Sunrise at Haleakala

I heard complaints about the drive, the crowded tourists at the view station etc. beforehand, but also the description by Mark Twain and others of its beauty. I decided to mitigate some of the problems. We camped at Halekala’s Hosmer Grove campground which is included in the National Park car fee. It was in this amazing forest far but not all the way up to the top, that way we could enjoy the drive up and make stops, as well as shorten the morning time driving. We also scouted out a spot around a hill that no one else was at and watched in our sleeping bags the sky filled with stars shift quickly to bright oranges and reds slicing through blues. The drive was a unique one with no siderails and thousands of feet of drop off but it was my first time driving a SUV and I survived so go for it!

At the risk of being stoned by infidels and the island gods, I think sunrise at the summit of Haleakala is… well…rather overrated. Don’t hate me, but here’s my rationale. First, getting up at 2:30AM should be a punishable sin. Then the twists and turns of Highway 378 will have your stomach doing somersaults before you could have a chance to put any Starbucks in there. It’s pitch black outside and freezing, so make sure you bundle up. A conundrum, I know, since you only packed for a tropical paradise, right? But alas, you would be wise to pack a flashlight, ski cap, gloves, jacket, and even long underwear if you are serious about going to the top.
From Kihei, it took us about two hours to get to the top, and it was already pretty crowded with shivering tourists equipped with cameras at the ready. When the sun does break, it promises to be a surreal, awe-​inspiring sight, especially with the majesty of the cloud formations dappled by the sun rays. I heard no sighs. The changes in color are pretty cool from black to purple to orange. But the transformation is fairly quick and once the novelty wears off, you just want to leave.
When you take off in your car, of course, you have to wait patiently for the battalions of amateur cyclists who were told how much fun the downhill ride would be. Been there, done that, over it. With their matching windbreakers looking tattered and their bikes the worse for wear, I am not quite certain if euphoric is the first adjective I would use to describe them.
Then you get to experience the twists and turns of Highway 238 all over again going down. Only it’s worse this time because you’re actually conscious at this point. By the time you get down the mountain, it’s about 7AM, and all you want to do is go back to sleep. You crash, and then suddenly it’s noon. Was it worth it? Well, I added photos… you can be the judge.