The Hawai'i That Was: A Tale of Two Kipukas, and Thoughts on the Rarest Plants in the World

Thousands of years ago there was an eruption at Humu'ula Saddle, the broad wide pass between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea on the Big Island of Hawai'i. The eruption was mildly explosive, so the resulting landform took shape as a cinder cone. At the time, it was a barren peak amidst a forest of native Koa trees. As time went on, soils developed on the cinder cone, and the forest expanded to cover the hill. Much later the situation was reversed because extensive sheets of basalt flowed from Mauna Loa, most recently in 1843 and 1935. They covered the entire saddle area and decimated the Koa forest. Except for the lone cinder cone. A small remnant of the ancient forest survived.

The hill, called Pu'u Huluhulu ("hairy" or "furry" hill) is a stark example of a kipuka, an island of sorts in the middle of lava flows that preserves a portion of the original pre-flow surface and the plants and animals that lived there. The Google image above shows just how isolated the cinder cone is. If you are looking for the "Hawai'i That Was", a kipuka is a good place to start. They are like museums of what once was, but they are far more than that. In preserving the flora and fauna, they provide the genetic material that will eventually repopulate the areas of devastation.

Edge of Pu'u Huluhulu, where plants start to recolonize the lava flows.

There are hundreds of kipukas spread across the Big Island on Mauna Loa and Kilauea. We explored two of them on our recent exploration of the islands: Pu'u Huluhulu at Saddle Road, and Kipuka Puaulu in Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park.  Because it is a hill at the boundary between Hawaii's two largest volcanoes, Pu'u Huluhulu offers dramatic views. It is also a bit schizophrenic: it is composed of cinders from the "plumbing" system of Mauna Kea, but was later intruded by dikes of basalt from Mauna Loa.

Mauna Kea from the top of Pu'u Huluhulu

The forest of Pu'u Huluhulu may have escaped the destruction of lava flows, but it has not escaped alteration by humans. The northwest flank was quarried for cinders in the past, and is still barren on that side (although geologists appreciate the exposure of dikes and cinder layers). Cattle, goats and sheep have grazed the hill at various times, although a fence now keeps them out (as long as hikers close the gates). Several short trails, though steep and rocky in a few spots, provide access to much of the kipuka, and the site is recognized as a hot spot for viewing rare native birds.

Kipuka Puaulu, the "Bird Kipuka", at Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park (forested area in center of picture).

At Kipuka Puaulu (or Kipukapuaulu) in Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park the situation is a bit different. For one, it is about ten times larger than Pu'u Huluhulu, covering about a square mile. It's also more of a depression than a hill. About 600 years ago, a lava flow from Mauna Loa overwhelmed the forest of mature Koa and Ohi'a trees, but left a fragment of the woodland sitting on 8,600 year old lava unscathed. Over the years the kipuka was occasionally mantled with ash from the eruptions of nearby Kilauea, but the forest persisted, in part because the ash produced thick moist soils. Today, the kipuka contains one of the most diverse collections of native flora on the Big Island. A beautiful and serene one-mile trail winds through the unique preserve. A Hawaiian elder calls it a "Residence of Godly Existences".

It wouldn't be quite correct to describe Kipukapuaulu as an untouched pristine environment. Cattle were released on the islands in the late 1700's, and pigs and goats moved in as well. The natural flora of the kipuka had no defenses against the aggressive grazers, and by the early 1900's, the kipuka was a park-like grassland shaded only by the "grandfather trees", the older Koa and Ohi'a trees that the cattle couldn't reach. A park sounds pleasant enough, but the trees couldn't reproduce (the saplings were quickly eaten), and the diverse understory of shrubs and perennials had been replaced by alien grasses (below).

Source: National Park Service (https://www.nps.gov/havo/planyourvisit/upload/Kipukapuaulu_Trail_Guide.pdf)

The potential value of the kipuka as a preserve of rare native species was recognized surprisingly early by botanists, who arranged for the removal of cattle in 1928, and the removal of goats and pigs by 1968 (a fence surrounds the kipuka). Volunteers removed the worst of the invasive weeds and grasses, and seeds of native plants lying dormant in the soils started sprouting. In other cases the native species were planted by hand. After a few decades, the kipuka is returning to a condition that is at least comparable to its natural primeval state.

Hau kuahiwi (Hibiscadelphus giffardianus), once extinct except for a few seeds

Have you ever wondered about the identity of the rarest plant in the world? We recently had a story about a single plant of Franciscan Manzanita in San Francisco, discovered at an intersection that was being repaved. How about a plant with no living shoots or branches? One of the strangest stories I've run across regarding Kipukapuaulu is that of the small Hibiscus tree called Hau Kuahiwi (Hibiscadelphus giffardianus). A botanist named Joseph Rock (with that name he should have been a geologist) discovered the sole remaining specimen of the plant on planet Earth in Kipukapuaulu in 1911 (the cows had not quite finished it off). The one plant died in 1930, but a local resident managed to collect enough seeds to get a few sprouts going, and so the plant survives in captivity, so to speak. Around 200 have been planted in the kipuka that was its ancestral home (as well as the adjacent kipuka, for insurance from possible future lava flows).

The kipuka came under protection pretty much in the nick of time. Some of the "grandfather trees" that shade the preserve have been dying off in recent years (like the trees in the picture above). On species, the Ohi'a tree (Metrosideros polymorpha) is one of the most extraordinary of the native trees in Hawai'i. The Ohi'a thrives in a greater range of environments than pretty much any tree on the planet, being found in places as diverse as new lava flows, desert slopes, and alpine ridges. They can appear as small shrubs or as huge rainforest canopy trees nearly a hundred feet tall. The Ohi'a trees in the kipuka are dying, perhaps of old age, a newly spreading fungal disease, or because of a series of droughts in recent years (maybe all three). With the diversity of plants now in place, one would hope the kipuka would be able to adapt to the loss of the old trees.

 A few steps off the trail is an intriguing opening in the ground. It is a lava tube, part of the plumbing system of basaltic lava flows. Because it has existed for more than 8,000 years, it is one of relatively few that has some species of cave-dwelling organisms (including the first one discovered in Hawaii). Like the rest of the kipuka, the cave was heavily impacted (in this case by graffiti artists, vandalism and trash), but visitors are now encouraged to leave the cave alone.

The preponderance of native plant species attracts the native bird species to the kipuka, and they can commonly be seen flitting about in the forest canopy. They thrive here for two reasons: at 4,000 feet, they are above the mosquito zone, so are protected from transmitted diseases, and mongooses have not crossed the barren lava flows to prey on the birds. They are frustratingly difficult to photograph, and I am actually cheating here by showing a picture of an Apapane from nearby at the park visitor center.

The bird below is often seen in Kipukapuaulu, but it is not actually a native. It is a Kalij Pheasant, a 1962 import from southern Asia. There is some concern about the effects they might be having on the vegetation.

To the average visitor the islands, the kipukas are a little-known aspect of Hawaiian geology and biology, but they are an important link to the past, and an important repository of the island's genetic history. If you ever visit, set aside some time for an exploration.

View from the forest on Pu'u Huluhulu towards extensive Mauna Loa lava flows.

Much of my information in this post is drawn from the Kipukapuaulu Trail Guide, written by Tim Tunison and Andrea Kaawaloa-Okita, and published by the Hawai'i Natural History Association. Additional information was gleaned from the book Hawai'is Native Plants by Dr. Bruce Bohm.

The Hawai'i That Was: Why Should We Care?

Lapakahi State Park on the Big Island is the remains of an ancient fishing village that was occupied for hundreds of years. Not a single plant in the picture is native to Hawai'i.

In a lot of ways, a post like this is how one might wrap up a series. The problem is that I can't say exactly where we will be or what we will have discovered by the time I've determined that this blog series is completed! I can certainly talk about why I had the idea, and maybe I'll find some guidance as we move forward in this exploration.

I can say that Hawai'i is very special to me. California is far and away the most interesting place in the world, what with the Sierra Nevada, the coasts, the deserts and all the other fascinating landscapes, but Hawai'i to me is an incredible place that I am privileged to visit only on special occasions. There are so many mysteries on the islands that I haven't had the time to explore. But there is something more. There is a sense of wildness about the place that I don't feel often in my many travels.

The Ha'upu Range. Kaua'i can certainly look foreboding from some directions.

I think it has to do the isolation and remoteness of the place. The Hawaiian Islands were among the last, if not the last significant landmasses to be colonized by human beings in the world. It's been only a few dozen generations that it was the last wild place on the planet,  It has been significantly altered by human activity, but there are still remnants of that primeval world that still exist today. You will never find it in a high-rise hotel at Waikiki, but the pieces are there if you know where to look.

An 'Apapane, one of the few native Hawaiian birds that is not in imminent danger of extinction.

At the same time there is a newness about the Hawaiian Islands. Not a single piece of land in the eight major islands is older than 6 million years. Essentially all of the Big Island is less than a million years old. There is a lava flow near my home in California. It erupted 9-10 million years ago, and while it has been altered by erosion, it still looks relatively "recent". And yet in the time since that lava flow in California, eight major islands grew, reached great heights, and then eroded. Literally thousands of species of plants and animals evolved in that short period of time. Many existed for a time, and then went extinct, sometimes by the hand of humans, and sometimes not.

Pu'uhonua o Honaunau, the place of refuge. If you violated kapu, you had a chance at life if you could make it here.

There are really two Hawaiian Islands that were: the islands before the Polynesians, and the islands of the Polynesians. They were then changed forever in 1778 when Captain Cook "discovered" the islands and their people. The changes in the intervening 238 years have been mostly catastrophic, both for the natural landscape and for the Native Hawaiians. It's only been in the last few decades that people have tried to recover pieces of the past before they were completely gone.

'Ahu'ena Heiau, the last "palace" of King Kamehameha in 1819. It's now surrounded by the bustling city of Kona, with luaus next door two nights a week!

We learn from history. We are often far too ignorant of our dependence on the land and resources, and forget that they can be abused and wasted. All human societies alter the landscapes that they occupy to increase their chances for survival, and some are more successful than others. The Polynesians who discovered the islands brought with them plants and animals they knew would insure their future, and for more than a thousand years they lived within the limits of the land. That is no longer the case today. Meeting the needs of 1.4 million people on the islands requires a huge amount of energy. Can you imagine the chaos if the ship and plane traffic were disrupted for any length of time?

So Hawai'i is beautiful. But it is also a living laboratory that has much to tell us about geology, ecology, evolution, and anthropology. And that is why we were there for much of the last two weeks, students of geology and archaeology, learning what we could in the short time that we had. The story of our journey begins in the next post.

Dispatches from the Road: Some of the Natives are Restless

I'm home, but since I had the idea of this blogpost while I was on the road, it still counts as a dispatch. I've been in Hawaii, and I used several posts to describe the problems of non-native species on the islands, especially the birds. I complained that I didn't get any good photos this time of some of the native species, but that wasn't entirely true. We stayed in Kailua on Oahu right next to Hamakua Marsh, which is a critical habitat for four endangered Hawaiian native birds. Our red-eyed friend above is a Black-crowned Night Heron, which arrived in Hawaii in prehistoric times, but is little changed from its continental relatives.

Also found in the Hamakua Marsh (and at Waimea Canyon) are the Common Moorhens, or 'Alae'ula (Gallinula chloropus sandvicensis). Unlike their name, they are not common at all, as there are only 1,000 or so left on the islands (the presence of tags on their legs is a good clue that they are endangered). They have problems with habitat loss and predation.

The rest of my native species pictures come from earlier expeditions to the islands. On a hike through the Alakai Swamp on Kaua'i last year, I met up with an 'Elepaio (Chasiempis sandwichensis). This is the sole species of flycatcher that made it to the islands by natural means. It's doing ok in the highland swamp where I saw it, but is endangered on Oahu

The same day I saw the 'Elepaio, I was thrilled to catch a Hawaiian Short-Eared Owl or Pueo (Asio flammeus sandwichensis) roosting on a stump at the lower end of Waimea Canyon. I try to imagine the journey that its ancestor had to get to the islands; I don't think of owls as flying over thousands of miles of ocean, but it only had to happen once in the last 5 million years.

I've had the least luck catching glimpses of the Honeycreepers and related species. On a foggy day at the Na Pali overlook on Kaua'i, I played "Where's Waldo Apapane?" among the beautiful Ohia trees. The Apapane (Himatione sanquine) is one of the few native finch/honeycreepers that is not in serious danger of extinction. The original finch that colonized the islands diverged into around four dozen species, but most are already extinct, and many others are on the verge of the abyss.

A few million years ago, a Canada Goose (or flock of geese) got misdirected to Hawai'i, and decided they liked the environment. They evolved into the Nene (Branta sandvicensis), becoming less adapted to water (losing some of the webbing of their feet), and preferring life in fields and on lava flows. The arrival of cats and mongooses on the islands almost spelled their doom and they were nearly extinct by 1951. An intense captive breeding program stabilized their population, and their reintroduction to Kaua'i (where there are no mongooses) has been successful. I saw the group below on the slopes of Haleakala on the island of Maui.