My Way Is The Highway

Kilauea Pit, Volcano National Park

It is no wonder Kilauea is called the world’s only active drive-in Volcano! You park your car, walk a 100 yards, take a seat by the stone retaining wall and lo – you see a sight like none other. Less than a mile away, on the hardened lava floor of the Halemaʻumaʻu crater , what looks like a gigantic blister that swallowed the sun, is a pit that has been burning since 1983. If ever one needs to a prototype for an “Entryway to Hell”, this is it.

It was past 10:00pm when I reached the lookout. The red glow can only be seen in the dark, during the days all you see is plumes of viscous smoke, There was a nip in the air and the caldera was cloaked in a shroud of silence. Big clumps of cumulus covered the full moon throwing an eerie shadow on the landscape.

I mounted my Nikon 300s on my tripod and took a few close up shots of the volcano using my Nikkor 18-200mm to zoom in. Since I wanted to capture a larger landscape, I mounted my Tokina 11-16mm, knowing well that the ultra wide 2.6 aperture will allow me to gather more light than my eyes could. With the lends wide open, I metered 8 seconds for shutter speed and recomposed my shots to gather more of the star studded sky and not to leave our the couple in the right bottom corner. A photographer standing next to me insisted on using his flash light, not aware that flash was futile at this distance, and I made sure I covered the eyepiece to prevent any additional, unwanted light tricking to the sensor.

The only post processing I did on this picture was to nudge the highlights slider in LightRoom to the right so that the sharp contours of the crater became apparent.

Technorati Tags: Kialuea,Volcano National Park,Hawaii,Hawai'i,Active Volcano,Halemaʻumaʻu crater,Nikon 300S,Tokina 11-16mm,LightRoom 3.0

Kilauea on Dwellable

Meeting Mr. Green Sea Turtle at Punalu’u Beach, Hawaii

He was splayed on the rock like a sinner at an altar, yet his face had the piety of a saint. His heavy shell heaved ever so gently to his belabored breath. Had he swam hundreds of miles to find terra firma? The surf pounding the green-brown rocks did not seem to bother him even a wee bit. He seemed content with his warm spot unmindful of the attention he was getting.

For me, this was a perfect end to a week in Hawai’i. I had been looking for green sea turtles all week long. I spent hours combing the Kahalu’u beach at Kona and Richardson beach at HIlo, both beaches known for Green Sea Turtle sighting, but to no avail.

Here at the picturesque black sand beach of Punalu’u, my quest was complete. My Hawai’i checklist was all ticked.

 

Photography Notes:
My Nikon 300S was mounted on a tripod. I had the  NIkkor 18-200 mm on to get real  close to the turtle without having to wade in the water. The sky was overcast. The surf was white as milk. There was very little contrast and color in the frame so I worked the  moss covered rocks into my picture. The diffused light allowed me to slow my shutter speed to 1/10th of a second to get the powder effect. I left the WB to auto as I was shooting RAW and I knew I could always adjust the WB in post-processing.

Post Processing Notes:
Most of my post-processing was focused on accentuating the turtle against the milky white surf. For this, I used the tone curve module in Lightroom and moved the Highlights and Lights slider to the left and nudged Darks and Shadows to the right. I also lowered the Exposure a notch and added a touch of Fill Light to lighten up the dark areas. I used the Blacks to define my absolute black point and the turtle popped out to my satisfaction. I saved the settings as a custom preset. I started the processing of every other turtle picture with this preset and made other minor adjustments.

Punaluu on Dwellable

Akaka Falls, Hawai’i on a rainy day.

Large, warm drops of rain drummed on the canopy of the lanai of Hotel Dolphin Bay in Hilo. It felt as if a naughty child was using my balcony for water-balloon target practice. The lush tropical greenery around me shimmered happily in the downpour. Nursing a mug of lukewarm coffee, thumbing a magazine that showed acres of sundrenched beaches, I was a big black thundercloud myself. I was positively fuming. The decision to leave behind the baking golden sands of Kona to come to Hilo to experience the tropical forest seemed idiotic not knowing a storm was backing into the bay from the pacific. Drip, drip, drip – I might as well be back in Seattle.

Then it struck me! On my drive along the Kohala coast, the highway dipping south hugging the eastern coastline of the Big Island of Hawaii, I had driven to the Akaka falls and driven out immediately after seeing the parking lots teeming with cars. Who would go there on a day like this? Plus, under such an overcast sky and the ensuing diffused light, I might not have to struggle too much to “stop down” the light to be able to show the shutter speed. I cursed myself. How could I have forgotten the most important of the Shinde’s Laws of Vacation, the one that forbids travellers from complaining about anything while on vacation strongly imploring them to “use every prevailing condition to further the cause of enjoyment?”

I was galvanized into a flurry of activity during which my camera gear was packed and stacked into the rented Wrangler and I was soon hurtling down state highway 22.  I was sufficiently gratified when I pulled into an almost empty parking lot of the Akaka State Falls. Grinning ear to ear, unmindful of being drenched, I took to the trail with a light gait. The viscous humidity, the enchanting smell of a wet jungle and the roar of falling water hit me just before I had my first breathtaking glimpse of the famous waterfall – a cylindrical valley covered in thick green foliage, a circular basin at the bottom, a tiny outpour four hundred twenty two feet above and thousands of gallons of water falling down in a steady milky stream. 

It took my eye less than a second to make and store that image.

It is an entirely different matter that after ninety minutes of struggling to shield my tripod mounted camera with a flimsy umbrella, manipulating wet dials with wet fingers, swatting mosquitoes feasting on my legs and repeatedly wiping the precipitation off the lens; I barely managed one exposure that I would not mind putting my name on, give or take the couple of blemishes it has.

As if a giant hand switched off a giant faucet, the rain stopped almost as soon as I was done with my last shot. Within a minute trouped down the trail a thick mass of humanity sheathed in polychromatic radiant parkas, carrying cameras of all form factors. Behind them, their kids followed, feet dragging, not knowing what all the fuss was about…

Ninole on Dwellable