Haleakala-Sea to Summit: Day 1

On Friday the 13th of December 2002, Ed Gilman, Mark Short, and I attempted to climb to the summit of Haleakala from the Kaupo Coast. We three had hiked Haleakala before but none of us had done so by way of the proposed route, which was up along a gulch named Manawainui (literally "large water branch"). The idea for this trip came to me while on a flight home from Hilo on the Big Island about a month before. During the fly-by, I had a clear view of Haleakala, particularly its southern flank, which extends from La Perouse Bay to the west to Kipahulu to the east. Manawainui is approximately midway along this southern coast and one of its features is how it heads almost in a direct line to Pu'u Ulaula (Red Hill), the 10,023 foot summit of Haleakala. So why not try to climb Haleakala from sea to summit? It certainly looked possible from the air. Whether it could be done in reality remained only conjecture.

On a Hawaii hiking listserv, I posted a blurb to see if there was any interest from anyone for the undertaking, and a handful of people responded affirmatively. A date was set and in the end, Ed, Mark, and I were the ones who could fit the trip into our schedules. Mark, who used to live in Kailua on Oahu but relocated to Paia with his family, expressed interest in bringing along his dog, an energetic Rhodesian ridgeback named Kimba. No one voiced any opposition to this and as it was, Mark decided to have Kimba along.

Because Mark lives on Maui, his help and the assistance of his wife, Mary, made ground transport and overall logistics much less complicated, not to mention less expensive. A few days prior to our trip, Mark had driven up to cache some canned food in the Polipoli area, where we'd hike and camp after we reached the summit. This was beneficial because we wouldn't have to haul two day's worth of food in our packs. In addition, Mark staged his truck at the hunter's check-in at the end of the paved road leading up to Polipoli. We'd use his truck to get us back to civilization.

Just before 10 a.m. on the 13th, Mary dropped us off along Piilani Highway where Manawainui Gulch emptied into the ocean along a dry, desolate section of Maui. We tossed stones into the sea as a ceremonial start of our hike and then set off upslope through lands formerly used for cattle grazing by Kaupo Ranch. I had brought along a map, a cell phone, and our camping permit for Polipoli, among other things, and placed this stuff in a ziplock bag. About fifteen minutes into our hike, I had a nagging feeling I had neglected to put this ziplock into my pack during the final preparation of stuff. Come to find out, I had indeed forgotten, having left it on the back seat of Mary's car. At this point, my epiphany would do us no good since Mary was long gone bound for home at that point. Accordingly, map-less, cell phone-less, and permit-less, we continued our adventure nonetheless, hoping for the best.

For the first hour, we followed an old ranch road up the mountainside, moving at a slow, methodical pace to avoid overexerting ourselves in the searing heat of the clear-skied day. The area, dominated by whitish brown grasses, reminded me of the initial section of ranch land the Dupont Trail on Oahu traverses before the Waialua forest reserve boundary. In fact, the whole hike was akin to hiking Dupont to Ka'ala, an elevation gain of 4000 feet, only the trek to Haleakala's summit would be like doing hiking the Dupont route two and a half times.

In the early going, trees were far and few, and when we finally found one--a healthy but seemingly out of place ohia--we naturally were compelled to plop down beneath it to rest and snack. We also noted how hiking like this made us appreciate some of the more mundane facets of our life, like sitting, shade, and water. Hauling packs with our bedrooms and kitchens and clothes closets in the heat of the day made us appreciate the things we normally take for granted.

Eventually, the old road we were following petered out, and we struggled through waist-high sections of lantana and other weeds. This was unpleasant and we all ended up with scratches on our arms and legs. To combat the heat, we all were wearing shorts but Mark decided to put on long pants, saying, "I'm tired of seeing myself bleed."

We found the way less obstructed right along Manawainui Gulch, so we veered off of lantana hell and stuck to this line, following either old cattle trails or goat trails. The Gulch in some areas was quite steep and deep, and on several occasions we spotted herds of wild goats down below or scrambling about on its far side.

One of the unusual things we encountered was a metal ladder that dropped down into the gulch. Apparently, the ladder was used at one time to service a PVC pipeline that fed a man-made waterhole, probably used as an H20 source for cattle but now just a parched and dry symbol of what used to be. Ranchers also constructed small dams in the gulch to pool water and the pipes tapped these pools.

A noteworthy landmark we were aiming for was a pu'u named Pane at an elevation of 4032 feet. Altimeter checks by Mark and I pointed to a fairly significant bump in the mountainside as the most logical candidate. We later discovered that a jeep road climbs beyond Pane, for in the early morning light of our second day, while camped at the 5500-foot level of the mountain, we saw the headlights of what we surmised was a hunter's truck making its way up and around Pane and past it.

Before setting up camp on our first night, we came upon several accessible water sources in shallow splinter sections of Manawainui. These were all appreciated by Kimba, who eagerly lapped up the liquid refreshment. Ed and I, too, replenished our water supply from one of these holes and used iodine to kill any nasties that might be lurking within. During this H20 acquisition, a foursome of four black goats came scrambling down an eroded spur on the side opposite of where we were. The animals had obviously come for water but we had beaten them to it! A stand-off and stare-down ensued, but we would not yield, so the goats, no more than 60 to 70 feet from us, backed off and bounded off on their way.

Further up the mountain above Pane we came upon plush grottos of hapu'u and uluhe-like ferns. Here, too, ohia and koa trees became more and more abundant. We had obviously left the dry lowlands behind and had hiked into a more temperate, dryland forest. Native birds were aplenty, with sightings of many apapane and i'iwi. This high up, we also heard a dog barking. We never did sight the dog and wondered what it was doing in such a mountainous locale. At about the 5000-foot level, we left the former ranch lands and crossed into the forest reserve--this boundary marked by a barbed wire fence which we had no trouble getting through. Above fenceline, nearby and unseen was a feral cow. We had seen cow pies way up on the mountain and we hoped not to come face to face with a wild bull. We never did but we heard the eerie moo of one less than 100 meters away.

As darkness neared, we found a suitable spot for our first night's camp, a relatively level but small area at the 5500-foot level where we could set up for the night. Since there were signs that the evening would be one of clear skies and light to non-existent winds, Mark said he would just sleep out under the stars. Following suit, Ed and I decided not to pitch our bivy tents and just sleep out sans-shelter like Mark. It was quite a nice location come to think, for we had views of not only the stretch of Kaupo Coast below us but of Mauna Kea, Mauna Loa and Hualalai, the three big peaks of the Big Island of Hawaii, all wreathed in feathery clouds.

Though I'm not an accurate predictor of how cold it became that night, I'd say the temps dropped into the mid to low 40s. And bundled up in three top and three bottom layers while wrapped up in my sleeping bag and my tent's rainfly, I still felt chilled!

Dinner for me was a glop made up of sardines, olive oil, and crushed wheat crackers. My mistake was using the spicy hot variety of sardines, which though tasty made me want to drink more water, of which I had only a limited supply. So I ate only part of my original portion of kaukau and augmented my evening meal with some peanuts and a protein bar. Yes, it was a Spartan diet but enough to supply energy for the next day's push to the summit.

During the night, we had clear skies overhead and clear views of the distant Big Island, with the twinkling of lights from the town of Hawi reminding us that there were people out there. I saw more than a few meteors streaking past overhead. Come to find out, this night coincided with the Geminid meteor shower. Nice. Despite the cold, we all slept reasonably well. And we had to, for Saturday would be the day we would have to make a hard push to attempt to reach the summit of Haleakala, several miles and several thousand feet of elevation gain away.