The Hawaiian Archipelago - Six Months Among The Palm Groves, Coral Reefs, And Volcanoes Of The Sandwich Islands By Isabella L. Bird
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It seems fully a week since I left Waimea yesterday morning, so many
new experiences have been crowded into the time.
I will try to
sketch my expedition while my old friend Halemanu is preparing
dinner. The morning opened gloriously. The broad Waimea plains
were flooded with red and gold, and the snowy crest of Mauna Kea was
cloudless. We breakfasted by lamp light (the days of course are
short in this latitude), and were away before six. My host kindly
provided me with a very fine horse and some provisions in a leather
wallet, and with another white man and a native accompanied me as
far as this valley, where they had some business. The morning
deepened into gorgeousness. A blue mist hung in heavy folds round
the violet bases of the mountains, which rose white and sharp into
the rose-flushed sky; the dew lay blue and sparkling on the short
crisp grass; the air was absolutely pure, and with a suspicion of
frost in it. It was all very fair, and the horses enjoyed the
morning freshness, and danced and champed their bits as though they
disliked being reined in. We rode over level grass-covered ground,
till we reached the Hamakua bush, fringed with dead trees, and full
of ohias and immense fern trees, some of them with a double tier of
fronds, far larger and finer than any that I saw in New Zealand.
There are herds of wild goats, cattle, and pigs on the island, and
they roam throughout this region, trampling, grubbing, and rending,
grinding the bark of the old trees and eating up the young ones.
This ravaging is threatening at no distant date to destroy the
beauty and alter the climate of the mountainous region of Hawaii.
The cattle are a hideous breed - all bones, hide, and horns.
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