It would be difficult to visit any of the Hawaiian Islands and not learn about at least one of the ancient myths that tie their natural beauty and the volcanic formation.

With the news Sunday of the earthquake off the coast of Kona on the Big Island, a personal aloha of sadness was felt all the way to Posey Lake in Michigan. Aloha means love just as it does hello and goodbye. My love of the islands and the lasting friendships made there are always with me, but seeing reports of the destruction rekindled tales of island lore and visits to Kona and Hilo.

If you visit all of the islands enough you learn that each has an individual personality, but they share the common denominator of volcanoes that formed the chain millions of years ago.

Active and dormant volcanoes on the Big Island are visited by thousands of tourists each year. Mauna Kea, 60 miles long and 30 miles wide and said to be the most massive mountain on earth, and Mauna Loa, slightly shorter, are dormant volcanoes on the Big Island. Haleakala on Maui is dormant. It is a popular place to watch the sunrise, and there are tent camp sites on the crater floor.

The earthquake news provoked speculation of what made Madame Pele so mad. Pele is the goddess of the volcanoes in one of the most popular Hawaiian myths. The story goes that she made her nest at Halemaumau Crater because of a bad childhood. The story tells believers that life as a goddess in the volcano isn't so heavenly and when the pressure gets too much, Pele blows her stack. Her hot temper has made her one of the most revered gods because her tantrums can be seen and felt in slight eruptions and in earthquakes.

Pele is as mischievous as she is temperamental. She likes to drink gin and to eat ohelo berries, which are sacred.

After hearing the myth on our first visit to Hilo several years ago, about Pele's wrath if she didn't have gin, we granted her wish. Not only did my friend and I take $20 from the food budget to buy Pele a fifth of gin, but we wrapped the bottle in paper and tied it with ribbons and orchids and then threw it wildly into the volcano.

Less ambitious gifts to Pele, such as colorful leis, are seen on the roadside. Early believers donated pigs to the deep crater.

My Hawaiian memory book, which began in the 1960s and has been repeated more than 30 times, is thick with notes and photos.

The two Big Island cities are Kona, which we associate with regional coffee, and Hilo, where tourists swarm to see the black rock paths volcanic eruptions have left. The paths are labeled with the year the eruption occurred. Visitors have a choice of several Hilo helicopter companies that take customers over the volcanoes. Helicopter passengers always hope the volcano will misbehave during the fly-over and they will get a bird's eye view of the action.

Even when the volcano is quiet, the view of the crater and the vast desolate acreage surrounding it is worth the trip. When a volcano is active at night, it's bumper-to-bumper traffic down the mountainside to the Pacific shoreline to get a glimpse of the fiery red lava flow and bubble as it moves slowly into the ocean. It is the only place in the United States where the land mass is growing.

On the 2007 visit to Maui, I must make the 40-minute flight to the Big Island. I want to take Pele a bottle of gin and ask her what made her so mad last October. If she answers, I will let you know.