark and quiet? In our electrified, digital, 24-hour-on world, the answer is almost never. Each time I am able to get underground into one of the hundreds of lava tubes that permeate our island, I am struck by the lack of darkness and silence in my own everyday life. I’ve been guiding visitors into the lava tubes of Hawai'i for 20 years. With a few exceptions, people love caves or, at least, are fascinated by them. Deep down, it seems, we all have an inner caveman waiting to get out. Kaumana Cave, like most of the caves in Hawai'i, is a lava tube. Lava tubes are formed within lava flows and act as conduits to transport erupting lava downslope underground. It’s very likely lava is travelling through a lava tube on Kilauea volcano as you read this article. Kaumana is in a county roadside park and, other than a steep concrete stairway entrance, is completely undeveloped and left in its natural state. To get into its sizeable walking passage, it requires a stooped walk of about 15 feet. The floor is sharp, pointy frozen lava. It can be wet and drippy inside. And if you don’t have a good light, good luck. Like many caves, the natural resources within are fragile, and if you don’t know what you’re doing, they’re easy to irreparably harm. I like interpreting Kaumana because it is a quintessential Hawaiian lava tube. Other than the entrance stoop, it is easy walking for a couple thousand feet. It is covered in slime mold, it has aerial roots hanging from the ceiling, cave creatures called troglobites can often be found, and most importantly, our group is usually the only one in the cave. The cave, though not pristine, still has most of its speleological features intact. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination for a visitor to picture a river of 2,000-degree lava rushing through the passage. Kaumana, formed in the 1881 eruption of Mauna Loa, also has a very compelling storyline. The eruption threatened to destroy the town of Hilo until a royal Hawaiian chiefess visited the active flow and interceded with Pele to spare the city.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rob Pacheco is the president of and a naturalist guide at Hawaii Forest & Trail on the big island of Hawai'i.
The original cover from "Interpreting Caves," the March/April 2002 issue of Legacy. Photo courtesy of Paul Caputo.
Despite the wonderful geology, biology, and history to interpret at Kaumana, what really impacts and connects with my guests is just the act of going underground—spelunking. Kaumana is one of those places where less is more when it comes to guide interpretation. For most who walk down the steep stairs to the jungle floor of the pit entrance and get a glimpse into the black void, there is a little anxiety. For some, the fear is strong and they need some coaxing to get them under the stoop. Once inside, a child-like fascination and wonder takes over. It’s a remarkable place to be. By contrast, another lava tube we visit regularly on our Hawai'i Forest & Trail volcano tours is Nahuku. Located in Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park, Nahuku, also known as Thurston Lava Tube, is one of the most visited sites in the park and is developed for heavy visitation. Nahuku is not a wild cave experience, but it still offers a compelling interpretive moment.
People love caves or, at least, are fascinated by them. Deep down, it seems, we all have an inner caveman waiting to get out.
Nahuku, like Kaumana, has a beautiful rainforest setting but the path down into the crater entrance is an easy, paved walk. The cave passage is well lit and the floor has been smoothed flat. Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park receives over a million visitors a year, and a healthy percentage of those folks make the short walk through Nahuku. If you happen to arrive on a busy day, it’s not unusual to see multiple 50-passenger buses disgorging tourists in the parking lot. The biggest challenge for a rewarding interpretive experience at Kaumana is to make sure everyone gets in and out of the cave safely; at Nahuku the challenge is avoiding the crowds.
One of the great attractions to caves is the mystery and isolation of going underground. Sometimes Nahuku can seem like rush hour at a subway terminal. Nahuku doesn’t have any outstanding speleothems, there are no troglobites to be found, and certainly silence and engulfing darkness cannot be experienced, so the interpreter has to work a little harder. Nahuku does offer a dramatic opportunity to learn how a lava tube forms while standing inside of one. Its formation, and the collapse of the crater that allows access, is an important part of Kilauea’s complex summit storyline. Despite the access improvements, Nahuku still impresses most who visit, especially when they come to understand that Nahuku is just a short section of a lava tube system that includes the Kazumuru Cave, which is the longest and deepest lava tube on earth.
Providing our guests at Hawai'i Forest & Trail the opportunity to immerse themselves in the utter void of sight and sound at Kaumana is a powerful interpretive moment. But, even in the midst of throngs of tourists, Nahuku is also a place where our guests forge connections. Caves are remarkable geologic features that hold universal and deep meanings. Caves are a physical metaphor for the mystery of our world, they are direct conduits to our evolutionary past, and they are wonders that awe and inspire. Sometimes the interpreter needs to fill the void to help the visitor make these connections. Sometimes the interpreter just needs the dark and to keep silent.
