There are a variety of ways to get high. There are, for example, drugs. Generally, the experience is short lived and not always pleasant. We can fall head-over-heels in love, which can last a lifetime, but sometimes turns sour. And there are literal ways to get high, like reaching the top of a skyscraper or a mountain, especially when there is a challenge involved.
I chose the third route to getting high by riding to the top of Haleakala Crater, on the island of Maui, Hawaii. The ride would cover 35.5 miles (57 km), all but perhaps three hundred yards of it uphill, and it would end at 10,023 feet (3055 m.) above sea level. I made the ride in late February.
A local getting high on the road to Hana, Maui.
However, I was anything but high a few weeks before my ride. I'd flunked a stress test. Although I felt fine, an electrocardiogram reading indicated I had some blockage in my left descending coronary artery. So I sulked and stayed off my bike during what was supposed to be my most intensive training period. Until I had an angiogram several days later, I worried I might drop dead on my bike before making it to Maui. In the hospital, my cardiologist ran a thin wire through my wrist and into my heart, injected some dye that showed what was happening in my coronary arteries, and quickly concluded the stress test itself had failed. So I went home a few hours later in certified A1 condition. The next day I put in a 1,500 foot climb up some steep grades near my home. And I kept riding until I left for Maui about a week later.
The view from the top of Haleakala on a reasonably clear day
On our first full day on Maui, my girlfriend and I drove to the top of Haleakala Crater before sunrise. It was windy and very cold. Haleakala ("House of the Sun" in Hawaiian) isn't a crater. It's the top of a massive outpouring, over vast amounts of time, of broad sheets of lava which eventually rose out of the sea. The "crater" was apparently formed when two valleys, created by erosion, merged at the top of the mountain. Along with a few hundred other people, the two of us shivered near the top of the mountain as the sun rose above the clouds and a native Hawaiian offered a chant to greet the new day. In a while we could see into the "crater." I hoped to have a similar, if not as dramatic, experience when reaching the mountaintop the next day.
Our rented house in Upcountry.
We had rented a beautiful home near the small community of Ulupalakua, on the slopes of the mountain, in a part of Maui called Up Country. From our balcony we looked out over a surrounding lush forest and beyond that over the Pacific Ocean, where we could see a couple other islands in the Hawaiian chain. While driving back from the top of the mountain that first morning we spotted a half dozen or so riders making their way up the first of two sets of hairpin turns. It was about 11 a.m.
Clarinetist Marion Meadows
Stopping for coffee in the little community of Kula, we met a well-known musician, Marion Meadows. He was in his bike clothes. I didn't realize he's a bike racer as well as a clarinetist and until I checked out his website that evening. We spoke for a couple of minutes and I mentioned my upcoming ride. Mr. Meadows mentioned that a couple friends of his had become hypothermic in rain on their ride down from the top of the Haleakala and needed help to get off the mountain. The forecast for my ride, the next day, was for afternoon rain.
That night at our house we could see bright stars and we heard the sound of birds and horses and occasional dog barks. It did seem like paradise. I set two alarms and drifted easily off to a night of good sleep.
The next morning I pulled on my good luck jersey, the one I'd purchased after riding up Stelvio Pass (
which I posted about here) in Italy the year before. I put the bike I'd rented into the back of our car. I'd rented the bike, a Scott, outfitted with Ultregra components, from Maui Cyclery in the town of Paia, at sea level, where I planned to start my ride. Now I drove about an hour from our house back down the mountain to Paia, with dawn light visible to the east. Originally I'd thought I'd leave Paia at 6 a.m. Instead, I followed the advice of one of the employees at the shop to either push off around 6:30 a.m. or after 8 a.m. to avoid heavy traffic, principally from people taking kids to school.
Feeling good at the start of the ride.
Because we were so far from the start of the ride, I opted for the later hour. It would have been better to have made an earlier start. Because by 7:50 a.m., when I started riding, the day was already warm and humid. It was like visiting my daughter in Brooklyn in the summer, instead of the more temperate climate of Los Angeles where I live. Would I need my base layer, leg and arm warmers, and light rain coat I carried with me? I also carried enough energy bars and a couple of hard boiled eggs to see me through the entirety of the ride. And I had a couple of bottles of water.
Once out of Paia, the scenery early on was dominated by sugarcane fields, with Haleakala a rising bulge to the west. Although it wasn't obvious, I was on that bulge. I pedaled past several beautiful churches dating to the mid-1800s. I stopped in the shade of a church to add more sunblock to my arms and neck. I felt like I was in a warm shower as my sweat poured off me.
My plan was to take my time, spinning in a 34x21 or 24 gear on a route described as averaging a 5% grade. If it grade dipped a bit I'd shift up. I'd still have a gear or two to go down if the road pitched up. There was a short, steep section at the end of the little town of Makawao. The grade wouldn't come close again for a long time.
Community of Makawao
About 8 miles past Paia, make a right turn at this sign to stay on the route.