Sierra Mountain Times

Since returning from my five-week hiatus from the paper a few days ago, I have been asked by several people if I was going to write about my travels around the country. Always eager to share my tales of adventure, my answer was always an enthusiastic, “Of course!”, but when I actually started to write I had no clue on where to start. How could I condense a five-week journey into a couple thousand words? I couldn’t. So in the end I decided to just focus on the highlight of my trip: camping along Kauai’s iconic Na Pali coast – which is also timely, considering that this breathtaking coast is the setting for A Perfect Getaway, a film that was released last Friday (August 7th) and is currently playing in theaters nationwide.

However, Kauai, the northernmost, first populated, geologically oldest, and fourth largest of the eight main Hawaiian Islands, is no newcomer to the film industry. Known the world over as the “Garden Island” – a paradise of rushing waterfalls, fragrant blossoms and white sand beaches – Kauai made its debut on the silver screen decades ago, and since Hollywood’s early beginnings filmmakers have flocked to its stunning shores to film on location. With 90 miles of coastline offering more beaches per mile than any of the other islands, and having only three percent of its spectacular and widely varied landscape developed, this tropical paradise has provided a pristine backdrop for over 60 major motion pictures. Many of the older folks will recognize the island backdrop in early, innocent romance musicals such as South Pacific (1958) and Blue Hawaii (1961), while the younger generation have caught glimpses of its beauty in such films as Raiders of the Lost Ark, Lord of the Flies, Jurassic Park, George of the Jungle, Six Days Seven Nights, King Kong, or Tropic Thunder. Like most of these films, A Perfect Getaway was shot on the Na Pali coast, one of the most spectacular areas of Kauai (and the world), but unlike previous films, this rugged coastline is actually the setting for this fictional thriller.

After seeing the preview for the film and reading the synopsis online before I embarked on my backpacking trip, I must admit that since I would be hiking the same trail and camping on the same beach as the characters in the movie, I had a few unwanted thoughts pass through my head. For those unfamiliar with this film, the synopsis reads as follows: “An adventurous young couple celebrating their honeymoon by backpacking to one of the most beautiful, and remote beaches in Hawaii. Hiking the wild, secluded trails they believe they’ve found paradise. When the pair comes across a group of frightened hikers discussing the horrifying murder of another newlywed couple on the islands they begin to question whether they should turn back. Unsure whether to stay or flee, they join up with two other couples and things begin to go terrifyingly wrong. Far from civilization or rescue, everyone begins to look like a threat and nobody knows whom to trust. Paradise becomes hell on earth as a brutal battle for survival begins…” 

Hoping it wasn’t based on a true story, I put this R rated action/adventure/thriller clip out of my mind, and focused on the pristine paradise that awaited me. A few days later I found myself on a perfect getaway of my own, complete with adventures and thrills as I began exploring this exotic terrain. One could almost say (excluding the last four sentences and the fact that I did the trip alone) that my trip’s synopsis was similar to the movie…although I feel like it earned a much higher rating: an A+, which seemed to be the standard rating for anyone who has hiked this remarkable coast. In fact, of all my Sierra ramblings, there are few trails that can compare to the jaw-dropping beauty and scenery found along it’s luxuriant cliffs and white sand beaches. 

However, be forewarned – the 11-mile (each way) rollercoaster Kalalau Trail certainly isn’t a walk in the park, and has earned the Sierra Club’s rating of a “9” out of “10” in degrees of difficulty. It is for this reason that most visitors to the island prefer to kayak, boat or take a helicopter ride to witness this legendary length of coast. Besides being much more expensive, these other options were less appealing to me, and I knew that to truly experience the ups and downs of this rugged and remote coastline, it would be best to have the ground beneath my feet. Plus, I always enjoy a path less traveled.

However, when I arrived at the trailhead early Sunday morning at the far northwest end of the island, I was not surprised to see it jam packed with cars, knowing that 95 percent of the hikers only tackle the first two miles. My dad dropped me off at the end of the road, which ended abruptly at Kee Beach in Haena State Park due to the start of the soaring Na Pali cliffs, which rise from sea level to 4,000 feet in less than two miles. The road does the same on the dry, desert-like west side of the island at Polihale Beach (the longest beach of all the islands), resulting in a 16-mile stretch of inaccessible, unspoiled coastline. However, the Kalalau Trail provides the only land access of the coast, and after saying good-bye, I shouldered my pack and began my three day wilderness adventure along the challenging trial.

Built in the late 1800s (with portions rebuilt n the 1930s) the narrow footpath is often cited as one of the world’s preeminent footpaths and follows a similar route that early Hawaiian’s have followed for more than a thousand years. Following the climbs and dips along the coast the trail linked earlier Hawaiian settlements along the northwestern coast until ending at Kalalau Beach where further foot travel is completely un-negotiable (although some would even say that parts of the existing trail are questionable in regards to negotiability and safety). Often only a foot wide, the trail snakes along the cliffs, only dropping to the sea at Hanakapiai and Kalalau Valleys. 

It was in Kalalau, the coast’s largest valley, where the first island inhabitants are believed to have settled. Traveling across more than 2,000 miles of ocean in double-hulled outrigger sailing canoes, Polynesians were the first to reach this mountainous shoreline around 1200 AD. Fishing the abundant coastal waters and farming the fertile valleys they thrived along the coast, which they aptly named the Na Pali, meaning ‘The Cliffs’. By the time Captain James Cook discovered the island in 1778 settlements had been established all over the island, but it wasn’t until 1919 that the last Hawaiian family left the Na Pali coast. Today the remains of heiaus (places of worship), agricultural terraces where taro, banana, and sweet potato were cultivated, and house sites attest to the coast’s cultural history, and old rock walls were a common sight along the ancient path.

I moved quickly over the first two miles of the path to get past most of the foot traffic as numerous day hikers made their way to Hanakapiai Valley where they would relax at the beach or continue another two miles up the valley to Hanakapiai Falls, a 120 foot cascade showering into a pristine pool. Ascending the mud slicked trail I did my best to navigate around the roots that would often stretch across the trail like tripwire, while at the same time trying to keep one eye on the indescribable blues and greens that surrounded me. After a good hour of hiking, I reached Hanakapiai Valley, the first of the five major valleys the trail would cross. From that point on I left behind the crowds and only encountered a handful of people, which was understandable as the narrow, overgrown trail switchbacked up 800 feet out of the valley, the greatest elevation gain of the hike. 

Yet as the trail became more demanding, the views, as if to compensate, became increasingly stunning: waterfalls as thin as chalk marks were etched into the green fluted mountainsides and could easily be mistaken for wisps of smoke rising up to the massive clouds that would often cover the island’s higher mountains. Mt. Waialeale, the second highest mountain on the island at 5,148 feet, is nearly always shrouded in clouds, and bathes in over 450 inches of rain a year making it one of the rainiest spots on the planet (with a record of 683 inches). Waialeale, which literally means, “overflowing water”, is the fountainhead of all the seven major rivers of the island and produces the Alakai Swamp, a large boggy preserve above the cliffs, constantly oozing water into the verdant valleys below.

For the next four miles the trail meandered in and out of these lush valleys, each with its own eccentric flora: ferns, elephant ears, mangroves, iron wood, and many exotic plants resembling Dr. Seuss characters. I was amazed at the variety and the countless shades of green that surrounded me – no wonder it is called the garden island! The phenomenal amount of rain is not only responsible for the flourishing vegetation, but also for the dramatic cliffs, valleys and ridges, which became more eminent further along the trail I traveled. With the constant rainwater draining to the sea, the lave rock is whittled away, forming nearly vertical gullies separated by knifelike ridges. These same forces are at work on the opposite side of the island as water runoff flows through Waimea Canyon, a one-mile wide, ten miles long and 3, 675 feet deep gash in the earth known as the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific.” It is amazing what water can do…or the lack thereof!

By mile five of my journey I was nearly out of water and was feeling the effects of the sun as it sizzled in the middle of the clear sky above. I had underestimated the intensity of the hike and hadn’t packed enough water, which at times, I wished was the only thing I brought. Having done many grueling Sierra hikes with much more gear and much less water I was puzzled that this nearly sea level hike was only allowing me two miles an hour and was taking such a toll on my body. I quickly discovered that I was dealing with a new nuisance: humidity! It was thick, and at times I would walk into pockets of stagnant, stale, steamy, muggy air that made it difficult to breathe. I was sweating profusely and I felt like I should be taking a drink of water every time I inhaled to make up for the loss of water. When I reached Hanakoa Valley at mile six, I was completely drenched. It was the first time I have ever been able to wring out my shirt…and my shorts weren’t much drier. It was as if I had jumped in a pool, which I quickly did, as I purifying some water from the Hanakoa Creek. Most guidebooks suggest that people camp in this valley to break up the trip…but I didn’t have time. I enjoyed lunch (which consisted of a delicious, water-filled mountain apple I picked from a tree), hiked to Hanakoa Falls and continued on my way.

After leaving the valley, the terrain became more arid, the cliffs steeper and the trail more insane. Although the deep blue Pacific had always been below me to my right throughout the first half of the trail, it was much more noticeable without vegetation blocking my view (and nothing to stop you if you slipped). There were several instances in which I found myself on sections of trail etched into sheer cliffs that seemed only inches wide with nothing but a couple hundred feet of space between me and a plunge into the Pacific. I began to wonder if the wild goats I would often see scaling the cliffs were responsible fore maintaining the trail. 

Yet even these sure-footed rock climbers are deceived by the coast’s crumbly terrain from time to time, lose their footing and fall to their demise on the rocks below (as I discovered later after coming across two carcasses at the base of the cliffs). I also discovered that these introduced animals (like most of island animals that roam wild including pigs, deer and chickens) are often hunted for food, and two hunters passed me equipped with Rambo like bows and razor sharp arrows. I was impressed at their stamina because by this time all I wanted to do was collapse on the beach and forage for the easy-picking fruit that grew abundant in the Kalalau Valley. 

By mile ten I had reached the edge of this spectacular valley and soaked in the views. In front of me in the distance was a sliver of golden sand shinning in the afternoon light, and to my left, folded velvety green cliffs flanked a valley filled by a canopy of shade giving trees. I felt as if I was gazing upon a holy Hawaiian sanctuary. It was truly a sight to behold, and I quickened my pace down into the valley toward the numerous camping possibilities. The first site I came to was more of a semi-permanent encampment, a commune of weary hikers, holdout hippies and those who wanted to escape the cares and worries of civilization. “Welcome to Kalalau,” said a sun-browned hippie in his 40s, as if I was entering into his house. I soon found out that I was and that he had lived in the valley for several years. 

Although it is illegal to stay in the valley for more than five days at a time, I soon discovered that many people in the valley often stay for weeks or months at a time – while some end up making it their home! These modern-day hermits live off the land and whatever campers, kayakers or boaters leave behind, and do their best to elude the occasional roundups to evict them. Having acquired a permit, I had nothing to worry about and set up camp in a nice shallow cutout in a cliff at the far end of the nearly mile long beach, not far from the local watering hole of Ho’ole’a Falls. I hiked the remaining section of beach and was tempted to swim around the point to the next valley. I swam a few yards out for a view of the famed Honopu Arch spanning over a secluded beach. It was so close…and very enticing – but going alone with unknown currents and the list of Hawaii’s sharks in the back of my mind I had read in a brochure at the permit office, reluctantly made me forfeit my next adventure. But there was still plenty to do, and after a refreshing shower at the falls I met up with fellow hikers I had met along the trail or in the campground and we began exploring the dry, sand-filled sea caves where many with or without tents had set up camp. However, due to the clear skies, I noticed a lot of people just slept out on the beach with a blanket. As dusk approached, numerous bonfires illuminated the beach and people who had traveled from all over united like old friends around the blazes to share their tales of adventure, and to share a magical experience that will never be forgotten. 

Sitting on the beach in the cool of the evening, watching the fading sunlight paint the clouds purple and pink as it melted into the Pacific, I instantly regretted getting a permit for only two nights…and felt sorry for those I had met on the trail who were hiking out tomorrow. All seemed to be at peace on that stretch of sand and everyone was in high spirits. I can understand how people wander into this enchanted valley and never leave – I easily could’ve stayed a week! We stayed up late enough to watch the nearly full moon creep above the cliffs and cast its ghostly glow upon the beach. I eventually retreated to my tent and fell asleep to the sounds of crashing waves and cascading falls…all was well.

I awoke early to a blue-sky day, and spent most of it with some newly acquired friends exploring the surprisingly open Kalalau Valley, which in my opinion, is the closet one can get to the Garden of Eden…except there was no fruit we couldn’t eat! Having become addicted to the sweet nectar of the mango while on the island, I spent time searching below the massive mango trees in hope for a ripe reward. I seemed to be constantly stuffing my pack and pockets (and face) with the delicious, sweet fruit. Feasting on mangos and mountain apples as we hiked I felt like I could fit right in with the mango-munching hippies that occupied the valley. All I needed to do was lose a little more clothing and get a ukulele…and I would be set. Maybe I should just stay? I could already feel the magic of the valley working on me and I felt at home beneath this canopy of green as the sun splashed softly through the towering trees. We spent most of the day playing in the valley like the lost boys in Peter Pan who didn’t want to grow up…and it was great! But as evening approached, I knew that tomorrow I would have to grow up and hike out of Never Land. I went to bed early to prepare for the arduous journey ahead. 

I awoke to a windy day with a storm on the horizon. The calm, gentle waters of the day before had graduated to bigger and better things overnight, and donning their whitecaps marched toward the beach with the wind’s command. I hastily packed up and said good-bye to my Kalalau comrades and began to retrace my steps along the trail. I had barely left the valley when I reached the edge of the storm and it began to rain…hard. However, I actually enjoyed it, and realized that even the constant showers on the hike out couldn’t dampen my spirits and I will never forget my short stay on the Na Pali coast. It will always be remembered as my perfect getaway…