Not wasting any time, I left early the next morning from Kihei with my bicycle and touring cargo to ride for 2 days on Haleakala, a 10,000 foot volcano on the eastern side of the island. The plan was to go across the island to Kahului, turn southeast on Haleakala Highway, eventually get to Crater Road, and climb its 6+% grade and endless switchbacks all the way to Hosmer Grove Campground at 6,800 feet. Then I planned to get up early the next morning, pedal another 3,000 feet to the summit, and catch the sunrise from the highest point in the island. The first day would consist of 35 miles, 24 of it uphill, 11 more uphill the next day, then all downhill from summit to sea level.

I rode northward to Kahului on on Mokulele Highway, and crossed a flat plain of sugarcane farms between the rugged mountains of West Maui and the larger, solitary Haleakala Volcano in the east. I turned southeast onto Haleakala Highway and watched as it made a straight climb up the mountainside for 7 miles. Not even halfway up, I already starting drying out and losing breath, eyes stinging from sweat, legs already starting to burn. The grade increased and I had made significant elevation gain within the hour.

I was surprised at how well-kept and bike friendly the road was, with a huge shoulder and bike lanes. Apparently there was a big push by the local cycling enthusiasts to make the roads safer for cycling. It made the difference, and I would easily recommend that area to other cyclists in search of good highways like I always am. I reached the upcountry town of Kula, turned uphill on Old Haleakala Highway, and continued to climb up one of the island chain’s biggest volcanoes, winding about the many turns through the upcountry.

I was a few hours in, nowhere near my goal, and had already tapped my water dry. The midday sun was baking in the upcountry, and despite having trained my ass off for this, I was getting a beating and drying out. With no idea where the next watering hole was, I pushed onward for 4 more miles, losing breath and taking breaks under every tree I could find. And I thought my Denali trip was rough.

I got to a restaurant near the exit to Crater Road. I refilled my water supply, drank three full glasses from the bar, and kept going. Crater Road is the main road that climbs up Haleakala, switching back and forth for 21 miles into Haleakala National Park, all the way to the summit. From there, you can look out over the crater to the east and hike the trails into the barren expanse of volcanic terrain. The summit is famous for its sunrise, which happens high above the cloud line. Crowds of people drive up there every morning to see it, and many outfitters shuttle cyclists there as well, where they watch the sun come up and then go flying back down. Only a few badasses ride it from the other way.

Knowing that there would be 11 switchbacks on the first section, I tried at first to keep count. I counted all of two before realizing that I was too out of my mind to keep count. The road had already steepened. Coming out of the forests at the bottom, I looked up the slopes of the volcano in horror as one switchback after another went up and up, and up and fucking up for what seemed like forever. A road sign said 3,500ft in elevation. You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it would be hard, but didn’t expect it to be like this. At that altitude, the clear air gave way to the day’s extremes, making the high slopes blazing hot during the day and cold at night. I was in a desert of thinning air. 3,700ft and climbing, one brutal inch at a time.

I stopped on the side of the road every few hundred feet, resting my legs, trying not to drink water, occasionally telling somebody in a car that I’m alright. If you want to call not being unconscious alright, I was whatever a person’s exhaustion was at a factor exponential to fucking altitude. 4,100. I would rest, climb a few hundred feet, rest, and keep going. This went on and on and on, for hours and hours. The land below started to fade behind the humidity and glare of the mid-afternoon sun. And I was nowhere close to my goal for the day, the campground at 6,800. Every mile might as well have been 5 at the rate I was going.

I got to the straighter part of the road, hoping the grade would ease up, only to see more of the same shit. Finally, 3 miles shy of the campground, I got off, put my sandals on, and started pushing my bike up the hill. I had had enough of this. At 6,500, I reached the first forest since the beginning of Crater Road, and cooled off in the fog of the mountain’s cloud belt. The road lingered right along the forest’s tree line, passed the campground, and continued switching its way back and forth on steep elevation grades for 11 more miles all the way to the summit. In the setting sun, the mountainside turned orange and then red. Cars continued to go upward. I coasted my bike down a side road to Hosmer Grove to set up camp and call it a night.

That campground was a great reward for everything I went through that day. It sat at a small grove right at the tree line, facing the volcano’s summit. Absolutely beautiful. The sun set behind the clouds above West Maui mountains, and in no time the temperature took a dive. I wouldn’t say I was prepared for the altitude-induced exhaustion that made this trip so utterly brutal, but I had done enough winter camping to know what to bring for the cold weather. I layered up, ate dinner, and immediately fell asleep.

Free of any humidity or light pollution, the sky looked amazing from that altitude. For the first half of the night, its mountainside reflected an otherworldly glow beneath the moonlight. I came out again a few hours later after the moon had set, and could see every star in the galaxy. Having lived in the city for the last 15 years, I forgot what stars even looked like. I hadn’t seen the Milky Way that clearly since I lived on a farm as a kid.

Day 2: DESCENT!!!!

My plan was to get up a few hours before sunrise, ride 11 more miles and 3,000ft in elevation gain to the summit, and watch the sunrise. This plan got botched due to exhaustion. I overshot my limit on this one, realizing that hauling camping cargo up a mountain like that is a lot like trying to sprint across a desert. You can push yourself for a while, try to talk yourself into believing that you can make it, but eventually you’ll wind up on the ground with blood coming out of your eyes and pee that looks like a cloudy knockoff of orange flavored Gatorade.

The fact was, anytime I tried to pedal uphill, my quads would burn and tire out within minutes, I would lose my breath, and would have to stop. I was trained and prepared in every other way, but it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t acclimated to the altitude. I think I could have waited another day and made it. If I packed more food and gave myself another nights sleep, I probably could have got to the summit. But I was on a schedule with lodging reservations in Wailuku and Hana. So I left the campground at sunrise for a 6,800ft descent to Kahului and 10 mile ride to Mel’s house in Kihei.

Immediately, I started gaining speed. A LOT of speed. With the cargo, I was accelerating at a rate that I never would have believed. I came out of the trees by the campground to the open, barren side of the volcano and looked down at towns and shorelines 6,500ft down. It was absolutely the most terrified I have ever been on a bike. Arms and feet were shaking in utter panic, and all I could do was hold on and focus, so I wouldn’t go flying over a switchback and land on the next one down. In no time, I hit 6,000ft, then 5,500, 5,000, 4,000, flying downhill around one sharp turn after another, practically burning my brake pads to tar. I rode the breaks so hard that my fingers hurt terribly whenever I let go. I would fly around a switchback, descend even further, do another, and then another, and then another. People have died trying to do this shit. And there I was, hauling ass down a huge volcano on one of the most exhilarating rides of my life.

I turned north on the highway at 3,500ft. It straightened out and the grade lessened. With bigger shoulders and straighter road, as well as a stop at a local cafe for breakfast and badly needed coffee, I was actually able to relax and enjoy the rest of the ride downhill. Finally at sea level again in Kahului, I pedaled south to Mel’s house and rested up for the afternoon and evening.

Day 3: West Maui – If You Can’t Climb It, Go Around It

I was proud of myself. Not because I hauled ass on Haleakala the last two days, but because I fixed an indexing problem on my bike’s derailleur without any help, saving me a few hours that I would have had to wait for a shop to open. My bike maintenance classes paid off.

I got moving on the southwest shoreline of West Maui on Honoapiilani Highway at sunrise. The newly paved and well maintained part of the highway wound along the cliff sides with easy gains in elevation and a big shoulder for the traveling cyclist. To the east, the sunrise broke over Haleakala, lighting up Maalea Bay in a glow of emerald and sapphire. The beaches were already crowded with surfers and tourists. The road straightened out towards the western town of Lahaina, and the island of Lanai stood some ten miles west under a canopy of clouds. To my right, steep, rugged canyons and ridges of the West Maui Mountains stood under cloud cover of their own, giving way to a dense, lush rainforest that only the most ambitious hikers try to penetrate.

Thirty miles of that highway were easy, straight riding with smooth pavement. Then all at once, shit got real. On the north side of West Maui, between Kapalua and Wailuku, there were 20 rough miles of steep climbs, scary descents, hairpin turns, and a good stretch of busted road. It was awesome overall, but I had to earn my right to enjoy it the only way knew how: on my bike. On a good note, the cloud canopy kept me cool. I climbed and descended the cliff sides for what must have been hours. I lost track of time and thought.

In the middle of the most remote, rugged section of the road lies the village of Kahakuloa, a little town with 100 people, a few roadside stands, and two churches. Right next to the town, the Kahakuloa Head stands 636 feet above the shoreline. I passed through the town and right by it on my way to higher ground. The road got even rougher, passing through more rainforests and ranches, making me think that I might well be somewhere in South America. I climbed the slopes of the mountainside for 5 miles, and then finally descended on straight, smoothly paved highway all the way to the hostel in Wailuku. I got there in the late afternoon, already too tired to do anymore sightseeing.

Day 4-5: The Road to Hana

It was the last day of my tour and it wouldn’t be easy. There was a 3,000ft climb up ahead to the same part of the upcountry where I had been on my first day. But the route from the southeast part of the island is much more challenging. Much of the road is beat up and poorly maintained, some if it is gravel, and it still winds along treacherous cliff sides. It goes up the side of the mountain on a mostly barren, volcanic section of the island that is for all intents and purposes a desert. And it would be like that for 25 miles. It was the toughest part of the coastal highway system by FAR. I knew I needed to leave early to get through it before the sun rose to an unforgiving angle on that arid side of the mountain.

But hey, who wants to miss a good sunrise with their friends in a place like this? Not this dude. Four of us sat on a rocky outcropping along the shores of Kipahulu as the sun came up from behind the sea and set the sky on fire.

Twenty minutes later, I was off. The pavement gave way to dirt, I crested some hard passes, and equally as gorgeous cliffside vistas. Not a single beach I saw on my whole trip could hold a candle to that of the lost shores of Lone Keawe, whose rocky beach spread out between two huge cliffs. The dirt road descended to the edge of the beach, passed the facing cliff, and ascended into more madness. What a remarkable hidden gem on an otherwise blackened side of the mountain.

After a few miles, I got out of the cliffs and hit pavement again to my relief, only to discover that it was even worse. This section of the highway was paved a long time ago and hasn’t been repaved since. Potholes have just been patched as seen. For a long fucking time. So at this point, the entire road was covered in patches. It’s saying a lot to point out that this was actually worse to ride on than gravel. I actually had to go slower downhill not to lose control on all the shitty, bumpy non-road. This went on for 8 miles. 8 miles in the mid-morning, right when the sun was waiting to dry me out like a dead animal.

All of a sudden, I crossed a bridge and hit smooth pavement. That’s more like it. From there, the newly paved stretch went uphill for 10 miles before passing around the side of the volcano and into more forgiving, forested land. Sea level to 1,800 feet with no time to waste. The sun was out now in full force, and as badly as I needed water, I knew I had to ration what I had left. I finally crested the high ridge and turned northward to Kula, reaching cooler air and the shade of trees. With a half a bottle to spare, I made it to the first watering hole in the late morning, a ranch cafe in Keokea. All my training paid off.

After getting lunch and refilling my water supply, I continued my climb along Kula Highway. I bitterly passed the driveway to Oprah’s ranch. She bought land in Upcountry Maui a few years ago in a section between the Kula Highway and Kihei, and paved a private road between the two. To date, it is the only one of its kind in that area. The state has yet to pave a badly needed road between the two parts of the island, something the locals have wanted for years. For me, it would have meant that I could have coasted down to Mel’s house in 20 minutes. But since that driveway was closed to the public, I had to take the alternate route:

(7.1 + 10.5 + 1.2 + 11.2) – 4 = 26 reasons not to listen to anything Oprah has to say about resource conservation. Everybody on the island has to use more gas because of this, and the lack of a public road in that area also contributes to more traffic in Kahului. To make it even more obscene, Kihei and Wailea are perfectly visible from the uphill side of her driveway. I motion that Hawaii exercise its power of eminent domain. Open that road up to the locals, and leave Oprah a tidy sum. Hell, even if she did something shitty like charge a toll, I would have taken it. I was just exhausted and wanted to get back to Mel’s house so I could take a well earned nap. Instead, I turned north and gained another 600ft on the mountainside and descended 3000ft down Pulehu Road to Kahului.

I made a quick stop at a coffeehouse to flirt with a barista who I met on my way out to Hana a couple days earlier. She wasn’t there, so I came back to Mel’s in Kihei, finishing the tour at 2:30 in the afternoon. A big meal and a bike coma were in order. I passed out for 3 hours in a hard, deep sleep that I only get after long bike rides. They’re dreamless, and a couple notches under being knocked out. Whenever I do wake up, it takes me at least two hours to feel alert and functional again. I think I even get kind of high from it. They are amazing.

Day 7-10: Kihei – Turtle Watching

I did it. My 6 day bicycling expedition was over with, and now I could relax. I had four days to waste, which was fine by me.

I started by taking a snorkeling trip, thanks to Mel’s friend Delphine, who helped me get a half off deal through her company, Pride of Maui. She picked me up early in the morning on her way to Maalaea Harbor, where we got on a boat and left with a hundred other people for Molokini island. It is a small, crescent shaped island a few miles southwest of Wailea with a huge reef around it, and crystal clear blue water where you can see the ocean floor some fifty feet down. Because of this, Molokini is a popular destination for snorkeling and scuba diving. I was excited to get out with my camera and get some footage of the marine life.

After about an hour of swimming in the reef, I got back on the boat and we went to Turtle Town, another reef nearby with a healthy number of green sea turtles. A good hundred of us were out there looking for them and didn’t see anything for a good half hour. Finally, we spotted one resting on the sea floor. They can hold their breath for hours, so there was no telling how long that dude was down there, or how long he planned to be. Out of nowhere, another one swam ahead thirty feet to my right. I was one of the first people to take off after it. As it turns out, my camera was pointed too high and I only got a half second of it. Oh well, it looked pretty sweet.

I spent the rest of the time on the boat, eating chicken off the grill, drinking margaritas, and listening to the announcer describe the landmarks and scenery around the bay. He was in his fifties, and looked and talked like he used to host a game show. Delphine was on a break, and came over. She pointed out Oprah’s driveway, reminding me of all the fun I had yesterday in the upcountry.

I knew all about that road. It was why I had to ride for three extra hours in the heat at the end of my tour. There it was, clearly visible from the bay, winding its way up the mountainside like a fucking ribbon through time. And it’s not even her primary home, which is in California. I guess that’s what you can expect from the same person who gave us Dr. Phil. Screw her.

Early the next morning, I got up early, walked a block down the street, rented a paddleboard, walked to the beach, and got in. Thanks to Mel’s location, it really was that easy. She’s got a hard life, I have to say. Her friends worked at Maui Wave Riders, the surfing outfitter right by her house. Thanks to the connection, I got a good deal on the rental.

I had never done stand-up paddling before, but was well aware of how popular it was getting in the world of water sports. I figured I would give it a try. I paddled on my knees past the breaks to the calmer water, made a few attempts to stand on the board, kept falling off, and finally got it. It was a bit more relaxing than other water sports, which is why I didn’t enjoy it as much. After an hour or so, I got bored. I guess I just like to take out aggression, either by surfing or paddling down a wild river.

Out on the reef just past the breaks, three sea turtles floated on the surface, bobbing their heads up out of the water. I realized that they really were everywhere out here. Thanks to a good conservation program, they flourish on the reefs around Hawaii, and are common enough to be a normal phenomena to the locals. With a lifespan of 60 to 70 years, they can outlive many of us. I wonder what kind of wisdom a turtle of 70 years would have for we younger mortals. What goes on in the minds of these graceful creatures? They truly are badasses of the tropical sea.

The next morning, I went back. I wanted to learn how to surf. So I signed up for the first class of the day. It was just me and four sisters, and all of them were 8 years old. The instructor started by having us practice jumping on soft top boards, explained how and where to position our feet, and how to balance. Then we picked up our boards and went to the beach.

This would be a piece of cake, I thought. Especially since I’m competing with 8 year old kids. The awesome bearded mountain man that I am. I can kick their butts at this. I am a highly fit, well balanced, rugged outdoorsman, and they are 8. I’m going to win at surfing. I’m going to ride every good wave into the shore, and I’m going to rule at it. And they probably won’t.

Wrong, wrong, and wrong. I have not been that wrong about anything in years. I wiped out time and time again, sending the board in the air nearly every time I tried to stand, while every last one of those girls caught waves and rode them to shore, over and over and over. The instructor kept telling me to paddle, look ahead, get my feet up, get them in the right place, whatever, and I kept wiping out. Finally after a couple hours, I figured out when to catch the breaks and get my feet up. I started catching the waves. It was shaky, but I was getting it together. I was exhausted and got out.

I needed a break from all of this. I was having a blast, but needed to relax somewhere quiet with air conditioning and zone out on my computer. I got cleaned up and went down the street to a Starbucks. It was my first chance to download the latest issue of the Walking Dead comics, since there weren’t any comic book stores on the island that sold it. I keep telling fans of the show to read the graphic novels, and that they really do outdo the show in awesome, desperate, brutal survival horror. That is, until lately, the shitstorm of things going on at the prison is finally getting to the same caliber. That, and Andrea is dead, so that helps. In the comics, Rick was in the middle of a standoff with Negan, a new villain who makes the Governor look like a youth pastor.

I didn’t get the chance to see Breaking Bad that Sunday since I was in Hana, so I bought some headphones and downloaded that next. A few episodes into the second half of Season 5, Walt’s empire, and his family along with it, were on the verge of a meltdown. In a promo commentary, the season was described by Cranston as a “Roller coaster ride to hell”, and this was the point where the roller coaster was inches away from a freefall. Nothing good could come of this, and as expected, I was right. Everything, and I mean everything, went to shit after that final curve of the story arc.

It turns out a good nights sleep was all I needed to let the muscle memory sink in. I rented another surfboard the next morning and hit the waves bright and early, nailing the very first one. Then I got the one after it, and the next one after that. I rode one wave after another into the shore for hours. At one point, a manta ray of three feet zoomed behind me and out towards the reef. Certainly as graceful as I remembered from TV, but I had no idea they moved that fast. An instructor told me he spotted a family of four of them close to shore earlier that morning.

After a couple hours, I was ready to come back to shore and get food. That, and the Cove was pretty crowded with surf classes. It wasn’t as much fun when I had to worry about dodging other beginners. I rode one really great wave all the way to the exit ramp, decided to end on a good note, and got out.

Later that night, a few of us went to Fourth Fridays, a town party in Kihei. Every Friday, one of four towns in Maui has a big street festival, and Kihei happened to have theirs on the same night that I planned to leave. Perfect. There was live music, art galleries, vendors, a food truck row, alcohol, and crowded bars. All right down my alley. We walked around, drank beer, ate good food, hung out. For the last time on the trip, I saw Haleakala turn red in the setting sun, feeling a bit sad to leave, but ready all the same. I never did get to that summit, so I guess that means that the volcano and I have some unfinished business.

Several hours and beers later, I said goodbye to Mel and her entourage of good people, and boarded an overnight plane to San Diego.

Mel asked me at one point if I thought I would come back to Maui again. I would like to, but I honestly have no idea when. Maui was just one place on a huge list of places I want to travel, and that list has already gotten bigger since I’ve been home. There’s Haleakala’s summit, which is doable with a better bike and a better plan. I know I can do it with a good carbon fiber bike and a death wish. That, and I would like to get certified for diving. The snorkeling was fun, but I think I would enjoy being able to stay underwater for longer, immersed in sea life and coral.

The fact is, all this shit that I’ve been describing to you is only the surface, and there is a whole myriad of things to do on that island. Pretty much every spot I rode my bike past has something about it worth checking out. But I’m glad to say it’s another place I can check off in my lifelong goal to travel the world on a bicycle. And I suppose it is halfway between me and New Zealand, so there’s that.

Flat tire. Fuck. There goes my early start.

I went ahead and switched it out, but realized that I needed some extra tubes for the rest of my trips in case it happens again out on the Hana Highway. The nearest bike shop in Kahului didn’t open until 9. I guess I had some time to kill. I walked around Wailuku in the early morning as the town was still waking up. I checked out of the hostel and coasted down to Crater Cycles in Kahului. Good experience. The owner switched out the back tire for a Gatorskin, which held up for the rest of the tour. He even fixed a truing problem on the wheel free of charge. I needed the reassurance that my bike would hold up on the Hana Highway’s own set of surprises. Riding with confidence in your bike’s ability to not break down in the middle of nowhere is pretty damn important.

I set out eastward on the Road to Hana at a good, hard pace, easily passing the town of Paia. It had a busy downtown strip of old buildings and shops, and was already drawing a lot of traffic. As before, the straight road gave way to turns around cliff sides and rugged coastal rainforest. Famous for its diverse landscape, winding roads, sheer drop-offs, waterfalls, and numerous interesting places to stop every few miles, the Hana Highway is often noted by travel enthusiasts as one of the Best Highways in America. I pretty much agreed, although it did have its share of challenges. Like West Maui, the road was pretty wild.

But it would be worth it to see Hana, a small east coast town of 1,235 people. It is popular for its beaches, hiking trails, lava caves, and a general store of more than 100 years, and draws many people looking for a remote Hawaiian experience. Having the charm of a small town, Hana remains largely unchanged by Maui’s commercial developments further west, which is how they like it.

This kind of country was what drew me here instead of one the other islands. When I scoped out Oahu, it seemed pretty overrun with tourists and commercialism, all at the expense of a person’s solitude. And then some of the other islands didn’t appear to have as much diversity as Maui, whose rainforests and barren, volcanic landscapes offer a change of scenery around every turn. Thirty miles into the Road to Hana, I was certain I made the right decision to come here. It was fucking beautiful.

I went up and down the rugged shoreline for hours before reaching Puokohamoa Falls, where tourists were surprised to see me out there hitting all those tough hills. I told them it was a piece of cake, and started another big climb that went away from the shore and inland for 6 miles. It wasn’t really a piece of cake, it was actually getting a beating, a few feet a time up the side of the same volcano that wiped me out a few days before. And then all at once, I crested the highest ridge, turned back to the sea, and coasted down to Hana for 12 awesome miles straight. On the newly paved road, I felt like I was floating an inch above the ground. Hana may be a gorgeous place, but the badassery really is in the journey.

Just north of the town, I turned off the highway towards Waiʻanapanapa State Park, found the campground, and set up my tent in the mid-afternoon, making pretty good time.

Waiʻanapanapa is an especially rugged, volcanic section of the coastline just north of town. With a great coastal trail, black sand beach, water caves, blow holes, and a spectacular sunrise every morning, there is little not to like. A person could spend days at this place and never get bored. After setting up camp, I spent the next hour walking up and down the trails around the ashen volcanic cliff sides, watching treacherous waves crash against the walls. Apparently, the water here was full of undertows and hazardous currents, waiting for its chance to drag an unsuspecting person out to sea.

That night, I walked out around 2am and looked out at the ocean. Even in that hour, there was a glow of blue about the sea, as waves continued to crash violently against black, volcanic cliffs. One of the hardest days of the tour was behind me now, but it wasn’t over yet. I was about to face an even tougher road ahead.

Day 5: Kipahulu – Two Miles of Eye Candy

An awesome, rewarding sunrise set the mood for the next day. I packed up my gear as the golden sun brightened on the water, and left for the Hana Lava Tube. On a piece of land a couple miles north of the park, the cavern, originally named Ka’ Eleku, was carved by lava flow coming down from the high slopes of Haleakala. Its surface crusted over, forming the cavern’s ceiling and an underground conduit that at one time continued to channel lava until whenever the eruption ended. For $12, visitors can explore the tunnel, making it one of Hana’s popular tourist attractions. I planned to meet my friends there before heading out. They were an hour late.

To kill time, I went to a roadside stand nearby and got the best banana bread I have ever eaten, followed by an equally as delicious fruit smoothie with homegrown bananas, mangoes, and pineapple. I was full in no time. The old lady, a type who they refer to as an “auntie” did what aunties like to do and fatten up we younguns. Full or not, she brought me another smoothie. And of course I had to drink it. What choice did I have?

Feeling as bloated as a dead pig, I went back to the main desk at Hana Lava Tube and found Mel, Kim, and Dave. We got flashlights and explored the tunnel for a good hour. The ceilings had lava stalactites that resembled hershey kisses, although I thought they looked like shit. It was cool, don’t get me wrong, but it was the first time I’ve witnessed what turds look like on a cavern ceiling. Besides the crap-covered walls, there were signs describing the different types of lava formations about the cave, a side tunnel caused by back flow, and a door to an abandoned fall out shelter from the cold war era. Cool place.

We came back out, explored the botanical garden maze just outside of the entrance, and then they took off for the campground at Kipahulu, another 12 miles down the highway. I got on my bike and told them I’d see them in a couple hours.

The highway between Hana and Kipahulu was more of the same thing. Winding cliffside turns, an old beat up road, and no shoulder. To add to the fun, a lot of tourists were out driving. I would descend a huge cliff to a bridge and waterfall, with five cars ahead of me and four behind. Sometimes I would stop and let six or more vehicles pass. When I got to the bottom of one of the grades, I passed one of my neighbors from the campground. I’m never one to turn away good road magic, especially beer, so anybody who offers me a drink is a friend of mine. Last night he gave me a bottle of a good craft brew, which always tastes better after a hard day of riding.

Tough road, but only for 12 miles. I coasted into the campground at Kipahulu and found my friends. They went out on the trail while I set up camp and had a look around. The whole area was buzzing with tourists, and with good reason.

Kipahulu is an especially diverse part of Haleakala National Park. A large stream comes down the volcano and pours over two large waterfalls, passes through bamboo forests, and ends at the Pools at O’heo Gulch near the sea. The Pipiwai Trail follows the stream uphill past the waterfalls and forests for two miles before reaching Waimoku Falls, a stunning 400ft drop of water over a vertical face of volcanic rock and moss. I spent a good hour hiking up there. The bamboo forests had a dark canopy above them, though beautiful, made me what kind of evil lurks in those trees. Just beneath the canopy, wind blew the chutes back and forth, creating a hollow knocking sound that I can distinctly remember to this day.

After taking a good look at the waterfalls, I descended back down the canyon for an hour towards my campsite, looking forward to the luxuries of car camping. As I walked back, I noticed the “big island” of Hawaii to the east, and Mauna Kea rising high above the ocean. At a summit of 13,803 feet, Mauna Kea is the largest volcano in Hawaii. At that altitude, it rises high above the cloud line and retains low humidity, making it an ideal base for astronomical research. A section of its summit is zoned for research facilities owned by various countries, and there are thirteen telescopes in operation, gathering information and data from space.

I descended the hill to the campground as the setting sun reflected its light from one of the telescopes. From 60 miles away, it looked like a star had just come up over the summit. This was by far the most remarkable thing I saw on my trip.

Day 6-10: Upcountry and Kihei