Before cracks started forming in roadways near Leilani Estates in Puna last spring, prompting area residents to grapple with evacuation issues, Kilauea had been erupting virtually non-stop for more than three decades, with sporadic bursts of lava flowing to the shoreline.

The three-month eruption, which started May 3, 2018, destroyed more than 700 homes, displacing an estimated 3,000 people. The lava and accompanying earthquakes also rattled roads and infrastructure now in need expensive repairs.

As county leaders size up the scope of recovery plans, the geological spigot is relatively subdued. But that could change. Even with volcano scientists monitoring the Kilauea’s plumbing, a fresh flare-up could sputter with relatively little warning. That quandary lends plenty of legitimacy to the question of whether it’s appropriate to rebuild.

Final decisions on relocation programs or future development in the lava zones aren’t expected until the end of this year or later. In the meantime, some displaced residents and others are pushing Hawaii County to take action, as nearly 130 permits have been issued to build or rebuild, with almost half in the hard-hit Leilani Estates residential subdivision.

It’s unclear why, while the vision for future in this corner of Hawaii island is being sorted out, the county has failed to put in place a moratorium on building in high-risk areas. It should have. Moving forward, the state’s and county’s best interest is served by discouraging the redevelopment in zones deemed as high risk for lava inundation.

Such policy is rational; and all rebuild debate is certain to be anchored to how far to go down this less-than-stable path. Also, there should be reasonable limits placed on aid for displaced property owners, given that these homeowners assumed risk when they decided to build in a lava zone.

The county’s tally for tangible “lava impacts” from last year’s eruption adds up to about $800 million, with more than a one-quarter of that figure tied to damaged roads, waterlines and other public facilities. While there’s no collective figure for the value of destroyed homes, the county estimates that damage to private property has reduced its tax rolls by $296 million.

The state and federal governments have provided or committed more than $300 million in recovery funding and loans. Federal aid covers lava and flood impacts tied to damage done when Hurricane Lane hit the island last summer; state funds are for lava only. Also in the works, according to U.S. Sen. Brian Schatz, is the possibility of “tens of millions” of additional funding from the federal Community Development Block Grant Disaster Recovery Program.

Given the promising picture for overall financial aid, there’s an understandable impulse to rebuild on relatively inexpensive land in Lower Puna that the U.S. Geological Survey has designated as Lava Zone 1 or 2, which are the highest-risk zones. But prioritizing the pouring of a large amount of recovery money into such a makeover would be a mistake.

The wiser tactic, it seems, is for the county to fold attractive buyout incentives into relocation, starting with a pilot program that it’s now putting together to help residents move to safer areas on a voluntary basis.

Kilauea’s fiery output of a year ago — the biggest in some 200 years — is both humbling and awe-inspiring. In the wake of destruction, spewing lava created some 875 acres of new land edging Kapoho Bay.

The odds of another molten flow oozing down the same path are slim. Still, in high-risk lava zones — and in areas where land is susceptible to repeated flooding that wipes out homes — thoughtful relocation, with buyouts, may be the only adaptive strategy we have that enables people to get out of harm’s way, forever.