Hawaii 2015: Haleakalā Volcano
Wednesday, 26 August 2015 08:41![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iguana
This is where Emily and I got engaged!
We actually made two trips to Maui to visit Haleakalā, first accompanied by a friend of Emily's where we took a trip around the whole island, and a second time when a cancellation for one of the cabins inside Haleakalā's crater meant we could go and stay the night there.
Sunrise at the summit
The sunrises at Haleakalā's 3000m summit are said to be some of the most beautiful in the world, but you have to have the right weather for it. The first time we went we had two mornings put aside to attempt to see it and then walk down the 800m slope into the "crater" inside. This involved waking up at about 3:30am in order to make the hour's drive up Haleakalā Highway, 25 miles of switchbacks, to the car park at the top (only in America!).
On the first morning we reached the top still hoping that the band of cloud we were driving through would dissipate by sunrise. It didn't! The summit was covered and visibility was no more than 10 metres or so. The summit is always pretty busy but everyone was in good spirits about it, making lots of jokes regarding the lack of view. We did at least feel smug about bringing winter clothing all the way to Hawaii as not many of the other tourists seemed to realise that it's barely above freezing point at that altitude after a 11 hour night.
We stuck around for a while after sunrise to see if it would clear so we could do our hike, but it didn't. Instead we got some wonderful rainbows cast on the other side of the summit.
The cloud had cleared enough that we checked out the beginning of "Sliding Sands" trail to see if it was as slippy as the name suggested, and then made other plans for the rest of the day - visiting the ʻĪao Valley and Big Beach (more on those later).
The next morning (our B&B provided on a great breakfast for both mornings - thank you Kula View) we passed through the clouds and came out above them at the summit. We found a good space to watch from in front of the shelter at the peak, and soon the sun emerged, lighting up the clouds in red and orange, and slowly lighting up the valleys of the crater below us.
The sunrises at Haleakalā's 3000m summit are said to be some of the most beautiful in the world, but you have to have the right weather for it. The first time we went we had two mornings put aside to attempt to see it and then walk down the 800m slope into the "crater" inside. This involved waking up at about 3:30am in order to make the hour's drive up Haleakalā Highway, 25 miles of switchbacks, to the car park at the top (only in America!).
On the first morning we reached the top still hoping that the band of cloud we were driving through would dissipate by sunrise. It didn't! The summit was covered and visibility was no more than 10 metres or so. The summit is always pretty busy but everyone was in good spirits about it, making lots of jokes regarding the lack of view. We did at least feel smug about bringing winter clothing all the way to Hawaii as not many of the other tourists seemed to realise that it's barely above freezing point at that altitude after a 11 hour night.
We stuck around for a while after sunrise to see if it would clear so we could do our hike, but it didn't. Instead we got some wonderful rainbows cast on the other side of the summit.
The cloud had cleared enough that we checked out the beginning of "Sliding Sands" trail to see if it was as slippy as the name suggested, and then made other plans for the rest of the day - visiting the ʻĪao Valley and Big Beach (more on those later).
The next morning (our B&B provided on a great breakfast for both mornings - thank you Kula View) we passed through the clouds and came out above them at the summit. We found a good space to watch from in front of the shelter at the peak, and soon the sun emerged, lighting up the clouds in red and orange, and slowly lighting up the valleys of the crater below us.
Down one side...
Equipped with a lot of water and a day's worth of hiking food, we walked the down the Sliding Sands trail, a gravelly track that would probably be more slippery in the wet. The weather was fine - when roughly a kilometre above daytime cloud height, the sky is a wonderful uninterrupted blue. The landscape is very near barren on this side of the crater, and there was no vegetation or even soil as we descended. However, the ground, rich in iron and other minerals, was surprisingly colourful.
As we got further down our 800-metre vertical descent we encountered the exceptionally rare silversword plants. The particular species in Haleakalā grows only in the crater, while the related species on Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea on Hawaiʻi are equally rare.
The plants are named for the silvery look of the leaves, which are covered with fine hairs to trap moisture. The shape of the leaves also focus the sunlight to the centre of the spherical formation to help new growth. They live for around 50 years and will only flower once before dying -- a tall shoot rises from the middle and blooms dozens of deep red flowers. Up close the flowers betray their heritage, which is the sunflower.
We reached the floor of the crater and explored for a little bit, including climbing up a small brightly-coloured hill, Ka Moa o Pele, whose name translated to Pele's Paint Pot.
We took climbing back up slowly, since at 3000 metres there is only 70% of the oxygen compared to ground level (though, living at 1000m in Volcano, I was acclimatised to 90% oxygen) but made good time. We felt so pleased with ourselves after making it to the top -- 800m is, after all, a greater prominence than all but two mountains in England and Wales -- that we each bought a scout-style embroidered badge from the gift shop at the top.
Equipped with a lot of water and a day's worth of hiking food, we walked the down the Sliding Sands trail, a gravelly track that would probably be more slippery in the wet. The weather was fine - when roughly a kilometre above daytime cloud height, the sky is a wonderful uninterrupted blue. The landscape is very near barren on this side of the crater, and there was no vegetation or even soil as we descended. However, the ground, rich in iron and other minerals, was surprisingly colourful.
As we got further down our 800-metre vertical descent we encountered the exceptionally rare silversword plants. The particular species in Haleakalā grows only in the crater, while the related species on Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea on Hawaiʻi are equally rare.
The plants are named for the silvery look of the leaves, which are covered with fine hairs to trap moisture. The shape of the leaves also focus the sunlight to the centre of the spherical formation to help new growth. They live for around 50 years and will only flower once before dying -- a tall shoot rises from the middle and blooms dozens of deep red flowers. Up close the flowers betray their heritage, which is the sunflower.
We reached the floor of the crater and explored for a little bit, including climbing up a small brightly-coloured hill, Ka Moa o Pele, whose name translated to Pele's Paint Pot.
We took climbing back up slowly, since at 3000 metres there is only 70% of the oxygen compared to ground level (though, living at 1000m in Volcano, I was acclimatised to 90% oxygen) but made good time. We felt so pleased with ourselves after making it to the top -- 800m is, after all, a greater prominence than all but two mountains in England and Wales -- that we each bought a scout-style embroidered badge from the gift shop at the top.
... and down the other
We returned to Maui a month later having booked Hōlua Cabin, one of three wood cabins scattered around the crater floor, when it became available due to a cancellation.
We decided to walk down a different way this time, along the Halemauʻu Trail, which descended from almost a quarter of the way around the crater compared to Sliding Sands. While Sliding Sands was a relatively gentle slope, Halemauʻu felt much more like a mountain, with plenty of switchbacks and walking along ridges. Halemauʻu is also much more lush, getting more of the cloud moisture blowing in from the sea, with green and red ferns lining much of the pathway. The views were also stunning.
On the way down we saw a helicopter go overhead. These weren't tourist helicopters: the only way to get supplies (in this case wooden logs for the fires) in and out of the crater was either by helicopter or by mule. Our guide book noted that a stay in the Haleakalā cabins included probably the most expensive log fire on earth as a result.
We made it down in reasonably good time, and once on the crater floor worked the rest of the four miles to Hōlua Cabin. On the way we also passed some rangers walking back with some mules carrying empty propane tanks.
We reached the cabin and the code we'd been given for the combination lock on the door worked, so we let ourselves in. The interior was spacious, with four sets of bunks, each three beds high, one in each corner. (The cabin is rented out for a fixed fee regardless of group size.) In the middle was a long wooden table with bench seating, engraved with many names, declarations of loves, and one Terminator 2 reference ("No fate"). A kitchen area at the far end had a propane hob, a wood burner, a few helpful supplies left by previous groups. A separate pit toilet outhouse (in surprisingly good condition) was downwind.
We dropped off our large backpacks and went out for a hike around the crater floor, which took us as far as Kapalaoa Cabin four miles away. All the cabins were very well placed; tucked away out of sight from any scenic views, yet still easy enough to find along trails. The hike itself was very nice; the weather was clear and we saw more many more silverswords, evening primroses, and other small shrubs adapted for the environment.
The crater itself is not a volcanic crater, as the park material stressed, but the result of continued erosion from two main gulches that eventually worked their way back to meet in the middle. Down each gulch we could see a sea of cloud, reminding us how high up we were. Unfortunately the cloud never cleared enough to see the sea from inside the crater, though the view from the top of Haleakalā, on the other side of the mountain where there were no clouds, showed the whole of Maui laid out beneath us. We could also see a couple of other islands, plus Big Island's Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa to the south.
Back in the crater, as it got darker the already other-worldly landscape really began to feel alien, with long shadows stretching out and the nearly full moon rising in the sky.
We got back to the cabin shortly after the sun dipped below the volcano's rim, and Emily cut some logs -- actually woodchip blocks -- to put in the wood burner while I got our dinner on the stove. We'd taken a couple of those pasta-in-a-packet meals, and used some of the several gallons of water we'd carried in with us to cook it.
We'd also brought some tea lights with us, and we lit up the cabin using those while having dinner. We ate out of the pan. Emily told me it was the most romantic meal she'd had, and I agreed.
We went outside to look at the sky. The clouds had come in and the ground was fairly wet, but there was a gap when we could see the stars. I took the engagement ring I'd brought out to Hawaii from my pocket, dropped to one knee and proposed.
Emily's reply: "What?! I mean, yes, but what?!"
The next morning the weather had closed in, though it did improve a little after the sun would have been up. It was very atmospheric, with the already quiet crater sounding muted in the way that fog does.
We ate quickly and then washed up last night's cookware before tidying up the cabin. The crater has a "pack-in-pack-out" policy so all our rubbish had to be packed too.
The cooler morning air made the hike back up the Halemauʻu trail fairly pleasant, though it was quite wet. We didn't see anybody else on the trail until we reached the car park, where one couple seemed to be rethinking their hike in consideration of the weather.
We got changed and drove back down the mountain, stopping into the visitors centre to check out and thank them for a great stay. That night, as with the night before hiking down, we stayed at Puluke Farm, which was a really lovely place that let us keep the rest of our bags -- for Kauai! -- there while we were hiking.
We returned to Maui a month later having booked Hōlua Cabin, one of three wood cabins scattered around the crater floor, when it became available due to a cancellation.
We decided to walk down a different way this time, along the Halemauʻu Trail, which descended from almost a quarter of the way around the crater compared to Sliding Sands. While Sliding Sands was a relatively gentle slope, Halemauʻu felt much more like a mountain, with plenty of switchbacks and walking along ridges. Halemauʻu is also much more lush, getting more of the cloud moisture blowing in from the sea, with green and red ferns lining much of the pathway. The views were also stunning.
On the way down we saw a helicopter go overhead. These weren't tourist helicopters: the only way to get supplies (in this case wooden logs for the fires) in and out of the crater was either by helicopter or by mule. Our guide book noted that a stay in the Haleakalā cabins included probably the most expensive log fire on earth as a result.
We made it down in reasonably good time, and once on the crater floor worked the rest of the four miles to Hōlua Cabin. On the way we also passed some rangers walking back with some mules carrying empty propane tanks.
We reached the cabin and the code we'd been given for the combination lock on the door worked, so we let ourselves in. The interior was spacious, with four sets of bunks, each three beds high, one in each corner. (The cabin is rented out for a fixed fee regardless of group size.) In the middle was a long wooden table with bench seating, engraved with many names, declarations of loves, and one Terminator 2 reference ("No fate"). A kitchen area at the far end had a propane hob, a wood burner, a few helpful supplies left by previous groups. A separate pit toilet outhouse (in surprisingly good condition) was downwind.
We dropped off our large backpacks and went out for a hike around the crater floor, which took us as far as Kapalaoa Cabin four miles away. All the cabins were very well placed; tucked away out of sight from any scenic views, yet still easy enough to find along trails. The hike itself was very nice; the weather was clear and we saw more many more silverswords, evening primroses, and other small shrubs adapted for the environment.
The crater itself is not a volcanic crater, as the park material stressed, but the result of continued erosion from two main gulches that eventually worked their way back to meet in the middle. Down each gulch we could see a sea of cloud, reminding us how high up we were. Unfortunately the cloud never cleared enough to see the sea from inside the crater, though the view from the top of Haleakalā, on the other side of the mountain where there were no clouds, showed the whole of Maui laid out beneath us. We could also see a couple of other islands, plus Big Island's Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa to the south.
Back in the crater, as it got darker the already other-worldly landscape really began to feel alien, with long shadows stretching out and the nearly full moon rising in the sky.
We got back to the cabin shortly after the sun dipped below the volcano's rim, and Emily cut some logs -- actually woodchip blocks -- to put in the wood burner while I got our dinner on the stove. We'd taken a couple of those pasta-in-a-packet meals, and used some of the several gallons of water we'd carried in with us to cook it.
We'd also brought some tea lights with us, and we lit up the cabin using those while having dinner. We ate out of the pan. Emily told me it was the most romantic meal she'd had, and I agreed.
We went outside to look at the sky. The clouds had come in and the ground was fairly wet, but there was a gap when we could see the stars. I took the engagement ring I'd brought out to Hawaii from my pocket, dropped to one knee and proposed.
Emily's reply: "What?! I mean, yes, but what?!"
The next morning the weather had closed in, though it did improve a little after the sun would have been up. It was very atmospheric, with the already quiet crater sounding muted in the way that fog does.
We ate quickly and then washed up last night's cookware before tidying up the cabin. The crater has a "pack-in-pack-out" policy so all our rubbish had to be packed too.
The cooler morning air made the hike back up the Halemauʻu trail fairly pleasant, though it was quite wet. We didn't see anybody else on the trail until we reached the car park, where one couple seemed to be rethinking their hike in consideration of the weather.
We got changed and drove back down the mountain, stopping into the visitors centre to check out and thank them for a great stay. That night, as with the night before hiking down, we stayed at Puluke Farm, which was a really lovely place that let us keep the rest of our bags -- for Kauai! -- there while we were hiking.
