Intro

I spent a few nights hiking in and around Haleakala NP in Maui
recently, from Hosmer Grove campground to 7 pools in the Kipahulu
district, and wanted to post some pictures and info for anyone who was
considering a similar trip. There is some information about the
Halemau'u and Kaupo Gap trails, the road to Hana, and 7 Pools already
on the internet, but it's scattered, and in the case of Kaupo Gap and
the road to Hana, tantalizingly incomplete.

The parameters of my trip were not entirely usual, at least as far as
I can tell. For one, my hike encompassed the entirety of my time on
Maui. I was flying in, hiking three nights, then flying to the Big
Island on the third morning. This means I had to carry everything I
needed not just for the hike but for the rest of my trip -- no hotel,
no storage locker at the airport (they don't exist at Kahului, I
asked), and no rental car. This presented another issue, one of
transportation. I didn't want to hike a loop like most seem to, so I
couldn't rent a car. Hitchhiking is apparently the usual remedy for
this sort of problem in Hawai'i, either parking your rental at the end
of the hike, then hitching to the beginning, with luck finding your
car and stuff as you left it days earlier, or just hitching from and
to the airport. However, the hike I stubbornly insisted on made this
impossible. I was fixated on the Kaupo Gap. Unfortunately, making this
trail a leg of your trip means you're either starting or finishing in
the utter remoteness of upcountry Maui.

Don't get me wrong: hitching to or from Hosmer Grove and to or from 7
pools, is possible -- it just requires multiple rides and plenty of
time. Plenty of people drive to/from the summit past Hosmer Grove
to/from Kahului for sunrise and sunset. Plenty of people drive from
Kahului in the morning to Hana town or even all the way to 7 pools,
with those same droves returning in the evening. If you are
comfortable with the logistical overhead, time, and risk this adds,
it's certainly an option. There is an airstrip in Hana at which
Hawai'ian airlines operates at least one outbound flight, which, along
with horseback and helicopter, seems to round out the transportation
universe of eastern Maui.

Instead, I just arranged both pickups with a taxi driver ahead of
time, choosing to start at Hosmer Grove and finish at 7 pools. This
was mostly because I preferred the idea of a hike that descends 8000
feet to one that ascends 8000 feet, but I also liked the idea of a
shorter trip to the start than from the finish due to my insufferable
impatience. The taxi driver agreed to do it for $100 to and $200
from, which compared very favorably to other Maui livery options, most
or all of which charge not just for your trip but the trip for them to
get there in the first place (or back after dropping you off). I
would guess it also compares reasonably well with 3 or 4 days of a
rental car plus gas.

With transportation arranged, there was still the issue of what to
pack. Somewhat cavalierly, I chose to forego a tent, relying only on
my lightweight, 30 degree rated, waterproof, cocoon-like sleeping bag
-- not advisable outside of midsummer -- in an attempt to offset the
extra weight I was carrying for the post-hike portion of my Hawai'i
vacation. I packed a small bottle of iodine water treatment tabs, but
also loaded up the full 5 liters at Hosmer Grove I assumed I would
need between there and the Kaupo Store at the end of the gap trail 30
hours and 22 miles later. The rest of the load was standard but
minimalistic -- dry food, small electric lantern, full length running
tights, long sleeve tech shirt, thermal long sleeve, tech shorts, a
couple tech tank tops and tees, skullcap, gloves, sunscreen,
toothbrush, book, etc. I mention this only to illustrate that even
without much else, having to carry over 10 lbs of water makes life
difficult, which is why you shouldn't do it -- I'll elaborate on this
later. According to my previous measurements, my pack started at
around 35 pounds the morning of day 1. Looking back, I think I would
have been OK up to 45 pounds, but I weigh 185 and was in marathon-ish
shape at the time.

The First Night

When I landed in Maui (direct from the mainland, which was awesome), I changed into -- perplexingly, I'm sure to my fellow travelers -- a thermal shirt and skullcap. In hindsight, I would have gone into full gear right away. Instead, I did that when I got to Hosmer Grove, which is near 7000 ft up, and naturally quite chilly. While I easily had the temperature, which was probably in the mid to upper forties, covered, it's much harder to recover from a chill than to prevent it in the first place. That said, I was never uncomfortable. It was a beautiful, clear night, giving a great view of the starry sky through the trees. The air was intoxicatingly fresh and clean, light with the scent of eucalyptus trees, which I love. Coming from Manhattan, by way of LA, made the freshness of the air almost drinkable. This salved the irritation of having abstained from bringing a more properly drinkable substance like whiskey due to weight concerns, but not much. Most of the handful of other campers had already gone to bed by the time I had changed and brushed my teeth, so I unrolled my sleeping bag and did same. Despite a bit of jet lag, the excitement and anticipation of seeing the mountain in sunlight and hiking into the crater kept me awake a bit. While I didn't sleep as well as I would have liked, I woke up the next morning before sunrise feeling fantastic.

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.

Day Two

(As with other sections, I know that the quality of the images on this page is pitiful. You need to click on them to see them at a reasonable resolution)

Miles 1-4

I woke up to a faint glow revealing clear weather in the crater, which having lifted the veil of the previous day's mist properly expressed the grandeur of my surroundings. I sat at the head of the river of earth flowing into the wide expanse of the Kaupo Gap.





I could see clear to the summit now, and it was alive with fleeting spots of cars' headlights and premature camera flashes.



My faith in the resiliency of the human body had turned out to be well founded. All the previous day's soreness had melted away with a long night of warm sleep, and I felt refreshed and energetic despite the frost on the ground. My spirits were lifted farther because, though I wasn't sure when it was going to happen, I was going to have my Haleakala sunrise, even if from an unconventional viewpoint. Eventually, the first direct light hit the summit, after climbing over the very cliffs I was under.



The light crept across the crater, lighting it a fiery orange, and somehow managed to illuminate the bottom of the western wall of the Kaupo Gap before the top.



It took longer than I expected for the bright sunlight to traverse the crater floor towards Paliku, but once it did, the high cliffs caught fire and I was reminded again of "The House of the Sun."



Again slathered in an 85 spf sheen, I walked down the trail leading out of Paliku and was immediately reminded of the big day ahead.



I had over 8 miles to Kaupo Road, and over sixteen in total to Seven Pools. Various sources from web pages, to a ranger at park headquarters, to the horse equipped Hawai'ians from the previous day had spoke with reverence of the challenge of Kaupo. The words stuck out in my mind: "Relentless," "ball bearings." I afforded myself one final gawk at the crater soaked in full morning sun and turned left, bound for the Maui coast.



The first few miles of the Kaupo Trail offer steady change in landscape and scenery. As the descent quickens, the rocky shrubland "grows up" a bit and before long there are sections of tall grasses and large trees growing out of rainwater gulches. Not right away, but not after too long, your deep blue prize becomes distantly visible.



For much of the trip the trail hugs the tall eastern rim of the gap, properly framing the scale of the gash in this enormous mountain.



I went on carefully navigating the rocky trail, which switched back occasionally on steeper drops but also offered some flat landing areas to rest your quads. My pack was much lighter than the previous day, carrying only 2 liters of water and a bit less food, and it became a mental exercise to remind myself that the difficulty still lay in front of me. To be honest, the current exercise was pleasant and moderate. Rather than wearing myself out, I took my time, occasionally glancing back up the gap to see how far I had come.



My only time related goal was to get to the Kaupo Store while it was open to stock up on water and a few frosty beers for my hike along the coast. I had until 3:30 to cover 4 or 5 more miles but it was barely 9 am. Having plenty of time, I took pictures, stepped carefully, and rested frequently.





The shot of the walking path itself shows a section that's very fairly representative of Kaupo Trail within the national park. One thing to be wary of is that in some other sections with tall grass, some steps I took broke off invisible soil ledges underneath which could conceivably twist an ankle. I took a couple diggers which thankfully did no more than make me chuckle at myself. As I arrived at the gate where the trail crosses into a private ranch I was now below the bank of clouds that was rising up from the coast. I had lofty views of the mountain's gradual southern slope from under the cloudy ceiling.

Miles 5-8

The locals didn't look impressed with the view -- or with me.



The landscape opened up into the knobby green fluff of pasture, folding much more into my field of view. Continuing my descent I knew that realistically, I can't expect to ever have more striking ocean views.





The Big Island looked magnificent across the channel.



Once on ranch land, the trail follows a jeep "road." Starting out, the footing on the road was fine and the descent wasn't steep enough to warrant any concern. I kept repeating the word "relentless" in my mind, as in, "you'll see, the relentless part is right around the corner" but I was starting to cultivate a kernel of hope that it was all empty talk to discourage the unfit. After perhaps not even a mile, that childish hope was utterly dashed. The Gap, and the jeep road with it, accelerated down as if it wanted to be at sea level within a few thousand yards. Firm grass, dirt, and large rock footing simultaneously became unavoidable lakes of small rocks unable to hold fast in the loose dust of the vertical road. My already deliberate steps became almost obsessively calculated and tested. Walking with knees permanently flexed near 90 degrees drained energy from my quads, made worse by the constant effort to slow skidding footholds. The balance and sensitivity of my Vibrams was critical. I could tell when grip was fading and maintain control when it did. Thankfully, some easier sections of road were sprinkled in with the barely controlled scrambling, otherwise I would have been too exhausted and distracted to take any pictures.



Eventually the trail leaves the jeep road and the open pastureland, but there's not initially much leveling in the rate of descent. Here there are thickets, groves, some grazing fields, pigs, more cows, and even (or at least what look like) rams. Here I encountered another human for the first time since Paliku. Bravely, he was hiking the opposite direction, and in his own words, it was "kicking his ass." No doubt. Soon there was some relief from the constant drop and sensing the hard part was over, I stopped for a proper lunch. I was flat out lusty for Kaupo Store and its cold beer at this point. The only other human I'd see until Pilani Highway passed by here heading up the gap, but this one was more sensibly on horseback. I still had plenty of time to get there but I rushed a bit anyway, and when I got to a white ranch house seeming to sit as guardian of the gap above, I assumed correctly that I was nearly done with Kaupo Trail.



And there's the trailhead.



Note the laughably inconsistent (and completely incorrect) distance listed to Paliku. This sign must be a cruel false comfort to those who attempt to climb the gap.

Mile 9

I strolled lazily down the gentle slope of Kaupo road. I sucked the last bit of water from my Camelbak, noting how accurate my provisioning at Hosmer Grove had been. For almost the entire mile, I could practically taste the beer I was about to murder. I saw the intersection of Kaupo Road and Pilani Highway, which would take me towards Hana later. I turned right, and there's Kaupo Store.



It was, with positively no apology, closed. I flipped through candidates for appropriate emotional responses in my brain. Was it rage? Embarrassment at my not having planned for this possibility? Foolish hope that it will suddenly reopen after the shopkeepers' long lunch? Disbelief -- had my camera ceased to accurately tell time or confused the day of the week? Fear and dread of the coming seven mile hike without water and the potential accompanying death by dehydration? Dejection at my now incurable lack of beer? Not instantaneously, I decided against burning down the building or breaking in. There were plenty of rental cars going by, and all were not only witnesses, but also potential rides and possible sources of water. I walked towards Huialoha church where I thought there may be other travelers. An insufferable sign taunted me about the work still to be done.


There is an important lesson here in my experience with the Kaupo Store for Hawai'i travelers. Store hours, workdays, even reasonable expectations of service turn out to be much more subjective on the islands. Surf may be up, a cash strapped office may have mandatory furlough, a friend may have come by, or one of a million other possible distractions may have arisen. It's very awakening to meet so many people who go with the flow more than try to manipulate the flow. You may find yourself asking your own questions about what's really important.

Miles 10-16

My thinking turned out to have been reasonable. There were plenty of people, and very soon some nice folks eagerly helped me to half a liter of their water. I felt stupid now that I had packed all that water in Hosmer Grove just to run out anyway. I should have packed each day's water each morning, first at Hosmer, then filtering at Paliku. Regardless, it was time to move on. Huialoha church was a very picturesque. It just begged to be photographed.





I could tell right away that the road to Hana was going to be more challenging than I expected. It alternated scaling cliffs that jut out into the ocean to dropping heading inland to get to a bridge meeting up with the road up the next cliff.




When looking back, I could see why geologists theorize that an ancient landslide filled in Kaupo "canyon." Imagine the Tsunami that such a massive landslide must have sent to the Big Island (and probably quite a few other pacific islands).



I enjoyed hiking up the road quite a bit. There were black pebble beaches, sheer cliffs, and huge boulders resting in the surf.





I refused the offer of a ride along the way, and was graciously given more water by a bus driver who didn't even ask if I wanted it. I even got to drink a tender coconut and a smoothie at Laulima Farm's stand. The road straightened out here and leveled off, and I knew somehow that I was almost there. There were lots of fruiting mango trees along the road, and it felt less remote with gates for farms and some houses. It was pretty rural, but much less so than Kaupo. Soon I was there. I had made it to Seven Pools! The first order of business was to take a swim in the freshwater pools in the gulch to clean off. I was absolutely filthy and it felt great. Next I set myself up with a lovely little space to camp in away from the car camping area, for a little privacy on my last night in Maui. My spot was on top of some cliffs right on the water.



True to form, it rained off and on all night. The next morning I woke up and was already a little late to my appointment with the taxi up in the parking lot area. I threw my stuff together as the sun was rising, and as you can imagine given this photo of it, I had mixed feelings about my time on Maui coming to an end.