Devils Postpile

Devils Postpile

1.3 miles loop, 250 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy
Access: Devils Postpile bus to trailhead (unless arriving before 7 AM), Devils Postpile National Monument entrance fee and bus fare required

California's Devil Postpile National Monument, nestled in the Sierra Nevada outside the town of Mammoth Lakes, is home to one of the most perfectly geometric examples of columnar basalt in the American West. Although such hexagonal rock columns are not rare in the western US, Devils Postpile is an exemplar of this type of unique volcanic rock. This is one of the top attractions in the Eastern Sierra and should not be missed; the hike to reach the formation is easy and short and includes views of both the front cliffs of the Postpile as well as a chance to study the neat geometric patterning from above. Devils Postpile can only be visited during summer, when Reds Meadow Road is open past the Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort to reach the national monument.

Due to its status as one of the top attractions around Mammoth Lakes, visitors looking to go to Devils Postpile in the summer months must ride a shuttle bus from the Mammoth Mountain resort. Buses run during the day from Mammoth Mountain, making stops at Agnew Meadows, Devils Postpile, the Rainbow Falls Trailhead, and Reds Meadow; tickets can be purchased online in advance. The Reds Meadow Road is only open to passenger cars outside of the bus system’s operating hours; visitors hoping to drive to the Devils Postpile Trailhead must pass the entrance kiosk at Minaret Summit before 7 AM.

Devils Postpile is a long way from any major city (Reno, Nevada is perhaps the closest) but is a short drive from the town of Mammoth Lakes, the primary ski and outdoor destination of the Eastern Sierra.

I visited Devils Postpile on an early July morning: as the bus system was in effect, I found myself arriving at Minaret Summit at sunrise to be able to drive to the national monument. From the center of town in Mammoth Lakes, I followed Minaret Summit Road to the northwest, crossing the saddle and passing the entrance kiosk to enter the San Joaquin watershed. The entrance kiosk was not staffed at 6 AM but it is staffed later in the day- expect to stop at the kiosk on your way out to pay entrance fees. At this point, the Minaret Summit Road became the Reds Meadow Road and began descending into the Middle Fork San Joaquin River valley. While the road was paved the entire way, the stretch of road just past Minaret Summit was hairiest: here, there were no lane divides, with two-way traffic on a windy mountain road (including occasional buses) accommodated on a single lane road. After reaching the bottom of the valley and passing the Agnew Meadows turnoff, the road became an easier drive, with defined lanes the rest of the way down to the right turnoff for Devils Postpile. Taking the turnoff, I followed the road down to a large parking lot, which was already half full just after 6 AM on the Fourth of July weekend. There was plenty of parking and bathrooms at the trailhead.

The trail to Devils Postpile left the parking area and headed south along the Middle Fork San Joaquin River, quickly entering a pleasant riverside meadow. After crossing the meadow, the trail reentered the forest but stayed by the riverbank, with partial views of the river to the right.

Middle Fork San Joaquin River

At a third of a mile from the trailhead, I came to a junction with the Upper Postpile Loop. I stayed on the lower trail, which immediately after came to the foot of a spectacular wall of hexagonal basalt columns- the Devils Postpile. On the left end of the postpile wall were a group of warped columns that had clearly been subject to more geological forces since the time of their origin. These twisted columns allowed me to gaze directly onto the bases of the hexagonal columns.

Devils Postpile

Beneath the postpile wall, a pile of broken hexagonal columnar basalt talus littered the hillside; the extreme geometric nature of these rocks made them look artificial, as if this were the dumpster for some darker-covered concrete columns rather than a natural wonder. I walked a hundred feet south along the trail, enjoying impressive direct views of the postpile throughout.

Devils Postpile

How did such a unique geological occurrence come to this valley at the headwaters of the Middle Fork San Joaquin River? The postpile's ultimate origin is shared with the origin of the rest of America's Western Cordillera: the subduction of the Farallon Plate beneath the North American Plate. This subduction event created the Rocky Mountains as well as the magma intrusions into the crust that were responsbile for Devils Postpile. About a hundred thousand years ago, one such magma intrusion erupted in the Reds Meadow Valley and formed a lake of mafic (basaltic) lava; as the lava lake cooled into rock, the lava began to contract, forming boundaries known as cooling joints that were perpendicular to the surface of the cooling lava. As these cooling joints extended through the lava, they formed hexagonal columns as the lava cooled into basalt. Later erosion by glaciers and the Middle Fork San Joaquin River exposed the columns and created the cliffs of basalt that we see today.

The trail passed by the base of the postpile and then began a short ascent, reaching a second junction with the Upper Postpile Loop at a half mile from the trailhead. This time, I took the left fork to follow the Upper Postpile Loop, which I took for the return trip to the trailhead. The Upper Postpile Loop continued ascending a small hill and immediately provided me a closer opportunity to study the columnar basalt. The columns here were at an angle, which indicated that geological forces have warped the original basalt formation: the original cooling joints (and thus the columns) would have all formed vertically.

Columnar basalt

The loop trail ascended 200 feet above the Middle Fork San Joaquin River before it began to drop downhill again, reaching an interesting view of the columnar basalt from above at 0.8 miles into the hike. Here, glacier polish had left a flat, smooth surface of hexagonal basalt tiles, where each tile was the cap of one basalt column. This was a rare and unique opportunity to see a cross-section of the geometries of these columns, which turned out to not all be hexagonal: while six-sided columns were the most common, I also spotted a number of 5 and 7-sided columns.

Smooth caps of the Devils Postpile

After marveling at these bizarrely cleanly-shaped rock columns, I finished up the Upper Postpile Loop with a final descent back to the main trail next to the Middle Fork San Joaquin River, closing the loop at just under 1 mile; from there, I followed the trail along the river just one-third of a mile north back to the trailhead and parking area. I coupled this hike with a later hike to Rainbow Falls to see the two main attractions of the national monument and enjoy its fascinating geologic history.

Table Mountain (Jamestown, CA)

New Melones Lake and the landscape of California Gold Country

4.5 miles round trip, 550 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy-moderate
Access: Paved but narrow road to trailhead; no entrance fee but very limited parking

The great latite cliffs of Table Mountain are one of the most notable landforms in the Sierra Nevada foothills around the California Gold Rush towns of Jamestown and Sonora. While most of this plateau-like prominence is on private land, hikers can access the top of this mesa on a sliver of Bureau of Reclamation land near New Melones Lake. While wildflowers make this hike a big draw during the spring, the unusual geology of the mountain and the controversial history of New Melones Lake can be appreciated and contemplated year-round. The short climb up the mountain is steep and rocky and may required some scrambling, but most of this hike is flat, easy, and enjoyable.

I hiked up Table Mountain on a mid-April Sunday, hoping to see some wildflowers in the area. To reach the trailhead, I followed Highway 108 to Jamestown from the Central Valley. Just past the historic downtown, I turned left onto Rawhide Road and followed it to the north and west for 2 miles, crossing through a gap in Table Mountain. Two miles down Rawhide Road, the road turned sharply to the right; here, I turned left onto Shell Road, a narrow, one-lane paved road that descended through a small gulch and then passed by many private homes. Shell Road ended at a gate, with a limited parking area off to the right side of the road; this marked the trailhead for the hike.

This hike is becoming increasingly popular, but unfortunately the trailhead is unable to handle the growing number of hikers. There is only room for about 12-15 cars at the main trailhead, with room for a handful more cars at the secondary trailhead beyond the gate. There is very little to no room for parking along Shell Road on the approach to the trailhead; the road is very narrow and is bordered on both sides by private property. Unfortunately, many visitors have taken to blocking residents' driveways along Shell Road for parking- this has resulted in numerous complaints from locals. Hopefully either the Bureau of Reclamation or Tuolumne County will look at providing more parking options here in the future, but for the moment this is the unavoidable situation.

If the parking lot at Table Mountain is full when you arrive, leave and do another hike or spend time exploring the nearby Gold Rush towns of Sonora and Jamestown. Don't be a jerk and block someone's driveway. To ensure that you can fit into the small parking area on Shell Road, do one of two things: hike on a weekday, or arrive early if you come on a weekend. I arrived at 7:15 AM on a Sunday and had no trouble parking. When I drove out at 10 AM, the lot was full and there was a parade of cars coming up Shell Road. Plan to arrive at the trailhead before 9 AM on weekends- and if you can't, then make sure you have a backup plan.

A dirt trail headed off to the right side of Shell Road from the trailhead parking area, cutting across grasslands dotted with oaks. From the trailhead, I caught my first glimpse of New Melones Lake, which I would not see again until reaching the top of Table Mountain.

Trailhead

The trail ran parallel to a dirt continuation of Shell Road for the first mile. This first mile of hiking was fairly flat as the trail wandered through grasslands that were dotted with wildflowers in April. Stately oaks and grazing horses added interest to the trail through the grasslands and occasional views of the high latite cliffs ahead gave me a preview of the hike's destination.

Grazing horses along the first half of the trail

Spring wildflowers in the grasslands

Oaks and grasslands

Table Mountain's latite cliffs

One mile from the trailhead, the Table Mountain Trail crossed Shell Road; this is an alternate trailhead for those willing to drive down a rougher dirt stretch of Shell Road. There was a pit toilet at this trailhead. Crossing Shell Road, I began to ascend up an eroded dirt trail that soon left the grasslands for the brush and low forest at the base of Table Mountain. The wide dirt trail ascended for 0.2 miles from Shell Road before making a sudden sharp left turn and entering a surprisingly lush forest at the base of Table Mountain. Here, the wider path turned into a narrow single track that began a steep ascent through the forest up Table Mountain.

Incongruously lush area at the foot of Table Mountain

The ascent was remarkably steep and quite rocky, although it was thankfully quite short: in two-fifths of a mile of hiking from Shell Road, the trail climbed 400 feet to reach the top of Table Mountain. The very final stretch of the ascent was so rocky and steep that it nearly required some rock scrambling, though I still found the footing secure enough here that I did not actually need to use my hands.

Final steep stone trail leading to the plateau

At just under 1.5 miles from the trailhead, I arrived at the top of Table Mountain. The top of the mountain was as flat as its name promised and was covered by grassland with just a few scattered trees. Arriving at the top and seeing this scenery was surreal: the golden grasses here seemed more remniscent of the East African savanna than of California's Sierra foothills.

Summit plateau of Table Mountain

A number of trails branched out across the summit plateau. A fence ran across the width of the plateau to the north, but clear use paths navigated through the rock-studded grasslands towards the south and towards the east. I took the social path heading east first, crossing the summit plateau and coming to the eastern edge of Table Mountain. From here, I had a lovely view over Jamestown and the California Gold Country. 

These oak-dotted, grassy foothills captured the imagination of people all over the world shortly after James Marshall discovered gold while building a sawmill for John Sutter, a European-American businessman, in 1848. While the Sutter's Mill discovery was farther north near Sacramento, when prospectors arrived in 1849 from the world over they came as far south as Sonora and Jamestown in search of placer gold and eventually, the Mother Lode- the bedrock rich in this valuable metal.

This ancestral home of the Miwok became a new home for a truly diverse immigrant population during the Gold Rush. The nearby town of Sonora was named after the Mexican mining city where many of its residents had immigrated from. South of Jamestown, the settlement of Chinese Camp was home to some of the earliest Chinese Americans, many of whom immigrated from the restive southern city of Taishan in search of Gold Mountain and a stable livelihood only to encounter a legal system stacked against them and a nascent Anglo-American settler population ready to brand them as the yellow peril.

California Gold Country

Overlooking Jamestown

After enjoying these east-facing views, I returned to the west side of Table Mountain's summit plateau and followed a social path south along the western edge of the latite cliffs. Here, I had views of New Melones Lakes to the west and views across the summit plateau to the east. Remarkably, I could see all the way to the snowcapped Clark Range, one of the alpine ranges of the High Sierra in Yosemite National Park.

Distant Clark Range rising over Table Mountain's grassy plateau

The views of New Melones Lake from Table Mountain were very striking: the reservoir's blue waters filled a valley bound by the oak-covered foothills. I visited during a drought year, so the water levels of the reservoir were low even in spring, when the reservoir typically reaches its peak capacity each year. The lake is formed by New Melones Dam, which holds back the Stanislaus River.

New Melones Lake

New Melones Dam was the last large scale dam project associated with the Bureau of Reclamation's Central Valley Project and no dams of its size have been built in the United States since its completion. The 625-foot tall dam, which was not visible from Table Mountain, holds back the fourth largest reservoir in California. Its associated hydroelectric project has 300 megawatts of generation capacity, enough to power a small city. New Melones Lake- along with the rest of the Central Valley Project- holds water that has turned California's Central Valley into one of the world's most productive agricultural regions. These reservoirs- and the Central Valley farms they water- have also drastically changed California's ecosystem, draining the seasonally flooded wetlands of the Central Valley and decimating the salmon populations of California's major rivers. In the 1970s, environmentalists fought the construction of the new dam to save the Stanislaus River Canyon upstream of the dam, which was beloved by outdoor recreation enthusiasts for its whitewater rafting. The environmental coalition to block the dam lost its battle, but has since succeeded in halting the construction of any similar sized projects in the West.

I followed the cliff-edge trail until it terminated at a protruding block of Table Mountain's walls. From here, I had a great angle to study Table Mountain's commanding latite cliffs, which rose about 300 feet above the forest below. In the distance, I could also see from here out across the Central Valley to the Coast Range, notably spotting the twin summits of Mount Diablo. Now about 2.2 miles from the trailhead, I found this an appropriate turnaround point.

Great latite cliffs of Table Mountain

The latite cliffs of Table Mountain are the result of an ancient lava flow: Table Mountain is actually an inverted valley. The volcanic source of this lava flow is actually quite distant, as the lava flow of Table Mountain is related to the same episodes of volcanism that created the many extrusive igneous formations along the Sonora Pass corridor, including the Columns of the Giants and Dardanelles Cone. All of these volcanic features are a result of eruptions from the Little Walker Caldera about 10 million years ago; the Little Walker Caldera today lies east of Sonora Pass, but lava from its eruptions were able to flow over fifty miles down the canyon of the ancestral Stanislaus River. This lava then hardened into the latite of Table Mountain: as the Sierra Nevada have experienced uplift over the past 3 million years, softer surrounding rock has been eroded and this long river of latite has now become a lengthy, sinewy mesa running through the foothills between the Stanislaus and Tuolumne watersheds.

There is a lot of interesting geological, historical, and political context to this short but scenic hike in the Sierra foothills. If you can get here early enough to beat the crowds and find a legal parking spot, this is a worthy hike; if not, don't torture the people who live on Shell Road and leave this hike for another day.

Sliding Sands

Kalu'Uoka'O'O and the Haleakala Crater

3.5 miles round trip, 900 feet elevation gain

Difficulty: Moderate due to high elevation
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Haleakala National Park entrance fee required

Although Maui is well known for its lush, tropical coast, the heart of the island atop 10,023-foot Haleakala is a barren but dazzling landscape of multihued volcanic features. The Sliding Sands Trail is the crown jewel of Haleakala National Park, leading from the massive volcano’s road-accessible summit down into a spectacular crater dotted with perfectly formed cinder cones of all colors. The consistently open nature of this trail means that hikers can travel any distance along it and have a satisfying trip; however, it’s important to note that because the trail descends into the crater, hiking further along the trail means more uphill you’ll have to handle on the return trip. High altitude may make this hike challenging for many, especially as almost everyone is coming up from sea level.

The Haleakala summit sunrise has become an extremely sought-after sight on Maui. Haleakala translates to the House of the Sun in Hawaiian in local mythology is considered to be the place where the demigod Maui lassoed the sun to slow its journey across the sky. If you wish to see the sunrise or if you wish to enter Haleakala National Park before 7 AM, you’ll need to reserve a sunrise permit at recreation.gov; be sure to do this months in advance as spots typically fill up within the day that permits become available.

Anna and I hiked the Sliding Sands Trail during a December trip to Maui. We had initially intended to do a more extended hike along the trail that day but, rushing out of our hotel at 3:30 AM on our way to see the summit sunrise, I forgot to bring a backpack containing our lunches and my camera. Thus, rather than doing a more extended hike along the Sliding Sands Trail, we only went a short way down before to see the Kalu’Uoka’O’O cinder cone before turning back.

From Kahului, we followed the Hana Highway east from town for 3 miles and then turned right at the traffic light with the Haleakala Highway (Highway 37). We followed Haleakala Highway uphill along the volcano’s lower slopes for 8 miles and then turned left to stay on the Haleakala Highway (now Highway 377) after entering the town of Pukalani. After another 6 miles, we made another left turn to stay on the Haleakala Highway (now Highway 378) after passing Kula Lodge; we followed this road as it climbed aggressively through many switchbacks for another 19 miles, passing the park entrance and ending at the Haleakala Visitor Center. There is a large parking lot here that often fills up at sunrise, but typically starts to clear out within 20 minutes of the sun coming up, so come early but not too early.

The parking lot at the visitor center had already filled when we arrived, so we ended up watching the sun rise at the Kalahaku Overlook, which was at the end of the first switchback on the way back down the mountain. The sunrise was spectacular: slowly, we watched far-off Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa on the Big Island catch first light before rays fell on the rim of Haleakala Crater, gradually creeping down and illuminating the colorful wonderland of cinder cones in the crater itself. However, it was also spectacularly windy and cold: while we had prepared with plenty of clothes, packing winter coats on our trip to Maui, many other visitors were clearly underdressed for the weather.

Sunrise over the Mauna Loa and the Haleakala Crater from Kalahaku Overlook

After returning to the visitor center, we began our hike along the Sliding Sands Trail. From the visitor center, we followed the sidewalk that led along the south side of the parking lot; this sidewalk ended upon meeting a second, much smaller parking area for the Sliding Sands Trail. From here, a cinder-and-ash path paralleled a road and led south around a small prominence, which served as a welcome temporary windbreak. The trail quickly diverged from the road and soon led to a saddle above the Haleakala Crater with sweeping views into the crater below. This was a good spot to stop and take stock of the landscape we were about to enter: around ten cinder cones, each quite symmetric, dotted the crater floor below, with the great ridge of Hanakauhi rising across the crater and plains of lava and ash leading to Kaupo and Koolau Gaps, which break the crater rim. The intensely blue waters of the Pacific were visible through the gaps in the crater rim.

The colors of Sliding Sands Trail at Haleakala Crater

Leaving the rim of the crater, the trail descended gradually into the colorful ash-covered wonderland inside the crater. We followed the trail downhill for about 1.75 miles from the rim for a short round-trip hike of just 3.5 miles, with 900 feet of elevation gain on the return. As we had limited water and food due to me forgetting my pack at our hotel, we didn’t journey all the way to the crater floor, although I would have loved to do so. We stopped at the end of a switchback above the Kalu’Uoka’O’O cinder cone; while we didn’t make it far down enough to look directly into the cone, we could clearly make out the bright red streaks inside the rounded mouth of the cone from our stopping point.

Kalu'Uoka'O'O and the Haleakala Crater

View out Koolau Gap

While the gaping hole atop Haleakala is commonly referred to as the volcano’s crater, its geologic origin is actually erosive. Haleakala initially formed as a shield volcano like Mauna Loa on Big Island; after volcanic activity began to calm down as the Hawaii Hot Spot shifted away from Maui, deep stream valleys eroded on the northern and eastern flanks of the mountain. Rifting across the island in more recent centuries reignited a newer episode of volcanism on Maui, which has created the plethora of cinder cones that dot the island; lava flows from this newer volcanism filled the deep stream valleys, forming the lava plains running through today’s Koolau and Kaupo Gaps.

The Sliding Sands Trail continues far beyond where we turned around, visiting a wonderland of cinder cones and other volcanic features. Hikers who continue along the trail will pass by the cinder cone Pu’u O Maui on their way to the cluster of cinder cones by Ka Moa o Pele and Pu’u Nuae, where the Sliding Sands Trail meets the Halemau’u Trail. Hikers looking for a more comfortable backcountry experience can spend the night in one of the multiple cabins in Haleakala Crater and see the cinder cones painted by morning and evening light; reservations are essential. Hikers who do choose to go farther should just remember that since this trail starts high and descends, you will have to deal with a potentially strenuous climb on the return trip and that this return ascent will be more difficult due to the higher elevation. The round trip from the visitor center to the loop around Ka Moa o Pele is 12 miles with 2700 feet of elevation gain.

Hikers already in the summit area should make the drive over from the visitor center to Red Hill, the highest point on Haleakala, either before or after their hike on the Sliding Sands Trail. From the very highest point of this great volcano, there were sweeping 360-degree views of Maui; additionally, there were a handful of ahinahina silversword, a unique plant endemic to Haleakala, meaning it is naturally found nowhere else in the world. The silversword grows for about 50 years in its spiky, ball-like form before it finally blooms for a single brilliant season and dies.

Ahinahina silversword near Red Hill

I didn't get to fully explore the Sliding Sands Trail at Haleakala, but I was very struck by the stark landscape, vivid colors, and fantastical shapes of the short stretch that I did get to see. If my future vacations include a return to Maui, then I will almost certainly return to Haleakala to see the stretches of the Sliding Sands Trail that I did not see on this trip.

Halemau'u Rainbow Bridge

Halemau'u Rainbow Bridge and Haleakala Crater

2.5 miles round trip, 500 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy
Access: Paved road to trailhead, Haleakala National Park entrance fee required

As Maui’s Haleakala Volcano rises over 10000 feet from the surface of the Pacific Ocean, the lush tropical forests of its lower windward slopes transition to the barren rock and colorful cinder cones of its massive crater. The short hike along the Halemau’u Trail in Haleakala National Park to Rainbow Bridge, a spectacular ridgetop viewpoint, gives hikers a great overview of this transition zone and packs in some stunning views. The name can be slightly misleading, as there’s no arch of any sort here: Rainbow Bridge refers to a narrow stretch of ridge with views to both sides. The Halemau’u Trail extends beyond Rainbow Bridge, descending into Haleakala Crater to connect up with the Sliding Sands Trail that descends from the summit, but a traverse of the crater is likely too much for most casual hikers, who will find this easy hike to Rainbow Bridge to be sufficiently rewarding.

Anna and I hiked to Halemau’u Rainbow Bridge during a December trip to Maui. We had initially intended to do a more extended hike in Haleakala Crater that day, but after rushing out of our hotel at 3:30 AM on our way to see the summit sunrise, I realized that I had failed to bring a backpack containing our lunches and my camera. Thus, rather than doing a more extended hike along the Sliding Sands Trail, we chose to do two short excursions on the Halemau’u and the Sliding Sands Trails.

From Kahului, we followed the Hana Highway east from town for 3 miles and then turned right at the traffic light with the Haleakala Highway (Highway 37). We followed Haleakala Highway uphill along the volcano’s lower slopes for 8 miles and then turned left to stay on the Haleakala Highway (now Highway 377) after entering the town of Pukalani. After another 6 miles, we made another left turn to stay on the Haleakala Highway (now Highway 378) after passing Kula Lodge; we followed this road as it climbed aggressively through many switchbacks for another 16 miles, entering Haleakala National Park and then arriving at the Halemau’u Trailhead. The trailhead is well-marked and lies at the northeastern edge of a switchback, with a parking lot on the left side of the road. The road is extremely windy and gains a lot of elevation but it is paved the entire way; however, a few bridges along the way are only wide enough for one car so slow down to yield when approaching these bridges. Additionally, reservations are required to enter Haleakala National Park before 7 AM due to the intense popularity of the summit sunrise; if you’re not coming for the sunrise, wait until after 7 to enter the park.

The forests characteristic of the lower slopes of Haleakala had faded to brush by the time we reached the Halemau’u Trailhead, so we had good, open views of the island and the Pacific Ocean from the parking lot already. A nene- an endemic Hawaiian goose that rarely flies and inhabits the upper elevations of Haleakala- was hanging out in the parking lot, enjoying the view. From the trailhead, we followed the Halemau’u Trail from the far end of the parking lot. The trail traveled through high brush as it descended gradually while it headed northeast towards the rim of Haleakala Crater. After two-thirds of a mile hiking from the trailhead and about 200 feet of descent, we came to a junction with the trail from Hosmer Grove; we stayed right at the junction to stick to the Halemau’u Trail, which continued descending as it approached the rim of the crater.

Nene

After the junction, great views opened up to the north of the heavily forested windward side of Maui. The northeast side of the island catches moisture moving across the Pacific that stalls when it meets Haleakala: the result is over 100 inches of rainfall each year, with superlative years recording up to 400 inches of rain. As expected, there were some clouds playing with the mountains on the windward north slope of the mountain, so even though we could see many of the lush ridges on the upper slopes and the Pacific Ocean in the distance, we only caught occasional glimpses of the rainforests of Koolau Gap during rare cloud breaks.

Haleakala slopes

Lush slopes of Haleakala

About a hundred meters past the junction, the trail came to its first viewpoint of Haleakala Crater. A stunning panorama of multi-layered volcanic cliffs towering above a great sloping plain dotted with colorful cinder cones opened up. Hanakauhi, a massive peak that marked the northeast rim of the crater, rose majestically on the other side of the plain. A forested ridge jutted out below and ahead of us into the crater: we could see the Halemau’u Trail’s many switchbacks down the side of the ridge to the crater floor which, luckily, we would not have to traverse on that day. Unlike the view of the crater from further up the volcano at Red Hill, the view from the Halemau’u Trail was less barren and substantially more green: grasses covered the crater floor here, making for a lusher scene than the austere landscape of ash further up the mountain.

Hanakauhi rising over the Haleakala Crater

As we descended via switchbacks, we could feel the vegetation around us begin to transition: the brushy vegetation at the trailhead, on the leeward side of the mountain, was now being replaced by ferns and other moisture-loving plants on the windward side. After just over a mile of hiking and nearly 500 feet descent from the trailhead, we came to the Rainbow Bridge stretch of the hike, where the trail followed the narrow crest of a fin-like ridge with spectacular views off both sides. This stretch of trail was thrilling without actually being dangerous. The views of the crater rim walls on our side of the crater were more impressive here as we were essentially within the crater at that point.

Halemau'u Rainbow Bridge

While some hikers may choose to head back from here, a more natural and satisfying turnaround point is just a little further down, at the prow of the fin-like ridge. We continued following the trail, which hugged the north side of the ridge with constant spectacular views down towards Koolau Gap. About a hundred meters further along, we came to the end of the ridge, where the trail made a 360-degree turn and wrapped around to the other side of the ridge to begin its long, switchbacking descent to the crater floor. A short spur trail at this turn led to a small promontory at the very end of the ridge; we walked out to this high point, which provided the most spectacular view of the hike. Hanakauhi rose across the plains of Haleakala Crater from us, while the sloping crater floor led up towards the lava-covered heart of the volcano below Red Hill. Holua Cabin was the only visible sign of human presence here, a lone hut dwarfed by volcanic cliffs and the immensity of the shield volcano landscape around it.

Rim of Haleakala Crater

This was an incredible viewpoint from which to study the ecological transition zones on Haleakala: a natural textbook was open before us. To the right of the view, we could see the alpine summit of Haleakala, where winters are cold, snow falls occasionally, and the ground is dominated by ash from the cinder cones. The Pu’u O Maui and Ka Moa o Pele cinder cones were among the most prominent with their high and agreeably asymmetric forms. From the cinder cones, black lava flows led downslope: the upper stretches of the lava flows looked entirely desolate, but at a certain point grasses began appearing and then shrubs. As the crater opened into Koolau Gap, the bushes gradually transitioned into rain forest. The lower slopes of the volcano were not visible below the clouds, but we would experience it as a waterfall-dotted rainforest later on our drive to Hana.

Looking up the Haleakala Crater to the cinder cones

Hiking the first stretch of the Halemau’u Trail was a thoroughly enjoyable experience and a must-do on Maui. I’ll certainly have to return to Haleakala to visit the spectacular crater floor in the future.

Cape Hanamanioa

Waves break against the basalt coastline of Maui near Cape Hanamanioa

3.5 miles round trip, 75 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy-moderate, flat but some very rocky terrain
Access: Paved but narrow road to trailhead, no parking fee necessary

At Maui's Cape Hanamanioa, on the southwestern corner of Haleakala, the crashing waves of the Pacific meet rugged lava flows in a dramatic landscape of basalt cliffs, cinder cones, and ancient Hawaiian villages. The half day hike to reach this corner of the island is a good place to experience an easily accessible stretch of Maui's spectacular coastline with just a fraction of the crowds found at the nearby resorts. Although this is a fairly flat coastal hike, it is important to realize that this is still a hike: the trail surfaces are very rough and rocky while traversing the lava flows, so bring your hiking boots. Also, the exposed landscape at the cape makes high winds quite common here.

Anna and I hiked to Cape Hanamanioa during our New Year's trip to Maui. The trailhead is a short and easy drive from Kahului and is especially close to the resort towns of Kihei and Wailea. From Kahului, we followed Highway 311 south; after passing the turnoff for Kihei Rd, Highway 311 became the Piilani Highway and we continued following it past the the town of Kihei. The Piilani Highway ended at a T-intersection with the Wailea Alanui Drive in Wailea; we turned left here to head south. The road narrowed as it approached Makena Beach and then lost the yellow dividing line shortly after passing Makena Beach. The road narrowed to a single lane with pullouts as it followed a scenic stretch of coast and then crossed a barren lava flow. After passing a monument to the explorer La Perouse, the road turned to the right and the pavement ended, transitioning to rough rock as it reached a parking area by the water: this was the trailhead for both the Hoapili Trail and the Cape Hanamanioa Trail.

We started off the hike by following the Hoapili Trail to the southeast from the parking area, crossing onto the lava flow as the trail followed the coast. This was a striking and extraordinary trail and there were incredible views of the azure ocean, the dark and contorted forms of frozen lava, and colorful cinder cones dotting the slopes of a broad-sloped form of Haleakala, Maui's massive shield volcano. The lava flow that we hiked on is the newest land on Maui: cinder cones erupted on the southwest slopes of Haleakala in 1790, the last period of active volcanism on the island, forming this field of rough, sharp rock. Despite traveling through unforgiving terrain, the trail here was reasonably well-maintained, with a gravel surface smoothing out the rough lava surface. Shortly after beginning the hike, we passed by a set of low rock walls to our left. These walls mark the site of a heiau, a Hawaiian temple. The area along La Perouse Bay was once a native Hawaiian village- remnants of residential areas, graves, and this heiau are collectively part of this archaeological site. Please don't disturb these rock structures, as they're both historically important and sacred to the Hawaiian people!

Heiau and cinder cone

The trail remained close to the rugged, rocky basalt shoreline of La Perouse Bay for the first third of a mile of the hike, at one point passing a small basalt arch that becomes a blowhole at high tide. Waves swept off the Pacific, constantly battering the volcanic rock of the coast. In the distance, we could see the high lava bluffs of Cape Hanamanioa, our destination, rising above the ocean.

Basalt arch

Basalt coastline of La Perouse Bay

One-third of a mile from the trailhead, the trail left the rocky lava flow and entered the shade of a forest of kiawe trees. Over approximately the next half mile, the trail hugged the coastline while traveling under these trees, which provided a welcome respite from the hot sun. Here, the underlying basalt of the lava flow had been covered with loose, washed-up pieces of bleached coral, which in turn provided enough soil for kiawe trees to take root. While the trees helped make the scenery quite nice here, kiawe trees are actually not native to Hawaii: they're a form of mesquite bush from the Americas that European explorers brought to the islands in the nineteenth century that has since taken root in many places.

La Perouse Bay coast

Basalt coastline of La Perouse Bay

The first stretch of the hike to Cape Hanamanioa and the Hoapili Trail together follow the Kings Highway, a footpath around the island of Maui connecting the many ahupua'a, which were watershed-delineated societal units in ancient Hawaii. The Kings Highway is so named because it was established by Piilani, a king who united Maui under his rule in the sixteenth century and ordered the construction of the road. Most of the highway has since fallen into disuse or been built over; this section of the footpath is known as the Hoapili Trail as it was reconstructed during the administration of Hoapili, a governor of Maui during the nineteenth century. Hoapili was a close confidant of King Kamehameha I, who united the Hawaiian Islands in a single kingdom and was a prominent early convert to Christianity among Hawaiian royalty. The ancient trail and the many ruins associated with a village along La Perouse Bay here were now becoming overgrown with the branches of kiawe trees.

Hoapili Trail

Looking east across the azure sea, we could see the broad, sloping form of island of Kahoolawe. Kahoolawe is the smallest of the eight main Hawaiian Islands; it is also the only uninhabited island today. Like all the other Hawaiian Islands, Kahoolawe is formed by a shield volcano; however, it lacks the lushness of any other islands or even any fresh water altogether as it lies entirely within the rainshadow of Haleakala. This lack of water, combined with decades of its status as a target practice zone for the US military, explains Kahoolawe's unpopulated status today.

View to the island of Kahoolawe

At 0.8 miles into the hike, the kiawe forest abruptly ended and we found ourselves back on the rough terrain of a lava flow. There were more native Hawaiian stone structures here, just meters from the ocean. Here, the Cape Hanamanioa Trail split from the Hoapili Trail at an unsigned junction. The Hoapili Trail passed through a set of stone walls and headed off to the left and inland, crossing the vast lava flows ahead to the east, while the Cape Hanamanioa Trail paralleled the coast here as it also began a journey across the black lava flow. 

Hawaiian ruins and view of Cape Hanamanioa

At just over one mile into the hike, the trail briefly passed through a small grove of kiawe trees by the coast in these vast fields of lava. Here, we spotted a herd of feral goats. These feral goats are not native to Hawaii- after all, no mammals besides hoary bats inhabited these islands before the arrival of Polynesian seafarers about 1500 years ago- and were introduced by early European explorers who hoped to populate the islands with goats as a food source. Set loose on islands with no predators, the invasive feral goat population exploded and has since become problematic, as the goats are severely damaging to native vegetation. While culls to control the population are now common, complete removal of the feral goats is a controversial topic in Hawaii.

Feral goats

Leaving this final patch of trees, the trail made a brief uphill climb (the only substantial elevation gain on this hike) to reach the top of a vast lava flow. The final two-thirds of a mile of this hike was across this barren, bizarre field of broken basalt out to Cape Hanamanioa, which was at the very edge of the lava flow. It was interesting to see the various shapes that lava cooled into, but this stretch of the hike was also quite challenging as the trail itself was littered with irregularly shaped and frequently sharp rocks; hiking boots are a must here, as the flip-flops that many tourists wear around Maui would be torn to shreds here. This made the hike more challenging than its flat profile would suggest. Intense winds whipping off the Pacific Ocean also made this stretch of the trail challenging, winds made worse by pelting sands of eroded lava. This was a harsh and austere landscape, one which most people will not want to linger around.

The trail across the lava flow paralleled the coast here, but it was far enough removed from the actual shoreline- which was constantly about 50 to 100 meters away- that there were no real ocean views to speak of. Instead, we found impressive views towards the sloping form of Haleakala when we looked back to the northeast. In fact, we could see the entire volcano from ocean to summit here: the white buildings of the Haleakala Observatory near the summit stood atop the sloping, mound-like form of the mountain. The long southwest ridge of the mountain led from La Perouse Bay up to the top of Haleakala here. The lower slopes of the volcano were covered with dry forest and intermittently broken by cinder cones and lava flows, while the middle elevations of the mountain alternated between denser and more verdant forests and open grassland. Barren volcanic rock covered the highest elevations.

Haleakala rising over the lava flows at Cape Hanamanioa

The low elevation cinder cones and lava flows were one of the most remarkable parts of the view here. The clear sight lines from the lava flow that we hiked on provided a great view of Kalua o Lapa, a tiny cinder cone nearby from which emanated an expanse of dark, cooled lava. This extraordinary example of a cinder cone and its associated lava flow is actually the youngest eruption on Maui: this cinder cone was probably formed by eruptions around 1790. Visitors who have traveled to Big Island and seen the smooth pahoehoe lava flows there might be puzzled as to why the cooled lava in southwest Maui has instead taken on such rough shapes. This is a'a lava: it is more silicic than the smooth pahoehoe lava and thus had higher viscosity when flowing downhill from its erupting vent, resulting in an uneven surface littered with sharp lava fragments. The higher ratio of a'a lava found on Maui and the higher ratio of pahoehoe on Big Island reflect the stages of shield volcano life of each island's volcanoes: Kiluaea and Mauna Loa on Big Island are fed directly by low silica-content magma from the Hawaii Hot Spot, while these cinder cones on Maui are a result of rifting that brings to the surface older magma which has incorporated more silica content by melting surrounding crust.

Cinder cone on the slopes of Haleakala

At 1.4 miles from the trailhead, the trail along the lava flow finally returned to the coast. Views to the north and west from the coast were very impressive: in addition to seeing Kahoolawe across from us, I could make out the form of tiny (and very pretty!) Molokini Crater, with the sloping shield volcano of Lanai and the rugged, perpetually cloud-capped forms of the West Maui Mountains in the distance.

Lanai, Molokini, and the West Maui Mountains

After a short stretch atop the coastal lava bluffs, the trail turned slightly more inland for the final leg of the hike to Cape Hanamanioa. Here, the wind became ever stronger as we approached the far end of the lava flow, escalating to a full-on gale when I came to a junction at 1.6 miles from the trailhead. Here, the right fork led up to a local high point, while the left fork continued towards the edge of the cape: while the right fork was worth visiting, those hoping to catch a glimpse of the cape and then escape from the winds should continue on the left fork. This trail wrapped around to the left and descended sightly before coming to another spur on the right, which led out to Hanamanioa Light. We followed this trail out to the very edge of the cape.

While Hanamanioa Light is itself unnoteworthy, being nothing more than a pole with a light bulb affixed to it, the view from this point was raw and awesome. Here, massive waves swept off the Pacific and collided with the cliffs of the lava flow, sending spray soaring into the air. We caught glimpses of the southern coast of Maui, but what we could see was quite similar to what we had just experienced: a lava flow coastline with basalt battered by the elements. A beach littered with bleached coral lay just east of the cape and provided some contrast with the azures and blues of the ocean and the darkness of the basalt.

Waves pound Cape Hanamanioa

The trail continued from the light all the way down to the bleached coral beach, but we chose to turn back at the light as the wind was becoming intolerable. We picked our way through the rough basalt on our way back across the flow, wondering why we had chosen to spend our Maui vacation hiking on such rough terrain but at the same time marveling that we had managed to so thoroughly escape the crowds that are omniprescent at Wailea and Makena just a stone's throw away. This is not a relaxing hike that many might associate with a coastal Maui experience, but the scenery and variety of things to see on the way to Cape Hanamanioa make it a rewarding experience.

Trona Pinnacles

Trona Pinnacles

0.5 miles loop, 80 feet elevation gain
Difficulty: Easy
Access: Rough gravel road to trailhead, no entrance fee

The otherworldly tufa towers of the Trona Pinnacles rise out of the Searles Dry Lake in the middle of California's Mojave Desert and have stood in for extraterrestrial landscapes in many Hollywood movies, including Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. Quite far from any of California's major metropolitan areas, the pinnacles are closest to the mining town of Trona, from which the pinnacles take their name, and the town of Ridgecrest outside the China Lake Naval Air Weapons Center. While the pinnacles can be seen from a driving tour, this short ramble through the heart of the pinnacles will allow visitors to see these odd geological formations close up and escape the hordes of campervans and tents that dot the outskirts of the formation. 

I visited the Trona Pinnacles at sunrise during a November trip to Death Valley National Park. From the center of Ridgecrest, I took California Highway 178 east for 17 miles through the Mojave Desert and turned right onto the Pinnacles Road; a BLM sign for Trona Pinnacles National Natural Landmark marked the turnoff. I turned onto this gravel road and then bore right at the first junction; I followed the Pinnacles Road for the next six miles, crossing the Trona Railway and then descending down a steep, bumpy slope at the very end to reach the Trona Pinnacles. The road was in bad shape with potholes and deep tracks left by cars that plowed through when the road was wet, especially in the early part of the drive; later on, the road became quite rocky. I handled the road fine in a 2WD sedan but I could see this road requiring higher clearance if it deteriorates further. A dirt road encircled the Pinnacles and was enjoyable to drive; to reach the trailhead, I turned right upon reaching the loop and then pulled out into a large dirt parking area on the inner side of the loop.

Trona Pinnacles from the approach road

There was not really much of a formal trail through these 50-to-100-foot tall pinnacles, just a network of social paths. Leaving the parking area, I followed these social paths through the pinnacles, approaching some of them close up and getting a better overview of the area as I climbed up to the bases of these tufa towers. This spot in the Mojave Desert was ringed by mountains: Telescope Peak, a soaring summit in the Panamint Range, rose to the north, while the Argus and Slate Ranges bound the nearby basin. While there were numerous tents pitched on the land surrounding the pinnacles and plenty of cars and campervans parked on the outskirts of the pinnacles, the area at the heart of the formation was thankfully not overrun.

Telescope Peak rises above the Trona Pinnacles

How did these remarkable rock pinnacles end up in the middle of the Mojave Desert? The answer lies to the north where one can spot the coal-fired power plant and mining operations associated with the town of Trona. The borax operations of Trona mine the mineral-rich evaporite basin of the Searles Dry Lake. In previous ice ages, the desert basins of the endorheic Great Basin were once filled with lakes; the Trona Pinnacles were once at the bottom of ancient Searles Lake. These pinnacles are tufa towers, forming in a similar manner to the better known tufa formations at Mono Lake. Mineral-rich springs bubbling into Searles Lake resulted in chemical reactions that deposited these calcium carbonate towers above the springs. As the waters of Searles Lake receded, the Trona Pinnacles were exposed to the desert.

Trona Pinnacles

Tufa towers

I enjoyed a half-hour of wandering through this remarkable landscape and drove the loop around the outskirts of the pinnacles before continuing on my way to Death Valley National Park. The Trona Pinnacles are a bizarre and beautiful sight and while it might not be worth driving out here for the pinnacles alone, they make for a nice stop for visitors going to Ridgecrest or who are on their way to Death Valley.