Active lava flow during Mauna Ulu eruption at Kilauea (1969-71 ). Stiown here is the collapsed roof of a lava tube. Jeffery b Judd 



Hilo on May 8. The next day we met Tony Hlousek 

 and Kurt Lemke, technicians we had hired to help us. 

 We rented a U-Haul, a generator and a compressor 

 and picked up our supplies. Then we drove to the 

 home of Barbara Beardsley, a Hawaii resident and a 

 Field Museum volunteer for the Education Depart- 

 ment on her periodic trips to Chicago. 



We had enlisted Barbara's help to find a lava site 

 suitable for casting. We needed a flow that was not 

 too old, because the lava's surface is fragile, brittle 

 like glass, and quickly erodes. The site had to be near 

 a road so we could drive our tools and supplies right up 

 to it. Another stipulation was privacy: we did not 

 want to attract the attention of residents or tourists, 

 who might interfere with or damage our work. Bar- 

 bara knew all the places to look. We spent the after- 

 noon shopping for the perfect lava flow, and found it 

 at our last stop. The lava we chose had an attractive 

 "ropey" section right down the middle, and cracks and 

 pillow shapes all around. The front edge looked like 

 we could fashion it into the advancing front of lava 

 crossing a road — the way we planned to exhibit it at 

 the Museum. The road to the site was too rough for 

 ordinary cars, but the truck could make it. 



So, our first day's work was done. We had five 

 more days to make 400 sq. ft. of mold and mold 

 jacket, put together crates and pack them, move the 

 crates to Hilo, then fly on to Majuro, Marshall Is- 

 lands, some 2,500 miles to the southwest, for the next 

 stage of our fieldwork. Other than being interrupted 

 by rain a few times, and a momentary dread that a 

 new active lava flow might come our way and destroy 

 our work, things went fine. We did our best to placate 

 Pele, goddess of the volcano, whom we acknowledged 

 as responsible for our problems. We had heard that 

 she could be placated with offerings of flower leis or 



gin or cigarettes. So every day we brought one of these 

 items and did our best to present them in an accept- 

 able fashion. Maybe it helped. 



Our first task at the casting site was to remove 

 loose fragments and debris from the surface of the flow 

 with compressed air, making a clean surface for the 

 latex rubber mold. The first and second layers of 

 latex — a flexible material that could be pulled away 

 from intricate shapes and undercuts — were thinly 

 applied with a sprayer. The third layer was brushed 

 on thickly. The fourth layer consisted of burlap im- 

 pregnated with latex for added strength. The burlap 

 was tediously applied in small squares. Then a final 

 thick layer of more latex was brushed on. 



Once the flexible mold was finished, 

 polyurethane spray foam (commonly used for insula- 

 tion) was applied on top to serve as a mold jacket. 

 Since the latex mold was flexible, it would need the 

 support of the rigid polyurethane to hold its shape 

 when the casting was done. 



Next we cut the foam jacket into four sections, 

 pulled these off the mold, and cut the mold into four 

 pieces along the same seams as the jacket. Pulling the 

 mold from the lava was like a tug of war with a rope 

 made of broken glass. The latex was firmly attached to 

 the lava, clinging to every nook and cranny. Splinters 

 of lava ended up in our fingers, though we wore gloves. 



When jacket and mold sections were all removed 

 we transported them to Barbara Beardsley's house, 

 where her brothers, David and Bill, had built two 

 crates the size of Chicago bungalows. Somehow the 

 dimensions of the mold did not seem so great until 

 translated into plywood and two-by-fours. We packed 

 the molds and jackets into the crates, nailed them 

 shut, loaded them onto a flatbed truck and waved 

 goodbye. 23 



