Volcanic Ash
Gunfight atop Mauna Kea
By David Shapiro
As a young reporter on the Big Island, I decided that I needed to see the summit of Mauna Loa to understand the lay of the land if an eruption broke out there.
I set out with a few fellow journalists on a six-mile hike along the rugged Jeep road that runs from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration observatory at 11,000 feet most of way to Moku'aweoweo Caldera at more than 13,000 feet.
It was a trek doomed to failure by my need to stop every 100 yards or so to smoke a cigarette. Each puff seared my lungs in the thin air, making the next 100 yards all the more difficult. I realized after a few miles that I would never make it to the top and released my impatient companions to continue without me.
I killed time at a little plot of snow in a shaded depression that we had spotted on the way up. I thought it remarkable that this pristine patch had survived the spring thaw and lasted to late June.
Gloriously alone, I stuffed snow into my thirsty mouth, rubbed it over my sunburned face and arms, and thrashed about making snow angels like a child. I was soaking wet by time the temperature took its steep afternoon drop.
Shuffling back to the car, I shuddered so hard that I worried I would become the first person ever to get frostbite on a warm summer day. And I savored every minute of it.
As much as we love Hawai'i for its balmy weather, even in paradise a soul needs to chill out once in awhile. That's why the most welcome part of the New Year is the cold front blowing through the state.
I lose patience on O'ahu waiting for weather fronts to bring the cold to me. On the Big Island, you can find cold any time you want if you're willing to climb a little.
You even incorporate cold weather into your life in fascinating ways.
When our daughter was a toddler, she suffered ear infections that caused her discomfort late at night. The doctor's prescription: Bundle her up and drive up the Saddle Road with the windows open to let the cold altitude clear her passages.
We thought he was nuts, but off we went — negotiating those harrowing curves through black lava flows all the way to up Pohakuloa and back. Darned if it didn't work.
I loved the middle-of-the-night calls that Kilauea was erupting. I'd rush up the mountain to stand for hours in the frigid darkness watching fiery lava fountains burst from summit craters or dance across the Ka'u Desert. The contrast was spiritual.
A memory stands out of a cold-weather camping trip with high school friends to the state cabins at Hale Pohaku, on the upper slopes of Mauna Kea, because it featured an honest-to-God gunfight.
We stepped out into the crisp morning with a few old .22-caliber rifles that somebody had brought along, which we aimlessly shot at rocks.
The trouble started when somebody took a shot at a large boulder, not realizing that somebody else was behind the rock tending to personal business. The fellow who was flushed out with his drawers down took offense and came out shooting back.
Bullets flew back and forth across the lava field for several minutes until it occurred to us that our little pop guns could actually hit somebody, and we finally ceased fire.
Talk about needing to chill out.
David Shapiro can be reached by e-mail at dave@volcanicash.net
