Category Archives: Activities

Mauna Loa hike – going up

Mauna Loa Saddle — Pu’us on the west side of the saddle between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, with the Kohala Mountains peeking above the clouds in the background.

Mauna Loa Notice — The trail notice below the observatory.

Mauna Loa Trailhead — The trailhead, a case of spot the cairns.

Mauna Loa 1st Road — The trail, marked by the cairn, crosses the road. The rocks in the foreground are the road!

There are two hiking routes up Mauna Loa. One is the Mauna Loa Trail starting out from Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. This is a 40 miles or so round trip, a multi-day hike requiring a permit. See nps.gov/havo/planyourvisit/hike_maunaloa.htm for information. The other trail is the Observatory Trail, which is reached from Saddle Road. This is the trail I took.

The trail begins at the Mauna Loa Observatory, which monitors atmospheric change. The road up to the observatory begins a hundred yards or so Hilo side of the Mauna Kea Road – Pu’u Huluhulu Native Tree Sanctuary junction. It’s about 17.5 miles and, contrary to some reports, is currently in excellent condition having obviously been repaved in the none too distant past. It’s still single-lane and goes up and down and around many bends, so drive carefully.

Mauna Loa Tube Remnant — This remnant of a lava tube gives some idea of how thin the top can be.

I intended this to be a day trip, which requires an early start. There are two ways to do this. One is to drive up in the evening, sleep in the parking area overnight (all the while acclimating to the altitude), and head out early. The other, which I chose, is to drive up to the observatory early in the morning, spend an hour or so acclimating, and then head out. I left home at 5 a.m. and arrived at the parking area at 7 a.m.. En route I nearly ran over a sheep wandering in the road in the dark and, at the junction, got to see an orange sunrise being welcomed by white-robed followers of what I assumed was some sun-worshipping group.

The trail starts at about 11,000 feet and goes up some 2,700 feet to the summit. It’s a high altitude trail prone to sudden weather changes so the usual cautions apply. There’s a sign at the trailhead that outlines why this hike could be your last. I joke, but the concerns are real. I’d picked a day of fine, settled weather, but packed food, water and clothing for an unscheduled overnight stop.

That said, I headed out on the very rough dirt road that is the start of the trail. This is a road for 4-wheel drive trucks with strong motors and lifted suspensions that make the truck bed seem detached from the wheels. I’ve hiked at altitude a moderate amount and not had any problems, but I know to take my time and be alert to signs of altitude sickness.

After about half a mile the trail proper takes off to the left. There’s a nice, clear sign marking the spot. The trail itself is less obvious. Most of this trail is marked by cairns. Sometimes there’s a splash of white or yellow paint, sometimes a stick or pole, but the cairns are the main guide. The only thing is, the cairns aren’t always obvious as the trailhead photo shows. It’s a good idea to identify the next cairn before leaving the one you’re at.

A lot of this trail passes over rounded pahoehoe lava. I prefer hiking on this to sharp a’a lava. At least with pahoehoe I have a solid surface to place my foot and to push off from. That said, there are times when the surface crackles and I’m keenly aware the area is riddled with lava tubes, some topped with a thin crust that could easily give way. That’s one reason why I try not to stray from the trail.

When I hike, I often have songs running through my head and, on hikes like this, I inevitably end up humming “Put one foot in front of the other” from the 1970 movie Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town (don’t ask). It is, however, a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of hike, a steady climb at a steady pace, watching ones steps.

About 45 minutes in, I crossed the dirt road I’d started on (which zigzags up the mountains most of the way to the summit). I’d walked up the road once before looking for this crossing and hadn’t identified it. Now I recognized that I’d walked past it. A lot of the trail is like this – a mishmash of lava and ups and downs, with a distinctive feature here and there. There’s a broken lava tube marked by two big cairns and another junction with the road. The trail follows the road at this point until it comes to a gate marking the national park boundary. Then it veers off, up the hill, to the right on an easily followed cinder section, crosses the road a third time, and finally winds up another half mile to the edge of North Pit, the northern most feature of Moku’āweoweo, the summit caldera.

Dare I say that this view isn’t the most spectacular? The floor of North Pit is only about 10 feet below the rim and, since it stretches out a good way ahead, that’s really most of what there is to see at this point. It’s still an impressive view. The trail to Mauna Loa cabin angles across the North Pit floor and in the distance are the higher cliffs of the main crater. Best of all, I was feeling pretty good, it was only 11:00 a.m. (three and a quarter hours to this point), and the weather continued to be and look great.

Tomorrow, I’ll post my hike from North Pit up the Summit Trail.

For more information about the Mauna Loa Observatory Trail, go to bigislandhikes.com/mauna-loa or instanthawaii.com (under Things To Do, check Scenic Drives for the road up to the observatory and Hikes & Trails for the trail).

Mauna Loa Gate — The road ends at a locked gate. The trail takes off up to the right.

What goes up Mauna Kea …

The trail starts just below the loop road that links the telescopes.

Lake Waiau.

The trail passes through unforgiving landscape. Two hikes are just visible at the top center.

The trail passes through unforgiving landscape. Two hikers are just visible at the top center.

Looking across at Mauna Loa. The trail is visible at bottom left.

Mauna Kea silverswords grow in the otherwise barren cinder landscape.

Mullein, Verbascum thapsus, grows in the otherwise barren cinder landscape.

I took a hike on Mauna Kea recently. I’ve been up the mountain before in the car and I’ve done a hike or two going around the volcano. This time I thought I’d tackle the Summit Trail. The trail starts at the Mauna Kea Visitor Center at about 9,250 feet and goes 6 miles to the summit at about 13,800 feet. That’s around 4,550 feet of elevation gain. It’s also high altitude, which means it’s not an easy trail.

My plan was to ‘try out’ the trail. I figured if I made a one-way trip it would give me a good insight about whether to try the round trip. My idea was to get a ride from the visitor center to the top, then hike down, because that has to be easier than going up, doesn’t it? Cue ominous music.

I got to the visitor center before opening time and spent an hour acclimating to the altitude. I chatted with one of the volunteers at the desk and she said she preferred the hike UP the mountain. She asked if I had walking sticks, which I didn’t. Tactfully, she didn’t follow up by asking about next of kin. At least the weather was good – sunny and dry, but cool.

By starting early I’d hoped I might snag a ride with a work vehicle heading up to the telescopes that dot the summit. They all passed me by, either fully loaded or, I suspect, forbidden from picking up hitchhikers. That gave me a problem. I’d just left the visitor center and knew there were no 4-wheel-drive vehicles there, which is what visitors going to the summit should be driving. I couldn’t expect a ride until one arrived and the occupants had acclimated as I had. Faced with the prospect of waiting an hour or more I headed off up the trail. I could hike the first ¾ mile, to where it passed close to the road again, and try and get a ride from there.

The trail started off up a rough dirt road that quickly transitioned to a trail. When I say up, I mean up. Mauna Kea is shaped like a classic volcano. It looks, and is, steep.

I huffed and puffed up the slope, feet slipping on the loose cinder underfoot. I began to understand what the woman at the visitor center meant; coming down would be treacherous. Going up was hard work too, but at least I felt I’d earned the frequent stops to recover and appreciate how much elevation had been gained.

I reached the road at around 10,200 feet and soon got a ride to the top. The actual summit of Mauna Kea is along a short trail across from one of the parking areas. I didn’t take it this time having been there before. Instead, I headed off on the road that loops around the top. It’s a surreal place, a barren, windswept, cinder landscape dotted with high-tech telescopes gathering information from the farthest reaches of the universe.

The trail down starts just below where the road begins its loop. It’s easy going at first, through a small valley, over a ridge and down a steeper bit to a saddle. This is where the main trail intersects another one heading to Lake Waiau. Lake Waiau is a small, somewhat perplexing lake. At 13,000 feet it sits on a volcano made up of highly permeable rock at an elevation where it gets very little in the way of rainfall. It’s not entirely clear why the lake exists at all though it undoubtedly does. The day I was there, it appeared quite full and green.

After the side trip to the lake, I started down again. Almost immediately I missed the trail down. I thought it intersected the Lake Waiau trail toward the road, but I soon realized that wasn’t true. So I angled across to the right one over loose lava, slipping often, but finally regaining the proper track.

Soon after, I met two other hikers who I’d seen in the parking lot earlier. They were hiking the round trip, up and down. We chatted a while before they continued. They were younger and fitter than I, though their conversation had left me with the impression that they weren’t looking forward to the return journey.

It’s a steady downhill slog, mostly with a loose surface underfoot (at one point I fell, my feet slipping out from under me, luckily leaving me with nothing worse than a couple of scrapes on one hand). I’d like to say the effort was worth it for the views, but the truth is, I can’t. Across the saddle, is Mauna Loa, which is a bigger volcano than Mauna Kea, but doesn’t look it. Mauna Loa (which means ‘long mountain’) has enormous mass, but not striking, steep sides. Otherwise, I was looking mostly at my feet or the same kind of landscape I was walking on.

This was one of those hikes where I kept thinking that the place where the trail passed close to the road where I’d got my ride, must be just over the next ridge. But one ridge followed another and there were several of them before that observation became true. Then I was back on territory I’d climbed up that morning. The woman at the visitor center was right: it was easier going up.

When I got back to my car, a visitor there asked me about the hike, whether it was worth it. “No,” I said. He was disappointed. He was keen on the hike; his partner, less so. But the truth is, it’s a slog up and down over a barren, cinder landscape. Yes, there are plusses. There’s a stark beauty in the place and the lake is worth it. But, to me, it’s more for the person who likes to be able to say ‘Yeah, I did that hike.’

For more information about the Mauna Kea Summit Trail and Lake Waiau, go to bigislandhikes.com/mauna-kea and ifa.hawaii.edu/info/vis/visiting-mauna-kea/hiking.

Nearly there. The visitor center and road is visible on the left.

Nearly there. The visitor center and road is visible to the left of the red cinder cone.

Kiholo to Keawaiki hike

The wrinkles in this pahoehoe lava were torn apart on cooling.

This is the return leg of the hike in yesterday’s post.

The view toward Keawaiki Bay from the south.

The Brown estate at Keawaiki looks inviting, but the sign says otherwise.

The trail north from Kiholo is a hit and miss affair. Sometimes it’s clear, more often not. But the idea is to follow close to the coast. Think of it as Goldilocks would: If it’s dry, hot and still, you’re probably too far inland. If it’s cooler, but wet, you got too close to the cliff, tumbled into the ocean, and are probably in immediate need of medical attention. If it’s dry, but with a nice cooling breeze, then you’re probably just right.

The trail covers the same pahoehoe lava flow experienced on the way south. Here though, a refreshing breeze and an expanse of ocean views, including a pair of whales blowing and slapping some way off, enhanced the experience.

About half way along the trail is Ohiki Bay, a steep, mostly pebbled beach. A little farther still, some greenery appears, the cliffs dwindle, and the route follows the shore. Low pillows of lava have created inlets and pools, depending on the state of the tide. It was here that I found myself engrossed for the best part of an hour staring into the shallows. Incoming waves wrinkled the surface, highlighting the variety of colors and shapes.

The greenery back from the shore is the Francis H. Ii Brown beach residence. Brown was a well-known Hawaiian golfer and legislator during the 1920s, ’30s, and ’40s who built this compound in the late 1920s. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1986.

I’ve read that it’s possible to visit the place, being open one day a month, but I’m not sure that’s still true since the contact information on the sign has been erased. The encirclement of barbed wire and liberal use of Kapu signs don’t hint at any kind of welcome. Kapu is a Hawaiian word with several meanings including ‘sacred,’ ‘forbidden,’ and its modern day usage of “no trespassing’ or ‘keep out.’

Immediately past the Brown residence is Keawaiki beach, another steep and mostly pebbled beach, but the trail back to the truck, half a mile inland, follows the barbed wire fence and access road back to the main highway.

In all, the round trip hike was about 7 miles and took 5 hours with a good deal of dallying along the way, but in my book, a most rewarding experience.

For more information about this, and other hikes on the Big Island, go to bigislandhikes.com. (This hike is listed as Kiholo to Keawaiki, starting from the southern end.)

Keawaiki to Kiholo hike

The King's Trail makes a straight shot to the south of Keawaiki. — The King’s Trail makes a straight shot to the south of Keawaiki.

The King's Trail winds over the pahoehoe lava of Mauna Loa's 1859 eruption. The trail is marked by cairns and, in places, the worn surface of the trail stands out from the surrounding lava. — The trail is marked by cairns and, in places, the worn surface stands out from the surrounding lava.

1-6-16-1859-flow-HW — The trail takes a turn.

This hike is the first half of a loop from inland of Keawaiki Bay, south on the old King’s Trail to Kiholo, returning along the coast.

I was on the trail before 8 a.m. because the lava fields become very hot as the day wears on. The trail started out dead straight, with rock wall sides, until it reached a scrubby tree growing in the path. I figured it would pick up again on the other side, but this marked the boundary of the lava flow from Mauna Loa’s 1859 eruption, which destroyed fishponds and a village on the coast near here.

Instead, the trail wound over and around hummocks of pahoehoe lava and the way was marked mostly by cairns. Pahoehoe lava tends to be fairly smooth and rounded and is relatively easy to walk on, but still requires attention. It’s a matter of a moment’s inattention to end up jamming a foot into a crack and turning an ankle or worse. It’s also very easy to spot the next cairn, wander in its direction, then suddenly realize you don’t see any more because the trail has veered off to avoid some hole ahead or take advantage of easier going.

This is a stark landscape, unrelenting lava with occasional shrubs and tufts of fountain grass. But I like the history of the trail, its connection to the early days of Hawaii.

The distance to Kiholo is a little under 3 miles and I was plenty hot by the time I got there. But at Kiholo there’s shade to be found and the opportunity for a swim. I’ve snorkeled at Kiholo before, but it’s not the greatest. Freshwater springs make the water cloudy and cool.

There’s a blue Kiholo Bay Fisheries Management Area sign where the coast trail almost doubles back on the one I’d arrived on. This lightly marked trail winds around a bay rich with wildlife, most notably green sea turtles. Usually they’re hauled out on the spit that forms the outer part of the bay. This day was no exception. A cluster of 8 turtles had lumped ashore near the tip of the spit, watched over by a guardian heron. Others were scattered in ones and twos up the inside of the spit. I hiked down the length of the spit enjoying the welcome sea breeze and taking photos, making sure not to disturb the turtles. Then it was time to head north again. (For the return hike, click here)

For more info about this, and other hikes on the Big Island, go to bigislandhikes.com. (The hike is listed as Kiholo to Keawaiki, starting from the south.)

A heron stands watch while green sea turtles rest on shore at Kiholo Bay, — A heron stands watch while green sea turtles rest on shore at Kiholo Bay.

1-6-16-Green-Turtle-HW — Green sea turtle resting on the shore at Kiholo Bay.

Spotted eagle ray

I’ve seen this particular ray several times while snorkeling. I think it’s a young one, since it’s somewhat smaller than others I’ve seen. It glides over the coral with little effort, but sometimes shifts into high gear and shoots off with a good turn of speed. It’s not aggressive and doesn’t appear bothered by my presence, but since eagle rays have venomous spines near the base of the tail, I don’t get too close.

For more information about eagle rays, go to sailhawaii.com/rays.html.

Timing is everything

Walking the coast a couple of days ago, I saw a splash of color which turned out to be the umbrellas of a fishing party. Not bad, I thought. But then a puff of spray from a humpback whale just offshore from the group. Photo opportunity, I thought. Just a matter of lining up the camp and the whale.

This much I have learnt about humpbacks: they don’t feel obligated to accommodate photographers. I hurried along to line up the whale with the fishing party. The whale kept moving. I scurried about. And then when I finally got into a decent position, the whale disappeared. No breach. No slapping and splashing. Not so much as a blow. The best I got was this photo where a sliver of the whale’s back can be seen at the center top, where there’s a tiny blip of white.

What it was supposed to do was something along the lines of the humpback in the photo below, taken yesterday. Ah well, it’s always a joy to see the whales, good photos or not.

Graham's Island

Life on the Big Island of Hawaii