Haleakala Sea to Summit: Day 2

Ed, Mark, Kimba and I were all up and moving around by 6:15 on the second day, having roused ourselves after sleeping under the stars to be greeted by a cool, nippy morning at 5500-foot level of Haleakala's southern face. So beautiful was the sight of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa atop the clouds across Alenuihaha Channel that I knew I had to snap some photos of the view. Amazing and wonderful. I was using a disposable camera, the kind one can get on sale for $3.50 at Longs Drug Store, and my only wish was that I had brought along three of these instead of just two, for I ran out of shots!

I ate a granola bar, a protein bar, and some peanuts for breakfast, and chased this down with a few gulps of the remaining two liters of water I had. Meanwhile, Ed had some oatmeal and Mark some food he had brought, so we were fueled for the day ahead. Kimba, Mark's dog, took a liking to me because I shared some bits of food with her, and this might have been a mistake because every time I sat down to eat, she would look at me forlornly to the point where I felt compelled to give her more. Sometimes I did but other times I was just too hungry to share.

Mark and Kimba shoved off from our campsite, heading upslope into the unknown. About ten minutes later, Ed and I, having packed up our gear, set off, too. We climbed steadily from where we had camped. On occasion, the mountainside would level off briefly, making our progress easier, but most of the time we moved up, up, and up, steeply but never precipitously.

This section of the mountainsidee was filled with ohia trees. Never was the way cluttered or blocked and we easily wound our way through the forest as we climbed. Eventually, Ed and I caught up to Mark and Kimba resting on a knoll, and after a short rest together, we continued as a group.

We came upon a wonderful clearing, big enough and flat enough to build a home atop. "This is where I will build my dream house," I proclaimed, for the views and solitude would be sublime and the neighbors nil.

Continuing onward and upward, we spotted a white blotch on a spur ridge about 100 meters away. The blotch seemed to unnatural, man-made, in other words. And when we got close enough, we saw that the blotch was a white sign with the number 5 on it, and we zeroed in on it, taking the route of least obstacles to get there.

A check of our altimeters told us we were in the 6600-6800 foot elevation zone, where the topo map said we would intersect the Kahikinui Trail. Thank heaven for the sign, for it was very possible for us to continue ascending right past the trail and miss it completely. And if we missed it, we would have missed the opportunity to replenish our water at the Kahua Cabin, which the Kahikinui Trail led to.

Heading left from where we had found the sign, we enjoyed the tramp along the Kahikinui Trail. It was a wonderful respite from the continuous climbing we had been doing since we began the hike. Additionally, we were excited about the chance of seeing Kahua Cabin and the water source available to us there. We needed about half an hour to hike to the cabin. Just before arriving there, I got a shock when a hunter going after game birds fired in my direction. I yelled out to let him know I was there, and hearing me, he popped out from behind some brush, with a look on his face that indicated he was surprised that anyone would be in the area.

Just as we knew it would, Kahikinui indeed led to the Kahua Cabin, a small single-room structure with bunk space for four, propane stove, a sink, and a light powered by battery. There was a small lanai at the front of the cabin with lounge chairs for kicking back and relaxing. And, yes, we used these chairs with great delight. Huge plastic containers, each capable of holding several hundred gallons of water, lay next to the cabin, several being filled to capacity from the roof catchment system. Instead of using the water from these, we were able to replenish our supplies from a couple of store-bought gallons of H20 we found in the cabin. Apparently, hunters with excess had left it there for future users, and we were happy to oblige.

During our stop at the cabin, discussion focused on the route we would take to continue on to try to reach the summit. Behind the cabin, the mountainside rolled away steadily toward the skyline, peaking out at over 9000 feet. We had many lines to choose from but the one we decided to try was spur that connected directly to the mauka side of Pu'u Kahua. This way appeared viable because it seemed to connect to the main ridge at 9000 in a place that looked rocky enough to be climbable. Other lines climbed to steep cinder-laden areas that probably would have been hellish to ascend at sea level let alone in the thin air of 9000 feet with gear-laden packs on our backs.

During our planning talk, Mark said he and Kimba would not try for the summit but instead would spend time hanging out at the cabin and then hike back toward Polipoli on the jeep road (Kahua Road) that led to the cabin. We all were to rendezvous at a place called Ballpark Junction (elev. 7100), which is where Kahua Road met the Skyline Trail, the latter being another jeep road that climbed to the summit of Haleakala from Polipoli. Ballpark junction is also where Mark had stashed some canned food earlier in the week, so our sustenance for the next couple of days was there!

Saying farewell to Mark and Kimba, Ed and I shoved off at 10:30, hopeful we could reach the summit. From the spur behind Pu'u Kahua, we wound our way over rough sections of a'a lava and a multitude of spur ridges and sunken or collapsed lava tubes. The vegetation, though existent, was much thinner and sparser here. And this trend continued the further up the mountain we climbed. The route was never steep, though at a distance it appeared to be steep. The visual scale of things deceived our eyes, for what we saw as appearing daunting was not too bad when foot hit mountain.

The weight of our packs, the heat of the day--the latter being not bad because of the high altitude--and the ever-thinning air were our opponents. But it's amazing what we could achieve by plugging away step after step. I constantly checked my altimeter watch, seeing the numbers on it increasing steadily. When we hit 8000, I announced this to Ed.

Two hours after leaving Kahua Cabin, Ed and I reached the main summit ridge, elevation 9200 feet. We were moving like turtles mucked in thick goo at that point, the final 100 meters being super slow because of a section of ball-bearing like cinders and also the laboriousness of moving along in the thin air. Fortunately, we found some shade in the cleft of a collapsed lava tube, and we sat down there to rest and have lunch. As we did this, we watched two mountain bikers, oblivious to our presence, go zipping by down the Skyline Trail.

We left our packs at our rest spot and headed for the summit, carrying just enough water to get us up and back. I also had my camera for the obligatory summit shots to document the achievement of our goal.

Free of our packs, we moved much more easily and quickly, even given the high altitude. We also finally had a good trail to work with, the Skyline trail actually being a 4WD road. At one juncture, Skyline passed alongside of huge hills with radio towers and observatories atop them. Skyline then transitioned to a paved road and soon thereafter we were making the final ascent to the high point of the mountain, where we joined a smattering of tourists who had taken the easy (and sane) way to the summit.

At the bottom of the final stairway leading to the summit observatory,
there is a sign that says, "Walk slowly. High Elevation" or something of that ilk. Ed giggled at this, saying to me that we better heed the sign and slow our pace.

Once at the summit, Ed and I shook hands and then took turns taking pictures of one another next to the summit sign, elevation 10,023 feet. We didn't stay long, just fifteen minutes or so, for we still had a long hike ahead of us to meet Mark at Ballpark junction and then continue down to the campground at Polipoli. Our goal was to make it down the mountain before darkness hit, and this being December, darkness comes early. We even passed on hiking over to the visitors' center at the summit to get more water because that would have added another mile to our hike.

Instead, we hiked quickly and steadily down Skyline, stopping to retrieve our packs and to hydrate. There are many pretty views of the island on the way down, and we basked in this in our tired but euphoric state. Skyline moved steadily down the southwest rift of Haleakala, passing some huge impressive cones, one being Kanahau. At around 8000 feet we came upon a locked gate, put there to prevent motorized vehicles access to the summit. Further down, we passed the start of the Mamane Trail and parked there were a couple of trucks and their drivers. A couple minutes later, we arrived at Ballpark junction. No Mark. No Kimba. It was about 4:15.

We yelled out for Mark several times, thinking he might be napping under a tree nearby. No response. Maybe Mark had continued down to Polipoli, we thought, for he had told us this was a possibility.

So on to Polipoli we hiked, following the main dirt road down the mountain. An hour later, we arrived at the Polipoli campground (elev. 6200 ft). No Mark. It was 5:15. By 6:00, Mark had not arrived. But Ed and I proceeded to set up our tents and eat the food we had (remember that Mark had stashed some canned goods, some of which we had hoped to eat for dinner that night). Though it would have been a nice reward to heat a heartier meal that night, we were happy that we had made to Polipoli okay. We were confident Mark was okay, but we'd have to wait until the next day to find this out.

Darkness and cold came quickly at Polipoli, but we had plenty of warm clothing and gear to shield us from the elements. And we spent time talking story and just enjoying the solitude of the mountain. It was a Saturday night, but to us what day of the week it was was of no concern or consequence. We had even forgotten that Christmas was near, the mountain and the isolation obviously having a profound effect on obscuring thoughts of the real world. For I suppose where we were and what we were experiencing was our real world. And we were fine with that. Yes, we were.