I sat there, yawning magnificently, feeling somewhat foolish and asking myself, ”Why am I here? I could be sound asleep.”
Where I was was on a concrete bench beside the driveway in front of the office of Kamaole Sands, a condominium complex on the Hawaiian Island of Maui. I was yawning because it was 2:45 a.m. and I was feeling a little foolish because the temperature was at least 70 and I was wearing a golf shirt over a T-shirt and carrying a heavy wool, hooded pullover.
Then, two figures emerged from the darkness, and as they approached I said, ”It`s nice to know I`m not the only maniac around here.”
The couple were Pam and Rob from Brisbane, Australia. After a week of business on the U.S. mainland, they were returning home, with a vacation stop in Hawaii.
What the three of us were doing at that ridiculous hour was waiting for the van from Maui Downhill to pick us up to take us to the top of Haleakala, the dormant volcano that dominates the southeastern end of Maui, so we could ride bicycles the 38.2 miles back down. We`d had a choice of an afternoon descent or a dawn descent. On a reckless impulse I`d agreed to the dawn trip because I`d heard the sunrise on the rim of the volcano was stupendous.
It better be, I thought, now stiffling my yawns.
Right on time–3 a.m.–the van arrived and we joined the rest of our group, gleaned from other condos in the Kihei area. After a short ride we were at Maui Downhill`s headquarters where we were issued helmets, gloves and flannel-lined windbreakers. Then we transferred to another van, this one hauling a trailer loaded with bicycles.
In the van and headed up the mountain in Stygian blackness, Kathy, our tour leader, lead the introductions. We were a mostly young and mixed bag of people–at 45, I was the senior member–including newlyweds, businessmen and a doctor.
Before people started nodding off, Kathy laid down the simple safety measures everyone would have to follow or suffer the ignominy of being asked to complete the trip in the van, which would follow us down the mountain. The rules were simple and imposed no great burden on anyone: Maintain single file, no passing, pull over to the shoulder when Kathy gives the signal to let cars by and carry no loose gear such as cameras.
”Haleakala is a dormant volcano,” Kathy explained. ”It erupts about every 200 years. The last time it erupted was 196 years ago. So once we get underway, if you feel the ground begin to shake and the sky lights up, you can forget the rule about not passing each other.”
We arrived at the crater`s rim (elevation: 10,023 feet) in darkness, the broad parking lot of the visitor`s center lighted only by the headlights of other biking vans, cars and a zillion or so stars. After a quick sojourn outside to stretch our legs, most of us ducked into the van with its heater going full blast. The temperature was near freezing and the windchill factor brought it down close to zero.
Still, when the first hint of light tinged the eastern sky, everyone headed for the crater`s rim, some wrapped in blankets against the relentless, bone-numbing wind. As the light gathered strength, it washed the sky above the crater in, first pale pink and yellow, then brazenly slashed it in gold and crimson. At last the analogy had meaning to me: ”. . . and the dawn came up like thunder.”
Then a strange phenomenon gripped an astounding number of photographers:
They began popping away with flash. It was the first time I`d ever seen anyone attempt to photograph a sunrise with a flash bulb. Photographic foolishness aside, the view that the slowly strengthening light was unveiling stilled voices. The spectacle before us was magnificent and no one needed a narrator to point it out.
From the rim to the floor of the crater it`s almost a sheer drop into an abyss that is said to be big enough to hold the entire island of Manhattan. Literally true or not, the crater is enormous, and but for low drifting clouds scudding around rock outcroppings and spires, it might well be the lunar landscape for which it was used to simulate moon walks by astronauts.
Soon, the entire mountaintop was awash with light and it was time to head down. Leaders of tour groups–and there were many with 10 to 14 bikers each
–followed a schedule that started each group downhill 10 minutes apart.
The delay gave us time to pedal around the parking lot to get the feel of our machines, an exertion that left me short of breath and feeling a little queasy. Just as panic was about to set in, I realized I was 10,000 feet above sea level, the highest I`d ever been without benefit of an airplane. I was suffering a mild case of altitude sickness.
Finally, my equilibrium restored and gravity doing the work, we headed down Haleakala. The asphalt road is smooth and wide and not terribly steep, but still, without regular squeezes of the hand brakes, we would quickly have been roaring down the slope at 60 miles an hour and then hurtling off a cliff on one of the countless sharp turns.
Initial timidity quickly gave way to a feeling of exhilaration as the wind roared past my helmet. I`ve always enjoyed biking, but following this road as it twisted down the mountain was so effortless and the scenery so spectacular, it topped anything I`d ever done. Above and to one side was rugged rock, hardy blooms struggling from cracks; to the other side you could see forever, to that vague and distant line where the pale blue of the sky merges with the deep blue of the Pacific.
Throughout the entire ride it was necessary to resort to pedal-power for only two or three brief periods–you do not have to be a big-time biker to tackle this trip.
At the 9,324-foot level we stopped for pictures and to adjust our order of descent–the heavier and more daring riders tended to go faster and, therefore, were placed at the head of the line; lighter and more cautious riders went down more slowly, so they brought up the rear.
Kathy and the van driver, Joe, kept in constant radio contact, coordinating moves to the side to let cars past while the van blocked cars that might try to pass in a reckless manner or in an unsafe zone. Some resident drivers absolutely despise bikers on Haleakala, Joe said.
We made another stop at the 7,000-foot level where there is a visitor`s center. Slides and books are sold here, but one thing you won`t find for sale are pieces of volcanic rock. Madame Pele, legendary Hawaiian volcano goddess, does not take kindly to those who remove her rocks and she places a curse on those who do. On display in the visitor`s center are several letters pleading that the enclosed volcanic rock be returned to the mountain. They were mailed back to the island by people who scoffed at Madame Pele`s warning, took the souvenir rock home and suffered the consequences.
Wandering around the center this day was a pair of nene geese, the Hawaiian state bird. We were asked not to feed them. The birds are remarkably unafraid of people and feeding them would only compound their problem. They`re threatened by extinction because their lack of fear of man brings them to where man goes. That means roads and death under car wheels.
The silversword plants that grow on the slopes of Haleakala and in a protected area in front of the center also are threatened by extinction. It looks very much like its name implies: a cluster of silvery swords, points upward. Not nearly as tough as it looks, it will die if someone steps on the ground anywhere near its base. Only recently it was discovered that it takes 7 to 30 years for a plant to mature. Then it dies and releases its seeds.
Shedding a layer of clothing, we got back on our bikes and headed down the mountain again, past luxurious homes and vast sugar cane, pineapple and macadamia farms, pausing several times for more pictures and to shed more clothing. By the time we hit the small town of Paia, we were in the Hawaiian tourist ”uniform”–shirt `n` shorts.
We paused in a parking lot on the outskirts of town to load the bikes back on the trailer, then we all piled back in the van for the short trip to Dillon`s restaurant for a champagne brunch. A few hours earlier we`d huddled in the van, its heater going full blast; now we were in the same van, its air conditioner going full blast–from the dead of winter to balmy summer in 38 miles and 3 1/2 hours.
Was it worth the late-night/early morning wake up? You bet your saddle sores it was.
HOW TO GO ALONG FOR THE RIDE
Several companies run biking trips down Haleakala for $75 to $80. All include transportation from and back to your condo or hotel, safety helmets, windbreaker jackets, gloves and lunch. Tipping of the tour leader and chase van driver is perfectly proper, our tour leader and chase van driver pointed out.
If you have high blood pressure, a heart condition or breathing problems, skip the trip. All of these conditions are aggravated by the altitude and cold.
Tip: A T-shirt, golf shirt, heavy wool pullover and windbreaker jacket are not warm enough for dawn on the crater rim at any time of year. Wear more, but dress in layers, so you can shed them as you ride down into warmer zones.
