From Bill’s Journal
The sign at the trail head says that our goal -
Mauna Loa Cabin - is six miles away. Not
so far, except that the starting elevation is 11,000 feet and Cabin is at
13,250. The air is noticeably thin. We
start our hike rather late - 10:30 AM - owing to the long drive to the
trailhead. The day is beautifully clear,
but with a substantial headwind. Mauna
Kea, topped by its own Observatory, is our companion to the north.
The trail leads steeply up, curving away from the
Observatory. It is marked by stone
cairns, and is for the most part well-worn, so that a clear, continuous track
is visible. It crosses every imaginable
type of lava: Aa flows with boulder sized cobbles of scoria. Aa flows with fist-sized cobbles
of scoria, which are rather difficult to walk upon. Crinkled pahoehoe flows, their surfaces like draped cloth. Some are solid rock, other delicate and
crunchy. Smooth pahoehoe
flows. Lava tubes, where one can ascend
easily as if walking on the top of a large drain pipe (while hoping that they
can take our weight). Tephra beds, also easy to walk
upon, as the trail is rather firm and springy there.
About a mile into our hike, we pass a largish
lava cave. We also cross several times a
rough jeep track. While not on our map,
it too must be ascending towards the summit.
About two miles up we pass a party of hikers
heading down. One has spent the night at
the cabin and the others are just out for the day.
About three miles up is a very interesting
section where the trail follows the boundary between a tephra
ridge and a lava flow, thus forming a shallow windy valley. It's quite beautiful, with the tan colored tephra a striking contrast to the glassy black lava. We stop for lunch, firing up the MSR stove to
make rice and hot chocolate. Afterwards, we pass numerous patches of snow in
this valley, as well as many interesting lava formations, including a
well-formed hornito.
Hannah is handling the tough conditions much
better than I. She is remarkably
springy, even at 12,000 feet. I have
been dragging all the way. While my
muscles do not feel particularly tired, I have very little energy. I try to walk a hundred paces before having
to stop to rest, but do not always manage even that amount. I have to continue to force myself to take
deep breaths, to bring in the oxygen. I
am carrying a 1.5 liter bottle of water in my hand, taking a small sip every
few minutes, for the air is very dry. Finally, at about 4 PM, we pass another
largish cave and reach the caldera rim, four miles in and with still two miles
to go. The trail splits here. We go left, towards the cabin. The right fork, which we pass-up, goes to the
summit.
The next half mile is slightly downhill, and over
a very smooth pahoehoe flow. I find it a welcome break, and can walk it
rather quickly (though many not so fast as to be completely to Hannah's
liking). We then pass a small crater, Lua Paholo, perhaps a
quarter-mile across, like all the others we have seen in having very steep
sides and in being floored by a lava flow.
The trail passes close to its edge, and we stop there for a while to
enjoy the view. We can see many
individual lava beds outcropping from its side, each separated by a reddish bed
of tephra. The
smooth lava flow across which we have just walked has flowed into this crater,
leaving streaks of a now-frozen lava fall. A large fissure intersects the
crater. The trail passes near it, and we can see that lava has flowed into it,
coating its sides and making them smooth.
I peer into it,
Though only two feet across, it seems very, very deep.
By this time I am walking very slowly. Hannah, who is ahead of me, suddenly
announces that she can see the cabin - but it is still far off. When I reach her vantage point, I can see its
peaked roof, perhaps a half mile away. I
trudge on, huffing and puffing, through the lengthening shadows of the late
afternoon. I finally reach the cabin at
6:30 PM, having been hiking about 8 hours.
The cabin is built very near the rim of the
caldera. Its outhouse, built over a
ring-fissure, and with no door and an open-view into the great hole, is nearer
still. The caldera is perhaps a hundred
meters deep. Steam is issuing from a vent in its floor.
Mauna Loa Cabin: 19:27.991N 155:34.898W elev 13,294 ft, WGS-84
The cabin itself has three rooms: a large bunk
room, with bunks that are comfortable but which have rather too little head
room; a kitchen, with a metal counter where I put the MSR stove, and a sink
(albeit with no running water and a bucket for a drain); and a storeroom. The great boon of the cabin, in addition to
the fine shelter it provides, is that its roof acts as a catchment for water,
which is then stored in a large holding tank.
Although we each brought 3.5 liters of water with us, that lasted us only
through dinner. We rely on the cabin for
providing water for our return trip.
As the sun sets, I cook a dinner of mashed
potatoes and gravy, and we sat down at the table for a slow dinner - slow, for
we were both quite tired. The air
temperature, which was perhaps 60F at the start of our hike, has dropped to
near-freezing. We are grateful we have
brought down jackets and 0F down sleeping bags.
We chat a little as the sun set - but not much. We go to sleep early, to a nearly-full moon.
I awake once during the night, after the moon had
set, and step outside to see the stars.
I can understand why there are observatories here and on Mauna Kea, for
the sky is clear and the stars were remarkably bright. The brightness of the Milky Way impressed me
particularly, for it was much more distinct and much more velvety than I had
ever seen it. I can also see the Big Dipper near the horizon. A meteor streaks across the sky as I watch.
May 18, 2005.
Wednesday. Morning sunlight
the caldera wall, opposite the cabin.
I arose early and boiled a few liters of the hut's water for the trip
back. Slowly, high clouds drew in, so
that the sky gradually became overcast.
We ate rice for breakfast, packed, and headed out. I was in denial that yesterday's hike, which
was very, very tough, could really have been only six miles. So I set the GPS up in odometer mode, taped
to the shoulder strap of my pack, to provide a continuous logging of our
distance traveled.
Our trip back followed exactly yesterday's
route. This time we were looking towards
Mauna Kea, and could admire it for most of the downward journey. The sky gradually cleared during the course
of the day, and we could see other mountains as well. One was the peak of the
neighboring island of Maui, or so we conjectured.
The trip down registered 6.18 miles on the GPS
odometer, only slightly more than the amount posted on the sign, and not enough
extra to feel misled. It's a tough
trail! It took us 4:17 to get down. We
had an early dinner at the Pizza Hut in Hilo.
About 26:00 for the whole
hike.