Sea to Summit (Hilo Bay to Mauna Kea Summit)

We started out Thursday Morning, March 12, 2015 and summited Friday afternoon, March 13.  

Mike and Frank in Hilo Town

Kawika and Frank at Hilo Bay.

On the first day, it took us about 12 hours to do the 35 miles from HIlo Bay to Onazuka Visitors Center at   9600 K feet on the Slope of Mauna Kea. 

It was a long, but not unenjoyable trek.  The weather was generally good, but we were blessed with intermittent light showers coming in off Mauna Loa that got chilly as we climbed the slopes of Mauna Loa toward the Saddle between Mauana Loa and Mauna Kea, which lies at 6600 feet. 

All the way up we marveled at the amount of Snow on the Summit, and the lowness of the elevation at which it had remained on the ground. Snow appeared to be down to the 10 or 11 thousand foot level.  As we got higher we realized that the snow caps were a bit crooked with the heaviest and lowest snow falling on the western slopes of the mountains. 

 I had been expecting more problems than I had experienced in the 30 mile haul up the hill, and was starting to feel a bit confident, though I was dragging behind Frank and Kawika up to each aid stop.  Traffic was moderate,  fast, and occasionally dangerous.  We often moved far off the side of the road to avoid problems with large semis and tankers. The only close call was a car passing, and moving far into the left lane, which brought up behind us, his tires hitting the warning dots on the far left of the road.  If he had been stupid enough to stop we would have roughed him up bad.  As it was, we wished him an early death and a bad case of hemorrhoids, seeing as how that aspect of his body was so pronounced.  

A few miles from the access road.  Racing the darkness.

We reached the saddle just after dark, congratulated ourselves, took a quick break, and headed up the Mauna Kea Access Road toward the Visitors center at about 9200 feet.  That's 6.5 miles and and just about a 3000 foot climb.  Even with switchbacks the road is often at 15 percent grade or higher.   It was not my first time walking up this road, but as is often the case when things get very unpleasant, I had forgotten the specifics of the past trips.  I was quickly reacquainted with  just how steep the road can get.   

I quickly went into 'gasping' mode, which bent me over my poles as I fought to get a bit more O2 into my lungs. Traffic coming down the road was heavy as people were finishing up abbreviated tours and taking the tourists back to Kona after some time at the Onizuka visitor center telescopes. I walked along my head down, the bill of my cap limiting vision to only a few feet in front of me, and popping my light on into strobe mode only when a car was passing me.   

The last, and steepest section of the day,  up the access road @ 6.5 miles, was done in the dark, which made a normally difficult venture a near torture of indefinite nature. We were spread out and each in our little bubble of suffering, each hiker lamenting his failing body, the weakness in the legs,  the growing lightheadedness, and the increasing difficulty breathing. 

 We made the Visitors center to find the road closed do to Snow and Ice,  after we figured this out we headed back down, via support vehicles,  to camp at the saddle.  It was a cold night but not particularly wet.  Morning was spectacular.

Mauna Kea from the Mauna Loa Access Road.  Forest in forground, Pu'uhuluhulu, mid ground.

We got back up to the Center around 8 and were permitted to go around 9.  

Frank Macmillian, Mike Muench,  Kawika Spaulding, Wild Bill ready to start the last section.

The climb from the center goes up to almost 14,000 feet.  It increasingly becomes a meditation in depletion of resources.  The mind slowly closes into just the next few steps and very little looking around.  Its too vast, too steep, and just to hard to imagine being up higher, which is clearly visible, but unimaginably far away.  The miles become longer and longer, the road steeper and steeper, the wind and the cold increase and the air thinner.   I found myself panting, gasping, stopping and holding onto my sticks,  feeling my heart complain, and, on a few occasions, just wishing it would stop and I'd keel over dead.  Better dead than to have to endure the next miles.  But it is all survivable,  I'd done the road, down once before,  knew the way, but found the cold difficult.   

The road gets steep and the air gets thin.  Ice on the road and edgy footing.

I passed my two companions at about half way and just put my head down and tried to move beyond the sound of their foot steps.  Just pushed, one, two steps at a time. Everything at about three-quarter or half level.  One, two.  One, two.  that patch of ice on the road, that blue in the snow,  one, two.   One half hour to the top of this section, one quarter hour to the switchback, half way to the switch in, one, two.  Breath, push on the poles, push, one, two.  Once no a while look back, see Kawika,  look for Frank.  Push, try and stay ahead of them.   Push to the bottom of the observatory roads,  marvel at the snow, at the beauty of the peaks against the bluing sky.  Every once in a while remember to take a picture.  

13,000 Feet, the road just open and plowed, Mauna Loa beckons in the distance.

Looking East toward Hilo.  The last section, only two more switchbacks.

Final push to the three-way.  The Observatories at the Summit

Kawika Spaulding at near the summit of Mauna Kea.

M. Muench at the top of the summit road.

Mauna Kea's true summit. 

I reached the top of the road and stared across at the summit.  The net difference from where stood to the top was about fifty feet. The wind was blowing about 40 Miles an hour. The temperature was dropping fast.  I had just gotten a lecture from the road crew that the weather looked to be getting worse, and they were headed down.  The guy basically told me 'good fkn luck' if you get caught up here as we are gone as of right now and there is nobody to come up to help.  With my caution bells ringing I told Kawika I was going to skip the summit and begin the downward push.  I'd been caught up on the mountain in the dark and it is no fun.  I was mostly worried about my feet.  Getting my running shoes wet in the snow would mean big trouble if we got caught in a quick storm. Kawika climbed the summit and actually headed down the other side.  I saw him coming down on a lower switch back and waited for him.  

The trek down to the visitors center was hard, my knees began to ache, and somewhere on the way down I decided that the summit out of Hilo and back down to the 10K foot mark was my limit.  I kept hoping I'd feel better but my knees were nagging me, and my feet began to tire as well.  Kawika and I enjoyed a long wandering discussion about hiking in Hawaii, and many of his adventures.  

I had a triple of Haleakela scheduled for the next week.  The weather had pushed things too close together. I was already pushing hard against my limit.     The summit of Mauna Loa, seen in the back ground on many shots would have to wait.   I called Steve from the parking lot at the Visitors Center and two hours later he met us at the hunters stop at the bottom of the Mauna Kea Access road.  

So it was about 45 miles,  14,000 feet,  and Maybe 26 hours on feet.   Its hard to say exactly. It wasn't a race, and my calcs were the only ones being made.   The doing of it was something.  The cold and the wind, the steep climbs,  the stunning beauty of Mauna Kea in her shawl of snow.   

Mauna Kea Ice Age Reserve ,  lives up to its name.

    

Mauna Loa on the decent of Mauna Kea.

Mike, Frank, and Wild Bill at the end of a very hard two days.

Mauna Kea begins to shroud herself in clouds and wind as night closes in.

Another 'Running over the Edge' adventure concludes.....

Blogs are a pain in the ass.  And blogs that nobody reads, except robot spammer vacuums, are an even a bigger pain.   But every once in a while I get people sending me emails asking me if my teeth are still in the front of my mouth, and if I have recovered from my long painful kiss with Pele, and and the long painful recovery from ankle and sciatica injuries.

So I'm here to tell you I'm getting better and with many fits and starts getting back in the hiking/running saddle.

Living on the top of Kilauea has taken some adjusting to.  The cold at night, the damp afternoons, the precocious weather in spite of its general predictability, make it hard to just head out and run, as I did on Oahu.  Here at 4100 feet it is a different game.  Ten years in near climactic perfection on Oahu have made the transition to a different Hawaii hard.  But six months ago, after six months of living in a house not really suited for the Volcano Park area, I moved into my present place and have found it easier to keep warm, and am generally warmer and more comfortable.  Though a lot of that increase in comfort is just my understanding that fleece, any kind of fleece, and stocking caps makes life nicer most of the time.

In my new place I get the morning sun, see Mauna Loa in the morning, and can sit with my coffee and zone on  a vista of greenery.  I can do my 20 minutes in the sun for vitamin D3 and other sun exposure hormones, enjoy my coffee, tend my plants, drink my green drink (Kale, celery, apple, banana, ginger, other greens.) and mellow in the morning sun light.  This short period is more on than off, and then by 10 or 11 AM it changes, and the clouds come up the hill and mists and rain can join in, and by afternoon there is often a moist and gray top to the volcano.

But moist and gray are not that bad, if you know how to live in them, and getting out is cool, it just takes a bit more determination. Like running in the cold or snow or other so called weather of the mainland.

This past afternoon Felisha and I did a hike that I have been doing since the eighties.  It is the Halina Pali trail, and the Ka'aha trail down to the water.  About 2300 feet down to ocean, 1500 of that along narrow pali cliff trails that switchback down the cliffs.  It was a beautiful day,  few clouds in the sky at that elevation, a breeze that faded as we dropped down the cliff, and finally died on the relative flats at 800 feet.

The recent hurricanes had produced a profusion of high grasses along the trail, and it was often difficult to see what was underfoot.  It was hard, and in many places dangerous as faultering and falling off the trail would have been a bloody experience producing pictures not unlike what I have already posted.


 

A geat hike up to Napau crater from Kealakomo.  Unfortunately I lost my concentration and took a face dive on A'a. Knocked out a tooth, a cap really, shredded my lips, nose and upper lip.  Did a number to my hands and knees as well.   Happens when you don't watch every second.

So...lost a capped tooth, shreed my nose, lips, upper lip.  wanged my cheek bone, chipped a few other teeth.  ripped up my hands, my knees.

Almost pristince Ohia/Hapua Fern  Forest.  Just amazing land to walk through.

Napau Crater and Pu'u O'o in the background to the East

HIlo to Volcano 50K: 32 Miles and 4000 Feet

I am happy to report that I managed to do the Hilo/Volcano 50K.  It was slow.  I averaged about 16 minute miles when I was moving, and made it in 8:51.  Which is under 20 minute miles with all the stops included.  Given my state of being over the last nine months this is a welcome achievement.

It was a difficult, noisy, nasty run with a bad canter on the road most of way. I'm having problems with road runs in general.  This one more so as I was alone with the exception of Feliesha's crew support. I did the walk that I always drive.  I learned some things about it.  Hard run. But you can see I was smiling at the end.  Things are coming along slowly.   Nice to be running again.

The Slow Path Back...

Its been five months since I found I could not walk.  I've recovered considerably but the injuries still plague me.  This past week I did a jaunt across Kilauea Iki crater,

and around part of the rim,  and another to the top of Mauna Ulu and back.

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They were both sub ten milers, but tested my body a bit considering I have been doing nothing for so long.  The view from Mauna Ulu summit is spectacular and one can see all the way across the Pahoa rift to the new eruption at Pu'u O'o, which is not becoming quite a hill. There will be a time when it will be called Mauna O'o.

I plan to take the back way in to the eruption at O'o this week to see the flow, the forest fires, and expanse of the new eruption which is to the northeast a bit.

When you are injured, you are injured

When you are injured, you are injured.  Ultra Runners like to convince themselves that is not the case.  They lie to themselves and continue on, generally injuring themselves even more.   I'm no exception I guess.  But my outings required only one more than injured to hit the 'really badly injured. It hurts mommy! Where are the drugs! stage.  

I have harped on this topic for years.  I always fight the young punks who think their bodies will do most anything they command.  They don't find words of caution of any importance, and l have actually been accused of Ultra heresy.  

If you run.  Your time will come.  It it comes too many times you are done. Most ultra runners are done way before their time because they are stupid when it comes to their own health and recovery.  I've never met a dumber bunch of smart people.

At this point in time I'm pretty much done for the the next six months to a year.   It has opened up a new world.  fk ultra running.  It's a bad disease.

Slow, slow, oh so slow recovery.

It does not pay to rush your body into the upside when you have managed to trash it on the downside.   I am continuing my recovery, and slowly getting better.  My leg and ankle still hurt, my sciatica still hurts, but neither is as bad as it was weeks ago, and certainly not what it was a month or two ago.

It is very frustrating.  I still can not walk or work very long periods of time. But I am out of bed, I have moved, and I am getting some physical work done.  It is taking a long time.