Mauna Kea

A couple weeks ago, I took a spin up to the Mauna Kea summit. Although it was raining in Hilo, the weather at that elevation couldn't have been better! The summit rises about 30,000 feet from it's base at the bottom of the ocean, and almost 14,000 feet above sea level. The peak is dry and desolate and well above the rain clouds that blanket Hilo. The landscape is something you might expect on Mars, but not in Hawaii! There is very little life at that elevation, probably because of the low air pressure and lack of oxygen. I went for a short 100-yard jog to see how the lack of oxygen would affect me. At first I felt good, but about a half-minute after I stopped running I felt like I was going to pass out! There are a half-dozen observatories on the peak that can be seen from Hilo, Waimea and Kohala. The air is clean, dark and dry at night, making for primo stargazing conditions. The scientists and workers from these observatories spend time at Hale Pohaku, a camp at around 9,000 feet, to acclimate themselves before spending their shift at the summit. Snow falls almost every year on Mauna Kea. There probably aren't too many places in this country where you can surf in the morning then snow ski in the afternoon! We did have some snow over the last several months but there hasn't been enough snow for skiing in a couple of years. Maybe the "El Nino" weather pattern has something to do with it? This island has the worst drought in the country right now and it hasn't been drier in over 30 years. Because of the drought, my fire department is expecting a busy year this year for brush fires!

Eucalyptus Memories

The light rain has just stopped on Mauna Kea and the air is cool and crisp as I begin my run. The sun is low on the horizon and will soon disappear behind the clouds surrounding Hualalai. I always seem to struggle on the first lap, especially at 6,500’ elevation where the air is a little thinner, but once I’m warmed up all the aches and pains seem to dissipate and breathing gets a little easier! As I jog around the first bend, the freshly watered Eucalyptus trees fill the air with a familiar scent that brings back memories of my youth.
I remember when cold winter storms blew through my neighborhood in Southern California and dismembered the huge trees at the playground across the street. The branches provided shelter for the fortresses we built and defended from all enemies! They made our club houses where little sisters weren’t allowed to enter! The trees that were left standing seemed so big and looked like they reached thousands of feet into the air.
The aroma reminds me of the countless cross-country miles I ran as a teen. The sandy hills near the ocean in Southern Spain were shaded by the huge Eucalyptus. The thin bark would peel off like sunburned skin and the bug infested branches would fall and create obstacles on the trails. I once stumbled over a dead branch, but the bed of soft leaves cushioned my fall. Too bad that bed was also home to gazillion ants!
Eucalyptus trees provide the perfect fuel for fire. In Southern California when the Santa Ana winds blow, the trees are dried out except for the oils that become explosive when pre-heated by the hot winds and flames. Many of the trees are infected and killed by beetles that cause them to dry out and fuel the fires even more. Too many homes have been lost to wildfire because of the Eucalyptus.
On the Big Island of Hawaii, Eucalyptus trees line the Hamakua coast from the ocean cliffs up to the lower slopes of Mauna Kea. These trees are an agricultural product that will fuel power plants and provide paper products. They catch fire too, but not like the ones in California. The trees are subjected to and protected by a constant on-shore wind and rain that carries the moisture and salinity of the ocean.
As I near the end of my final lap, I start to slow down and the aches and pains seem to come back. It’s almost completely dark and the cold air burns the lungs. When I approach the fire station, the sound of laughter and the smell of supper draws me in, and all the Eucalyptus memories seem to disappear.