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Mauna Kea stands 118 feet (36 meters) taller than anything else in the Pacific Basin. The next tallest mountain is the active shield volcano Mauna Loa. Heading to the summit of Mauna Kea is what I decided to do last week even though the forecast was for poor visibility and severe winds. I borrowed a Dodge 4×4 because anything less might not survive the drive.

The road starts off with a nicely paved section. It’s a pleasure drive - similar to what might be found in any National Park in the mainland. People typically stick to their cars and the road, not venturing far into the wilderness. I found this to be the case here as well, especially when the paved road turned to dirt.

The Dodge handled the washboard road well, but after everything rattled off of the dash I decided to slow down a bit. It just so happened that the rental Jeeps behind me felt the need for speed. For their drivers, the road was a race course, and the more they could rev those engines, the more they wrung every penny’s worth out of their contracts. I pulled over and let them pass.

After the dust settled I walked across the road to survey the scene. It’s strange to look down on clouds drifting up when usually you have to look up to see them. These clouds were on the Hilo side of the island. They ran up the slopes of both mountains and into the Vog choking Mauna Loa.

The view off to the right was a bit different. On the western side of the island is where Kona is. It’s the dry side, the sunny side. It wasn’t so sunny down below those thick clouds.

Not wanting to tear my gaze away from the view, I reluctantly looked at my watch. The sun was to set at 6:40pm and I had miles to climb still. I drove on up the road a while before I came to Mars.

It seemed like the Mars that has been portrayed in magazines anyway, but there in front of me was a map of the Earth. Perhaps this was a some sort of communication system capable of quickly spanning the vast distances between planets.

Climbing high into the sky affects our bodies ability to gather oxygen, which in turn affects our brain’s ability to think. I didn’t think I was affected. I felt fine. There is life on Mars! In front of me stood the oversized helmet to prove it.

As I stood there, scrutinizing what it was that I was looking at, twilight colors began to brighten. The sun was setting and here I was parked near a chrome dome. I moved on up the road before something bad happened.

Finally, I regained my senses and found myself in the midst of groups of camera wielding tourists at the summit. I snapped a few pictures of the telescopes. Here’s one of the NASA Infrared Telescope Facility with Maui in the background.

And here is one of a Japanese tourist taking a photograph of Hualālai, the mountain that forms the backdrop to the town of Kailua-Kona.

Just look at all that snow. It was cold and crowded here. I didn’t want to end the day here, at the parking area overflowing with people. I wanted to be on the actual summit. I wanted to see the U.S.G.S. marker. I spotted a lone backpacker heading away from the crowds and toward the top, so I followed in his general direction. We made it to the top with minutes to spare - minutes which cooled us down quickly. Minutes to take a few pictures at a time before my fingers wouldn’t function and had to be placed under my armpits to warm up. I saw the marker though, and the sunset - and was delighted.

13,796 feet (4,205 meters) above sea level is cold and windy no matter where you are, but after a perpetual summer it’s even worse. Thinking clearly was also difficult in the thin air. The backpacker and I tried to determine the wind chill but with him being from Canada and me being from the US, we confused Celsius and Fahrenheit but came up with the correct answer anyway - get out of the wind, and fast. Right after one… last… photo… And this one… And…

The hike back to the road seemed to take only a few moments. We were warmed up again after hiking in the shadow of the mountain, and took to our cameras again.

The backpacker, whom I’ll call Jeff, was all set to hike back down to the visitors center if he couldn’t catch a ride with someone. Jeff accepted my offer for a ride in the Dodge even though the heater wasn’t working. At least we’d be out of the gusts. We made it back to the visitor’s center in time to participate in a sky show before Jeff realized that one of his cameras was not in the pocket where it belonged. He asumed that it had fallen out while taking pictures with his other camera near the summit. We hopped back in the truck and ascended a second time. The camera wasn’t found near the road, so we hiked back up to 4,205 meters and what did we find? We found a field of stars, brighter and clearer than we’d ever seen. He also found his camera.

We made it back down to the visitor’s center in time to view Saturn’s rings through a telescope before the rangers put them away for the night.

So why is this post called “Beware Of Invisible Cows” when it’s got nothing to do with cows? There is a sign on the visitors center that states:

“Beware Of Invisible Cows. Most of the Mauna Kea access road below Hale Pohaku is open cattle range, and the cows frequently cross the road. Dark colored cows are often invisible in darkness and / or fog. Use extreme caution and drive very slowly in this open range.”

The clouds below had cleared and the drive home was safe and free of invisible cows.

Let’s pick up where we left off about two weeks ago. You have just come back to your desk after another meeting to find that we made it around the closed gate and down to the ocean. We took the alternate path, and it’s a winding one. We’re on a county road leading westward along the coast. The road isn’t well maintained.

When it rains, and it rains often this time of year, the dirt turns to the slickest mud around. Even if you happen to have a 6 wheel drive vehicle you’d probably have difficulties circumnavigating the larger pits. Gravity, then inertia pull you in. We’re not taking any chances today. We’re walking from here. It shouldn’t take us long to get to one of today’s destinations.

Rumors abound that people are living near King Kamehameha’s monument. People who think it’s better to cook ice than rice. Perhaps we won’t run into them today, but in case we do, we are ready to document their stories for future generations of iceheads.

The police have been down this road earlier in the week so we aren’t worried about that aspect of our safety. Around a bend we spot a likely spot to squat. It’s not much from the outside, but like most dwellings in Hawai’i, it’s probably immaculate inside. Probably. Possibly?

I want to go in, but on the path leading up to the shack, I spot something disturbing. No, not a fluttering butterfly hovering near a flower nearby. Not the waves breaking on the shore just over to the right. Not even the dilapidated outhouse over yonder. I spot decorations that somebody has placed specifically to deter unwanted guests.

We best move on to birthplaces. The butterflies call us onward. After less than an hour we arrive at Kamehameha Akahi Aina Hanau, the birthplace of King Kamehameha the Great. “If you’ve seen one pile of rocks you’ve seen them all,” somebody once said about this specific locale. Perhaps that was meant to keep adventurous souls like us from desecrating these sacred grounds with our unclean ways. More likely it was meant out of concern for rainy day travelers and their rental cars.

I promise not to disturb the grounds, do you? It’s a solemn place. The rocks are stacked neatly in places, and scattered about in others. A small rock cairn stands outside the main complex and holds it’s share of tokens, placed there attentively by visitors. Nearby, a lone sapling grows out from a protective rock windbreak. Sand dunes have formed in a corner of the huge monument and are slowly making tracks toward the outer wall.

Everything is in motion. Even if we can’t see with our eyes, we feel with our hearts. There are butterflies on our path to see the king. All we can do is enjoy their presence along the way.

The ground opens wide. Lava flows below the mountain. It’s quite a big surprise. What? Were you thinking of something other than an Earthquake? It’s Hawai’i after all. This is home of the earthquake. Tonight one struck in Kohala.

The location of the quake and it’s magnitude are indicated by the tiny red square. It was only a 2.7 but seeing how it’s the only quake that I’ve felt since January I’ll take it. I’m not picky. I wanted to feel one and now I can leave the island a contented man.

I was preparing dinner tonight at 6:42 PM when the house shook. The shaking wasn’t much - a truck passing out front could have caused a similar event - but there was no truck. The island is alive. It just reminded us of it’s power. Big men often tremble as they step aside. I thought I was big once - she changed my mind.

Unemployment. I’ve been without a regular paycheck for so long I wonder not only if my bank account still works but if it shouldn’t be closed due to lack of activity. The proceeds could probably buy me a burrito and some beans and rice. It’s like living in paradise. Being without income means that I get to spend more thoughts than greenbacks. Seeing that I’ve got no debts, my time is free to use as I will. Freedom is nice. Today I think I’ll take you on a short journey westward, out of Hawi Town.

The first thing that comes to view, once out of the small town, is what I call the colorful, jubilee tree. Folks up north tend to be very festive people. For Christmas they painted the tree silver and red and hung decorations on it. Last week a handmade sign also swayed from it’s branches. Some of the colors are still visible.

Resuming our trek, we come to a sign for the Upolu Airport and take the road leading downhill - into the tsunami evacuation area. (Click images for different, larger photographs.)

From this vantage point we notice lush greenery and open fields. The winds blow unremittingly from the east. In the distance a dairy farm and windmills can be seen.

Continuing on, we come across a car heading uphill. It’s a new model Ford, obviously a rental car. It’s driver doesn’t want to yield in our little game of chicken. You see, the road has only one lane, and tourists tend to take their rental contract seriously - the part about driving off-road anyway. No worries. We pull over to the grassy shoulder and let them pass. Cows appear after rounding a bend, grooming themselves following a long day of grazing the meadows.

The road empties into the ocean, apparently, and the winds still blow. The electric lines dance, bending the poles after years of movement. In the distance, a tug pulls a barge loaded with containers bound for Hilo.

We pass one of three major dairy farms on the island and a wind farm and come to the Upolu Airport. It’s not much of an airport. There are only two places to tie down aircraft and no avgas available for purchase. The airport is mostly used for touch and go’s. Aircraft don’t typically come to a complete stop because the wind makes back-taxiing difficult, if not impossible.

The pavement ends at the airport. The road goes no further. This is the end my friends. However, turning left leads us along the airport property line. A green security fence keeps trespassers at bay. Great globs of dense mud fling off of our tires, into the open windows and onto the armrests as we splash through puddles. The windows get rolled up. Temperatures rise quickly without the wind. Windows open up a crack.

Finally, after five minutes driving over rough terrain hardly worth being called a road, we come to a closed gate. Somebody’s building a large house out here by itself and has a rock wall surrounding it. I suppose they have to keep the rogue waves away. A lone tree stands down near the rocky shore. We could take an alternate path down to the shore, but you’re probably tired of reading and have to get back to work. Lucky you, having a job and all. Want to pick up back here later, after lunch but before the afternoon client meeting?

Welcome to Spring. Goodbye Winter. It’s a little bit warmer every day and recently used jackets find their way toward the back of the closet. Jars containing seeds that were stored last harvest are now dusted off and readied for planting. I’m told the strawberry plants that were overwintered in the hothouse are starting to thrive instead of simply survive. Green pastures reveal themselves as snow becomes water and trickles into the ground. The hills are alive, so to speak.

Of course this is all relative. Everything depends on where we find ourselves. Some places are not doing so well right now. Normally verdant portions of California, China and Australia are experiencing severe drought this year which will limit agricultural production.

Many of us will be in for a tough year. I hope for the opposite. I’ve been using the past few months to catch up on my permaculture video collection. Soon I’ll have a lot of fun “work” to do. A properly designed perennial garden is not only highly resistant to extremes in weather, but It also provides a tremendous amount of food with minimal effort. If only everyone had their own little patch instead of relying on the supermarket we would be in a more beautiful landscape both physically and economically. Need some seeds? I’ve got plenty to share.