Volcano and clouds, Island of Hawaii.
Clouds below the mountain at dawn.
Imagine the scene. You are standing alone after descending to approximately 13,000 feet above sea level,
the wind is gusting vigorously—across the way on a neighboring mountain, it’s recorded at 81 miles per hour.
The noon temperature is near freezing point so evening and later, should get down lower.
Your feet are aching from walking on volcanic cone and rocks. As far as the eye can see, you are surrounded
by lava rock colored black and gray. Some of the places that you step on collapse under your weight as there
is no support under the surface covering. You have now been on this mountain for nearly four hours and you
don’t know the way back to the trailhead. To put it quite bluntly, you are lost. You should understand the
area is vast, covered entirely with volcanic rock and nothing else. Wherever you look on the mountain, it's
the same, not providing any indication of familiarity. In the early stages of discovering one is lost, a certain
helplessness pervades one.
The last thing I would like to do is dramatize the situation—it detracts from its seriousness. What goes on
in a person’s mind in this position? It’s not a good feeling. That may be an understatement. To look around
and see hundreds if not thousands of square miles of lava rock without a path down to the starting point is
quite frightening. Maybe you say to yourself: ‘The main thing is not to panic. Remain calm and let me work
this out although I’ve lost all sense of direction.’ In my case, the problem is that I don’t start with much
sense in that field so it compounds the problem further.
A view into the caldera from the lower side, below the peak of Mauna Loa, an active (resting) volcano.
Mauna Kea from Mauna Loa, some of the observatories in view as I move upwards (cairns in view).
"Hey, Good morning sunshine". Position is at 9,200 feet above sea level with wonderful cloud cover below.
Some strange thoughts enter the mind. I have a fascination for Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea, the world’s highest
mountains. You might think I’m building this for the sake of a good story. However, from the seabed, Mauna Loa
stands 56,000 feet high and is the earth's most massive mountain—U.S. National Park Service, protruding
nearly 14,000 feet above the ocean surface. Because I have a strong feeling for these amazing mountains, I think
that should a person depart this earth, these volcanoes would be as good an exit point as any. Perhaps, a little
morbid but nevertheless, the situation wasn’t good. At the time, I didn’t want to try an emergency number,
(the phone seldom has reception in the wild), before spending time trying to figure out what to do. Also, a little
pride prevents one waving down helicopters although that’s a little more difficult to do than it sounds.
I continued to think where I went wrong because I feel very comfortable on this mountain. In fact, it only took
one small error because an indicator was knocked down. The blame lies entirely with me but this unfortunate
small error became compounded when I continued along a path I knew was incorrect. I thought by following the
jeep track, rather than the cairns-marked trail, I would arrive at a position in reasonable proximity to the
trailhead. One of my shortcomings, inter alia, is that I hate to turn back. In retrospect, I should have done
that, collected my thoughts and regained the earlier correct position although I had already wondered far from
that vicinity.
By this stage, I had figured I was too far west and needed to cut across the lava. It turned out that I was,
in fact, too far east. The further east I walked over dangerous terrain, the worse things became. The added
hazard presented by the surface compounded the discomfort underfoot. After stumbling a little, I decided to
do the obvious: Go to higher ground. Although the way out was to move down, I needed to get higher in order
to see what lay below me. My position at the time was limited to views of miles and miles of the same, dark
volcanic rock. This detour added about three miles to the hike. By that time, I was feeling hungry and cold
but refused to stop as it would delay things further—I wanted to find a way off the mountain but in the
correct direction. Getting down is one thing although there were many places impassable because of the terrain.
Returning to the trailhead was proving to be another thing. I realized should no one come for me, I would be
sleeping in freezing temperature without suitable clothing or shelter. I would need food later and so I delayed
eating. I have been lost with the editor before but this time it had an ominous feel to it. An additional
complication was that I had Jenni’s lunch with me.
That’s unforgivable. I was more intimidated by that than being lost. I had doubts whether she would ever
forgive me. It was motivation indeed to find my way to the trailhead.
The massive crater or caldera walls at summit.
Contrasting the harsh lava with the soft clouds.
The sun flares and the day comes alive at high elevation.
We’d had left the town of Volcano at 5am earlier that morning, traveled to Mauna Kea for the hike to the
summit. However, after commencing, we were pulled from the trail as the high winds were considered too
dangerous. The authorities closed the trail and road to the summit. We then set off for Mauna Loa, the
sister mountain across the way, but at least forty minutes by car. As we commenced the hike, Jenni decided
to withdraw because of the wind. I was unhappy with her decision but thought I would go for a short hike to
cool off after this change in arrangement. It was lonely without her, cold and windy; I considered returning.
However, I pressed on and began to enjoy the hike immensely until I remembered about the lunch. The good news
was that Jenni wasn’t with me and so I knew she was safe. She was reading in the car. Later she told me her feet
got a little chilly so she stretched out to catch the warming rays of the sun on the driver's side—that's my side.
Oh for life's little comforts.
My return to the point-of-error position, or to reacquire height was obviously the correct thing to do although
adding many miles to the journey—another lesson learned. It was then I noticed a sign had been knocked over.
The trail crosses solid lava rocks and cones with a small part extending on a rough-stone jeep road. I should
have diverted from the road earlier. However, I missed the fallen-sign after taking a set of pictures—the
concentration distracted. I looked down and saw a golden sight. Approximately a mile away, as the crow flies,
the Mauna Loa Observatory stood in all its glory. Relief! I knew the trailhead was about a mile to the
west of the building and here I was, on the right of the building, that is, to the east.
The symmetry of Mauna Kea across the way.
Miles and miles of lava cover and no flora. It is one of the most barren places visited but always attractive.
A different angle into the caldera.
Once I retraced my footsteps, it was easy going direction-wise from thereon. However, by the time I arrived at the
trailhead and then the car, I had completed over 12 miles, gained a cumulative 2,600 feet in a little over five
hours, not forgetting taking a whole lot of photographs. The original intention was to go for a short hike.
With a half-hour to go to the trailhead, the phone rang—it was my brother and cousin calling from Dallas to
say 'hello'. The phone was working after all although Jen did not have one.
Life is a narrow bridge but the main thing is not fear, not to panic, thoughts with which I tried to steel
myself while lost. Easier in theory. B’H. Thank G-d.
They say all’s well that ends well. Jenni forgave me for the lunch…just this once.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
A favorite of sun reflecting off clouds, couldn't resist even with a few sunrises already on the blog.
Mauna Kea, through the cleft.
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