Haleakala Sunrise
September 20, 2014
I remember waking up at 2:30 in the morning to board our minibus thinking, "man, this better be worth it" and "man, they better have coffee." After everyone boarded our driver said, "I have coffee for everyone." My second thought was immediately realized. My first thought however, was uncertain. It took us a few hours to ascend 10,000 feet to the top of the crater. It was pitch black and cold. Really cold. About 40 degrees with a wind chill of who knows. That really didn't bother me because we came prepared: sweat pants, high socks, beanies, and multiple layers. I just had to constantly wipe the dew off from my camera lens.
The night sky was one of the clearest night skies I have ever seen; the stars were visible and numerous. I thought about Psalm 147:4, "He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name."
As Lizzy and I sat and waited for the sunrise, my appreciation for the Lord's artistry quickly waned as more and more tour buses came. People inconsiderately stood in front of us blocking the view that we once enjoyed, continued to use their flashlights and headlamps even after they settled in, they spoke with teacher voices (loud and meant for a classroom of rowdy students), and they tried taking pictures of the dark scenery with their flashes on. That's what the sun is for. Instead of thinking of Bible verses I thought about this photo series that I just looked at a few days earlier where the photographer took long exposures of places that had a lot of foot traffic. His intent was to convey his annoyance with highly populated areas. The places looked like a tornado was going right through them. I had the same sentiment. All these annoying people were ruining the peaceful atmosphere.
Then someone blew into a conch and sang a beautiful Hawaiian song. It was like a scene from a movie. With the song, the light started to appear, but accompanied by a dense fog. For a few moments it seemed that we wouldn't see the sunrise. Our waking up in the early morning was all in vain. First, all of the annoying people, now the fog. Then again, the conch was blown and the song followed. Then the fog moved away like curtains opening and rising above the clouds was the glorious sun. I looked at Lizzy and I thought, "yah, this was worth it."
Read MoreI remember waking up at 2:30 in the morning to board our minibus thinking, "man, this better be worth it" and "man, they better have coffee." After everyone boarded our driver said, "I have coffee for everyone." My second thought was immediately realized. My first thought however, was uncertain. It took us a few hours to ascend 10,000 feet to the top of the crater. It was pitch black and cold. Really cold. About 40 degrees with a wind chill of who knows. That really didn't bother me because we came prepared: sweat pants, high socks, beanies, and multiple layers. I just had to constantly wipe the dew off from my camera lens.
The night sky was one of the clearest night skies I have ever seen; the stars were visible and numerous. I thought about Psalm 147:4, "He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name."
As Lizzy and I sat and waited for the sunrise, my appreciation for the Lord's artistry quickly waned as more and more tour buses came. People inconsiderately stood in front of us blocking the view that we once enjoyed, continued to use their flashlights and headlamps even after they settled in, they spoke with teacher voices (loud and meant for a classroom of rowdy students), and they tried taking pictures of the dark scenery with their flashes on. That's what the sun is for. Instead of thinking of Bible verses I thought about this photo series that I just looked at a few days earlier where the photographer took long exposures of places that had a lot of foot traffic. His intent was to convey his annoyance with highly populated areas. The places looked like a tornado was going right through them. I had the same sentiment. All these annoying people were ruining the peaceful atmosphere.
Then someone blew into a conch and sang a beautiful Hawaiian song. It was like a scene from a movie. With the song, the light started to appear, but accompanied by a dense fog. For a few moments it seemed that we wouldn't see the sunrise. Our waking up in the early morning was all in vain. First, all of the annoying people, now the fog. Then again, the conch was blown and the song followed. Then the fog moved away like curtains opening and rising above the clouds was the glorious sun. I looked at Lizzy and I thought, "yah, this was worth it."
