Mauna Loa Road

You may or may not know that I am writing a book, with the working title of The Homestead Memoirs. I just finished a couple chapters about camping and hiking with the kids, which made me really miss the drop-dead gorgeous mountains of northernmost Idaho. But this post isn't about that.

It's been raining a lot lately, or it seems like it, anyway. To get away from all that, and to help me feel better, Mike took me for a drive up the Mauna Loa Road yesterday. We had been a couple miles up this road once before, several years ago. This time, we made it all the way to the end, 13.5 miles from the highway, at the 6662' elevation.

On the way, we stopped to stretch our legs in a magnificent koa forest. We followed the grassy trail, lined with wild black raspberry bushes, until it ended abruptly at an old lava flow.

Further up, we drove through another old lava flow, the Ke Amoku flow. The view was a little hampered by the huge clouds piled up over the Puna District, the very clouds we had escaped, but was still spectacular.

Once we reached the very end of the road, we found a friendly rock outcropping for a little picnic lunch before heading up the trail. There is a little stone picnic shelter, but we wanted to feel the sun on our shoulders as we ate. The trail is 18 miles long, all the way to the caldera at the very top of Mauna Loa, 13,677 feet in elevation. We only hiked the first couple miles, and it was breath-taking, literally. I was dismayed to find myself so out of breath, due to the higher elevation, but we went slowly, enjoying the surroundings.

It was wonderful to be hiking on a real mountain trail again! There were pukas to clamber down, lava tube caves to peer into, and goat trails criss-crossing the volcano's slopes, prime for exploring. Oh, and the views!

And so quiet... only the sighing of the wind, the small chirrups of a few native birds. The sun played peekaboo between wispy clouds, and felt great on our backs. I let the peace and quiet fill my soul and renew my spirit.

We'll return to this massive mountain for further explorations and renewal. Of that, I am utterly sure.