I came across this bird during a hike. Hunched on the branch with feathers fluffed up, I thought it wouldn’t look out of place on a Christmas card, if snow coated the branch and leaves. Not the case here though. The temperature was in the high 70s and I was sweating accordingly.
Tag Archives: Hiking
Pololu Valley hike
Pololu valley lies at the end of highway 270. It’s a popular destination. Most people find a parking space (not easy), snap a few photos, then climb back in their cars and try to get out without hitting anything (there’s no real turnaround).
A moderate number brave the steep switchback trail to the beach. This is worth it as better views open up, even part way down the trail. It’s 15-20 minutes down, 25-30 back up, depending on your condition and rate of hiking. If it’s rained recently the ground can be super slick.
Once at the beach there are options. (Bear in mind that only the beach is public. Everything else is private land.) There’s the view inland, up the Pololu River valley to the mist-shrouded Kohala Mountains. There’s the area just inland from the beach where people camp among the trees even though that’s not allowed. There’s the beach itself, which is mostly rounded rocks with black sand if the tide is low. And there’s the ocean, which looks inviting after that hot, sweaty hike, but is exceedingly dangerous with fierce rips, and only for those who really know what they’re doing, which excludes me.
Then there’s another option which very few take. This is to walk to the far side of the valley (following the trail just inland from the beach itself is easiest) until it trends upwards into a narrow gulley. This area gets a lot of rain, so this part of the trail is likely be muddy. It’s steep, narrow, and cut off from any breezes that may have been blowing on the beach. From time to time, views back to the beach open up and are worth taking in, if only to catch your breath.
After a while the trail comes out into the open and is less steep. I always think this is the end, but it’s not. It dips again into a shallow valley with low hung branches and much traveled by wild pigs. Then it’s up the other side, far less steep than the first part of this stage, until the trail pokes through some low bushes into an open area. And there, in my humble opinion, is one of the finest sights on the island.
There are views up the Honokane Nui valley towards the mountains. There are views along the coast and out across the ocean. And to make it more enjoyable, there’s a bench where you can sit and take it all in. I have to say that on my most recent visit the bench was in much worse shape than the last time I saw it. The wood supports had rotted out on one side so there was a jaunty lean to it. But with care, it was still possible to enjoy a solid seat with an unparalleled view.
From the parking area to the bench is about an hour walk (your timing may vary). Beyond the bench, the trail descends into the next valley, but an earthquake in 2006 rearranged this, basically taking the trail and dropping it several hundred feet. You can still get down there, but it involves scrambling directly down a steep hillside using ropes that have been strung there. Bear in mind that the ropes are no doubt going through the same decline that the bench has.
From the bench, the hike back to the parking area is about the same as it was on the way out (steep hike down, steep hike up). The last time I did this I saw a ton of vehicles and people around the parking area, 20 or 30 people on the beach, and three on the hike from the beach to the bench and back.
For more information about the Pololu hike, go to bigislandhikes.com/pololu-valley/.
Kiholo to Mano Point hike
The start of the trail below the parking area at Kiholo.
The house built for Loretta Lynn at Kiholo.
The anchialine pool at the south end of the first beach.
The trail winds down to the bench before Mano Point.
This hike is a not-too difficult, out and back, 4-mile round trip. Aside from wanting to check out this part of the coast, I also wanted to try out a new pair of shoes, more suited to hiking, rather than the old pair of walking shoes I’d been flogging my toes in recently.
The access road to the trailhead can be rough, but on this occasion had been recently graded, at least down to the private road near the bottom. The hike follows the coast south from the Kiholo parking lot. There’s camping here Friday through Sunday, but on this day it was much quieter – three people on the beach when I set out, not many more when I returned. The day was hot, as it usually is on this coast, and the vog was thick enough to chew on.
The hike starts out crossing the first of three black sand beaches. It’s part of Kiholo State Park Reserve, which means it’s a park for which the plans have not yet been finalized. Behind this first beach is a house built by country singer Loretta Lynn back in the 1980s. It’s boarded up now, but is tabbed to be some sort of visitor/cultural center in the new park. Check back in 10 years or so to see how things are going!
At the south end of the beach is an anchialine pool. After the pool, the trail winds up and over a’a lava to another smaller black sand beach. There’s another up and over to the third beach, Luahinewai, which is backed by a large private residence, overlooking another anchialine pool and surrounded by vegetation. The second and third beaches were deserted, the a’a lava lumpy, the new shoes doing a splendid job of cushioning my feet.
After this third beach the trail heads up onto the lava for a while and crosses inland from Nawaikulua Point until it reaches a lava bench backed by vegetation. The trail, which is marked by some rounded stones in the trail and white coral markers on the edges, ends here. Mano Point is reached by crossing the lava bench, which is not difficult but, as always, requires keeping an eye on the ocean. On this day the waves were thudding against the edge of the bench, sending spray into the air and some whitewater onto the bench.
It was a day for keeping toward the back of the bench. A couple of days earlier, when the surf was higher, it would have been a place to avoid altogether. On a calmer day one could walk along the edge of the bench. This is an area of tide pools, arches, and collapsed lava tubes that have become surging inlets.
Mano Point itself is not much of a point, but it is easy to identify because it’s where most of the vegetation ends. It’s also marked by a black-bordered, yellow sign (only the back of which is seen from the land), which I think means that no aquarium fish collection (a contentious issue here) is allowed south of the sign. The return is back the same way. I took a dip in the water at one of the beaches on the way back, but the surge was fierce and I ended up discovering black sand in unlikely places for a couple of days afterwards.
It’s not an earth-shaking hike, but enjoyable in its own way. There was a breeze on the coast as there usually is, some whales to be seen offshore, and my new hiking shoes performed admirably. That said, crossing behind the last beach en route to my truck, I felt a pricking in my foot and took off my shoe to find a kiawe thorn that had penetrated the sole. Not the fault of the shoe though, just an occupational hazard of hiking here.
For more information about the Kiholo to Mano Point hike, go to bigislandhikes.com/kiholo-to-mano-point.
The trail heads across a’a lava after the third beach.
The water surges into a small inlet, probably an old lava tube.
The sign at Mano Point which I think means ‘No Aquarium Fishing.’
Mauna Loa hike – it’s getting better all the time
This is a continuation of yesterday’s post, the third and final leg of the hike.
I made a rapid descent. Despite not feeling well, I was still able to put one foot in front of the other at a good pace. Unlike the Mauna Kea descent that I did a few weeks previously, this wasn’t as steep so the going really was easier. I made good time back to the trail junction at the edge of North Pit and better time from there on, barreling down the slope.
The weather continued to be perfect – cool, but sunny and clear. And going down, the views are always there. On this trail, unlike the Mauna Kea descent, views open up to both sides of Mauna Kea as well as the mountain itself. There were still clouds over Waimea and the foothills, and some clouds to the Hilo side, but these had been there all day and had not advanced at all up the saddle.
The farther I descended, the better I felt. There was some unnoticed point at which my concern for how I felt was replaced by appreciating what I was seeing, because I wasn’t feeling bad anymore. I wound down through the cinder section, followed the road again and came to the two big cairns marking the broken lava tube. From there it was just a short hike to the rough and ready road and the last string of cairns, with the observatory off to the right and Mauna Kea clear in front.
I ambled along the last section of road back to my car. I hadn’t seen a soul all day, but as I approached the parking area, four vehicles pulled up and disgorged a clump of tourists who sounded like they came from somewhere in Europe. Some wandered off. Others seemed to be going through some sort of personal growth ritual. I got curious looks as I peeled off shoes and socks, giving my battered feet some air. I didn’t much care. I felt pretty good again and very satisfied with the day.
It’s a hike I’d do again. I’d start earlier, have better footwear, take it a mite slower for acclimatization purposes. And I’d hope too make the summit next time, though I’m not too bothered that I didn’t. For me, a day alone on a big mountain is reward enough.
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 hike – life at the top
This is a continuation of yesterday’s post.
Having arrived at the North Pit around 11:00 a.m. I had to decide what to do next. I could explore the North Pit. I could turn around and head down. I could continue on to the summit. The summit is another 2.5 miles or so – I’ve seen different numbers. It’s not steep, but it is relentlessly up, traversing more rough lava and all of it above 13,000 feet.
Still, I was here in better time than I expected, the weather continued to look good, and I continued to feel good. So off I went onto the Summit Trail. Near the start there’s a shelter which is really just a good-sized pit. It’s a good place to shelter from the wind if it’s blowing (and it can really blow), but not so good if it’s raining or snowing.
The trail rumbles uphill. It’s mostly steady going with occasional forays over more challenging a’a lava. The biggest thing, at least as far as I was concerned, is that it just keeps going. There are a succession of crests, not really ridges, just places that look like they’re a ridge. The first one or two didn’t raise any hopes because I knew I hadn’t gone that far. But after that, it’s a series of raised and dashed hopes – ‘maybe that’s the summit, oh no, there’s another one.’
I trudged on, not feeling too bitter about these constant let downs. What did concern me was that I was starting to feel less well. I reached a point where I was sure that the next ridge was the summit and swore that if it wasn’t I was going down because of how I felt. Of course, it wasn’t the summit, but the next ridge really wasn’t far, so I carried on. I repeated this delusion a second time and, when I topped that rise, finally saw the summit. It was a half mile off.
I could probably have slogged that last leg, but I really didn’t feel good and the only cure for altitude sickness is to lose altitude. So I rested a while, had a bite to eat, and enjoyed what was still an awesome view of Moku’āweoweo. I’d been drinking water steadily all the way up and continued to do so. Dehydration sneaks up fast at altitude.
After a short while, I packed up my gear, gave the summit a final rueful glance and headed back the way I’d come.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the hike back down.
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 hike – going up
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.
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).
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 hikers are just visible at the top center.
Looking across at Mauna Loa. The trail is visible at bottom left.
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 to the left of the red cinder cone.
Kiholo to Keawaiki hike
This is the return leg of the hike in yesterday’s post.
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.)
Graham's Island 