Past the little town of ‘Ulupalakua and the tiny but graced headquarters of ‘Ulupalakua Ranch on the leeward flanks of Haleakala volcano begin, in earnest, lava fields that continue for another 20 or so miles until Kaupo district. To most that pass this way, kapu to rental cars, the lava seems barren and moonscape-like, formidable, almost hostile and seemingly incapable of supporting life of any kind. Most are shocked to find out that these lava flows support some of Hawai’i’s richest forests and source of much of the material culture of the ancient Hawaiians – the Hawaiian dryland forests.
To those who pass through only once, their memories recall buffeting winds and tortuously pitted roads, winding through stretches of twisted lava and rocky ridges. But, to those who know this country better, each of the ‘ahupua’a (wedge-shaped land districts) that comprise southern Haleakalaà are deeply unique. To botanists, some of these ‘ahupua’a names have acquired near legendary status, Kanaio, Luala’ilua, Kepuni, Alena, Auwahi . This is due to the turn-of-the-century explorations of early Hawaiian botanists like Charles N. Forbes of the Bernice P. Bishop Museum and the renowned Joseph Rock of the then College of Hawai`i (now the University of Hawai`i at MaÃnoa). Rock singled out the Auwahi district on HaleakalaÃ, and the Pu`u-wa`awa`a district of the Big Island as the richest botanical regions in the Territory, with more tree species than any Hawaiian rain forest. Of the 50-odd species of rare Hawaiian trees found here, 41 species had specific Hawaiian ethnobotanical uses. Ethnobotanically, 19 of these had medicinal uses, 13 were used in making specific tools, 13 had uses in canoe construction, eight were used in kapa making, eight to make dyes ranging from pink to blue to a rich yellow-orange. At least seven of the trees have spiritual significance and were used religiously. Miscellaneous uses ranged from fireworks, to bird lime, to a fish narcotizing agent.
Since days of old, however, Auwahi has been greatly transformed by burning, grazing, and the invasion by non-native plant species. As a result, much of its original native understory at Auwahi has been replaced by a thick, smothering green mat of aggressive African kikuyu grass, introduced as cattle forage. To many, Auwahi is known as a ‘museum forest’. Though ancient, majestic trees of nearly every Hawaiian dryland species can be found there, most species have no seedlings and have had none for the past 50-100 years. Just like a museum filled with artifacts, these forests in one sense are no longer living but just persisting in a type of shadow state, one windstorm away from becoming a pasture. By examining sub-fossil bones, we now know that these dryland forests at one time supported a tremendously diverse community of Hawaiian birds, from giant flightless geese (moa nalo) to the loud, sweet singing yellow and black honeyeaters. Now, except for the light twittering of white-eyes and occasional mynah squawk, the forests are as quiet as a museum.
As a local boy from KaÃne’ohe, O’ahu, I came to know and love Hawaiian plants. I read the often poetic descriptions of Joseph Rock of these Hawaiian treasures of incomparable value growing at Auwahi, a far-off forest on Maui, and was deeply moved by them. Later, as a biologist, my dreams came alive when I had a chance to not only visit these areas but also participate in efforts to save them.
Dreams wouldn’t have gone farther than the first site visit without the complete empathy and support of the landowners, the Erdman family of ‘Ulupalakua Ranch. First Pardee Erdman, and now his son Sumner, have always made one thing clear: let’s see if we can run an honest, productive business and yet at the same time, do the right thing. This unflagging ethic of giving back to the land and community that supports them has been the precipitate for a multi-agency collaboration dedicated to protecting and restoring the superb Auwahi forests. Throughout all our years out there, the Erdmans have encouraged biologists to come and try to bring life back to Auwahi forest. For this, they deserve our most sincere mahalo loa.
Sponsored first by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and now by U.S. Geological Service, the U.S. Soil and Conservation Service and Maui County Water Department, and Haleakala National Park, these efforts have evolved over the years into the construction of a 10-acre exclosure, from which invasive weeds were removed. Two years, our team built a greenhouse at ranch headquarters and started gathering and germinating seeds of Auwahi’s rare trees. By late 1999, we had about 2,500 seedlings ready to be outplanted. Based on five decades of monthly rainfall records, we selected the first week of January 2000 as the date most likely to receive winter rainfall.
Inauspicious Start
At the time of this project’s inception, we were embarking, unaware, into two el nino drought years. The driest two years yet recorded at ‘Ulupalakua were just about to occur, back to back.
It had been a busy three weeks of planning, logistics and coordination before the actual outplanting. Everything was coming together well but I knew one thing still needed to be done. Before starting a big task into uncharted territory, Hawaiians often want to make things pono (good) or pololei (correct). To that end, I contacted noted Maui kumu Keli`i Tau`a and asked him if he could bless our plants and welcome the long-absent seedlings back into the ‘ahupua’a of Auwahi. Keli`i Tau`a has been present at the beginnings of great projects before. He had been there for the double-hulled voyaging canoes, first the Hokule`a and then its great twin, the Hawai`iloa. It was Keli`i who, when winds had failed, went down to the Society Islands to chant for winds and winds had followed.
Keli’i Tau’a has taught at Baldwin High School in Kahului, Maui for years, as a truly loved teacher and mentor for Hawaiian music, dance, and culture.
The morning of the blessing was a typical at ‘Ulupalakua, calm and clear, quiet save for the sound of chickens and the occasional, far-off dog bark. Our group of 20-30 gathered at the greenhouse where kumu Tau’a, Bully Kapahulehua, and Kapono Kamaunu began the ceremony with pule (prayers) and spontaneous words of inspiration. Kumu Tau’a then mixed ‘awa in a heavy, wooden bowl that Mahealani Kai`aokamaÃlie carried as he sprinkled the ‘awa-water mix around the greenhouse and plants, and, as is Hawaiian tradition, paying special attention to the entrance of the structure. With this first part of the blessing completed, the seedlings planted in forester’s dibble tubes and arranged in groups of 98 in black plastic racks, were loaded into pickup trucks for the 45 minute uphill drive on rough, rutted ranch roads to their new home.
The group reconvened in Auwahi at Pu`u-ouli , perched 4,000 feet above the ruffled and slate-blue Pacific. As an essential and tangible representation of the blessing, we gathered to plant a maile lau li’i vine within the exclosure. At the trucks, kumu Tau’a asked how many maile did we have time to plant. I knew we were coming precariously close to the arrival of the helicopter which was needed to sling-load the seedlings to several strategically selected sites within the 10-acre exclosure that we are hoping to revegetate. I asked kumu Tau’a if it was OK to just plant one, to which he nodded. To be on the safe side, I grabbed two dibble tubes of maile lau li’i and we headed off.
The Plantings
Single-file, the group wound down the narrow ridge and into our fenced exclosure, reassembling below a twisted, spreading kauila tree, one of only 150-200 trees of its kind remaining on Maui. The kauila tree was renowned by Hawaiians for its iron-hard wood and as a symbol of indefatigable strength. It was used in making the very best quality ‘o’o (digging sticks), weapons, and i’e kuku (kapa mallets).
Framed by the rusty-red liko (leaf buds) of the kauila, Bully Kapahulehua trumpeted the puà ‘oleà `oleà (conch shell) for each of the four cardinal directions. The loud, brave cry filled the emptied forest, echoing off its rocky ridges. I found myself wondering how long had it been since the puà ‘oleà `oleà had sounded at Auwahi. One hundred years?Two hundred? Three hundred? More? Maybe that was the reason the dryland forest at Auwahi had fallen on such hard times!
Pieces of ‘awa root were added in a bowl with water and massaged. ‘Awa doesn’t make seeds anywhere in the Pacific, but are propagated by root and stem cuttings. This means that all ‘awa grown and used today are from the very same, long-lived plants used by Hawaiians centuries ago. I dug the hole, not without effort, in the rocky ground, laying the maile seedling in the now fair-sized planting hole. Then, without my asking, the second seedling was handed to me and I put it in the hole next to the first. As I watched the thin milky ‘awa water being poured from the coconut cup into the planting hole, I felt I was watching the ‘ola (life) being poured back into the land. I had always thought the ‘ola was in the plants, but now I felt the ‘ola was in the land itself , awaiting the arrival of the seedlings.
Then kumu Tau`a started to wala`au (talk), easily and from the heart. He talked about the spirit having left the land and how we were asking it to return here, to this ‘ahupua’a, to begin in this exclosure. He said, “You know, up at the truck, I asked Art how many plants to plant and Art said one. I didn’t say a word to Art, but two seedlings were brought down and the two were planted right next to each other. This is the Hawaiian way. One for the male side of things, the other for the female side.”
He then gave the unnamed hill its name: Maile-lua, literally the ‘two maile vines’. From there, kumu Tau`a told his feelings and asked for ours. Person after person spoke with eloquence.
For the last ten minutes or so of our kumu’s blessing, my eyes were filled with silent tears. I had asked kumu Tau`a to give the blessing but I have to admit I was caught personally off-guard by its simple power and grace.
A Hawaiian Blessing
Up to that point, the morning had been clear and warm, much like the weather of the previous week and the following week to come. But during the course of the blessing, the skies began to darken. Shortly thereafter, the group clustered on the ridge round the kauila tree was engulfed in clouds of rolling noe (mist). Then it began to rain — a thin, insistent, white rain that at this elevation quickly changed the warm morning to conditions more favoring hypothermia.
The ensuing helicopter operation to airlift the seedlings for that initial planting into about 10 different sites around the exclosure was almost canceled due to rain and poor visibility. Despite pea-soup conditions, pilot Duke Baldwin, said he felt comfortable and somehow could see the things he needed to. Seeing kumu Tau`a at the top of the hill, I said “Too much rain, kumu, too much rain.” With his big, warm smile, he cooed, “Very un-Hawaiian, Art, very un-Hawaiian.”
The rest of that week, the first week of this new, bright millennium, a crew of about 30 souls planted over 2000 seedlings of rare Hawaiian dryland species, most of which one day can become 30-50 foot tall trees. The planting wasn’t accomplished without a fight as the land seemed filled with rocks. But in between and beneath these rocks was the blackest, richest loam many of us had ever seen. For species like the rare ‘aiea (Nothocestrum), after which O’ahu’s well-known district is named, probably as many seedlings were planted in one week as there are adult trees in the whole ‘ahupua’a. The work went slowly at first as the keiki were so valuable and, after all, many of us barely knew each other at the start. In the beginning of the week, the coordinators all seemed most busy talking, giving instructions for the complicated outplanting procedure.
After Wednesday, we didn’t need to say a word; everyone knew what we were doing and what came next. By Thursday, the group had become of one mind, working almost silently, except for the occasional ring of a pick on rock. At lunch, words of hope for the future were the theme; the tide seemed turned. Pau hana at week’s end, the laughing, joking crew had become friends and colleagues-in-arms. Cresting the immense, rounded pu’u (hills) of ‘Ulupalakua, far below the islands of Kaho’olawe and Molokini roil the ocean’s surface, appearing adrift in the ‘AlalaÃkeiki Channel, orange and ‘uli (darkened) with the setting sun. We are smiling. It feels pono ; the ‘ola is back at Auwahi.
The Auwahi project is a partnership of ‘Ulupalakua Ranch, the Biological Resources Division of the U.S. Geological Survey, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and numerous Maui groups and individuals dedicated to protecting and restoring the superb dryland forests of Auwahi, leeward Haleakala. This effort is only possible because of the aloha ‘aina of the land owners, the Erdman family, first Pardee and Betsy Erdman and now their son Sumner and wife Angie Erdman. The financial impetus for this project is provided from modest support from federal grants. Any financial contributions are extremely appreciated and will be well spent. If you think you can help us out, please contact Art Medeiros, BRD-USGS, Haleakala National Park Field Station, P.O. Box 369, Makawao, HI 96768, 808-572-4471, or [email]artmedeiros@juno.com[/email]
Art Medeiros is a biologist with the U.S. Geological Service on Kaua`i.
–A.C. Medeiros
Volume 10, Number 11 May 2000
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