Kauai: The Terror of the Sublime

Our travel took place on the ancestral lands of the Nā moku ʻehā peoples who have stewarded those lands since time immemorial.

As this blog would suggest, I am not much of a hiker. I am much more interested in cycling around beautiful places than walking to or through them. However, Scampi wanted to attempt the Na Pali Coast/Kalalau trail and assembled an amazing group of 12 to make the journey to Kauai. She organized all of us to get permits around 6 months in advance, since overnight use of the trail is extremely limited.

I was really nervous about backpacking for the first time in at least three years, but I was game because the landscape looked incredible. However, the more research I did the more terrified I became. A lot of the trail beta online cautioned would-be hikers about the remote nature of the campsites, steep cliffs, deadly stream crossings, and rapid changes in weather. We knew that because we were going at the end of January we would likely get caught in some rain, so I was very prepared to get a little muddy.

We arrived at the Lihue airport late on a Thursday night and all twelve of us piled into a gigantic van. We made a pitstop at a Walmart to get snacks and breakfast food, and found a weird set of overturned shopping carts in the parking lot.

We camped at Lydgate Beach which has really nice open bathrooms, large campsites and a serene and beautiful beach. We got up early the next morning and made our way to the trailhead, stopping by a really cute coffee cart along the way. I was really amazed by the rural nature of the island. Driving north, away from the more populated resort areas, I noticed there were so many small farms and a lot of Evangelical churches. So. Many. Churches. The landscape and plants also changed so dramatically as we traversed the island.

I will always be amazed that twelve millennials made it to the airport on time with all of their camping gear. This photo of all of us together at the trailhead was all I could have asked for, because it will always feel like a dream and a miracle. It also makes me so grateful to have found a group of people that can make a plan together and follow through. But that is what cycling together really is — I have been through really physically and emotionally trying with most of this group because of bike touring, and they have all been generous, flexible, funny, and caring. I could not be more grateful for this group!

Our intent was to hike 6 miles to the Hanakoa campsite for the first night, hike 5 miles to the Kalalau beach and campsite the second night, and then hike the full 11 miles back on the third day. That didn’t exactly happen as planned…

The first hill was really steep, and basically just a whole bunch of big boulders. It was but a taste of the next 6 miles. I had not backpacked in so long, I forgot how different one’s center of gravity becomes. However, once we were a few miles in it was very apparent that this would be worth all of the blood, sweat, and tears. The vistas opened up and the landscape was breathtaking. I was continually afraid I would tumble down the cliffs because I was so fascinated by the crashing waves and the vibrant green plants. THE PLANTS.

I was overwhelmed by the life that surrounded us. Things are very alive in Seattle, and I take for granted how green the landscape is year-round because of the rain and mild summers. However, these tropical plants get not only water, but endless sun. Where Seattle plants are green and friendly, tropical plants seem poised to leap up and start walking at any moment. Their huge leaves, spiky flowers, and ropelike vines covered every untrodden inch, and they seemed prepared to reclaim space should humans leave them unsupervised for a moment too long. There were gigantic agave-like monsters whose phallic flowers lanced 20 or 30 feet in the air. Some of them had fallen over in windstorms, taking wet red earth, and all of their neighbors, with them. Plants like that seem to me to have more chlorophyll and photosynthate than they know how to handle.

The landscape was tended for hundreds of years by indigenous Polynesians who settled and grew taro and coffee, fished, and traded via pack donkeys; and the trail was a former trade route. Someone with fish would pack up their donkey and send it down the Kalalau Trail to the next settlement, and when the fish was received that person would send the donkey back with vegetables or coffee beans. As we hiked we saw tons of manmade rockeries that were designed to slow erosion for agriculture. Underneath the huge towers of trees were smaller forests of coffee bushes, remnants from a time before U.S. imperialism.

It started to rain on us about halfway through our hike, and while we were soaked, the rain was not cold and the sun still came out from time to time. The mist around the cliffs was captivating, and since we are all from the Pacific Northwest, rain has never been such a big deal. However, the further away we got from the Hanakapi Ai Beach and stream — which is where most tourists stop because permits are required after that point, the more overgrown and slippery the trail became. I have hiked more than 6 miles in a day and done just fine, but 6 miles with a pack, going up relentless switchbacks, in pouring rain, with boulders and slippery palm fronds underfoot really took it out of me. I think a lot of us were feeling more than exhausted by the time we got to camp.

When we got to Hanakoa the campsites were really full because a lot of hikers that would have been hiking to Kalalau decided to stay put because of the rain. The trail to Kalalau requires a stream crossing, and walking the ‘Crawlers' Ledge’, which is a very narrow rocky trail around a cliff face with a straight drop to crashing surf. I made it pretty clear to the group that there was no way I was going to attempt that hike with a pack, and would be staying at Hanakoa. The rest of the group felt similarly, and we set up camp in the rain feeling kind of pathetic.

The next day we got up and in small groups started hiking towards Kalalau without our packs. One couple from our group went all the way. The rain broke in the late morning and the sun came out for a few hours while we were hiking. I saw some of the most gigantic double rainbows I have ever seen in my life from the top of a gigantic cliff in Kauai. My friends and I walked across a bit of the Crawlers Ledge and I was too terrified to go very far. They went all the way around the bend, and I just stood there freaking out, staring at the spot where they disappeared, until they came back into view. I consider myself a pretty brave and adventurous person, but the slippery trail coupled with the waves crashing below was too much for my nerves. I felt even more like a wuss when a 70-year-old couple came marching through camp saying how beautiful and peaceful and dry it was on the Kalalau Beach.

The rain came back in around 2 in the afternoon and continued relentlessly until the next morning, and I felt glad not to be on the trail. Most of our group, plus a few other campers, were huddled under the single wooden shelter and picnic table for most of the day. It was simultaneously peaceful and terrifying sitting there staring at the rain and clouds with nothing to do and nothing to say, with no idea where our two friends were, whether they would make it back before dark, or make it back at all. It felt like the longest day I had ever lived.

The next morning we woke to sunny weather and tried to dry out some of our gear before stuffing it away. It was like the sky was exhausted from pushing out so much water, and decided we had had enough. The walk back was extremely muddy, since the rain had time to work its way into, around, and through every rock, pebble, and palm frond. We were all so exhausted by the time we got back to the trailhead, it felt hard to be happy. We all spread out on this big lawn by the bathrooms, and made each other peanut butter sandwiches while we waited for our gear and clothes to dry enough to shake the mud off.

Two of our friends did not hike with us, and camped in the van while we were hiking. When we finally saw them again I felt like one of those dogs whose owners return from active duty. We all piled back into the van and it smelled SO BAD. We wound our way down to Princeville and checked into our friend’s mom’s timeshare where we all rinsed off the mud and did about 12 loads of laundry. I have arthritis in my knees, and they were completely trashed from the trip, but the next few days swimming in the ocean, soaking in hot tubs, and drinking margaritas made it all better.

The moral of this story is that you should not underestimate the difficulty of the Kalalau Trail, and it is not the end of the world if you do not make it all the way to the end… There is so much natural beauty to take in, you likely won’t miss it. Kauai is such a beautiful place I cannot wait to visit more Hawaiian islands in the future!