Lala weakens to tropical storm after battering Hawaii; 1 dead, 183,000 without power

One person died in a car accident; search-and-rescue operations launched after flash floods swept homes off foundations in coastal communities; 100+ homes destroyed.
This is a different level of damage. It's literally catastrophic.
The manager of Punalu'u Bake Shop surveying three feet of mud left by floodwaters through the beloved local business.
Mark

Why does it matter that Lala didn't make landfall? Isn't a near-miss still a disaster?

Mimi

A near-miss is still a disaster, but it's a different kind. Landfall would have meant the full force of the hurricane hitting the island directly. Instead, the storm skirted past, which meant the winds were somewhat less intense at ground level—but the rainfall and storm surge were still catastrophic. The Big Island dodged a bullet it hadn't faced in 155 years.

Mark

What about the people living off the grid in improvised housing? Why are they particularly vulnerable?

Mimi

They're vulnerable because their homes aren't built to code and often aren't insured. When a mudslide comes, there's no structural protection. When flooding happens, there's no backup power, no municipal water system. They're self-reliant by necessity, but that self-reliance has limits when nature is this severe.

Mark

The Punalu'u Bake Shop—why does that matter beyond just one business?

Mimi

It's a symbol. It's a beloved place, a major local employer, a tourist destination. When something like that gets three feet of mud through it, it's not just property damage. It's the destruction of something that held the community together. And the manager called it "catastrophic"—that word choice tells you something about how residents are processing what they're seeing.

Mark

What does "self-reliant" mean in this context?

Mimi

It means people have learned to prepare for emergencies because they know help might not arrive quickly. They stock fuel, fill water tanks, keep generators ready. It's not paranoia—it's the accumulated wisdom of living somewhere that gets hit hard periodically. Bobby Camara, at 75, has lived through enough storms to know the routine.

Mark

Why mention the 1871 hurricane specifically?

Mimi

Because it anchors how rare this threat is. The Big Island hasn't been directly hit by a hurricane in 155 years. That's longer than most people's lifespans. So when a storm like Lala approaches, it's not just another weather event—it's a generational reckoning with a hazard that's mostly theoretical in living memory.

  • Flash floods in Na'alehu and Wai'ohinu lifted occupied homes off their foundations, triggering urgent search-and-rescue operations involving the National Guard and Coast Guard.
  • 183,000 customers lost power, three hospitals switched to generators, and the beloved Punalu'u Bake Shop was buried under three feet of mud — the human and economic toll mounting by the hour.
  • Meteorologists warned that mountain elevations could absorb up to 35 inches of rain, with mudslides threatening residents living off the grid in improvised housing across the island's interior.
  • The Big Island narrowly avoided its first direct hurricane strike since 1871, but hurricane-force winds continued into the overnight hours and tropical storm warnings spread westward toward Maui, Oahu, and Kauai.
  • Longtime residents drew on deep reserves of self-reliance — generators fueled, water tanks filled, chain saws ready — as the island braced for what the night would still bring.

For the first time in a century and a half, Hawaii's Big Island stood in the direct path of a hurricane — and while Lala ultimately skirted landfall, the storm made its presence felt with devastating force. One life was lost, more than a hundred homes destroyed, and nearly 200,000 people left without power as rainfall approached three feet on the upper slopes and flash floods tore homes from their foundations in coastal communities. The event is a reminder that nature does not require a direct blow to leave a lasting wound, and that islands shaped by volcanic fire are no less vulnerable to the slow, relentless power of wind and water.

Hurricane Lala passed Hawaii's Big Island on Sunday without making landfall, but the storm left quietly for no one. Even as it weakened to a tropical storm, hurricane-force winds and nearly three feet of rainfall on the upper windward slopes had already claimed one life in a car accident near South Point, destroyed more than 100 homes, and knocked out power for 183,000 utility customers across the islands.

Governor Josh Green catalogued the damage in stark terms: three hospitals on generator backup, nineteen roofs torn away, and in the coastal communities of Na'alehu and Wai'ohinu, flash floods that appeared to have swept occupied homes clean off their foundations. Civil defense teams, the National Guard, and the Coast Guard launched search-and-rescue operations as Mayor Kimo Alameda worked to account for residents in the early morning hours.

The rainfall posed a threat as serious as the wind. Meteorologists warned that the slopes of Mauna Kea could absorb as much as 35 inches of rain, turning rivers into torrents and raising the specter of mudslides in areas where residents live in improvised off-grid housing. The National Hurricane Center noted that wind speeds on mountain terrain often run 30 percent stronger than the near-surface readings used to classify storms — meaning conditions on the ground were worse than official designations implied.

At the Punalu'u Bake Shop in Naalehu, a community institution and significant local employer, floodwaters left behind roughly three feet of mud. Manager Zachary Kennedy surveyed the wreckage and called it "literally catastrophic" — a loss that felt like more than property damage to a community that had long claimed the bakery as its own.

The Big Island had not faced a direct hurricane strike since 1871, and while that record held, the reprieve was incomplete. Hurricane-force gusts were forecast to continue overnight, and tropical storm warnings extended westward to Molokai, Lanai, Kauai, and beyond. Longtime residents like 75-year-old Bobby Camara and fire captain Mike Caputo had prepared methodically — generators, water reserves, chain saws — drawing on the self-reliance that island life demands. As the storm moved on, the question was no longer whether the Big Island would be spared, but how long the reckoning would take.

Hurricane Lala slipped past Hawaii's Big Island on Sunday without making landfall, but the storm had no intention of leaving quietly. As it weakened into a tropical storm, the island was still being hammered by hurricane-force winds and drenched by rainfall that would eventually reach nearly three feet on the higher windward slopes. The damage was already mounting: one person dead in a car accident near South Point, more than 100 homes destroyed, and 183,000 utility customers sitting in darkness across the islands by mid-afternoon.

Governor Josh Green surveyed the wreckage and counted the losses methodically. Three hospitals were running on generator power. Nineteen roofs had been torn away. But the numbers only told part of the story. In the coastal communities of Na'alehu and Wai'ohinu, near the island's southern tip, flash floods had apparently lifted occupied homes right off their foundations, prompting an urgent search-and-rescue operation involving civil defense, the National Guard, and the Coast Guard. County Mayor Kimo Alameda described the scene early Sunday morning as residents were still being accounted for.

The rainfall itself posed a threat as severe as the wind. Meteorologists warned that higher elevations on the Big Island, dominated by the towering Mauna Kea volcano, could receive as much as 35 inches of rain. Rivers were turning into raging torrents. Mudslides were becoming a real possibility in areas where some of the island's 210,000 residents live off the grid in improvised housing. The National Hurricane Center cautioned that wind speeds atop mountains and on windward and leeward slopes often run 30 percent stronger than the near-surface winds used to officially categorize storms, meaning the actual conditions on the ground were worse than the official designation suggested.

The Punalu'u Bake Shop in Naalehu, a beloved tourist destination and significant local employer, took a direct hit. Water rushed through the factories and retail store, leaving behind about three feet of mud. Zachary Kennedy, the manager of the Hawaiian sweet bread bakery, stood in the wreckage and tried to find words adequate to the moment. "This is a different level of damage," he said. "It's literally catastrophic." The shop had been a fixture in the community, and its destruction felt like more than just property loss.

The Big Island had narrowly escaped something it hadn't experienced in 155 years. As the eye of the storm passed the island's southern tip, the possibility of a direct hurricane hit faded. National Weather Service meteorologist Joseph Clark confirmed that landfall was no longer expected. Yet the reprieve was incomplete. Hurricane-force winds were forecast to continue into the overnight hours, with the strongest gusts likely in areas of higher terrain. Tropical storm warnings remained in effect for Molokai, Lanai, Kahoolawe, Kauai, and Niihau as the system moved westward, raising the possibility of destructive flooding and wind-driven wildfires across the island chain.

Many residents were drawing on hard-won experience. Bobby Camara, a 75-year-old lifelong resident staying at a care home just outside Hilo, had decided to "hunker down, cross my fingers, and hope the lights don't go out." He watched as gas stations filled with people seeking fuel for chain saws and vehicles. "I think stocking up is part of life over here," Camara reflected. "You learn to be self-reliant." Mike Caputo, a 50-year-old fire captain living in Keaau on the Big Island's east coast, had his power generator ready and his 10,000-gallon home water tank full. His main concern was flash flooding and fallen trees, particularly the albizia trees that grow extremely large but lack structural integrity. "They can make roads impassable," he said.

Lala had intensified rapidly, jumping from a tropical storm into a hurricane early Saturday as its maximum sustained winds climbed to 75 miles per hour, earning it a Category 1 designation. The last hurricane to make landfall on the islands came in 1992, when Hurricane Iniki, a Category 4 storm, struck Kauai. The Big Island itself hadn't been hit directly since 1871, when a Category 3 hurricane struck the northeast corner. The storm that was bearing down on Sunday represented a rare threat to a population that had grown accustomed to near-misses. As the night wore on, the question was no longer whether the Big Island would be spared, but how much damage the storm would inflict before it finally moved on.

You definitely want to be home, do not be out on the roads.
— Governor Josh Green
I think stocking up is part of life over here. You learn to be self-reliant.
— Bobby Camara, 75-year-old Big Island resident
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