Gasping, gazing at Haleakala
By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer
The alarm screamed at 3:30 a.m.
Catherine E. Toth • The Honolulu Advertiser
Already dressed in hiking gear — a trick that saved us at least 10 minutes of getting-ready time — we bolted upright in our beds, not sure the day of the week but definitely aware of what was on the agenda: Haleakala.
There are two very different aspects to hiking Haleakala. The journey down is pleasant and easy on the legs. Then there is the gut-wrenching, lung-bursting trip back to the top.
Eyes half open, we pulled on sweatshirts and grabbed spare blankets, loading up the rental SUV with water bottles, film and enough snacks to keep the one-hour drive from Kula to Haleakala interesting.
The five of us — adventurers who just happen to work together — could barely keep our eyes open, let alone engage in conversation. The winding drive up the slopes of Haleakala was unusually quiet considering the company. But the sudden turns, and blaring alt-rock from the radio, kept me focused on the task of driving to the summit, a venture shared by nearly 2 million tourists every year.
The sole purpose of our weekend jaunt to Maui was to hike Haleakala after seeing the fabled sunrise atop the House of the Sun first. Meaning, we would spend a good part of our Saturday shivering at 10,023 feet before trekking down 3,000 feet into the crater.
The rationale: This same group had hiked nine miles in the dark with just two flashlights to see the lava flows from Pu'u 'O'o on the Big Island a year ago. This, we thought, was a stroll downtown.
Haleakala National Park boasts some 32 miles of marked hiking trails, two campsites and three cabins.
With not enough time to stay overnight, but definitely in the mood for adventure, we decided to venture down Sliding Sands Trail, a steep 10-mile descent down slippery cinder into the heart of Haleakala.
Many hikers follow the trail through the moonscape of cinder cones and 'ahinahina (silverswords) to the cabins on the crater floor. Short on time, and not sure what we were getting ourselves into, we opted to hike down for about an hour and a half before turning around and climbing back out.
We should have known this wasn't the smartest idea when a park ranger, upon hearing our plan, guffawed.
"It's easier going in than coming out," he warned. "For every hour it takes to hike down, you'll need two hours to get out."
• Transportation: Haleakala National Park extends from the 10,023-foot summit down the southeast flank of the dormant volcano to the East Maui coast at Kipahulu. The summit area of Haleakala is a three-hour roundtrip drive from Kahului via roads 37, 377 and 378. Follow the signs posted along the highway. There is no public transportation available to the park. • Climate: The weather at the summit is unpredictable. Temperatures commonly range from 40 to 65 degrees, but can be below freezing at anytime of the year with the wind chill factor. Then the weather changes rapidly at high elevations, from biting cold to intense sunlight, thick clouds and heavy rain. • What to wear: Layer, layer, layer. If you arrive at sunrise, expect to be cold. Wear enough layers to keep you warm even in wet weather. During the day the temperatures rise and you may have to peel off layers, especially during hikes. As with any hike, wear comfortable, sturdy shoes. • Cost: To reach the summit: $10 per car or $5 per individual biker or hiker. • Warnings: The park warns persons with heart or respiratory problems and pregnant women to check with their doctors before heading to Haleakala, given the reduced oxygen at high elevations. • Information: Park Headquarters, the Haleakala Visitor Center and the Kipahulu Ranger Station are open daily all year round, subject to staff availability. Park Headquarters Visitors Center is open 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Haleakala Visitor Center is open from sunrise to 3 p.m. The Kipahulu Ranger Station is open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. For more information, call (808) 572-4400 or check out www.nps.gov/hale. For viewing conditions, call (808) 871-5054.
Naw, impossible. We were experienced hikers (when compared to other twentysomething townies). We could do this in three hours, no problem.
•
If you go
We had just spent an hour in what felt like sub-zero temperatures, enduring the biting wind that slapped us silly outside the summit lookout, waiting for the sun to peek over the clouds.
We felt invincible.
So, still covered in layers of sweatshirts, sweaters, T-shirts and tank tops, we stuffed our backpacks and set out to see the wonders of Haleakala, one of Maui's most popular tourist destinations.
The start of the trail is just outside the visitors center parking lot. Immediately, you are greeted with a panoramic postcard: Spectacular cliffs and gradual slopes of cinder in faded October hues.
After five lazy switchbacks, our conversation — and our confidence — picked up. We made good time, reaching silversword gardens and lookouts perfect for photos, all the time peeling off our layers and enjoying the warmth.
After about 90 minutes of brisk walking, we stopped at a large boulder sitting atop a cliff to drink water.
"Back?" one of the hikers proposed.
"Sure."
We should be back in, oh, an hour or so, with enough time to head to the Tedeschi Vineyards in 'Ulupakalua. Wine-tasting, relaxation, incentive.
But as soon as we took our first 10 steps back up the trail, we realized why the park ranger had given us that warning. My lungs hurt and breathing became a conscious struggle. Within five minutes, we were heaving.
"I don't know if I can do this," I said aloud before realizing how ludicrous that sounded. I couldn't walk five miles uphill. How is that possible?
Of course, this was five miles uphill at an elevation of 8,000 feet and rising. Quickly.
To conserve our energy, we didn't talk. All you could hear was heavy panting and a feeble "Stop" every 50 feet. We concentrated on every slow step, focusing on the next destination: a lone boulder, a silversword, the next switchback.
The sun was unsympathetic, the trail uncompromising.
We had started at 7:15 a.m. I checked my watch. We were nearing noon. And we still had several long switchbacks to go before reaching the crater rim.
"How long more?"
"Not sure. But it can't be much longer."
"Are we going to miss wine-tasting?"
"Not with me driving."
You never get used to the sudden elevation incline, but you learn to deal with it. You learn that the first three steps feel great, but the next several tear your lungs apart. Just focus on the next stopping point and keep moving. Once your feet take a break, so do your lungs. Get into a groove; it's harder when you force your body to reset with each stop. But stop if you have to. No one's clocking your time. You'll get there when you get there. It's really very zen.
When we finally reached the crater rim, our heavy breathing turned into sighs of relief.
We made it. But not without learning one very important lesson: Listen to park rangers. Even ones you suspect have never hiked in their lives. They've seen enough idiots to make them experts.
Na Pali coast anyone?
