Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Scorched Earth

--note: there are two other entries for today: "The Siren Song of the Sea", and "Turtles: Ninjas of the Ocean". Enjoy!--

Panting, my mouth parched, a sunburn on my face getting worse I step onto the asphalt, heart pounding with excitement as much as dehydration.

Mount Haleakala- at 10,00 feet it is the highest point on Maui. Coincidentally also the starting point for the twelve mile, seven hour "experience" that would take us walking through a four ecosystems. We would start at the top of the crater, descend into the lava fields (around 6,000 feet), around the cinder cones, then through a rain forest back into a dry forest (~8,000 feet). It's easy listening to it.

We step onto the trailhead and are greeted with a spectacular view of where we will be going. The valley drops away below us, filled with reds, yellows, blacks and greys. At the far end, the clouds cluster inside two mountains like waves in a bay, too dense to get up into the lava fields, too light to sink deeper in onto the island- so they hover inbetween the two. It is odd to think that the clouds define an invisible line where the air densities are different enough to support, that air itself can change so darastically to cause the changes I am about to see in this blasted landscape. The whole view has a feel as if you are looking at the ocean, and the clouds are the surface. All the tiny mountains, hills, villages, and trees below are under the water-like a reef-in their own ecosystem so different from the one defined by that above the cloud layer. Mountains tall enough even poke out of the clouds farther off in the distance like tiny islands in the gigantic ocean of of white.

starting down there is nothing but dust and rocks. The air at this altitude is too dry to support any form of plants-and without those, higher terrestrial life is very difficult. The landscape itself looks like something out of a science fiction novel. Huge boulders perched at odd angles, the splotches and hills of colored rock and sand. the waves in the rocks of the lava fields. I climbed down a hole about 10m deep and found rock formations where the rock hardened into evidence that it was clearly a liquid at some point in the "recent" past. It seemed, even at second or third glance, that no life could eek a living here, just rocks. Soon, however, I noticed how different these rocks were- some shiny, some dull, red, yellow, blue, black. at about 8500-8000 feet, there was a clear line where plants could suddenly grow. We saw many small, stunted cacti-looking plants, clinging to the loose soil. On the far-windward side of the crater, where air with moisture would hit, green could be seen growing wherever possible. however, once in the crater, the air dried out immediately and all that was left was the waving, jagged peaks of the lava floes.

It was as if the Styx had dried up.

we trudged through sand, across rocks and rubble, it was not too long until everyone was looking at thier feet, following the path and waiting for the rest stop.

A stumble on a loose rock jolted me from my ferry ride and as I looked around I was stunned at the change. I was at about 6,000 feet now, closer to the windward side of the crater and there were plants! woody growth, things that could exist for multiple years, flowers, some small shrubs with berries, and the biggest find of all- insects. A tree with yellow flowers had multitudes of visitors, Bees, wasps, a dragonfly, and some small fly-types. This continued until I entered the area sheltered by the curve of the crater edge. In this area only yellow, dry grasses and small ferns similar to those found on a savanna flourished. Though not more than thirty feet away, woody and green plants continued to grow.

The hike from 6,000 feet to 8,500 feet was brutal. Switchback after switchback in the scorching sun of the leeward, dessicated air. occasionally the trail would loop around the edge of the crater and a blast of cold, moist air would be waiting. At one point there was a small bridge where either side was visible simply by turning around- the difference was startling. On the windward side there were lush plants, flowers, and berries, all above a sea of clouds. On the leeward side there were grasses, palms, and plants adapted to the lack of water.

The most beautiful sight of the trip happened as I passed through a copse of small shrubs and caught sight of the sun glinting off car windshields. the end! it had been seven hours, one full hour of leeward uphill since my last drink..and the end was finally in sight. I felt like a character in one of my favorite fiction books-

Raraku had been conquered.

We went in individuals, We came out a group.

2 comments:

  1. Worse than Bird Ridge? It sounds like it just may have been... although perhaps you had fewer crazy alaskans marching up the hill with exuberant dogs. pretty sweet ecological effects though. There were weird layers of fog in Nepal during the monsoon season, they would rise up in a dense mass in the morning while we were up in the mountains. it's going to be kind've warm there i think- i guess i'll find out soon enough :)
    i drove by the rocky islands we explored near the highway on my way to matt pope's cabin- brought a smile to my face.

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  2. OH MY GOD YOU WENT TO HALEAKALA. My family went backpacking there when I was eight (2 nights: one in the lavabeds, one on the coast, and the third day we followed the road along the coast to Hana -- absolutely gorgeous). It's weird... reading your account of it takes me straight back. I feel like an exhausted but awed eight-year-old again.

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