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JEFF

Jeff Brian drove his secondhand former rental Jeep through the pre-dawn darkness of the ‘āhihi-Kīna‘u Natural Area Reserve south of Wailea on Maui. Despite the early hour, he was wide awake; it was three hours later in Silicon Valley, from whence he’d returned after wrapping up a programming project.

Jeff kept both hands on the wheel to steady the jumpy rear-wheel drive Jeep; the road was narrow and rough, barely maintained where it cut through the black crumble of an ancient lava flow. Heading for La Perouse Bay at the end of the route, Jeff’s range of vision was limited to what the headlights illuminated. Even using high beams, the most he could make out were the rugged shapes of hardened lava along the road’s edge.

His new photography mentor Randy had suggested Jeff would find lots of interesting things to capture past the road’s end and had told him where to go—and not to go. “The state wants those Natural Area Reserves to truly be reserves. Limited access, no camping, no commercial activities. Protecting ‘āhihi-Kīna‘u has been a challenge because it’s the easiest reserve area to get to on the island. Out on the edge of the lava flow where it meets the ocean, there’s great diving and a couple of the best snorkeling spots I’ve ever been to. But too many people were damaging the coral in the coves, getting lost in the lava fields, or getting hurt and needing rescue, so they shut off access. Except for a couple of places near the entrance, you can’t even park along the road or walk on the lava.

“To get there, drive through all the way to the parking lot at the bay just beyond the NAR boundary. Hike east, keeping the ocean to your right. You’ll find some neat scenery and the remains of an old Hawaiian village. You may see a pod of spinner dolphins out in the bay, too. You’re in for a treat.”

As a new resident, Jeff was eager to explore such a unique area with his camera. He’d been working remotely for a couple of years as a freelance programmer, and since his last project was completed, he’d planned to take a few weeks off to explore his new home. This tip from Randy at Maui’s Camera Club meeting promised to be something special.

The rough road petered out at a gravel parking lot. Jeff parked near the shoreline, facing the water. To his right was a private home, and then a barbed wire fence that signified the boundary of the Reserve.

Getting out to stretch, he gazed at the heavens above. Still an hour before dawn, indigo skies to the east featured a faint brightening along the outline of the volcano, but it was still too dark to shoot. The bay in front of him was a dark well probably a mile wide and half a mile from the shore to the open sea. Having checked the location on Google Maps before leaving his hotel, Jeff had an idea of what he was looking at.

After strapping his tripod to his camera backpack, Jeff shrugged the rig onto his shoulders. He carried water, energy bars, and a brimmed hat for later. His heavy-duty shoes were ideal for navigating the trail through the jagged lava. Turning on a headlamp, he found a faint trail over the black stone and started hiking east.

The trail meandered through rough, crumbling black lava—but was easy to follow with his headlamp. He passed some symmetrical piles of rock, wondering what they were, and a few low rock walls. The path followed the shoreline closely, going under the tough, drought tolerant kiawe trees in places.

Jeff’s goal was a massive lava cape that jutted out into the ocean nearly a mile away. The trail led there, but he wanted to arrive before daybreak. Once he reached his destination, he planned to take his time shooting the sunrise as it hit the water before slowly working his way back to the parking lot. On the return hike, the sun would be behind him, lighting the rugged scenery. He hoped he’d get lucky and see dolphins, as his buddy Randy had said.

When Jeff finally reached the vantage point he’d targeted, he took a moment to watch as the deep indigo sky slowly paled into a lighter blue—and then suddenly, dramatic rays burst forth on the opposite side of the massive bulk of Haleakala, forming a corona behind the volcano’s magnitude. He then turned and photographed the clouds on the western horizon, painted by the emerging, rising sun: first a light pink, then orange, yellow, and finally cream.

The waters in the bay, which had been nearly black, began to change: deeper blues appearing far from shore, aqua tones in the near shore waters, white foam where the waves rolled over the lava shoreline. He shot backlit photos of the breakers coming in, their foam tinged with sunrise.

He set off back across the lava plain and studied the volcanic stone, entranced as daylight revealed fantastical shapes and colors. Not just black, the lava’s strata flaunted a spectrum of browns and grays, some rich cinnamon red-oranges, and some pockets of an almost peacock hue.

Slowly working his way back, Jeff stopped to photograph trees, waves rolling up onto lava shelves, and ancient, crumbling rock walls that seemed to be the remains of an old village. He was close to the parking lot when movement on the water caught his eye: dolphins.

He switched lenses to zoom in on the amazing mammals, catching silver glints of sunshine reflecting off their sleek backs as they swam along the surface. Occasionally one would leap up into the air and swirl on its axis before splashing back down.

“Ah. Spinner dolphins.” Jeff grinned in amazement as he watched them frolic and eventually swim out to sea, disappearing around the point to the west.

A different movement on a lava flow caught his eye, and he aimed his camera in that direction. Through the telephoto lens, he could make out a human form moving around in the shadows of a rocky depression. The person was wearing a black shirt, dark pants, and had long black hair in a ponytail.

Jeff adjusted the camera’s focus to sharpen the image, capturing his subject bending over something hidden against a rock column. It appeared that he—or she—was taking pictures of whatever it was.

Out of curiosity, unsure what the person was doing trespassing off the beaten path, Jeff fired off a few shots. He frowned as the figure stood up, glanced around, and then jogged away, pushing a large handcart through the lava.

“What was that all about?” Jeff muttered. He loaded his gear into his backpack carrying case. “Doesn’t matter. I got the shot with those dolphins.”

Jeff hiked back to his Jeep. He drank some water and headed for the Cove in Kihei to do some standup paddleboarding and cool off. He had a plan to meet some photographer friends on Haleakala for another shoot tomorrow, but before he did that, he would edit the photos he’d taken today.

If only he had someone special to share his move to paradise with. Maybe he’d meet a girl tonight when he went to his favorite bar and pizza hangout, the South Shore Tiki Lounge in Kihei. The place had a casual, upbeat vibe where anything might happen—from a one-night stand to falling in love.

Jeff wouldn’t say no to a hookup, but he was hoping for more. “Maybe she’ll show up today,” he muttered, navigating out of the parking lot. “Would be great to find someone special to share this place with.”