“If we knew what green wanted, we wouldn’t have to choose between the Earth’s interests and ours. They’d be the same!” Richard Powers.

Up up up from sea level to mountain top, Emily and I wind the smooth curvy road through a fairytale countryside. Sky expands below, clouds blend with the sea and we float on land. In awe, we pull the jeep over and snap a few photos as bikers fly by on their way down. Like ants to sugar mountain, many people follow the stream of excited visitors up the road to Haleakala. Passing small patches of strange forests, sprawling grassy slopes, brushy cover and finally nothing but volcanic rock. The portal of elevation leads to a new planet. Unrecognizable plants dot the newly formed terrain. 

Night

I open my eyes in the darkness, surprised by the bubbling chatter from the nearby ground birds. Popping and hooting cut through wind rippling over rocks. Still early in the night I feel the discomfort of my back on the thin ground pad after carrying the heavy pack today. But these strange bird sounds captivate me. I close my eyes, not that it makes any difference in the complete darkness. 

Eyes closed, turning in, I feel warm enough, though it’s especially chilly outside at 7,000 ft on a mountain in Hawaii. A groggy restlessness creeps through me as I wonder if it will be hard to sleep with the rushing wind all about. Tired but not sleepy I listen to the weird bird conversation around the tent. I am drifting, floating in the current of mountain wind and humming, popping birds. My head detached and pulled nearer to them by the nearby wind, sliding between dark lava rock immersed in natural white noise. Losing and regaining form with no apparent directive or attachment to time.

Against my wishes my body rises from sleep and into the cold windy night. Out of the tent I look up and feel as if I have stepped into the true vastness of space. Millions of stars fill the night sky with enough ambient light to show the distant edges of the crater. A view worth a lingering look, brought short, the wind rushes me back into the protection of the tent. Not to be the last experience of surreal planetary dissolution, the foreign world in Haleakala crater has just started.

Day

It’s midmorning when we depart camp Holua to walk the trails in Haleakala’s crater. Halemau’u trail gradually climbs the lower crater passing Pu’u’s, the Hawaiian word for “small cinder-cone hills” dotting the terrain. Emily and I reach a truly desolate lava bed that stretches flat into the distance. Black sand surrounds sharp spires of lava pointing in unusual directions. 

I can’t quite put my finger on it but this place, the terrain, the beating sun, makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. I’m not sure if we should be here or linger. My rational brain knows this is a popular hike, but the earthly power that created this place leaves me slightly uneasy. We make our way to Keonehe’ehe’e, the popular sliding sands trail. From here it's up to the 10,023 foot summit of the tall Hawaiian mountain. Emily goes. I choose to stay and record the sounds I hear from under a large bush. The only place of shade I have seen for miles. A pair of Chukars (imported ground birds) walk nearby and look at me with curious eyes. 

Resting under the low shade bush I am hidden from the trail. People pass by unknowing and I wake to laughter, conversation, and arguments. Little moments in people's lives pass as I have an afternoon nap on a crater in the middle of the Pacific. Emotion bubbles out of people like water. Flowing into the air I can feel it in myself as they pass. Feelings of exertion or excitement are tangible. I must give off a similar output as I chatter away about thoughts in my head, maybe this unexpected listening experience will quiet me and quiet my mind. Thoughts lose much of their power when not expressed. Observe and move on. I do not need to say everything.  

-

The following day we take a long hike down Halemau’u trail to Paliku, a remote cabin and campsite. Like yesterday it is long and hot with little shade. In a sense these trails are not exceptionally difficult, but they are high in elevation and low on shady places to rest. Today I am struck with a strong sense of natural quiet. More today than any other day. This takes time for me. It always has. More than a quick trip in and out of a location, but a feeling of place, of being in this quiet. A chance for my mind to catch up with my body and fully be here. Let go of the why and where. 

Walking peacefully in the warm sun, small bushes spring out between rocks, it’s greener the lower we go. More birds calling. Shimmering in the distance, the Big Island of Hawaii grows dark blue with a white cap almost like an enormous wave waiting for the right time to crash. Clouds roll below and our descent continues over the edge into the forested face of the southern side of the Mountain. A small way down Kaupo trail we stop for lunch and listen to birdsong in dense foliage, another world on the south slope. An unusual looking tree stretches over the trail. Small succulent-like leaves spread from the zigzagging branches I follow like a maze with my eyes. The youth within is called and I answer, jumping up barefoot, I grab a stout lower branch pulling myself up. The bark feels wonderful under my bare feet and within seconds I am twelve feet off the ground. Beautiful and unexpected, we linger as long as possible in the calm shade of the  Hawaiian tree before the return hike to our last night in the crater at Holua camp. 

A perspective to sound is offered to those who listen. A perspective to space and time propels a long look at the dimming light over the clouds from this high mountain camp in the middle of the Pacific. 

“The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve, but a reality to experience. A process that cannot be understood by stopping it. We must move with the flow of the process.” 

Frank Hebert