Alone (eBook)

A Haleakala Memoir

Rick Scheideman (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
122 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-8767-8 (ISBN)

Infos

'Alone; A Haleakala Memoir' is Scheideman's detailed account losing his way in the wilds of Haleakala's rain forest on the Island of Maui. Repeatedly, he is confronted with harrowing ordeals that leave him significantly injured and psychologically disoriented. The book draws the reader into his moment-by-moment experience alongside the serendipitous memories of an inveterate adventurer.

---

"e;Alone: A Haleakala Memoir"e; is the journey of a 68-year old mountaineer's ordeal in a violent tropical storm while hiking out of Maui's volcano. In the dark and cold he loses his way and wanders into a vast rain forest. In the seeming endless ordeal of physical and emotional challenges, hallucinations lead him astray, exhaustion finds him sleeping on his feet. Death shadows his footsteps. Rescue efforts to find him become a body recovery. This is an intimate, engaging story of a older man who overcomes fear and suffering with strength, perseverance, and tenacity.

Textauszug

CHAPTER 3

BEGINNING

I carry a waist pack to the car. It has a zippered top compartment with nylon loops on either side for the two water bottles. My lightweight boots are tied loosely on my feet. I wear a favorite baseball cap, yellow with a buckle in the back to adjust the size, no advertising anywhere on it. I throw the pack into the back seat and drive through the parking lot of the three-story Hale Ono Loa buildings. My wife and I rent a studio apartment here. The air smells sweet with the fresh blossoms of plumeria trees. Our apartment fronts the ocean, and as I drive toward the driveway, I turn and look between the buildings where the light sparkles on a breaking wave. It occurs to me that my drive up to Haleakala begins at a sea-level parking lot, and will end at the Halemau’u trailhead parking lot at eight thousand feet.

It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive from our place in Honokawai, through Lahaina, and then east on the single-lane highway to the “other side” where the adjacent towns of Kahului, the commercial center of Maui, and Wailuku where the county and state government offices are found. Usually, I leave earlier, 6:30 or so, for Haleakala. This morning, I take my time leaving at 10:00. In the early morning, the highway has heavy traffic leading into Lahaina, mostly workers who service resorts and high-end homes on the west side of the island. The other lane leading to Kahului has little traffic. At this later hour, both directions of the highway are busy. I tell myself to resist the temptation to get angry at people who drive slowly and take in the view along the coast that sometimes includes humpback whales. I should be patient. They’re visitors, and when they see the deep blue of the ocean before a wave breaks, becoming whiter than white, it is spell-binding and doesn’t diminish with multiple views. When I visit other places and take in the sights, I hear the horns of impatient locals. Even here there are times when I slow down my old car to gaze out of the passenger side window toward the Big Island of Hawaii. On a rare day, I can make out the upper slopes of its Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea volcanoes. I see them shimmering, but a honking horn shakes me from gazing too long

On the outskirts of Kahului, I make a right turn, then a quick left onto a shortcut road that takes me to the highway that climbs up along Haleakala’s massive flank. Right after the turn, a pungent odor seeps through the open window. Many people are annoyed by the smell, but I welcome it as a reminder of the only remaining sugar factory on Maui. The shortcut ends with a right turn onto a four-lane highway that grows steeper past the towns of Pukalani on the right, and Makawao on the left. Another turn puts me on the Haleakala Highway that gives magical views of the pastures where today horses range and cattle find shade, water, and grass. I smell the sweet grasses and marvel at the Jacaranda trees that are now in purple bloom.

Along the highway at an altitude of about three thousand feet, is the Kula Inn Lodge and Restaurant. A steep driveway leads to the Kula Marketplace, the last outpost for food and drinks. Kula is a town of sorts spread over a large area without many services. I always stop at the Kula Marketplace to buy food for the hike. Each time I get out of the car there, I’m dazzled at the grandeur of the West Maui Mountains across the valley, and the Pacific glimmering on both sides of the Island. The glory of it is always a surprise.

My lunch purchases at the store are the same each time I’m here: turkey and cheese and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chips, an apple, and a couple of energy bars. It would be cheaper to buy lunch fixings at a grocery store in Lahaina near home, but I prefer to stop up here for the view. I grab a coffee for the drive to the top and ruin it with vanilla cream, a treat. Stepping outside, I sit on the steps of the store looking at the heavy clouds that hang low at timberline as usual in the rising elevation. Rain is predicted for this evening. That’s not unusual either. I’m not worried about the weather. I know it’s a late start and not the wisest time to head off, but I’ve hiked several trails in the crater. I can move quickly if the need presents itself. I’ve done it many times. When a thunderstorm grows over a mountain peak, I hustle down into the trees for safety. Though I am in my mid-sixties, my health is excellent, and I have much experience.

I’m feeling stiff, so it’s time to get going. I eat one sandwich in the car on the way up because I haven’t had breakfast and save the other for lunch on the trail. Driving along I turn the radio on and hear Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole, called “Iz,” an icon of Hawaiian music, performing his landmark rendition of “Over the Rainbow.” As many times as I’ve listened to the song, and as many times as I’ve performed it myself, it still touches me. I added it to my repertoire years ago. While Maui is my home, and I have some music gigs here, when I return to Colorado I play several days a week at Creekside Cellars. Creekside is a winery/restaurant in Evergreen a foothills town near Denver. I sing a variety of songs: pop, urban folk, songs from musical theater, jazz standards, and some original music. I accompany myself on guitar, and play jazz flute to background rhythm tracks. It is a home away from home with dear people I love to see.

Iz’s song brought back a poignant memory of an afternoon when a woman stumbled awkwardly through the door of the restaurant, a caregiver holding her tightly around the waist, and an older man following closely behind. It was clear that the woman was suffering from a serious health condition. As I performed, a strong impulse drew me to their table to sing to her, but I wondered if it would be proper. Would it offend her or her husband? And what should I sing? As I was finishing my set, it occurred to me to sing “Over the Rainbow” to her. I walked over to the table, sat down, and began singing. As soon as I started, I feared it was a terrible choice, but I continued, and they seemed engaged in it. Some weeks later her husband returned to the restaurant and told me that his wife had died, and he wanted me to know how much it meant to her that I had sung that song. He continued to say that he bought an album of mine with “Over the Rainbow” on it, and his wife listened to it often during the last few days of her life.

The song on the radio had ended, and I turned off the radio because I was caught up in another memory of performing at the restaurant. Two couples, one older and one younger sat down at a table near me. Between songs, the young man, wearing a suit and tie and sporting a boutonniere came over to me and requested a particular John Denver song, which I didn’t know. I suggested another song that I thought might be similar, and he was delighted. I asked him what the occasion was, and he replied that he and the young lady had just gotten married. I asked when and he said, “About ten minutes ago at my parent’s home,” nodding towards the older couple at the table. Shy as I can sometimes be, it occurred to me that it might be a nice gesture to go and sit at their table, and sing the song just to them. As I sang, I saw tears flowing down the cheeks of the young man and his wife. I was stirred at being allowed to provide such a simple but meaningful gift for them.

I might have gone on with more memories of this kind, but I was nearing my destination. Two trails lead into the crater from this side of Haleakala. The Sliding Sands Trail begins just below the summit at a parking lot on the northwest corner of the crater and descends into the crater’s west side. Once at the bottom, the trail is mostly flat and leads to a guest cabin and beyond. The other trailhead, the Halemau’u, begins at the parking lot six miles before the summit. Instead of going down into the crater and then back up the same way, hikers can make a loop inside the crater either by going down the Sliding Sands Trail, around the crater, and then up and out on the Halemau’u trail, or the reverse. Either way, unless a group has two cars, they have to hitchhike at the beginning of the hike or at the end. I decide to park at the lower Halemau’u lot and hitch a ride up to the parking lot near the Sliding Sands trailhead. There’s a hitchhiker’s lane across from the parking lot on the highway to the top. Hopefully, I’ll get a ride. I always have, but sometimes it takes a while. Many visitors look the other way as they go by.

I drive into the Halemau’u lot and park, the only car. That’s odd. It’s the first time I’ve seen it empty. I pause a moment. I notice the clouds hanging low and a breezy chill when I get out of the decrepit ‘97 Corolla. Such a vehicle is called a “Maui Cruiser” on the Island. I open the back door to sit and put on two pairs of socks and then tug on my shoes. The cell phone reads, 1:45. I decide to leave the phone in the car. I figure it might fall out of my pocket, especially if I have to jog at some point.

No room in the waist pack even for a cell phone. I put on the waist pack, buckle it, and cinch it tight. The water bottles are snug in their nylon straps. I wrestle the pack around to the front of me so I can stuff in the food. I go light because I like to move quickly. I carry all I need and no more. I crinkle up the plastic sandwich box as small as possible and stuff it in the pack. It’s the turkey and cheese, though it may not look like that when I pull...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 13.2.2023
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Sport
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-8767-X / 166788767X
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-8767-8 / 9781667887678