Website, c.s.a. tab, weekly menu. Go, look. |:-} (that's me sticking my tongue out at you)

The cold, misty nighttime air soothed my face which still felt a bit like pork cracklins'. The shoulder held up pretty well as I used my standard fall asleep routine, which is counting chickens. Chickens jumping through futuristic microwave hoops. Chickens that come out the other side plated as buffalo wings and tender juicy breasts dazzled with Thai glaze. Chickens that will never again fly up in my face when I toss them some food. Grateful dead chickens, happy to serve and be served. Never made it to a hundred before nodding off.

My awakenings throughout the night brought drifting star maps and wandering satellites and a reluctant but unavoidable whizz. The nene sang the dawn into being and the anticipation of the hike out the gap was front and center. My feet were wet with the cold dewy grass as I walked out back to the catchment tank, filled a pot half full of cold water and immersed my face until running out of breath. I was really glad there were no mirrors. As it was, I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the cabin windows, and it shattered.

Floors got swept, dishes got washed, packs got packed, sleeping bags got stuffed and water bottles got filled. Campers emerged from grassy campsites, zombie-like looking for the crapper. The sun had yet to crest the eastern pali and the walk to the kaupo trail head was cool, shady and damp, with tall grass soaking our pants and shoes within minutes. I always forget that part of the hike as well as the two or three extra pairs of dry socks that make the squishy foot go away.Maybe next time.

Looking across the gap to the west of the trail head, the peak called Haleakala had been bathed in the morning sunlight while the shadow cast by the ridge was in full retreat down to the base and across the western portion of the gap lighting the landscape in its wake. There were some swirling clouds and chilly breezes but it was a beautiful morning for a walk. We got baked and forged ahead.

The trail hugs the east side of the gap and winds in and out of grassy fields with outcroppings of thorny black raspberry bushes. We've been up there when they were in season and going off and it still took a discriminating eye to pick ones that tasted reasonably good. Leave it to Ty to spot some thimble berries, which along with Ohelo made a two part trail mix. The meadows merged with rocky switch backs and ridge line high points. We passed the last meadow before the sun poured over the ridge to bring the warmth our way.

The Kaupo bay came into view on a ridge overlook and I knew we were halfway out of the park. Safety break. Noemie was keeping pace with Tyler and I while Emily and James were bringing up the rear, leaving time for the occasional snog. It was time to change into my driest wet socks, lose the long sleeves and dive into the snack bag. We all sat together, strewn along the trail sharing food and taking in the calm majesty of the place. Noemie ate and drank nothing. It was like she was being nourished by what her flying saucer eyes were taking in.

The feel of the tropics was coming back as we had probably dropped fifteen hundred vertical feet. Koa trees and A'ali'i bushes appeared along with small shrubs, ferns and rock clingers with delicate poly-form flowers. Lichen and moss held on to stone and tree alike. The remainder of the hike through the park is spectacular. Views of the southern coast opened wide as we wound in and out of old stand ohia and koa hung with Spanish moss, surrounded by long, soft grassy carpeting and an invitation to wild crater sex if ever there was one. I was hoping that James and Emily would take advantage of this opportunity to file away a "we boinked under a koa tree in the soft grass of the Kaupo gap" moment. You just never know how many of those your gonna get.

We had come from the barren, dry and wind swept summit walking through this timeless zone, being replenished and exhausted all at once. And now, as the native tropical landscape marked our safe passage along the remaining trail, I had the same revelation that I always have, one of subtle but distinct transformation. Of acceptance. Of surrender. Sort of like, " ahhhhh haaa, That's what the fuck." All of this while watching Noemie and my peaceful young warrior blaze the trail through the tall green grass to Kaupo's end. Satisfying stuff.

Once out of the park its time to tank up and cool down for the hike through the ranch. We picked a rock outcropping down and to the right to drop our packs, lose the shoes, air out the feet and recharge. Its quite a stark contrast to look back into the fenced off park and then at the dramatically different landscape created by the decades of cattle ranching going on in Kaupo. There is a lone avocado tree standing by the park exit. There are cow pies everywhere you look. Old dry ones, fresh steamy ones, ones with amorphous shapes, one that looked like Jay Leno's chin. There's a rutted rocky four wheel drive road with erosion patterns in the usual places that doubles as the "trail" through the ranch.

Enter the Bizarre. Here we sat, having been immersed in the peace and stark rampant beauty of Haleakala national park for three days, when not twenty minutes after returning to "civilization" we heard the not so distant thumping of helicopter blades followed by the appearance of not one, but two yellow potcopters. They were low enough to see the grizzled look of the pilots mug and were running search patterns in and out of the valleys and along the ridges. One of them took off into the park for a look-see. It was as though the lord of karma had decided that we were entirely too chilled out and needed a little reality check. Welcome back, kids. Irony be thy name.

This surreal buzzkill continued unabated for the better part of a half hour as we hiked through the grasslands. At one point the trail overlooked a flat area where one of the choppers sent down a wire to pick up a large bag full of "something". There was a small portable looking building in the middle of nowhere and two or three black s.u.v.'s parked there looking very much like gubmint issue. It was like someone had taken the remote and gone from the discovery channel special on the wonder of national parks, to a crime scene on Dog the bounty hunter. A true "remember the time when" moment.

The sideshow finally ended and we were left fully exposed to a glorious sun, winding our way down a trail rather treacherous in its rock strewn steepness. Its slow going and a test on the toes and shins and calves and knees and thighs. Other than that, piece of pie. One of the high points of this part of the hike is rounding a corner and seeing two large water storage tanks sitting there, reflecting the sunlight. There's a constant flow of sparkling water piped in from the watershed replenishing the supply. Their effect is magnetic.

I'm stripping off my pack then my hat then my shirt, grabbing the empty water bottles and heading up the ladder to the edge of the tank where I can hang over an dunk myself up to the shoulders in liquid life. A welcome boost at the perfect time. Be a great place to set up a little pizza by the slice place. Pina coladas and vitamin B shots on the side.

I knew from experience that we were only one or two short rest stops away from the ranch border gate. By now the sun was beating down tropical, Emily's calves were cramping, general energy levels flagging (except for Noemie who had that ready for anything look) and all in all a desire to see Beauregard parked at the ranch entrance with Cassie and Jeremiah, a.k.a. Bubba Mahalo's at the ready to load up and cruise home. That's about the way it went down.

We wound our way through thickening foliage, picked the occasional guava, found the shade of some old stand common mangoes and traversed the final meadow and past the huge tractor tire thats used for a cattle trough to find that the ever lovin' couple had loaded up a cooler with homemade humus (broke da mouth), cucumbers and felafel's, iced beverages, fresh fruit and Noemie's favorite ranch dip with a bag of those tiny lathed carrots. If possible, she lit up even brighter.

We made the obligatory stop at the Kaupo store for some zoo zoo's and a frosty one, pointed the trusty steed toward home and watched the road disappear beneath us.

"Is that it unky jp, huh is that it? Didja hafta kill anything or drink blood to survive?"
"No, no little feller, we did just fine with water, and no killin' necessary."
"Thats cool unky jp. Maybe next time."
"Thats right, little feller, there's always next time. Sweet dreams."

The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp