Late at night, with the headlights of the Jeep lighting the wet, narrow asphalt road thru Volcano Village, we pulled onto a short, gravel driveway.
Ira Ono was in his shop working on textiles or maybe ceramics. The glow from the windows lit the path, and we were able to figure out the gate latch and walk around to the workshop door. Ira said hello from beneath bright strands of multicolor yarn hanging from the ceiling.
He showed us the way to the cottage. Showed us the tiny porch, the lights, the luxurious shower and how to work the door. He told us to make ourselves at home and to enjoy our stay. And he wished us good night.
With that, we had arrived.
This was Volcano. The destination of destinations on our trip. Our final stop. The object of many years of longing for the fair and industrious geologist standing beside me. She held my hand with a broad, contented smile on her face.
A tiny, cozy cottage to ourselves that she had discovered in her many researches. A café and a gallery and a garden with hidden spaces that we would explore later. Kilauea up the road. Hilo down the road.
Yes, we had finally arrived.