63 Parks Traveler started with a simple goal: to visit every U.S. national park. Avid backpacker and public-lands nerd saved up, built out a tiny van to travel and live in, and hit the road, practicing COVID-19 best safety protocols along the way. The parks as we know them are rapidly changing, and she wanted to see them before it’s too late. Hawaii Volcanoes is her 61st park visit.

is brimming with duality. When I first arrived at the park, on the southeastern edge of the Big Island, I was surprised to find that the area’s lush, tropical foliage was punctuated by thick stripes of former lava flows that clung to the backside of Kilauea like black veins. Steam vents hissed clouds of noxious gases into the bright blue sky. But I knew that the earth here glowed from within.

Figuring that a ranger would have excellent suggestions for the best hiking trails through the pocky volcanic terrain, my friend Ave and I steered our rented VW Eurovan camper toward the and sauntered over to the help desk. It was morning, and our stoke was high when we heard that some of the best options began right where we were standing.

The two of us wandered down the , where the stench of rotten eggs and the radioactive-yellow color of sulfur crystals greeted us. Seeking a little more geological action, we turned right onto and began to traverse the edge of the most active volcano on the planet. Pausing at each overlook, we started to notice that wreaths of flowers had been left on many of the railings—offerings to the goddess Pelehonuamea.

Pele, also known as She Who Shapes the Sacred Land, is a deity of both creation and destruction. According to Native Hawaiians, she makes her home in the Halemaumau Crater, atop 4,009-foot Kilauea, and though her volatile, unpredictable forces might wipe out a swath of verdant rainforest with a torrent of molten lava, she is also the mother of nascent earth itself. Since 1983, more than 70 acres of new land have been added to this side of the island.

A few days before my flight for Hawaii left Los Angeles, Kilauea began for the first time since September 2018. What luck! Having never seen lava before in person, I was determined to witness the birthing of new ground firsthand. Ave and I walked back to the van and set off for our next point in the park.

Afternoon saw us trekking along the 5.3-mile , which explores the crater of a massive 1959 eruption. I found myself utterly charmed by pioneer plants hardy enough to begin the work of eroding the dark volcanic rock into soil. Flamboyant pops of red and green graced the trail as we passed whimsical ohia lehua trees, standing like sentinels to guard the storied landscape.

At dusk we returned to the Kilauea Caldera, waiting out the last of the sunshine to marvel at the glowing red chasm of active eruption happening within it. The healthy tropical greenery all around us betrayed the apparent devastation and rupture deep below. The park was a paradox, an invitation to hold two truths in equal measure in my mind. After so much pandemic upheaval, it was a skill I’d begun to find necessary.

Birth and death. Creation and destruction. The essential ingredients of life, I mused as the solid ground from my viewpoint descended hundreds of feet into a luminous pink lake of fire. Something about facing the truth head-on made me feel more fearless than I had in a long while. I held my breath in awe.

63 Parks Traveler Hawaii Volcanoes Info

Size: 323,431 acres

Location: The Big Island of Hawaii

Created In: 1916 (Hawaii National Park)

Best For: Volcano viewing, hiking, Native history, geology, scenic drives

When to Go: Thanks to its tropical location, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park maintains a relatively warm, humid climate throughout the year; however, summer (54 to 74 degrees) sees a bit less precipitation. Winter (49 to 68 degrees) is considered high season for the Hawaiian Islands, while spring (50 to 71 degrees) and fall (54 to 73 degrees) are shoulder seasons and see fewer crowds.

Where to Stay: I opted to rent a vintage Eurovan from the lovely folks at . This, paired with a rural Hipcamp near the national park, made it easy to snack, sleep, and saunter whenever we wanted. In addition, Hawaii Volcanoes hosts : Namakanipaio, which has restrooms, potable water, BBQ pits, and picnic tables, and Kulanaokuaiki, more rustic first-come, first-served dry camp with vault toilets and picnic tables.

Mini ���ϳԹ���: Take an easy hike along , then go for a scenic drive. If you’ve only got one day in the park, you’ll be remiss if you don’t spend some of it circumnavigating the immense Kilauea Caldera and gazing out at the steam and smoke rising from the volcano’s eruption. Afterward, take a winding drive along the 19-mile , which begins near the Kilauea Iki overlook and continues past decades of old lava flows before reaching the park’s coastal district and some seriously stunning ocean views.

Mega ���ϳԹ���: Splurge on a helicopter tour for breathtaking panoramas of the Halemaumau Crater from above and witness the raw power of molten rock turning into new earth. offers an epic Circle of Fire trip ($369), which departs from Hilo, on the island’s east side, and flies travelers past umber-tinted cinder cones and red lava fountains inside Hawaii Volcanoes.

Also, while you’re on the Big Island, you may want to hike . Volcanoes National Park at 4,000 feet above sea level is a good place to acclimate for the 13,804-foot hike.

Editorial note: Check with the Park Service for the most up-to-date ��of active areas, as closures can happen at any time depending on eruptive activity.

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It doesn’t matter where I am in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park—standing at the Kilauea Iki overlook, which��has views of a��mile-long crater, peering into steam vents along the edge of Kilauea Crater, holding my breath at the sulphur banks along the —the inner geologist in me stirs.

I’ve been visiting this national park for decades, and every time it’s different. I’ve walked along newly formed ledges at night, the black igneous rock crunching under my hiking boots, to watch 2,000-degree molten lava��tumble into the ocean. I’ve pulled over on the side of the 18.8-mile Chain of Craters Road, lain��on the hood of my rental car, and gawked at a night sky blanketed in stars. I’ve witnessed lava fountaining in the distance, reminding me of this park’s mystic roots—this is the sacred home of the fire goddess Pele, whose unpredictable nature is the force the shapes the land.

Located on the southeastern side of the island, the mammoth��333,308-acre national park is ever changing, due, in large part, to Kilauea, one of the island’s two active shield volcanoes that, up until 2018, had been continuously emitting lava��from Puu Oo, a volcanic cone in Kilauea’s eastern rift zone, since 1983.��Kilauea has experienced��destructive eruptions throughout the decades, like Kalapana in the late eighties��and Kapoho in 1960. But in May 2018, an unprecedented event��in both scale��and strength��forced the longest shutdown in the park’s history—134 days—as lava and earthquakes took out trails, park buildings, roads, and water systems;��destroyed more than 700 homes in the nearby Puna district; and consumed beloved Kapoho Bay, a favorite spot for snorkeling and swimming. And although the volcanoes’ volatility is a danger, it is��also a source of life.

This national park is dynamic and diverse. It stretches from sea level to the summit of 13,679-foot ,��the largest volcano in the world, and boasts rugged coastlines, lava fields, lush rainforests, sacred cultural sites, barren desert landscapes, and alpine tundra. There are plenty of places where you can still be alone, despite the more than 1.5 million visitors who flock to the park every year.

What You Need to Know Before You Go

Kilauea is not erupting—at least not right now. This is the most asked question by visitors, and for good reason. The park recently experienced one of the longest continuous eruptions��ever recorded, and for those 35 years,��people could witness the marvels of volcanism up close—hiking to vents where steam rose��from groundwater hitting hot volcanic rock, flying over active lava flows in helicopters, even taking boat tours to watch molten lava seep into the ocean. “We had the most accessible place to see lava in the world,” says Ben Hayes, the park’s chief of interpretation and education. “It’s become an expectation. People ask, ʻWhere’s the lava?’ and our answer is, ‘It’s all around you.’ We still have amazing things to see and experience.” That said, experts believe Kilauea will likely erupt again��soon.��“Hawaiian Volcano Observatory scientists tell us magma is again moving back to the summit, but no one knows when it will erupt again. There will be signs—earthquakes and elevated levels of volcanic gas—but for now we just don’t know,” says��park spokesperson Jessica Ferracane.

It will be colder and wetter than you think.��Located on the island’s southeastern side and partly made up of rainforest, the park can get more than 200 inches of rain in a year. (The islands average 17 inches of rain annually.) When Hurricane Lane struck Hawaii��Island in August 2018, it was the second-wettest cyclone on record in the U.S., dumping three feet of rain in two days within��the park alone. And with an elevation of��4,000 feet above sea level,��temperatures here are substantially lower than at an oceanfront resort. Lows are in the forties and��highs are in the sixties, regardless of��the time of year. “We get a lot of rain. That’s just the Hawaii-volcano experience,” Hayes says. “You need to be prepared. Layers and rainjackets.”

Avoid Tuesdays. This is the day when Pride of America, a cruise ship that sails around Hawaii, docks in the eastern town of Hilo and lets out hundreds of passengers��who head straight to the national park for the day. Park staff call it “Turn Left Tuesday,” because��they encourage��visitors to turn left after entering the park to avoid the ��and head to the coast along ��first, as crowds will typically hit sights like the Kilauea Iki Trail that leads up to the volcano and Nahuku (a.k.a. the Thurston Lava Tube), both located near the visitor��center,��before venturing to the coast in the afternoon.

Parts of the park are still closed. In May 2018, the summit area of the park was severely impacted by thousands of earthquakes, which caused rockfalls and damaged buildings, roads, and trails. The park reopened in September 2018, and most of its most popular spots, including the recent reopening of , are up and running, but a handful of sites remain closed, including the overlook at the ,��parts of ,��and Iliahi Trail, a 1.2-mile rainforest loop hike. , which is precariously perched at the edge of Halemaumau Crater, is��permanently closed as a result of the��crater’s collapse, which went from a depth of 280 to 1,600 feet. A short section of Crater Rim Drive, near the museum, is still closed because��the adjoining overlook and parking lot were swallowed up by the crater. The closure��of certain areas has��also reduced the number of parking spaces in the park—finding an open spot��midday can be tough, so plan to arrive early at popular sites.

How to Get There

The nearest airport to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is��Hilo International, about 30 miles to the northeast. It’s an easy, direct drive along Route 11 (Hawaii Belt Road) to the park’s entrance. Along the way you’ll pass through the sleepy towns of Kurtistown and Mountain View, where you can stop by the family-run for a cup of locally grown brew. If you’re coming from the western Kona Coast, the drive will take around two hours, a lot of it through desolate lava fields. If you are coming from this direction, though, you can make a pit stop at Ka Lae, also known as South Point, the southernmost point of the 50 states. Looking directly south, out at the Pacific, the nearest landmass is Antarctica. Seriously.

When Is the Best Time to��Visit Hawaii Volcanoes National Park?

This is Hawaii, so the weather doesn’t vary much month to month, with temperatures averaging between 66 to 85 degrees throughout the year. It does snow on Hawaii Island in the winter months—at the summits of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea—but that likely won’t affect your visit. Unlike other U.S. national parks that see��an influx of visitors during certain seasons, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is busy year-round, thanks to the island’s��sublime weather and moderate climate.

Winter

There are really only two seasons in Hawaii: wet and dry. November to March is the rainy season, with higher precipitation on the north and east shores. The weather during these months can often be mercurial: one day it’s blazing hot, another you might wish you’d packed a parka. Winter is a peak season for travel in Hawaii, though, with mainland visitors escaping to the islands from colder climes. It’s also the time when monster surf hits north-facing shores, luring��expert wave riders and curious spectators. And thousands of North Pacific humpback whales make their annual migration from Alaska��to Hawaii’s warmer waters during these months to mate and give birth. This spectacle boosts the number of cruise ships docking on Hawaii Island, and, according to Hayes, these passengers are likely to visit the national park.

Spring

The weather tends to stay cool and wet during the start of spring, making it a good time to visit, as the peak season tapers off and typically busy spots in the park aren’t as crowded. You’ll likely find better rates at nearby hotels, too. The park does get a surge of visitors during spring break; around the weekend of the annual , a weeklong��hula competition in Hilo, in April; and during Golden Week, a stretch of Japanese holidays that run from late April through early May, which brings an influx of Japanese visitors to the islands.

Summer and Fall��

June and July are exceptionally busy at the park, with families on vacation and gorgeous warm weather luring folks outdoors. Due to its altitude, the area around Kilauea tends to be about 15 degrees cooler than along��the coast, which averages 85 degrees, making for great hiking and camping weather. But June through November��is also��hurricane season in the islands, when��tropical storms can bring torrential rain and whipping winds. To avoid the crowds, plan to arrive at the park by sunup, hitting the more popular trails early. Other pathways��in the park, like the easy 1.2-mile Kipukapuaulu Trail, which��cuts through an old koa and ohia forest, are often uncrowded, even during summer and fall months. And if you really want to get away, head to the park’s Kahuku Unit on the southerly slopes of Mauna Loa, about an hour drive southwest from the Kilauea Visitor Center. This 116,000-acre former ranchland was acquired by the park in 2003 and is open to the public five days a week. Hike to the top of a cinder cone,��walk along a historic ranch road to��see tree molds and lava flows from 1868,��or bike through scenic pastures for some of the best panoramic views of the area. You can also book ranger-guided hikes.

Where to Stay

In the Park

(from $220), the only hotel in the park, is perched on the rim of the Kilauea caldera, with a view of Halemaumau Crater. Originally built in 1846, this historic retreat has since been restored��and has 33 guest rooms and ten cabins. It also houses a popular restaurant, the Rim, with live music every night. You can walk to the Kilauea Visitor Center from here. If you’re an active-duty or retired member of the military or a Department of Defense employee or sponsor, you can stay at , which occupies 50 acres in the park. Once a working military post, the camp converted its 90 cottages and apartments into vacation lodgings, with a fitness center, café, general store, and bowling alley available to guests (from $72).

The park also features two drive-in campgrounds: Namakanipaio and Kulanaokuaiki. Both operate on a first-come, first served basis.��, operated by Volcano House, has 16 campsites (from $50) surrounded by fragrant eucalyptus and native ohia trees, with restrooms, running water, picnic tables, and barbecue pits. It’s located at 4,000 feet elevation, so nighttime temperatures can dip into the low thirties. , meanwhile, sits��at an elevation of��3,200 feet and offers��eight campsites (from $15). You can also hike and camp in the backcountry (register or in person, and pay a $10 permit fee per trip) and find yourself completely immersed in the park at one of eight campsites. , on the southern coast of the park, is one of the more popular backcountry sites��and can be accessed via the 11.3-mile Puna Coast Trail, 8.5-mile Keauhou Trail, or the 8-mile Hilina Pali Trail. The site sits on a small, secluded sandy beach dotted with coconut trees.

Beyond the Park

Just outside the park’s main entrance, right off Mamalohoa Highway (Hawaii Belt Road), is the quaint town of Volcano—called Volcano Village—where you’ll find a variety of lodgings, from the rooms and cottage at the rustic (from $145)��to the more upscale , where you should book the Sanctuary Cottage, a 200-square-foot hexagonal space with floor-to-ceiling windows and an outdoor bath hidden amid the foliage (from $230). There are even more options in Hilo, about 30 miles northeast of the park. The��, just a few miles from downtown Hilo, sprawls over 42 lush acres on a cliff overlooking a 120-foot waterfall—the state’s largest privately accessible waterfall (which means no crowds)—with several Asian-inspired, off-the-grid cabins (from $99). The��, a DoubleTree by Hilton, sits on Hilo Bay with 388 guest rooms, 19 suites, and a nine-hole golf course (from $175).

What to Do While You’re There

Hiking

With more than 150 miles of trails, Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is best explored on foot. Hikes range in difficulty from easy walks and half-day treks to challenging expeditions through the park’s wild backcountry. One of the most popular options—and my personal favorite—is the four-mile , which reopened in its entirety in September��(it was damaged by earthquakes during the 2018 Kilauea eruption). The terrain varies, starting in a forest of native ohia trees and endemic hapuu (Hawaiian tree ferns) and ending��with a walk across the massive Kilauea Iki Crater, which was a seething lava lake spewing��lava fountains of up to 1,900 feet��and now looks like the surface of another planet.

For an easier trek, check out the one-mile stroll along the paved , which meanders through a stark landscape buried by falling cinder from the lava fountains of the 1959 Kilauea Iki eruption. More experienced hikers—and those looking for some solitude—can tackle��the backcountry Maunaiki Trail, which traverses the harsh Kau��Desert for two miles to the barren summit of 3,034-foot Maunaiki��and offers��sweeping views of the park. You can continue beyond the summit for another seven miles to Hilina Pali Road, past craggy cinder cones and fissures and across fields of broken, jagged lava. There’s no water and very little shade, so, as with all hikes, bring sufficient water and sun protection.

Biking

There aren’t many places in the world where you can cycle through lava fields. Rent a bike from ��and ride along the 8.8-mile Chain of Craters Road to the coast, stopping at the Puu Loa petroglyphs, the largest petroglyph field in Hawaii—there are more than 23,000 images—and a sacred cultural site dated between 1200 and 1450 A.D. Or book a guided excursion��with , which has several options, including a full-day, 15-mile tour of the park from Kilauea Crater��down Chain of Craters Road��to the ocean.

Bird-Watching

Hawaii is a great destination for bird-watching, primarily because of its collection of unique and rare species, many of which are found nowhere else in the world. More than one-third of all U.S. birds protected by the Endangered Species Act reside here. Endemic birds such as the iiwi��(scarlet honeycreeper), amakihi (Hawaiian honeycreeper), elepaio (monarch flycatcher), nene��(Hawaiian goose), and io (Hawaiian hawk) can all be spotted at the park. The most accessible place to seek out��Hawaii’s endemic forest birds is on the , a 1.2-mile loop through pristine native forestland in an area referred to as “bird park.” Grab your binoculars and go��in the morning when these small birds are most active. Better yet, book a tour with (from $209), which hosts excellent bird-watching outings. And since the American Birding Association finally included Hawaii as part of��its ABA Area in 2016, serious birders can now count the island’s avian species��on their life lists.

The Best Places to Eat and Drink Around Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

With two million visitors to the park every year—and only one on-site restaurant located at the Volcano House hotel—it’s no wonder eateries and food trucks have popped up in Volcano Village, the small town just outside the park. A favorite is , a casual spot that serves locally caught fish, shrimp from Keahole, on the westernmost point of the island, and killer baby-back ribs with a house-made Fuji-apple barbecue sauce. Its specialty, though, is wood-fired pizzas, best paired with the local beers on draft. For authentic Thai food, check out��, found at nearby , about a five-minute drive from the park.��Portions are big, and prices are great. For something to bring into the park, Eagle’s Lighthouse Café, next door to Ohelo Café, serves sizable deli sandwiches, hearty soups, salads, and baked goods.

If You Have Time for a Detour

Spend some time in Hilo, on Hawaii Island’s east coast. Here��you can visit the lively ; I recommend Wednesdays and Saturdays, when the daily market swells to more than 200 vendors selling everything from seasonal fruits to Hawaiian-grown coffee. For poke, a dish made with cubed raw fish, visit the no-frills , an iconic fish auction and market right on Hilo Bay. Locals hit up for its speciality: strawberry mochi—a large strawberry encased in pillowy-soft, sweet Japanese rice cake. You need to order ahead for these treats, but you can also just pop in and grab a variety of other mochi filled with sweet adzuki (Japanese red-bean paste), peanut butter, or chocolate brownies. (Cash only, FYI.)

Right in town, you’ll find Rainbow Falls, named for the rainbows that show there in the early morning. And if you didn’t do enough hiking at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, head to , about 11 miles north of Hilo. A short half-mile hike wanders through a lush rainforest before reaching the first waterfall, the 100-foot Kahuna Falls. Just around the bend is the star attraction: 442-foot Akaka Falls, which cascades into a stream-eroded gorge.

How to Be Conscious

Due to the volcanic nature of the park, it’s especially important to only use open and marked trails, as cliffs, cracks, and steam vents are scattered throughout. It’s also important to leave rocks alone. Park staff often use ahu (stacked rocks) to mark trails. This is not an invitation to do the same. It’s culturally insensitive, not to mention��disorienting to hikers. And taking lava rocks is believed to bring bad luck; hundreds of people return them to the park every year.

Hawaii was the first state in the U.S. to ban plastic bags, so you’ll need to bring your own reusable totes or expect to pay for paper bags at shops and stores. Plastic goods are next—the state is gearing up for a massive ban on single-use plastics, to include��disposable plates, utensils, and straws, starting in 2021. It��has also banned the sale of sunscreen containing reef-harming chemicals, a law that will go��into effect in 2021.

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Yes, the Kilauea volcano on Hawaii’s Big Island is erupting. The lava started flowing in early May, and last week, the U.S. Geological Survey changed the advisory warning on Kilauea to , warning that a major eruption is imminent or underway.

But here’s the good news: You don’t need to cancel your upcoming vacation to the Aloha State. The rest of the island chain is untouched by lava, ash, and poor air quality, and of the Big Island’s 4,028 square miles, less than ten are currently affected by the eruption. In fact, if you didn’t have a trip booked, now might be a good time to plan one, thanks to reduced visitor numbers, killer last-minute deals on flights, and a chance to help out relief efforts.

Here’s what you need to know about visiting Hawaii right now.

Hawaii Volcanoes National Park Is Closed

You can’t visit Hawaii Volcanoes National Park right now, which is closed indefinitely as a safety precaution. But if you were set on seeing a national park during your trip, ��on Maui is a fine substitute, and flights there from the Big Island run daily. Haleakala means House of the Sun, and watching the day break from atop the 10,023-foot summit is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Be sure to , as it can get crowded.

Kona and Hilo Remain Unaffected

If you’ve already planned a trip to the Big Island, chances are you’re staying on the Kona Coast, the isle’s most popular tourist spot. About 100 miles away by road and literally on the opposite side of the island from the eruption, the region has reported no change in��air quality. Hilo, another popular tourist town, is closer to the volcano—approximately 40 miles away—but there’s still no impact from the volcano as of now.

You Can Get a Glimpse of the Eruption

The air space over the volcano is closed, so scenic helicopter tours are a no-go, and you can’t get close enough on the ground for a good look due to safety issues. But if you’re a lava chaser, you’re in luck. You can see the glow of lava splatter from the sea. departs from Hilo twice daily in a high-speed boat for 90-minute dawn and dusk tours of the volcanic coast on the easternmost tip of the island. Plus, the company is currently offering discounted rates of $150.

Getting There Is Cheap

All airports on the island of Hawaii are open and operating with no interruption. Plus, airlines have stellar discounts right now to remind people that the islands are open for business. has flights from Oakland or San Jose, California, to Kona for just $219 each way, and has deals from the mainland to the whole chain. If you already booked a ticket with them and want to reschedule or reroute, they're��also a one-time reservation change without extra fees.

Nearly All Lodging Remains Open

Those who rented a vacation home in the Puna area near the volcano or were planning to stay at Aqua-Aston Hospitality’s , located within Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, will need to make alternative plans. Aqua-Aston will happily offer a refund or transfer you to one of more than , including three on the Big Island, like the beachfront condos at (from $180). Otherwise, hotels around the Big Island would all love to have you.

You Can Help Relief Efforts

More than 1,800 residents of the Big Island have been evacuated from their homes, and local businesses are doing their part to help. You can chip in, too. At , a restaurant in the quiet town of Waimea, $2 from every dessert sold goes to the local nonprofit spearheading relief efforts. And if you book a tour online with , which offers a zip-line over a 250-foot waterfall in Hawaii’s Akaka Falls State Park, you can add a��donation that will go directly to a relief fund.

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The Pace of Formation had been floating around the brainstorm board at for the last��three years. When a weather window opened up��and lava became legally accessible they immediately jumped on a flight with very few logistics in place. Upon arriving in Hawaii, they were mesmerized by the ever-changing landscape and sheer heat that the lava produced. Their guide shared that they could��get as close as they could handle, which for him was when he'd singe the hair on his arm. In order to get the shots, they had to get��up close and personal with the lava, which hadn't existed only days before. They were walking on a brand new piece of earth.��Find more from Givot Media and and .

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Nestled in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, on the rim of the Big Island’s Kilauea Caldera, guests of enjoy views of the glowing crater and plumes of volcanic steam from their beds.

National Parks Centennial

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The 33-room hotel dates back to 1846 but received a multimillion-dollar face-lift in 2013, including a new restaurant, the Rim. Now guests can hike to the Napau Trail and view the gaping Puu Oo eruption, then chow down on locally sourced delicacies like pan-seared Kona kampachi and Hilo-coffee-rubbed lamb. The next day, the Thurston Lava Tube is just a quick spin away on the lodge’s complimentary cruiser bikes. From $285.

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Patient zero was probably in Puna, a lush, wild district not far from Volcanoes National Park on Hawaii’s Big Island.��In 2010, the U.S. Forest Service and University of Hawaii started getting calls from distraught landowners in the area��about ohia trees on their properties. Ohias,��the��bright, flowered trees that��dominate��nearly 50 percent of the island-state’s forests, are known for their ability to thrive nearly anywhere across the archipelago. But a swath of them had withered mysteriously and died in a matter of weeks.

It perplexed��Flint Hughes, a Forest Service ecologist on the Big Island. Groves of aging ohia trees, which can live for 600 years, often die off together when they reach old age, but these were young trees that had turned brown and wilted. More calls started coming in from across Puna, all reporting the same problem: the ohias were dying, fast.

The Forest Service was stumped. It��wasn’t until 2013, when Hughes and another ecologist��checked��on a particularly resplendent patch of forest owned and protected by the private Kamehameha Schools system, that the severity of the matter became apparent. The two men had been there a month earlier checking on seedling mortality. But rather than gazing at a grove of healthy trees, they stood over an ohia graveyard. The��trees were alive a couple weeks ago,��Hughes remembers thinking.��“That was the alarm going off.”

Hawaii is a veritable bastion of sub tropic flora and fauna, and the Forest Service has addressed numerous ecological crises in the 57 years since the island cluster earned statehood. But whatever was killing the ohia threatened to leave much deeper wounds. The trees are a —they make up a huge majority of its canopy, and provide coverage for low-lying plants and food and habitat for honeycreeper birds—and are central to native Hawaiian culture.

In ancient Hawaii, ohia was a byword for strength, sanctity, and beauty, says Sam ‘Ohu Gon, senior scientist and cultural advisor for the . Ancient Hawaiians used the tree’s strong wood in canoes, spears, and homes; it was also the premier material used in temples, offering platforms, and oracle towers. When an ohia tree was removed from the forest for carving into an idol of the warrior god, Ku, tradition demanded a human sacrifice. “It’s a fundamental part of the intellectual foundation for Hawaii,” says Gon. “You can tell the whole history of Hawaii with ohia,” Hughes adds.

In 2012, diseased ohia covered about 2,300 acres in Puna. By 2014, dead ohia littered more than 15,000 acres of pristine rainforest. The disease was marching across the island of Hawaii, uncontained. Terrified the scourge would spread to other islands, the state government formed task forces and funded studies.

And yet, the disease remained a mystery. The very basics—the mechanism that causes the affliction—were unknown. Was it caused by volcanic activity? Seismic damage to roots? No one knew. It was maddening, Hughes said. “The trees that get hit by this become the breeding ground—they become the vectors. They sustain the disease so it can kill other trees around it. It’s really diabolical. It’s a lot like other pathogens that impact humans,”��Hughes��says.��“I refer to it as ‘tree Ebola’ in talks if I really want to get people’s attention.”

For 70 million years, Hawaii existed in relative isolation. The plants and species that slowly arrived on this collection of volcanic rocks in the middle of the Pacific hitched rides on traveling birds or floated in on the waves. Over millennia, they evolved into completely unique species, unseen anywhere else on earth. The list of Darwinian creations on the islands includes the ohia tree.

It’s not surprising, then, that the arrival of man irrevocably��altered this tropical Eden. We introduced deer that trampled through the undergrowth; pigs that ate ground-nesting birds; weeds that choked out native plants; fire ants that roam the beach. The ecological history of Hawaii, especially in today’s globalized world, is a story of continual invasion.

“We’re the invasive species capital of the world, I’m sure,” Hughes says, laughing. The cause of the disease, it seemed safe to assume, was another invader from beyond the breakers, imported by us. But still no one was sure just where it came from or how it got there.

By 2014, ecologists at the Forest Service and University of Hawaii tropical forest extension in Hilo��knew they needed help, says J.B.��Friday, an extension forester with the University of Hawaii College of Tropical Agriculture and Human Resources. Lisa Keith, a plant pathologist with the , got the call from a researcher at the university��who had found fungi in samples of dead ohia. Could she take a look? “We needed to learn as much as we could as fast as we could,” she says. She began by taking the samples and performing “tree autopsies.” The inside of the ohia were discolored and showed signs of infection. The killer, it appeared, was clogging the tree’s vascular system, shutting off its��water supply.

“There was a lot of stuff growing” inside the trees, Keith says, “but we’d constantly find Ceratocystis fimbriata.” A strain of C. fimbriata, a fungus and plant pathogen, was introduced to Hawaii��decades ago, but records showed it had No one had ever seen the fungus do something like this to ohia.

Keith introduced pure cultures of the fungus into healthy ohia seedlings and waited. For months, nothing happened. Then one day a symptom appeared—browning leaves, discolored bark—and within one to two weeks the plant was dead. The fungus was likely a new strain of C. fimbriata, Keith and researchers realized, never before seen in the wild. It turned out the fungus could incubate inside trees for years (two to five for mature ohia), reproducing and slowly colonizing the��ohia. “The tree can survive for a while—until it’s finally had enough,” Keith says.

The��finding��was dramatic: it’s exceedingly rare to discover a fungal strain attacking a new species (or “novel pathogenicity,” to the scientists involved),��let alone to make the discovery in just a matter of months. As for the disease’s origin, no one could be sure, but experts assumed the fungus hadn’t originated in Hawaii.��Keith and her cohort called the plague but Hawaiians came to know it by a different name: Rapid Ohia Death.

Finally��the disease had a name and officials had some inkling of what they were dealing with. State agricultural and forest employees quickly alerted the public and, in the summer of 2015, they to prevent to the spread of Rapid Ohia Death, or ROD, from the Big Island .

“Ohia trees cover more than one million acres statewide and ohia is widely considered the most important forest tree in Hawaii,” Suzanne Case, the head of the state’s Department of Land and Natural Resources, . “They are so important for protecting our forest watersheds that it’s necessary our approach to combating this disease involves the highest levels of government and include non-government agencies.”

The fungi spreads like a virus, so transporting infected ohia wood to a new area could spell disaster. (In quarantine inspections of ohia wood leaving the island, Hughes says, about 60 percent is infected with ROD.) It is so tenacious, Keith and officials believe, the fungus can be transmitted through dirty tools, like chainsaws, and even woodland creatures or the wind, since the microscopic fungal spores need only a small wound to enter new trees.

If nothing else, Keith’s studies showed how aggressive the fungus was. The question became not How do we cure ROD?��Keith says, but “How can you slow its spread? How can you manage something like this on a large scale?”

Greg Asner��is up in the air every morning by 7 a.m. hunting for ROD. The skies are clearest early, he says. A Carnegie Institute for Science researcher and Stanford professor, is in high demand around the world. Last year, Asner used laser-guided imaging spectroscopy to in California’s drought-starved forests.

In Hawaii, where he’s lived for over 30 years, Asner ��through the sky. He retrofitted a hulking twin turboprop Dornier Do 228—a utility plane with enough room for 28 passengers—and packed its fuselage with high-tech imaging equipment to take the vital signs of foliage below. The silver and green “Carnegie Airborne Observatory” can identify trees under “physiological stress,” i.e. starved for water and potentially suffering early stages of ROD. Until Asner took up the case in January, all the surveys of ohia on the Big Island had been distinctly low-tech—ecologists either looked for browned trees in a helicopter or��trudging through thick forests, looking for dying trees.

The view from 6,000 feet has not been good.

The extent of the disease is “worse than people think, even worse than Flint [Hughes] knows—and Flint knows better than anyone,” Asner says.��“I’ve worked on invasive species for 20 years,��and I’ve just never seen anything this virulent.”

But Asner, in his flying laboratory, isn’t just counting the dead. He is mapping out where trees are surviving the fungus. It’s part of a nascent, last-ditch plan from Keith,��Hughes, Friday, and their respective departments to help the trees save themselves. It’s an idea, Asner says, that he can’t get out of his head: “We go out there, find the survivors, direct Flint’s field team to go collect seeds, then get Lisa [Keith] in there to find out physiologically why there might be resistance in there.”

“Just like when the Bubonic plague was going through Europe and people were dying by the millions, there were those that pulled through,” the Nature Conservancy’s Gon says. “They were the progenitors of the population after.” University of Hawaii conservationists are already for a seed bank,��in preparation for the tree’s potential extinction.

The plan to find the survivors won’t take effect until summer, at the earliest. Until then, Hughes and the teams of scientists working on ROD have their work cut out for them. In January, officials confirmed the disease had spread to ��and near��, home of the Ironman championships. If the disease continues unabated, it will redraw the landscape of Volcanoes National Park and beyond.

“Worst case scenario is that it spreads statewide and it decimates all of our ohia forests,” Robert Hauff, forest health coordinator at the state Department of Land and Natural Resources, told reporters in December. “It's a pretty bleak picture.”

There have been some successes, though. The fungus has so far been contained to the Big Island, which seems to experts like a minor miracle, and a public awareness campaign has residents chipping in to prevent the spread and protect one of the island’s most storied trees.

In the beautiful grove of ohia trees where Hughes first realized the severity of the disease four years ago, ROD has taken its toll. The Kamehameha Schools, which owns the forest, understood the importance of the ohia, Hughes says. Before the outbreak, the schools'��land manager was working to protect the forest from another invader. “They were in the process of putting in a very expensive feral ungulate-proof fence around the entire parcel” to keep wild boar and other non-native hooved animals from wrecking the ecosystem, Hughes says. Today, the state-of-the-art fence stands around an area decimated by ROD, protecting nothing.��

After the mechanism of ROD was finally unraveled, the Kamehameha land manager was devastated. “He just about broke down in tears,” Hughes says.��Had his fencing spread the fungus? Was he to blame? The Forest Service veteran��did his best to assuage the land manager’s guilt. The disease was completely absent��four years ago, he said. No one could have known.

Last month, in hunting for the source of the fungus, Keith and her colleagues identified what they think may be its��origin in Hawaii. The pathologists have found strains of the deadly fungus in a South American��species of ornamental vine—the kind you'd install in your garden to give it that “tropical” feel—imported and��sold in nurseries on the Big Island. It's just another plant humans have brought to the Aloha State, Hughes says.��“We’ve been playing Russian Roulette with our ecosystem for decades, if not centuries,” he says.

“In terms of blame,” Hughes says, “we are to blame, unfortunately.”

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