Heavenly Haleakala!

Above the clouds and up with the birds for the world’s best sunrise

First of all, OW!   Waking up this morning (survived through another night of potential Zombie Eyeball attack in the library), and the first thing I became aware of, as I stumbled to the outdoor kitchen to make a cup of tea, was that my legs hurt!  And when I say legs, I mean the wibbly-wobbly inside thigh region.  Holy cow.  I only went riding for a couple of hours yesterday and today I’m walking like a crab with arthritis (bad, bad, bad – lots of knees, you see).  How on earth did I manage to do a whole week’s riding in the Grand Tetons a couple years ago?

Mucho humbling.

Anyway, maybe it was also my body protesting at having to get up at an unearthly hour – yep, I’m on vacation and here’s my alarm clock going off at 2.30am!  However, before you think I’m completely bonkers (or completely type A, as per my host’s snap judgment – grrr), today was going to be one of the highlights of my completely not-at-all Type A-duration trip – watching the sunrise from the top of the Haleakala crater.   If you read any guide book on Hawai’i or Maui, the absolute, guaranteed MUST-SEE number 1 activity it will tell you to do is this one – yes, set your alarm at an ungodly hour, drive up the steepest, windiest roads in the pitch black and brave the freezing temperatures at the top for what will be an experience of a lifetime.

If you don’t believe me, here’s what my trusty Lonely Planet says about it:

“Often referred to as the world’s largest dormant volcano, the floor of Haleakala measures a colossal 7.5 miles wide, 2.5 miles long and 3,000 ft deep – large enough to swallow the island of Manhattan.  In its prime, Haleakala reached a height of 12,000ft before water erosion carve out two large river valleys that eventually eroded into each other to form Haleakala crater.  Haleakala’s astonishing volcanic landscape so resembles a lunar surface that astronauts practiced mock lunar walks here before landing on the moon.  The 37-mile drive from sea to the 10,023 ft summit is the highest elevation gain in the shortest distance anywhere in the world.  You’ve passed through as many ecological zones as you would have on a driver from central Mexico to Alaska.

Almost showtime...

Haleakala means “House of the Sun” and, since the time of the first Hawaiians, people have been making pilgrimages up to the summit to watch the sun rise.  Its an experience that borders on the mystical.   Mark Twain called it the “sublimest spectacle” he’d ever seen.”

As instructed by the “How to Get the Best Out of Your Sunrise Trip to Haleakala” website I’d found the previous evening, I planned to arrive by 5am, to give me enough time to really take it all in and enjoy the stars as well as the sunrise.
Leaving the Library at 3am (no way I could avoid the shadows in the middle of the night but, fortunately, I guess the Vashta Nerada weren’t hungry), it took me just shy of two hours to reach the top of the summit.  I’d been a little nervous about the drive itself, but it was completely fine.  Though there were no street lights (obviously) as soon as you entered the park and started the ascent proper, the road itself was paved and well-maintained and not too narrow.  But, ay carumba, it was certainly twisty!!  Most of the way, there was a 25mph speed limit which dropped down to 15 mph on the more heroic turns.  Apparently, in places,  the road climbs so high in such a short distance, that you can see 4 or 5 switchbacks in the road from a single spot.  Not that I was looking at anything other than the little patch of tarmac in front of my trusty Mustang’s muzzle.  But I would say it wasn’t as scary as some parts of Highway 1, so it was fine.  It was also cool to see the elevation markers by the side of the road – starting at 3,000ft and counting off each additional 1,000 ft until you hit the magic 10,000 mark.  As I drove past, I had to fight a Pavlovian response to turn on my approved electronic devices and log on to Boingo’s in-flight wireless, but somehow managed to keep it together.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was thankful I’d set off so early as there were only about 5 or 6 other cars there already, so I found a space without any problem and started to get ready to head up the short walk & steps to the viewing area. 

As I’d known before leaving SF that this was one of the activities I was absolutely going to do, I had come prepared.  Even though I’m only here for 3 days, I’d brought a large suitcase with me (there goes another $20 for checked baggage – ker-ching!) that was more than half full with the following Summit-Ready items – no freezing temperatures were gonna rain on this girl’s parade!  Here’s your to-go list for Sunrise Success:

• ·      Not just one, but two sleeping bags
• ·      A circular padded seat cushion
• ·      A headlamp
• ·      A regular torch
• ·      Rainproof & windproof pants (trousers, not knickers!)
• ·      Thermal pants (ditto)
• ·      A thermal neck jacket (poncy name but jolly useful)
• ·      Rainproof and windproof shell jacket
• ·      Extra waterproof outdoor jacket
• ·      Thermal top
• ·      3 layers of long-sleeved clothing
• ·      Thermal gloves
• ·      Camera kit including tripod and remote control switch
• ·      Bananas

Rare moment sans sleeping bag

Oh yes.  I was ready. 

At the top of the summit, there’s a small building which serves as a viewing area and then that’s pretty much it.  I found a spot just on the other side of the wall that surrounded the viewing center, and settled in for the hour and a half wait until sunrise.

Oh, how glad I was for all the stuff I’d brought.  And I quietly congratulated myself for my utter genius in bringing 2 sleeping bags with me.  I’d found a perfect spot where I could wedge myself against the wall and rest my legs up on a little smooth boulder (an impressive find for a volcanic park) and so, with my bum comfortably padded and insulated with the cushion, my body wrapped up in one sleeping bag and my head and shoulders wrapped in the other, I settled in to gaze upon the stars and wait for sunrise.

Wow. I can’t remember the last time I’d been somewhere so quiet and so pristine, in terms of the clearness of the night sky and the profoundness of the dark.  The stars just blazed overhead and I was sitting directly under the Big Dipper (I think) – it was truly breathtaking.  Unfortunately, stars and night sky are not really conducive to good photography, so no pics I’m afraid, but it was so peaceful and meditative, sitting there with my thoughts, wrapped up in my cozy, warm cocoon, that I think I might have actually dropped off for a few minutes.  Or succumbed to a lack of oxygen and passed out momentarily (not due to the altitude, but rather *ahem* due to a rather heroic amount of biogas my guts seemed to be happily producing).  Which then led to an interesting sequence of thoughts upon waking up and remembering where you are, but what a fab experience.  Wrapped in a sleeping bag, on a freezing cold volcanic mountain, gently farting myself to sleep while gazing up at the stars.  Check that one off the bucket list.   Totes.

Anyway, as it got closer to the scheduled time for sunrise of around 6.40am, it started to get busier and busier, as more and more people turned up and the quiet solitude was broken by the crunching of feet on gravel, kids crying and people exclaiming in a surprised tone “Gosh, its so cold up here”.    Really?  No sh*t, Sherlock!   You’re at 10,000ft, at night, at the summit of a volcanic crater – of COURSE its going to be cold!!!

Observatory observing

I’d picked out a great little spot from which to take pictures and had set my camera up on a tripod, with the remote controlled switch, which allowed me to take pics without pressing the button directly.  I’d set up this way both to get better pictures (less camera shake) but also that I could remain in my cosy cocoon, and control my camera without even having to remove my hands from the warmth of my sleeping bag.

And then the show began.  As sunrise approached, the night sky began to lighten and turn purple-blue and the stars faded away.  As the Lonely Planet describes “Ethereal silhouettes of the mountain ridges appear.  The gentlest colors show up in the fragile moments just before dawn.  The underside of the clouds lighten first, accenting the night sky with pale silvery slivers and streaks of pink.  About 20 minutes before sunrise, the light intensifies on the horizon in bright oranges and reds.  For the grand finale, the moment when the disk of the sun finally appears, all of Haleakala takes on a fiery glow.  It feels like you are watching the earth awaken.”

Oh my.  They weren’t kidding.  I think it has to be one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve ever experienced.  I got some great pictures but I still don’t think they do it true justice – it was incredible.  As you would expect, I took quite a few - but here are a selection of my favorites for you.... 

Its scarier driving after sunrise!!

One of life's great experiences - check!

After the sun had fully risen and morning had well and truly broken, it was time to say goodbye and start the twisty, turning drive back down the mountain – this time, with FULL view of all those crazy bends and sharp drop-offs!  I think I preferred driving it in the dark!   But, it didn’t take long before I was back down and I stopped at a great little place called Kula Sandalwoods for a well-earned breakfast of eggs and coffee.   Lots of coffee.  Then, another 45 min drive and I was back home at the Library, to shower, change and have a quick rest before it was time head back on the road for the afternoon’s adventures…..