Personal Narrative Essay: Hiking Mauna Kea

Mauna Kea, the highest point of the Hawaiian islands. Resting at over 4,200m above sea level, the air is frigid and oxygen is scarce. The hike to the top is over 6 miles long, around 4,600 feet in elevation gain, and can last 8 hours. One of the many dormant volcanoes in Hawaii, Mauna Kea attracts all kinds of people to its peak. Some people seek a beautiful view, some look to test themselves physically and mentally. My dad decided to go with the latter. Facing unforeseen issues, I had to help him beat this challenge. Recommended for only extremely experienced hikers, I faced this treacherous activity at only 13 years old.

On the morning of  June 12th, 2018, my dad started his hike towards the summit of Mauna Kea. The hike begins from the lowest point of the island and ends at the highest point. He would have to run over 50 miles that day and scale over 13,000 feet in elevation. My job was to supply him with whatever supplies he needed, even if it meant hiking up a mountain to get it to him. His run went flawless for most of the day, and we reached the final stop a little before the sun went over the mountain tops. All he had left was the 6-mile hike to the top and back, then he was done. We secured him with everything he needed and then sent him off. Shortly after he left, we realized he forgot a headlamp. It was pitch black outside with nothing but the stars to light up the road. The only way to get it to him was to follow him up the mountain. Our rental car couldn’t go up the gravel road, and no one else in my family could even attempt the hike. Without any other option, I had to go up the mountain to find him.

I got ready in the dark, trying to find my shoes, equipment, and water pack. Luckily I had come prepared for this, but I was not prepared for the harsh weather. The temperature had dropped to below freezing, and all I had was shorts and a sweatshirt. Unpredictable winds cut me like knives before I even started the hike. Fearfully, I started the trek towards the top. Within minutes I was numbed to the bone from the cold. I could barely breathe between the bitter cold and dust-filled air. The rough terrain provided no traction and running was nearly impossible. My dismal shuffle to the top lasted nearly 45 minutes before I caught my dad on the trail. By the time I caught him, my chest was shockingly cold and growing numb. A quick look at myself showed me that I was soaked in freezing water. The water pack had leaked onto me and froze. My numb brain thought the best solution was to take my sweatshirt off and tie it around my waist. This left me with nothing but a shirt and shorts against the brutal weather. The trek back down the mountain was full of the same lashing wind, rough footing, and frigid air. When we reached the bottom, I could barely talk or move. The rest of the night was a blur of warming up and driving in the dark. 

In the weeks that followed after that night, my body struggled to recover. Only a few days after the hike, I got extremely sick and was bedridden for almost a week. The lack of oxygen, intense activity, and unclean air had left my lungs devastated. I was throwing up every day and sometimes throwing up blood. When that unusual sickness passed, I was unable to run due to severe back pain from the hike. Just one mile would leave me unable to walk without intense pain. Slowly my body healed from its wounds, but it left my mind with a mental scar. All of these effects of the hike left me questioning whether it was worth it in the first place, but I believe it was. The mental strength I gained from that event helped me grow as a person. Although it seemed ridiculous and scary at the time, I still did it. That hike set the standard for what I could accomplish when I pushed my body to the limits.