I survived my Haleakala expedition, barely--both technically and personally.
When I was offered the chance to stay at two ranger cabins in
exchange for volunteering to do soundscape recording, I knew that I
was in no shape for a 2-1/2 day backpack up and down mountains at
high altitude. I didn't want to pass up the opportunity, however, so
I trained for three weeks carrying ever-heavier backpack loads up
Bernal Hill, a 400-foot hill right near my lab, every other day. That
training paid off. I'm sure I couldn't have done it without it, but
still I was challenged to my limits.
Mike stands and my artificial head & shoulders rig were out because
they would weigh too much. My intern Brian and I rigged up the
windscreen domes that I usually use on my vest on either side of my
backpack instead. My Sharp MD recorder was in a camera case on the
pack's waist belt. That way I could stop for a recording opportunity
on the trail, and also use the backpack as a front-channels stereo
array for fixed four-channel recordings.
Monday morning I signed my research permit and got a Park Service
radio for emergency use. That was almost the straw that broke the
camel's back; it was heavy. My load was about 32 pounds. I said
goodbye to Sharon and started off down the Sliding Sands Trail. On
the way down (10,000' to 7,000') I paused to record a couple of air
tour helicopters and a passing trail ride group. Other than that
there was nothing--the west end of Haleakala is mostly a volcanic
moonscape.
By the time I got to the bottom my knees were hurting. I thought the
rest of the way across the crater would be easy, looks that way on
the topo. It was easy to Kapalaoa Cabin, in the middle. I enjoyed the
only spot of shade in the crater resting on its front step and
enjoying four resident nene.
After that, the rest of the way to Paliku Cabin at the east end is
over lava beds, a lot of small ups and downs that don't show on a
topo. I was thoroughly wiped out by the time I arrived. I greeted the
people renting the cabin and went on to the Patrol Cabin, nicely
appointed with chemical toilet out back, solar lighting, and propane
stove.
I had hoped to scout the area and set up some distance away, but the
shadows were long and I was pooped. I set up the backpack with the
stereo array in the back facing the strip of jungle at the bottom of
the cliff. I found a spot on the corral fence for the right rear mic,
and perched the left rear in a tree. I was using two Sharp MD
recorders for surround.
The evening recording was slim on species and full of the
conversations in the public cabin a hundred yards away. I suppose it
has scientific value, but there isn't much I can get from it for an
aesthetic composition.
In the middle of the night I woke to dripping sounds. I checked the
mics and it was indeed raining. I got dressed, grabbed the mics, and
hauled in the cables, looping them on the cabin floor to dry. This
strip of a few hundred yards has a cloud forest climate due to clouds
that roll over the cliffs.
I got up at 4:45 to listen for a dawn chorus. There wasn't any. I
dried out my pack and windscreens over the stove, and started hearing
birds around 6:00. It was clear, so I set up the mics again. By the
time I was done it was soaking mist again, but I went ahead and made
a long 4-channel recording which was probably the best of the
expedition, quite a few species. No voices in the morning.
After breakfast, documentation, packing and cleaning up I got off on
the Halemau'u trail west. It took me all day to hump my pack back
across the crater, with many rest stops. I recorded helicopter tours
now and then. They're supposed to stay outside the ridge lines, and
almost all did, but one came right over me. Helicopters were every
twenty minutes or so, high-altitude jets just a few a day. Otherwise
it was the quietest place you can imagine. I took a lot of pictures;
from mid-crater the island of Hawaii was visible through the Kaupo
Gap.
Again it was late afternoon when I got to Holua Cabin, and the "Holua
Hilton," a ranger cabin nearby. I was pleased my cabin was around a
ridge from the public cabin, but the family in the cabin made up for
it by being very loud, reverberating off the lava field. Again I was
in pain and exhausted and chose to set up from my cabin as base. I
propped my pack up again facing the cliffs, put the left rear mic in
a juniper tree at one corner of the cabin and the right rear on the
water tank.
As soon as I was ready to record I discovered a popping noise in my
right front Telinga EM-23 mic. I changed the extension cable to no
avail. I had to go ahead with three good channels anyway. I'm
guessing that it might have been moisture from the exposure the night
before. I had dried out the windscreens, but didn't think to warm up
the mics themselves. It also might have been the way I had threaded
the cables through the pack frame. I realized that the cables were
under pressure at points while I was hiking. Today they sound fine
and the cables aren't sensitive, so I'm not sure what happened.
While I was troubleshooting a couple set up a tent about a hundred
feet away on the blind side of my cabin and immediately went inside
and had sex. I was so tired it wasn't even interesting. It may be odd
to talk about omni mics having "reach," but the Telingas are quiet
and really do reach into the distance.
There wasn't much wildlife action there in the evening, either. But
something unexpected happened. After the almost-full moon rose, there
was a quite dense but low-level background of bird chatter. A
moonrise chorus? I also heard some wonderfully weird wing swishing
sounds in the night.
In the morning I got in some good recording before the neighbors got
up. It was sparse there in the scrublands.
Wednesday I continued on the trail to where it rises 1500' out of the
crater in switchbacks. Sharon met me a little ways down from the top.
Back at our hotel in Lahaina a shower was very welcome.
Thursday we went out to Hana. I put the troubled mics from my pack
away and put the rear mics on the shoulders of my vest. We
investigated a short nature trail called Waikamoi Ridge, the only
publicly accessible part of the huge preserve that the Nature
Conservancy administers. I got some birds and wind sounds there.
Friday morning at sunrise I went out in the large vegetable garden of
the native family that rented us our tourist unit in Hana. Three dogs
chained by their separate houses started a terrible ruckus, so I
continued out a trail in the back into the bush. When the dogs
quieted down I was able to get some more morning birds. When I came
back the dogs woke up the neighborhood again, and a woman came out to
give me a hard time about the disturbance. I apologized.
That afternoon I hiked the wonderful trail from Oheo to Waimoku
falls. Part of it goes through a bamboo forest, and the sound of the
wind in the bamboo was delightful. I got some good takes of that.
-Dan Dugan
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