Day One

(I know that the quality of the images on this page is pitiful. Please click on them to see them at a reasonable resolution)

My good mood gave no thanks to some neighboring campers, who, having
apparently already left to drive to the summit to witness the mythical
Haleakala Sunrise, had no means to mute the remarkably persistent
alarm clock in their tent that provided the soundtrack to the rest of
my time in Hosmer Grove. The night before I had already opted against
trying to hitch a ride up to watch the sunrise since I didn't want to
leave my things unattended and I would actually be sleeping in the
crater that night, and thus presumably able to catch a sunrise without
dealing with a traffic jam. But even so I was giddy to get going. The tall trees that make up Hosmer Grove kept the camping area fairly dark even well after the sun had risen, but the barren, gradual western slope to the crater rim was completely awash in sunlight. I filled up to 5 liters of what turned out to be deliciously clean tasting water and set out to find some of that sun
and the park headquarters to obtain a backcountry camping permit so
that I could camp that night at Paliku above Kaupo gap.

Mile 1

Walking the mile uphill to the park headquarters offered plentiful
sunshine and warmth, but more importantly, breathtaking views of the
ocean, Kahului, the mountains of western Maui, and even Lanai and
Molokai in the distance.



I passed the 7000ft elevation marker, but didn't feel like the altitude was an issue.



I got to the visitor center a bit before they open up for the day and changed after covering myself in 85 spf sunscreen. It wasn't even 8 AM yet and the
sun was intense. The staff at the headquarters was friendly -- though
they were a bit puzzled and concerned by my lack of a tent and full
rain gear. One of the rangers suggested I catch a ride to the
Halemau'u trailhead and someone immediately offered.



This, I think, was the best thing that came out of my trip to park headquarters,
since the trailhead was a 1000ft climb over several miles of car switchbacks without much different scenery. At the end of the day I decided it would have been fine if I had walked but I also figured everything I saved, especially water, for the 16 miles out Kaupo Gap and up to 7 pools was probably worth saving.

Miles 2-4

Almost immediately upon setting foot on the Halemau'u trail, I was confronted with two realities that I had expected but still secretly hoped I wouldn't encounter. First, my dreams of a day of uninterrupted sunshine and clarity were torpedoed as I marched towards a massive cloud which appeared to be colliding violently with the mountain. Clearly, the Pacific had some moisture it wanted to introduce me to. I couldn't yet tell the scope of these clouds and I still held out hope to pass through them for the sun drenched vistas of the crater that I'd seen on the internet.



The other mild unpleasantness I had stepped into quite literally: the trail was formed of sharp rocks pointing all manner of direction, not the dust, dirt, sand, pebbles, small rocks, or boulders I had hoped for.



After thinking it over carefully several times, I had decided to wear my beloved Vibram FiveFingers through Haleakala. These barefoot alternatives are warm, sock free, blister free, completely tolerant of dust and sand, and perfect for maintaining balance and foot flexibility over the treacherous, uneven terrain I expected in the Kaupo Gap. However, they offer limited protection when walking over medium sized rocky protrusions. With another 11 or 12 miles to cover today, I paid attention to my footfalls more carefully -- always a good idea anyway -- and resolutely continued on.

Since I was hiking through heavy mist, rain, and fog at this point, I didn't notice the crater rim until I was only a few yards away. The following shot is my first glance down into the crater -- or rather, of the crater wall, since the valley floor is almost a thousand feet below the current visibility -- which wouldn't be impressive if the foreground wasn't the trail directly in front of my feet. The photo is oriented nearly straight down.



At this point I knew that without the thick fast moving mist hugging me, my view would be otherworldly. Facing south I would see clear across the crater, dark lava flows contrasted against ash deserts with cinder cones lining up in bright colors along the rift zone. Facing northeast, I would see the broad expanse of the Ko'Olau gap running from the crater to the sea. Still hoping to descend out of the cloud bank, I pressed on knowing at the very least I would see the crater up close as I trekked across it.

Quickly I came to a spellbinding 30 yards of trail that had confidently been slapped on the very top of the ridge that runs east like a spine into the side of the Ko'Olau gap.



Just past that section, the switchbacks started frantically plunging me down the side of the cliff.



I only encountered one group of two hikers along the way down, and no horses. I'm thankful for the latter, since there really is only enough room on the trail for single file humans. I don't know how, even in theory, you're supposed to let horses pass. In the mist, I didn't get my first glance of the prairie-like crater floor until I was only 10 minutes from it.

Mile 5

The first thing you see past the gate where the switchbacks pour you onto Haleakala's eroded crater is a sign that says 1 mile to Holua. Somewhat ironically, after navigating miles of precipitous switchbacks, you immediately begin a gradual climb up to the rift zone, gaining back not quite 1000 of those feet you just gingerly lost. My initial excitement at feeling soft grass under my feet faded quickly as the trail soon wandered into the enormous Holua lava flow, which is made up of large jagged chunks of a'a lava that offered no improvement for my feet over the rocky switchbacks.




Over this section of trail I encountered numerous other groups of hikers, some with children, and even an impressive older gentleman doing some trail running with ratty shoes and big headphones. I stopped to have some lunch but before long I was at Holua cabin, which sits at the base of what seems a vertical crater wall. It was now clear that the unrelenting mist I was plowing through was no localized fluke -- it was an endless cloud flowing up through the Ko'Olau gap and didn't seem eager to dissipate as it spread out over the crater floor.



Another hiker was taking a quick break at the picnic table, but after exchanging pleasantries, I let the trail guide me back towards the nasty lava flow, ready to get to the volcanic moonscape that Haleakala is famous for.

Miles 6-9

I didn't have to wait too long to start noticing some changes. Pretty soon the black/grey a'a lava had started blending together with much more heavily eroded reddish brown rocks and dust, and just as the rough rocky terrain had completely faded into something I would describe more as sand than rocks, I passed my first silversword.



For some reason, instead of being impressed that this was the only place on earth this plant exists, I was more aware that it was virtually the only plant that was growing here. There are many ashen silversword corpses littering the landscape, and I wondered whether they had recently died or just were well preserved once they did. Silversword seems to shrivel from the bottom once it's time is up which can give it almost a miniature alien palm tree look that I found pretty amusing.



I went around the small "Silversword Loop," passing yet a few more fellow hikers, and continued on, the mist hiding from me the knowledge that I was less than a mile from the surface of another planet.

It may have felt like there was sand under my feet, but I was most definitely not at the beach.



I had passed into large sea of fine, dark gray volcanic ash, littered with volcanic rocks of various sizes in a way that suggested they had landed there, not frozen there from a liquid flow. The scattered silversword dominated plant life had all but disappeared, lending even more of a post nuclear holocaust feel to this strange desert. Halemau'u was a scar on the ash surface, which was silky smooth apart from various places previous hikers hadn't resisted the urge to explore this incomprehensible piece of the earth . There was no more crunch, crunch under my feet, just a gentle swoosh and finally, my footwear was offering more of an advantage over traditional shoes or boots.

After passing a few similarly mesmerized travelers, the trail ended a momentary dip in elevation and started to climb out of the monochrome martian surface to the brilliant reds, yellows, and greens of the cinder cones of the rift.



To this point I was still undecided whether to follow Halemau'u trail all the way to Paliku or to take one of the pathways to the sliding sands trail and take that east instead. I wound around the north slopes of the cinder cones towards something dubbed the "bottomless pit" that naturally I imagined was worth seeing.




I think the name is much more impressive than the pit itself.



At the next opportunity, I decided to diversify my trail portfolio, so to speak, and turned south on a path that led down to the sliding sands trail near the Kapalaoa wilderness cabin. Wandering between the cones, seeing old lava flows of different sizes, shapes, and colors was awesome.





Whenever the mist showed any weakness I would look back down the rift zone towards the summit and the sliding sands to see what I had chosen to miss by taking the Halemau'u trail.



Soon Kapaloa was in sight, and I noted that section of the trail is probably not what gave it the name "Sliding Sands."

Miles 10-12

After a break at Kapaloa cabin's picnic table that included meeting up with a party of pidgin slingin Hawai'ians on horseback that was slightly tipsy -- and thankfully unwilling to accept my refusal of offers of whiskey -- I started on the 3 plus miles to Paliku. It was mostly down hill from here and while there was some more jagged a'a lava to contend with, there was also this cool looking old landslide



and old pahoehoe lava flows that have that typical smooth, ribbony texture.




As you move towards Paliku the vegatation gradually becomes more lush, and by the time I could see the gorgeous cliffs of Paliku, just as fog enveloped as promised by the National Park Service, the terrain was fully shrubland.



I couldn't help taking a couple more snaps of the area as I approached




When I got to Paliku and took my pack off, I realized just how sore my shoulders, hips, and feet were. My feet and shoulders were hurting so much that I couldn't, at that point, imagine doing an even more strenuous hike out Kaupo Gap the next day. My confidence in the physical ability of the human body was all I had to hold on to. I decided to layer up immediately and get into my sleeping bag to make sure I avoided a chill and to let my body recover. After the wet day I'd had, I was expecting more rain and didn't want to end up cold. Surprisingly, not long after I'd had some food and watched the daylight slip into darkness, the sky cleared completely giving me the bright, expansive starscape I had dreamed I would see. I watched the glint of small manmade satellites track steadily across the sky north, south, east, and west, some closer ones madly racing while the farther ones lazily wandered. Mars glowed a dirty red and Venus was so bright I could almost imagine her lighting up the crater all by herself. Despite my fascination with the night sky, I wasn't able to stay awake very long. It had been a long day, even if it wasn't outrageously strenuous.