Maui Adventure - Day 4 - Kapalua Tidepools

[Composed 1/4/2026]

I was psyched to learn over breakfast that we were a mere 15 minute drive to the Kapalua Tidepools. While we had plans to hit up the aquarium and other sites today, I couldn't resist starting our day with a detour to the North.

I have a special affinity for tidepools, as in the past, I've found them to be little wonderlands. The idea is that as the tide recedes, it leaves behind small pools teeming with marine life.

Accessing the area around the Kapalua Tidepools was straightforward. At a couple of points, I feared we were entering resort or private property, but that never happened. We found public parking and a well marked path that took us down to the cliffs, ocean and tidepools.

As tide pools go, the area was a bust. Perhaps we caught it at the wrong part of the day, or season. We found some small pools, but they were empty.

What the area lacked in marine life, it more than made up for in unique geology and views. The area is the result of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, that is, a lava flow meeting the ocean. Between the unique rock formations and the pounding sea, the scene was stunning.

From what I can tell, this unique shaped rock is known as dragon's teeth. That's when hot lava met wind and waves, and was shaped into sharp, upward formations.

I'm not sure what made these patterns in the rock. But it's a cool effect, nonetheless.

The lava flow also gave Shira and me the perfect opportunity to recreate this photo which we captured some 25 years ago:

Hawaiian lava: check. Goofy hat: check. Belt pouch: check. Smoking hot wife: check. I'd say the important stuff has remained unchanged.

Pro tip: we couldn't tell if Kapalua Tidepools would be best explored wearing beach or hiking footwear. Definitely, hiking. I had on flimsy sneakers and Shira had on flip flops, and while we made do, we should have been wearing our trail runners. The area may butt up to the water, but it's the farthest thing from beach-like.

Overall: the Kapalua Tidepools are a hit. This is a quintessentially Hawai'ian landscape and a joy to explore.

Creatures Of Note

This guy here is a Brown Anole:

Alas, he's an unwelcome invader to the islands.

These guys here are common mynas:

They're also unwanted guests, but unlike the Anole, they were invited here. They were introduced in the 1860s to control, among other pests, armyworms in sugarcane fields. In 1885, they were hailed as heroes:

No more useful bird has ever been introduced into this country. Where they are numerous, they have all but exterminated the army worm which, before their introduction, destroyed pasture and good cattle feed every year of greater value than all the ducks and chickens in the Kingdom. Let the mynahs be protected, despite their pugnacity and occasional mischief. They are the friends of graziers and market gardeners.

34 years in, these heroes were now considered a self-inflicted plague:

The lantana was introduced into this country from tropical America in the year 1858, and the mynah bird in the year 1860. The one might not have proved so great a curse without the other, but the two combined have already rendered almost worthless thousands of acres of pasture land, and if some prompt, vigorous methods are not adopted by the next Legislature and enforced to the strict letter of the law for the extermination of these two great evils, the day is not far distant when there will be no pasture land in the Islands upon which to raise either horses or cattle.

To this day, they remain on the list of the top 100 invasive species in the world. They're one of only a few birds to make the list.

Maui Adventure - Day 3 - Other Notable Creatures

[Composed 1/3/2026]

We've had an amazing day today, from our 2 am start and epic sunrise, to the breathtaking experience of hiking the Haleakala crater and the opportunity to see endangered native birds in the wild. But I'd be remiss if I didn't mention some other, seemingly less exotic critters that we saw today.

Let's start with this guy:

He's a Red-crested Cardinal. He certainly looks like an upgrade from the cardinals we have in our backyard in DC. He's an introduced species, brought to Hawaii around 1930. I can't tell if his ancestors were brought here as pets and accidentally released, or intentionally released in the wild, because you know, they were pretty. Apparently folks were way chiller back then about adding animals to the ecosystem.

What I found notable about this guy is that he belongs to the family Thraupidae, not to the family Cardinalidae. The Northern Cardinal, as you may guess from the name, is part of the family Cardinalidae. This difference makes these birds as related to each other as cats and dogs (both mammals, but in different families).

Like the silversword and agave plant, these relatively unrelated birds evolved similar features independently. Apparently the bright colors and crest that I'm used to seeing on the Northern cardinal are so effective that nature reinvented them for the Red-crested cardinal. Good design is good design, I guess.

This guy joined us for lunch at Satori, an open air sushi restaurant in Makawao.

At this point, feral chickens have become part of the background noise of Hawaii. Unfortunately for the chickens, they aren't exactly loved. In the state's 2026 legislative session there are six bills alone that relate to feral chickens; none of them good news for the birds. So yeah, while tourists may find them novel, the locals not so much. Consider HB-319, which has this description:

[HB-319] Exempts from the crime of cruelty to animals in the second degree the extermination of insects, vermin, and pests, and the extermination of feral chickens on private property by the property owner, under certain conditions.

Ouch. Mr. Chicken, I do believe the locals mean business. Good luck.

Calling this a 'creature' may be a stretch, but hear me out:

These pictures show a glass artist hard at work at the Hot Island Glass store in Makawao. Off camera is another artist assisting him. They're crafting a base for a previously made glass marlin; the so-called creature in this scenario.

Shira and I both enjoy watching glass blowing demonstrations, but this one was on another level. This wasn't just watching a vase or cup be shaped on the fly--which is very cool, and an accomplishment in its own right--this was watching a piece of complex sculpture being created in real time.

Even with our limited knowledge of glassblowing, we could tell we were watching an impressive feat. The final maneuver of putting the completed sculpture in the annealing oven took the aid of a third store attendant. When the work finally made it into the oven, the onlookers breathed a sigh of relief and erupted into applause.

And finally, there's this guy:

He's a Black-crowned Night-Heron. In this photo, he's foraging for food at our hotel's water feature. This shallow pool holds captive flamingos and koi carp. He seems to cleverly converted it to his own private, and safe, hunting grounds. He's a decorative enough bird that he blends in. Well played, dude!

Given that we have Black-crowned Night-Herons locally and they are found across North America, I figured surely they were introduced to Hawaii. And I figured wrong.

What I know as a Black-crowned Night-Heron has been known to Hawaiians as 'Auku'u for hundreds, if not thousands of years. He's considered an indigenous resident, that is, he arrived here naturally and lives here all year long. What makes the 'Auku'u unique is that, unlike other indigenous residents, he's not endemic. That is, he's not unique to Hawaii. So he's just as Hawaiian as say the Nene we saw earlier today, but unlike the Nene, he hasn't been a resident long enough to evolve uniquely Hawaiian characteristics.

One hint that changes are on the horizon is that "unlike continental birds, those in Hawai'i are diurnal". In nature, as in most of life, the only constant is change.

Maui Adventure - Day 3 - Hosmer Grove

[Composed 1/3/2026]

I was skeptical about hiking Haleakala National Park's Hosmer Grove. This short hiking trail winds through a failed 1909 forestry experiment by, you guessed it, Mr. Ralph Hosmer. Did I really need to see more non-native forests in Hawaii?

Thankfully I ignored this snarky sentiment, and as we descended from Haleakala's summit we turned off the main road, and headed to the the small campground and hiking area that is Hosmer Grove.

Even before we explored the grove, I came across these two fine specimens:

These are Nene, or native Hawaiian geese. While related to the Canada goose, these birds have been residents of Hawaii long enough that they've become optimized for a world filled with lava flows and not wetlands. First silverswords, and now Nene--we were on a native species run. This sighting alone made the trip to the grove worth it. But wait, there's more!

The first thing I noticed while walking on the short nature trail was the smell. The cedar trees were especially fragrant; what an unexpected treat. In fact, many of the trees in the grove are quite towering, so while they may be alien, they're still quite impressive.

But the real win of the day was getting to watch the I'iwi, tiny, brightly colored birds, with distincively hooked beaks, flit from tree to tree to nosh on nectar. The grove is at 7,000 feet: low enough that vegetation thrives, but high enough that mosquitoes don't, so it's prime I'iwi territory.

The secret to glimpsing the I'iwi was explained to me by a hiker lugging a DSLR with a massive lens. The bird is after the flower's nectar, so plant yourself in front of trees with blooming flowers and wait. The advice was solid, and I didn't have to wait long before the birds made an appearance.

Lacking a tripod and high powered lens, I struggled to get photos with my phone. Here's about the best I could do:

My compact Pentax Papilio II binoculars served me quite well in the grove and on this trip in general. They let me get sharp, close up views of the birds, all with minimal bulk and weight. But alas, I didn't have a way to capture this perspective.

In most respects, the cell phone plus lightweight binocs are the perfect combination. With the cell phone tucked in my pocket and binoculars in a small case on my belt, I hardly notice the gear until I need it. But what does it mean that I can't share photos of what I'm actually seeing? The photographer in me finds this utterly disappointing. But the practical side of this set up is hard to argue with. Like many gear optimization questions, this one remains unanswered.

It's not unusual for nature trails to promise the opportunity to see exotic wildlife; but in the case of Hosmer Grove, it delivered. This hike is a must do. Come prepared to slow down and see some of Hawaii's most impressive natives.

Maui Adventure - Day 3 - Sliding Sands Hike - Breathtaking In Every Way

[Composed 1/3/2026]

After a few minutes in the car with the heat blasting, we were finally warmed up enough after watching the sunrise to make our next move. The plan was to hike part of the Sliding Sands (Keonehe'ehe'e) trail. Once thawed out, I was eager to get started.

Sliding Sands, we read, consisted of a 9 mile hike into the Haleakala crater, followed by 9 miles hiking back out. The trail has a reputation for spectacular views, and martian like terrain. The trail starts from the visitor center's parking lot which is a short drive from the summit.

Another critical feature of the hike we picked up during our research was that the views remain relatively consistent. So whether you hike one mile into the crater or nine, you don't really see anything different.

Like the drive to the summit of Haleakala, I worried that this hike would trigger my fear of heights. Yet, looking out over the massive expanse at the start of the trail, I realized that there was nothing fear inducing about what was before us. The trail was wide and gently sloping; there wasn't a cliff or drop off in sight.

Once the conditions were visible, Shira and I started the negotiation for how much trail we'd do. I argued we should hike three, if not four miles in. Shira was pushing for one. We compromised at two miles.

Those two miles were absolutely stunning. At the start of the hike we saw a little flora and fauna, but once in the crater, it was almost exclusively volcanic rock as far as the eye could see.

We made our way into the crater spellbound by the views. The gentle downhill made the experience a piece of cake.

At two miles, Shira announced it was time to turn around. Reluctantly I agreed. After some water and a snack, we turned and headed up hill. It took only a single step before I was breathing heavily; according to my watch, my heart rate had jumped to 150. Whoa. A wave of fear washed over me: this was going to be no ordinary hike to the car.

At 10,000 feet, I knew that I'd feel the altitude. But surely I was fit enough to get at least a few steps up the hill before I hit the wall. Apparently not.

None of this should have come as a surprise. Sliding Sands comes with countless warnings that the hike in is easy, but out, not so much. But I thought that warning was for other people.

Putting panic aside (did we have enough food, water and cold weather gear to endure hours of hiking ahead of us?), I turned my attention to a single goal: taking one more step. The experience hiking out of Sliding Sands became meditative: my mind was clear of all distractions; there was no past, no future; no failures, no successes; there was only the step in front of me.

With all the mental drama, hiking the two miles to the car turned out to be no big deal. The recommendation I heard from a ranger as I explored the gift shop at the visitor's center was simple: plan to spend twice as much time hiking out as hiking in. Still, I can't recall a hike going from easy to challenging so quickly when I'd already experienced the full terrain.

I asked the ranger in the gift shop if she had any advice to put what we'd seen in geological context. She explained that the shades of color we'd seen, from pitch black to deep red, and every shade in between, was all the same rock. It was that the rocks had been exposed to air for different amounts of time, so they had different rates of oxidization. The patches of solid black had been more recently exposed (maybe 100 ~ 1000 years ago), while the patches of dark red had been exposed many thousands of years ago.

Playing forensic geologist is fun!

Notable Creatures

Check out these handsome looking Chukar partridges we saw at the start of our hike:

Introduced in 1923 as a game bird, these guys apparently thrive at higher, drier altitudes. They seem to have little competition up here, so even though resources are scarce, they still thrive. And they're pretty!

The other notable resident at the top of Haleakala is this guy, a silversword:

First off, the silversword is a native resident of Hawaii. Hurray! Finally a true native caught in the wild. Second of all, the above photo shows a fine specimen, but it's only part of the story. These plants can live in this state for decades, and then finally procreate by sending up a massive, 6ft tall stalk full of purple flowers. And then they die. Dang Silversword, drama much?

Surely, I thought, the silversword must be related to the agave plant. Both exist in a rosette shape for years, thrive in arid conditions, and finally produce an impressive stalk full of flowers and die. And yet they are only very distantly related. Both plants evolved to make use of monocarpy indepedently; finding a similar path to survival on their own. I find that both completely reasonable and utterly miraculous at the same time.