Another is that while many Americans know about the loss of tropical rainforests in places like Brazil and Costa Rica, few realize that the only tropical rainforests in the United States grow in Hawaii and that 75 percent of the original acreage has already been lost. So little is known about the subject, in fact, the State of Hawaii Library System's information-search computer draws a blank when you type in "Hawaiian rainforest."
Forest, of course, does not disappear alone. That explains why 73 percent of the species extinctions in the United States have happened in Hawaii, which comprises just 0.2 percent of the nation's land. And 28 percent of the species on the federal endangered list are found only in Hawaii. The lives of many of our lost and endangered species are tied inexorably to the fate of forests.
"If you want to compare Hawaii and Brazil, you'd have to go back 100 years ago here," says Mark White, The Nature Conservancy's project director on the island of Maui. "If you look at what happened on Haleakala (Maui's 10,000-ft. dormant volcano) 100 years ago, that was like what's happening in South America now. The mountain was all cleared for cattle grazing. In a way, we have a tougher battle today because the culprits in degrading the Hawaiian forest today are more difficult to focus on. They're not some enemy that can be readily seen, they're processes that are happening over a period of time.
"And because there isn't much forest left and people don't see it every day, they don't know what it should look like, so they don't see the damage caused. And there aren't a lot of advocates who are saying `Hey, Hawaii's forests are being destroyed, let's do something!' But our forests are as threatened as Brazil's, and in some cases more threatened."
But there is good news and it is twofold: Much is being done to understand and preserve Hawaii's remaining rainforests and their unique creatures. And it is still possible to enjoy these magestic places for yourself.
Before setting out, be advised: As with a rainbow, it takes rain to make a rainforest. Lots of rain, and with great regularity. Scientists can not agree on a precise precipitation definition, but Linda Cuddihy, a botanist in the research division at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, says: "It's fair to say that if you have 100 inches of rain a year, you'll probably have a rainforest. And it has to be fairly evenly distributed throughout the year." Some local rainforests receive upwards of 250 inches of rain. Mt. Waialeale on Kauai receives upwards of 500 inches annuallu. And while Cuddihy says that rainforest once flourished nearly to the beaches of Windward coasts on all islands, today they are limited to higher elevations. All of which means that rainforests are often cool, wet, foggy and muddy.
But they are also wonderful places, as I learned on a hike through Waikamoi, The Nature Conservancy's preserve on Maui.
Waikamoi is the most accessible native rainforest on Maui, and one of the best in the state. Most are too remote for anyone but the serious researcher or gung-ho hiker. The U.S. Park Service conducts free interpretive hikes through Waikamoi, starting from Hosmer Campground in Haleakala National Park every Monday and Thursday at 9 a.m. The Nature Conservancy also leads hikes through the area on the second Saturday of each month. Reservations are required. The 1.25-mile loop trail takes two and a half hours, "mostly because we stop and talk a lot on the trail," says White.
To step into a native Hawaiian rainforest is to experience sensory bombardment. Your nose, ears, eyes and even feet rush to get the message to the brain first: This place is special, and oh so different from any other you've been.
There's the air, clean and cool -- this part of Waikamoi is about 6,000 feet above sea level -- and filled with the smell of green life, primeval and fresh all at once.
The songs of strange and unseen birds fill the air. These are songs that just a couple of generations ago blessed lower elevations now populated by people and covered with their homes and streets and stores, but now are heard only in the mountains. Waikamoi is home to eight endangered birds, including the Crested Honey Creeper. Known to ancient Hawaiians as `Akohekohe, it was feared to be extinct until researchers found three active nests in February `92. It was the first time that the bird, a brown creature about seven inches long with a blond forehead crest, an orange-red patch at the back of its neck and flecks of orange on its belly, had been seen since 1860 -- 132 years before! Waikamoi is it's entire range, the only place on Earth it is found. White pointed out one during our hike. And when we ran into University of Hawaii researcher David Hopper, we spotted two more endangered species, an I`iwi, a bright red bird with curved bill, and a couple of Apapane, a smaller red bird. Hopper, who also studies Hawaiian land snails at Waikamoi, is one of dozens of researchers from UH and several mainland universities working in native rainforests throughout the state to better understand their intricate workings.
While you may have seen a koa tree or a tree fern or an ohia growing in the wild, only in a rainforest will you see them together, their roots and fates intertwined in the same web of life. Huge ohias spread overhead in a canopy that even on the rare sunny day blocks the sun and creates a shadow world below where light slants in dim and filtered at odd angles. Ferns create a sub-canopy, waist-high to the hiker, that keeps the ground dark and moist.
The strongest sensation, and the one that lingers still, is the feel of the Earth underfoot. It's spongy and soft with humus and dendritus, decaying former life that gives new life a medium in which to take root and grow. You can feel this life cycle through your boot soles. But walk softly. Freshly broken ground is an invitation for seeds and spores of alien species to move in. That's why the first rule of hiking a Hawaiian rainforest is to clean your shoes or boots before hand (so to speak), to prevent introducing seeds from other areas. A second rule is to stay on the trail, to limit damage to the soil.
Bogs, a feature of many local rainforests, are especially sensitive to human foot traffic. Randy Bartlett, watershed manager at Pu`u Kukui preserve above Kapalua in the West Maui Mountains, site of a large, pristine bog, says: "It can take months, even years for the bog to repair one human footprint. The reason is that it takes 10,000 to 12,000 years to build up enough organic matter to create 12 inches (deep) of bog. These are not areas that can withstand a lot of human contact."
Two areas that solved the bog issue and are accessible are the Alakai Swamp on Kauai and the Kamakou preserve on Molokai. The solution in each case was a boardwalk that takes visitors above the bog and its fragile life. But it is feral animals, especially pigs, that most upset the balance of native forests. Just outside of Waikamoi, which has been cleansed of pigs with elaborate fencing and the help of hunters, White stopped beside a cleared area in the forest, 15 yards square, with deep furrows as if it had been recently worked over by a giant rototiller.
"One pig did that," White said, "and in just a short time. They have big tusks, they weigh about 250 pounds, and they root around like crazy all day." In addition to killing native plants -- pigs are especially fond of the pulpy core of tree fern trunks -- alien species leap into the overturned soil and aggresively compete with native species. White is especially concerned about the spread of Tibouchina, a relative of pests Clidemia and Miconia, that has "devastated the forests of Tahiti."
Cuddihy, the botanist, says that "once you get the pigs under control, the alien plant problem seems to get better, too."
"Another problem for Maui was the introduction of axis deer 15 to 20 years ago," says White. "There are still relatively small numbers, but they are beginning to find deer in the park now. The park was fenced for goats, but not for deer. And they jump. So the $5 million in goat and pig fencing is of no use. You can see the devastation that deer have caused on Lanai and Molokai. This is a time bomb waiting to go off."
Why bother saving what's left of Hawaii's rainforests?
"To me, a rainforest is just a beautiful place to be," White says. "But there are more compelling reasons than that."
Medical reasons, for instance. Seventy-five percent of modern medicines are derived from plants. Although ancient Hawaiians understood the pharmacologic uses of many plants, fewer than 10 percent of native Hawaiian plants have been surveyed for their modern medicinal value. We do know that limu make o Hana, a small coral that grows only off Hana, Maui, and is dependent on the rainforest above it to filter rainwater, provides one of the most toxic anti-tumor compounds known. Who knows what other miracle drugs have not yet been discovered, or were lost before they could be discovered?
Rainforests are also a multi-billion dollar asset to Hawaii as watershed, catching rainwater and allowing it to percolate down to the water table instead of rushing to the sea laden with topsoil. The Waikamoi watershed alone provides Maui about 180 million gallons of fresh water daily and can carry up to 450 million gallons.
Another reason is that surveys of Hawaii visitors repeatedly show that the reason they come here is to experience Hawaii's natural beauty, of which forests are certainly a part. Rainforest watersheds also protect Hawaii's white sand beaches from turning brown with soil erosion. So you can argue that protecting Hawaiian rainforests also protects the tourism engine that drives Hawaii's economy.
Finally, the Hawaiian people and their culture are tied to nature. As White says: "Hawaiian culture was basically a celebration of plants." The forest was as crucial to Hawaiian life as the sea. As modern Native Hawaiians discuss sovereignty, they are reminded of their roots and that Kamehameha the Great was right when he said: "The life of the life land is perpetuated in righteousness" toward the aina, the land from which their culture sprang. If you'd like to visit a rainforest other than Waikamoi, here are a few suggestions.
Other Maui rainforests accessible to hikers are at Kipahulu, via a trail that begins at the Oheo parking area, and in the West Maui Mountains, via the Waihee Ridge Trail.
On the Big Island, the Rim Trail and the East Rift Trail at Volcanoes National Park will take you into native rainforest on maintained trails. On Molokai, The Nature Conservancy leads hikes into Kamakou on the second Saturday of every month. The cost is $25 for non-members of TNC.
On Oahu, while many areas of the Koolau Range receive enough rain to technically be called rainforest, much of it has been degraded by alien species. One of the best remaining native rainforests is Poamoho, in the Koolaus above Wahiawa. Call the State Department of Forestry for access information. A bog was recently discovered in a remote area of Poamoho -- the only bog left on Oahu. One of the best ways to experience Poamoho is with the Sierra Club, which leads weekend hikes into the area. The Sierra Club also leads hikes on the Big Island and Maui.
On Kauai, the Alakai Swamp, which receives much of the 600 inches of rain that annually falls on nearby Mt. Waialeale, the wettest place on earth, is accessible via the Alakai Swamp Trail, which begins near Kokee State Park. Expect to get very wet and very muddy just getting to the boardwalk.
In fact, expect to get wed and muddy in any rainforest. But as any plant or creature in the rainforest could tell you: Rain and mud are good for you.
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