The Most Desolate Place in the United States? The Mauna Loa Weather Observatory

If I seem to be missing in action, it would be because I've been stuck on planes and in airports on my way to the conference and field trips of the Cordilleran Section of the Geological Society of America. Just my luck that they happen to be meeting in Hawai'i this year. I mean really, it's my luck! I am so happy to be back on the islands. We had a spare day, so we did a bit of exploring, finding our way up Saddle Road and driving to the Mauna Loa Weather Observatory, which among other things has been measuring the carbon dioxide content of our atmosphere since the 1950s.

This picture is not tilted. That's the upper slope of Mauna Loa

This post is a bit different than some. It may usually seem that I am encouraging you to visit the places that I write about, but that's not necessarily the case today. Today's destination is something you really have to want to do. Why? Because it could quite possibly be the most desolate place in the United States. It's the road reaches the 11,000 foot level of Hawaii's biggest volcano. And it's no tourist destination. There are no facilities. You can't even visit the observatory itself. It's off limits. But if you want to see a landscape that may be the closest analog on Earth to a place like Mars, this may be the place.

The road begins near the summit of Saddle Road between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea. Most visitors head north up Mauna Kea to the Onizuka Center for Astronomical Studies. It has bathrooms, a gift shop, telescope viewing at night and grand vistas by day. It's a welcoming place. And it's only a six mile drive. If you go south towards the Observatory, the single lane road travels 17 miles, and at about the 10,000 foot level, you leave all earthly life behind (at least it is well hidden). These are lava flows, many if not most less than a century old, and what life is possible at 11,000 feet keeps getting extinguished by hot lava. It is as desolate a place as I have ever seen.

Would you want to visit this barren blasted place? Perhaps. It depends on what you want to get out of a visit to the islands. If you are in stellar shape, the road's end is a trailhead for the shortest hiking access to the top of Mauna Loa nearly 3,000 feet higher (about 3.8 miles to the summit ridge and another 3 or so to the actual summit). It's a case of instant altitude sickness just waiting to happen. If you want to see one of the most unearthly places on Earth, it may be worth your time. If you haven't seen the important parts of Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park, then your precious time might be better spent on the south side of the gigantic mountain.

Speaking for myself, I was fascinated the whole way.

A Most Misunderstood Island: One of the Most Diverse Landscapes on Earth

Shall we start with a stereotypical Hawaiian beach?

One can certainly be forgiven for thinking that Hawai'i is a group of high-rise hotels next to a wide sandy beach. It isn't as if a string of television shows (Magnum, P.I. and Hawaii 5-0 for example) have spent decades putting that stereotype into our heads. And the majority of tourists never venture beyond the hotel row at Waikiki and Honolulu. A visit to some of the other islands can be a real revelation (and adventure). The Hawaiian Islands, and especially the Big Island, are one of the most diverse landscapes on planet Earth.

The view from Pu'u Huluhulu at Saddle Road summit

Not convinced? Here is a selection of pictures taken over just two days of reconnaissance on the Big Island. How about an African savanna? A lone Koa tree (I think, I'm still learning these!) overlooks the plains along the summit of Saddle Road, a highway that links the two sides of the island. There are even grazing cattle, sheep, pigs, and goats (which are doing terrible things to the natural ecosystems).

Perhaps an archaeological site in the wilds of the Sinai Desert? The great heiaus on the Big Island served a variety of purposes, including refuges, sacrificial sites, and temples. They date back hundreds of years. This one can be seen at Pu'ukohola Heiau National Historical Site on the dry side of the island in the rain shadow of the Kohala volcano. Rainfall averages less than 20 inches a year, compared to more than a hundred just a few miles away.

A recovering mesic coastal forest? Not a desert, not a rainforest, but somewhere in-between (mostly on the dry side) We are looking at the Lapakahi State Historical Park on the west slope of Kohala. The original forest was cut down for a number of reasons, but humans lived in this village for hundreds of years.

How about the high plains prairie? One of the largest privately owned ranches in the United States is found on the Big Island (the Parker Ranch). The cattle graze on rich grasslands that cover some of the older volcanoes. When they reach the right age, they fly in a 747 to the mainland. As a guide to Hawaii mentions, they probably enjoy more foot room than the average tourist in coach...

 As can be seen, some of the grasslands are windy.

Big Sur on the Big Island? Sure. This Big Island is not as famed for the coastal cliffs like those in Kaua'i and Molokai, but several tens of thousands of years ago, a large part of the northern coastline of the island collapsed into the sea. It probably produced a mega-tsunami in the local islands that had run-ups amounting to hundreds of feet in elevation.The Pololu Valley and coast is stunning.

The Pololu coast is also known for the gorgeous river valleys that extend into the Kohala volcano ("gorgeous"; Did you get it?). The canyons are hundreds of feet deep, and were once even deeper, but the islands are slowly sinking and the valleys fill with sediment.

I doubt that Sauron would have ever established Mordor in a place like this. These a'a lava flows from Mauna Loa are only a few decades old, and are practically impossible to traverse. Somehow a highway got built across part of it, and there is even a strange housing complex in the immediate vicinity. The few trees are the native Ohi'a, a tree that can grow from coastal environments to as high as 10,000 feet or so. I don't believe there is another tree on the planet that can do that.

And how about glacial environments? Yes, Hawai'i had glaciers during the Ice Ages! The top of Mauna Kea was mantled with flowing ice only a few thousand years ago. There are glacial moraines, and even a small lake that is the third highest in United States. Eruptions happening in the ice produced a glassy form of basalt that was much harder than normal, so the native Hawaiians would climb to the summit of the mountain to gather the rock for tool-making.

And finally, yes, there are rainforests! Beautiful green forests filled with rare and endemic plants found nowhere else on the planet. Don't tell anyone about this, but I see scenes like this and think of the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland! But these forests are real.

There are even more ecosystems and biomes on the island that we just didn't happen to see on our short excursions. Expect to see some more as the week progresses. We've got two more weeks on the islands, and lots of exploring to do!

Dispatches from the Road: Excuse me, there's a Kao trying to get into your Kipuka Pu'u Huluhulu...

It's hard to imagine a more spectacular setting than Saddle Road Summit on the Big Island of Hawai'i. Two of the world's largest volcanoes, Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, overlap at an elevation of almost 7,000 feet. In the middle of the broad pass, with expansive views of both volcanoes, there is one of the most extraordinary sights of all the islands: Pu'u Huluhulu. The name means "shaggy hill". It's a small knob, a minor cinder cone lying between two giants, but it tells a fascinating story. The cinder cone erupted several thousand years ago, and has since been surrounded by barren basalt flows, most recently in the 1930s. These isolated areas surrounded by fresh lava flows are called kipukas.
On islands that have been ravaged by invasive species the way Hawai'i has, kipukas serve as islands within islands. They can preserve a native landscape that has disappeared from most of the rest of the islands. At Pu'u Huluhulu, the slopes preserve a Koa tree forest environment that once covered most of Mauna Kea, but which was decimated by logging and grazing over the last 150 years. If and when we decide to change our land-use practices on the islands, a kipuka like this one can be the source of native species that could eventually lead to the reforestation of the mountains.

Koa trees, like those seen above on the trail around Pu'u Huluhulu, once grew in abundance on the islands, reaching upwards of a hundred feet tall, and trunks wide enough to fashion canoes. Most of the "grandfather" trees have been cut down, so a place like this, with a Koa forest environment, is all the more valuable.

One cannot mistake this place as a pristine environment, though. The area was grazed heavily over the years and invasive weeds arrived on boots, and on the fur of goats, cows and pigs. The pigs and goats were especially destructive of the understory shrubs. What has changed is the growing recognition of the value of such places. A fence has been constructed to keep out the goats and pigs, and volunteers have been weeding out the invasive plant species, and planting, or encouraging the growth of dormant seeds of the native understory shrubs and perennials. They're doing a good job. The native vegetation attracts native bird and insect species, and Pu'u Huluhulu is often a good place to see the native Amakihi, Apanane, Io (Hawaiian hawk), Pueo (Hawaiian owl), Nene (the Hawaiian goose), I'iwi and other unique birds. We heard, but didn't see any close enough to photograph on this trip, but I'll be back!

We did see a rather incongruous sight, though: a herd of goats wandering across the barren lava fields (that's the "kao" of the blog title today). They know very well what lies across the fence, and they literally hang around the gateways in the fencing, hoping for a chance to get into the kipuka and do their thing, which is eating and eating. When they say "close the gates", please do it! There is grazing land across the highway for the goats.

If you have old memories of Saddle Road as a hellish, dangerous winding mountain road, or if you visit for the first time and read that the road is not for the faint of heart, the situation (for better or worse in the philosophical sense) has changed. The road has been repaved and engineered, and is a pleasant drive, if it isn't raining or foggy. Some people miss the wildness of the old route, which was pretty unnerving when I followed it for the first time. The expansive views, especially on the western slope on clear days, are stunning. It's a purely Hawaiian experience, but not a Hawai'i stereotype. There really isn't any place like this in the world.

Next time: a different kipuka...