I climbed to the peak of the highest mountain in the Pacific, higher than the snow-laden Mt Cook - or Aorangi as the Maori call it - and even higher than Mt Everest, ranked as the tallest mountain in the world. And I climbed it wearing just shorts, jandals and a sweatshirt. It's true … sort of.
The mountain I claim to have scaled is Mauna Kea, located on the big island of Hawaii. When I say I scaled, it was in the front passenger seat of a Chevy Blazer driven by SPASIFIK's Hawaii columnist Ana Currie. At 4205m (13,796 ft) above sea level Mauna Kea is, indeed, higher than Mt Cook/Aorangi in Aotearoa, which is 3754m (12,349 ft) above the sea.
And while Mt Everest's official height is more than twice that at 8850m (29,035ft), the volcanic base of Mauna Kea begins more than 4500m (15,000 ft) below the sea, making it, indeed, higher from base to peak and second only to neighbouring Mauna Loa (4170m above sea, but 17000m in total, making it the largest volcanic mountain on earth).
Little did I know what was in store for me when I arrived at a sweltering Kona airport from Honolulu close to noon. If Ana had said me beforehand that, "We'll head over to meet a friend for lunch, go to the top of the tallest mountain in the world and be back at our place for tea" I would have stayed on Waikiki Beach in Honolulu and thought about looking for a new Hawaii columnist.
But as we drove through the lava rock-dominated landscape to the town of Waimea to meet her friend Ku Ching on a clear blue-sky day, I was able to see the top of Mauna Kea, a gently-sloping mountain bereft of snow, the only white being that of a surprisingly large number of observation towers. 'I can do that,' I thought to myself, 'especially in a four wheel drive.' Ku Ching is one of Hawaii's leading independent activists who featured in SPASIFIK (Issue 16 Sep/Oct 2006). While I was preparing for the Mauna Kea adventure, he and Ana showed me a documentary revealing what the mountain meant to indigenous Hawaiian people and why they've come into conflict with astronomers who use the top of the mountain to gain the most stunning views of the stars anywhere in the world.
Hawaiians go to Mauna Kea in search of mana – their divine power – in a quest to understand ancient spiritual connections. Mauna Kea (the direct translation is White Mountain) is known among Hawaiians as Mauna a Wakea – the mountain of the sky god Wakea, from whom all things Hawaiian are descended. It is that lack of understanding and appreciation of those connections amongst astronomers which have brought them into conflict, according to Ku.
"I used to be a trustee on the board of the Office of Hawaiian Affairs, which represents indigenous Hawaiians with the state. The state leases the summit of Mauna Kea to the University of Hawaii, that then subleases smaller parcels it to various nations, of which little comes down to our people."
As a matter of state law, OHA receives 20% of the $1 a year of rents charged for the summit's lease. Ku says there are 12 astronomy observatories on top of the mountain with applications for more.
"How many more do they want? We appealed against an application for more on the grounds that there is no cohesive, comprehensive master plan regarding Mauna Kea. And we won, the Circuit Court in Hawaii agreed." We drove around the mountain, through the Pohakuloa American Training Area, an American military base, to an intersection of roads where we turned to go up the mountain. At the corner was an ahu, or alter, the first of three sites decorated in honour of Wakea, where we stopped to pay our respects, offer a prayer of thanks and ask to proceed up the mountain, the wao'akua or realm of the gods.
At 2800m (9200 ft) we reached the Visitor Information Center. Besides the need to pay respects at the second site located behind the Center, it was necessary to remain for at least 30 minutes to acclimatize to the altitude. It was one of the few places in the world where you could drive from sea level to the peak more than 4000m above in less than two hours. Many who had tried to do so within that time frame suffered altitude sickness.
It was getting near the end of the day and as dusk approached Ana asked if I was still keen to go to the top. Of course I was. When would the opportunity arise again?
Soon after the final ascent began, however, I was wondering if it was the right decision. The Visitor site was not only the end of the sealed road, it was close to the timber line, the end of all trees that grow on the mountain. To me, the gravel on the windy narrow road looked indistinguishable from the entire top of the mountain and the reflective indicators which separated the road from a steep drop downward began to disappear in the dust and dusk. While I appeared calm to the rest of the crew as we chatted, my heart rate and moistening palms that were gripped to the door handle and front of the dash were more accurate indicators of how I was feeling.
But we made it, as the final faint light from the sun disappeared on the horizon. Stepping out of the Chevy Blazer, it was to be the only time during my one-week stay in Hawaii that I could justify bringing my hooded sweatshirt. It was cold, too cold and unfortunately too dark to appreciate the expansive daytime view. So, after a couple of minutes walking around, which left me gasping as though I'd run a marathon, I hopped back into the truck, content to at least have made it.
