You can do it all -- if you take the time....

“We want to go to the lava flow and then to a waterfall,” they said.  I chuckled and replied, “You want two days then.”  As many do, this couple hadn’t comprehended some important facts-on-the-ground of the “Big Island.”

As much as attuned residents of the Island of Hawai`i prefer to call it by its Polynesian names (usually, just Hawai`i, often with a soft “v” sound for the “w;” Moku o Keawe is another), there’s no denying that the more tourism-promotional name is accurate: It is a big Island.   A bit smaller than Connecticut, the Island is slightly less than four times the surface area of Rhode Island and more than twice as big as Delaware. The entire State of Hawai`i comprises 6,423 mi.² and the other islands in it could be accommodated within the boundaries of the largest with considerable space to spare.  It can be a long journey from one part of the “Big Island” to another.

There is no road that completely encircles the Island of Hawai`i.  The north, south and east extremities are accessed only by means of side-roads.  This reflects the rugged complexity of the terrain and the fact that land development is scattered on the Island.  From the north to the south ends of the Island a straight-line measurement yields a distance of 93 miles; from east to west, 76 miles.  These figures don’t reflect the fact that any effort to travel such lines would involve scaling volcanic mountains that count as being among the earth’s most massive features – Mauna Kea, as the highest volcano in the Pacific, and Mauna Loa, as the planet’s most massive mountain, though 117’ closer to sea level than its neighbor.

And speaking of volcanoes, let’s return to the quandary facing the hikers who wanted to see flowing rock (it should be said here that eruptions are not constantly in effect; decades may pass without one) and water spilling over a fall as part of a same-day experience: it can be done, but not with the quality of time in either venue that would make for anything approaching a complete and satisfying visit.  So much time would be expended in getting from one location to the other that everything would feel rushed.  Though imaginative painters sometimes portray flowing lava as colorfully pouring down slopes adjacent to steep sea cliffs clad with lush vegetation and plunging waterfalls, anyone who has observed Hawai`i’s landscapes with a careful eye knows that the two are not juxtaposed. The reason, explicable in the languages both of science and of myth, has to do with the relative ages of the landforms in which these two expressions of nature – molten rock and plunging water – are to be found.

Hawaiian volcanoes in their younger and middle-age eras tend effusively to erupt molten rock.  Hawaiians identified two major types of lava (and scientific geology has generally followed their designations): pahoehoe, the smoother, billowy, continuous sheet flows; and ‘a’a, broken piles of clinker and rubble.  Whichever form such erupted material takes, even pounding rain doesn’t do much in the way of erosion, tending rather quickly to be percolated from the surface to the interior of the rocky ground.  When they reach senior-age status the volcanoes of the Hawaiian Islands tend to erupt more explosively, ejecting finer material into the air for deposit on the surface as cinder and ash.  When rain falls on this sort of layer, it does begin to cut down into it, forming streams -- given that the material is deep enough and the rivulets accumulate enough volume.  As streams grow in size, they also grow in power.  Eventually significant cutting into the underlying lava occurs.  Since lava flows vary in hardness (porosity being a major determinant and generally associated with gas-induced vesicles in the rock), they will erode at differential rates.  When a stream cuts down through some rock faster than it does other rock, waterfalls appear.  The more prevalent are waterfalls, the older the land.  Evidence for this is seen in the rugged landforms and plunging streams of the older of the major Hawaiian Islands, and the fact that on the Island of Hawai`i proper, waterfalls are found only on the oldest of its volcanic mountains.

The soaring cliffs characteristic of some parts of the Hawaiian Islands are also age-related.  The action of the sea is consistent in gnawing away at the shoreline, undercutting edges that collapse and leading to over-steep slopes that give way to cataclysmic landslides changing the shape of the islands and littering the ocean floor with miles of massive debris.  In general, then, the higher are the sea cliffs, the older the land.

© 2008 Hugh R. Montgomery, Ph.D.

I have been enchanted.  That’s not a matter of my having any special powers; it’s just that I was in the presence of an enchantress who was performing her art and, well, it happened.

The whole thing started in a fairly pedestrian way: while I was attending one of the classes in a course on Hawaiian Ethnobotany some years ago, the instructor, Lehua, handed out the text of an oli, or chant, that dealt with the creation and peopling of the Islands of Hawai`i.  She mentioned that she had studied and performed this oli as part of her training in hula.  Since I have often been impressed by the power and beauty of Hawaiian chanting, I wondered aloud if she would be willing to bring this particular oli to life.  She sat still for a moment, apparently considering the question, then settled herself, closed her eyes and began in the kepakepa style, a fast, rhythmic chant form. 

She seemed suddenly to age.  Her middle-aged visage took on the appearance of a very old woman.  Her hands seemed to be shaping things as she chanted.  Her voice also became that of an ancient.  This transformation held as she wound her way through the oli, a period of several minutes, and as she came to completion and opened her eyes, ended with a reversion to her usual appearance. 

The class continued on with its usual tempo and structure.  I never discussed my observations with Lehua or any of the students in the class, and it was only after recalling the experience some time later that I realized what had happened: as her voice enwrapped me with its ancient message, my perception of reality had been altered: I had, quite literally, been enchanted.

One of the factors that make Hamakua a place of relatively low population in modern times is the weather.  The present extended period of unusually low rainfall notwithstanding, the windward reaches of our district are often included in Honolulu-based weather forecasts as the only place in the Islands to have clouds and rain, while the rest of the State enjoys sunny weather.  The wording often is something like; "Most of the Islands will have clear skies except for the windward side of the Big Island." 

This sort of reputation has slowed migration to our area, because these days, when people have a choice, they often will select drier, warmer, less windy places to live in.  When people lived off the land, they knew that life depends on water.  Ample rainfall dictated the areas in which food could be grown, and therefore, where they could survive: Ola i ka wai a ka `opua, it is said – There is life in the water from the clouds.

Waipi`o and Waimanu Valleys were among the earliest places of settlement in these Islands, by virtue of their reliable streams.  When, after 600 years of human habitation in Waipi`o, permanent places of residence began to be established along the coastal areas above the Valley, the usual rainfall was sufficient for food crops.  If dry spells such as we have now came along, there

was then water in the numerous gulches -- kahawai – to help out.  These days, the only gulches in Hamakua that continuously carry water are those that are fed by diverted water – the leaky Lower Hamakua Ditch, or the water taken out of Lalakea Stream to the Lalakea Reservoir and passed on to Waiulili Stream.  The forests above have been so degraded by cattle and other agents of deforestation that the sponge-like qualities they had are mostly gone.  Just a few generations ago, many of Hamakua's kahawai had continual flow, fed during dry times by moisture held and gradually released by the saturated ground under the trees, ferns, shrubs and mosses of the native Hawaiian forest.

A quick overview of the elements of weather as it appears in our part of the world includes precipitation, temperature, and wind.  Rainfall over the ocean around our Island is usually 25 to 30 inches annually.  The moisture-laden trade winds interact with the highly varied land forms of the volcanic slopes that face into them to produce rainfall as much as 10 times more than the open sea gets, or as little as half that amount.  Because Hamakua includes such a range of climate zones, it has a great range of temperatures and precipitation.  The greatest rainfall occurs between 2,000 and 4,000 feet in elevation, where 120 inches annually are not uncommon; the summits of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa (also parts of Hamakua) usually get less than 25 inches of rain a year.   In the saddle between our giant volcanic mountains, yearly rainfall is about 20 inches. Drought is not unknown, obviously, and although it rarely affects more than one part of the Island at a time, the probability of serious drought somewhere on the Island during any given 10-year period is greater than 90 percent.

The consistent mild temperatures of Hawai`i is one of its most favored and well-known characteristics.  The average temperatures of the Island near sea level range from 72 to 75 degrees F.  Temperature drops with elevation, of course, with an average loss of 3.6 degrees for each 1,000 feet; Hamakua, with its elevations ranging from 0 to 13, 796 feet above sea level, has places that freeze every night.  The weather observatory on Mauna Loa (in part of Hamakua), at 11,000 feet, has an average temperature of 45 degrees.  The seasonal range of temperature is four to eight degrees, while the average difference between daily high and low temperature is ten to twenty degrees.  This means that the there is more variation in the temperature between night and day than there is between the hottest and coldest day in any given place.

The prevailing wind, throughout the year, is the east northeasterly trade wind.  So consistent are these winds that the part of the Island they impact directly are known as "windward" even during times when the winds come from other directions.  They are in effect about 70% of the time throughout the year, but are present only 50% of January.  In July, they blow more than 90% of the time.  When the trades aren't affecting us, we may enjoy the unusual experience of being in the wind shadow of Mauna Kea when southerly or westerly winds blow.  Sometimes, though, Kona winds howl destructively down the mountain slopes and through the backs of the valleys.  Then it can be said, Hu ka makani  – "The wind blows a gale. " 

Kindly as the weather in Hamakua can be, those who have lived here for a while know that it can also test our abilities to handle wild events that disrupt our usual patterns.  While those experiences lead some to seek milder conditions elsewhere, they produce a certain sense of appreciation in others, who understand that forces more powerful than we are can tell us something about who we are and how we must shape our lives to relate to those elements.

A hui hou,

Dr. Hugh Montgomery

Almost the only kahawai (gulches) in Hamakua carrying water continuously are those that catch leaks from the Lower Hamakua Ditch.  The status of that Ditch system is so important to our area that there is always information about it included in this paper.  It has, in the past few years, gotten quite a lot of attention from government agencies, because present and potential farmers know how important reliable water is to their future.  It seems rather strange to think that if the Ditch is repaired well, there won't be any year-around streams flowing off the Hamakua section of Mauna Kea's flank (except perhaps for Waiulili; see below). 

Most of the water that finds its way to the bottom of Waipi`o comes from the Kohala side, down the drainages of Koiawe, Alakahi and Kawainui, beyond the boundary of Hamakua.  Along the Hilo-side pali of Waipi`o, the Hi`ilawe and Waima sections of the Valley, there are springs that send water down to the Valley floor, but not many streams spilling over the rim, especially during times of little rain.  The kahawai Waikoekoe and Waiulili run through the village of Kukuihaele, and Kaluahine goes along the edge of the pali, crossing under the road into the Valley just below the lookout, where the road makes a sharp turn at the bridge over the gulch.  Waikoekoe, near the Last Chance Store, seems to run only from Ditch leakage.  With the current interruption in Ditch flow, it is dry.  Waiulili runs with water released from Lalakea Reservoir, which is supplied from Lalakea Stream, a mile to the west or the reservoir.  Kaluahine usually only has water when Ditch flow is diverted into it, such as when repairs down the ditch from there must be made.

Waipi`o's  side valley of Hi`ilawe has three main drainages that contribute water to the floor of Waipi`o.  Ipu`u is the first stream (coming from east to west) that actually drops water over the edge into the Valley, since the others mentioned above put their water right into the ocean.  Ipu`u has been dry most of the time for the past several years, though springs on the pali down below put water into its streambed.

Hakaloa, Hi`ilawe Falls' "twin," is the next in line.  These days, it ordinarily has such a small trickle that it is not visible from a distance and looks as if it isn't running at all. As we mentioned in an earlier article, Hakalaoa is channeled up above into Lalakea.  This latter re-routing occurred late in the sugar plantation time, after flooding  and associated landslides in 1989 damaged the Lower Hamakua Ditch tunnel behind Hakalaoa Falls in the head of Hi`ilawe side-valley.  Even today water pours out of the opening part-way up the pali.  Repair of the system involved elimination of the falls dropping into the newly exposed tunnel.  Plantation bulldozers cut through a narrow strip of land up top that separated the two streams, so that the water of Hakalaoa pours into Lalakea.  Several years ago the State Water Commission ordered the restoration of Hakalaoa to its natural course, but that work has not yet begun.  As stories in this paper have told, plans are being made to repair the tunnel behind the falls.

Lalakea, the stream that flows over the pali to become Hi`ilawe, is to the west of Hakalaoa.  Hi`ilawe itself has, more often than not over the past few years, been so low that it hasn't flowed out of the plunge pool some 200 feet down, going instead down the inside of the pali through cracks in the bottom of that first pool.  A major portion of Lalakea, as mentioned above, is diverted upstream into a tunnel system that takes it a mile away to Lalakea reservoir, from which it is sent into fish ponds and to a rancher.  The left-over water taken from Lalakea, rather than becoming Hi`ilawe Falls, dumps into Waiulili stream, as described earlier. 

The only other water flowing over the rim of Waipi`o on this side is Kakeha.  It drains a rather small area of land owned by Parker Ranch.  Kakeha's water goes into the Waima branch of Waipi`o, the part of the Valley that goes almost straight back from the beach toward Waimea.

When rainfall is heavy, of course, the streambeds fill and rush with runoff.  They often are discolored with soil washing away and we notice the stain in the ocean.  Shortly after the rain ceases, the streams begin to drop, and if the weather stays dry, most of them will stop flowing again.  In the times when the upland forests were intact, changes in stream flow were apparently not so extreme.  The forests caught and held the rain and cloud mist, slowly releasing it over time.  With the destruction of the forests, the sponge-like qualities of the foliage and ground were lost and the effects of heavy rain became noticeably more destructive.  In her book, Sugar Water, Carol Wilcox describes the long-standing concern that the watersheds of Kohala and Hamakua were changing adversely and quotes from a government report prepared in response to a drought in 1902: "Today the land is dry and unable to support life by reason of the lack of water.  Old inhabitants of Kohala and Hamakua … corroborate one another in stating that not many years ago there was a very large native population in those sections, and that the streams which are now dry were once considered unfailing."  Ms. Wilcox also quotes J. Waldron, a manager for the Hawaiian Irrigation Company, as worrying in 1924 that the forests of upper Hamakua were vanishing rapidly.  He observed that the `ohi`a trees were dying, the ferns were unhealthy, and that the trees below and around Pu`u Alala (the now-forested hill sitting amid cow pastures, toward the Valley from Lakeland) were gone.

Instead of continually flowing streams, we now have streambeds that are mostly dry, but in stormy times become channels for muddy rushing water that carry soil to the sea, adversely impacting life there.  These conditions also obviously challenge the survival of the creatures, such as o`opu, that live in the streams.  The basic human need for water is not just for drinking, but for the support of all life.  Reduplication of wai, the Hawaiian word for fresh water, waiwai, means "wealth."  We all know it when we think about it, but the subsistence culture of ka po`e kahiko, the people of old, had continuously in mind, Ola i ka wai: Life comes from water.           

Aloha a hui hou!