Dark pillars of lava rock stand tall in the surf, like sentinels guarding the shore. A frothing wave rolls, roils and slams the rocks with the force of more than a thousand miles of open ocean. And then another and another.
Rush, pound, boom, spray—so many sounds of turbulent water colliding with land. The moist air, sticky with salt, mists the tropical rainforest on this rugged, windswept coastline. It also mists my lips, hair and the front of my camera lens.
I’m standing on the Ke’anae Peninsula on the windward side of the Hawaiian island of Maui. In front of me, the Pacific Ocean stretches uninterrupted 4,000 miles to Japan. Behind me, the volcano Haleakala—Hawaiian for “House of the Sun”—rises more than 10,000 feet above sea level. Born of fire…
