Extreme Hiking Hawaii

Mauna Loa summit via Ainapo Trail ascent -- Patrick Rorie

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 25 Dec 2025 07:14:00 +0000

THE INSPIRATION

Having witnessed footage last year on the Discovery channel of a competition dubbed "The Eco-challenge", an intense combination of activities including nocturnal mountain climbing and paddling through rough seas, I was inspired to participate in something similar here in Hawaii.

THE CHALLENGE

On Thursday, March 18,1999, I received an e-mail message with the subject "wanna challenge?" from Gene Robinson inquiring about my availability in late April/early May for a backpack trip up Mauna Loa (lit. "long mountain" and the largest volcano in the world) via the Ainapo (lit. "dark land") Trail. I didn't know much about Ainapo, but as Gene filled in the details my desire to conquer the route only increased.

THE AINAPO TRAIL - A BRIEF HISTORY

"During the past two centuries several trails have been used to ascend to Mauna Loa's summit. The oldest, now known as the Ainapo Trail, extended 34 miles from the old village of Kapapala at 2000 feet elevation, up the shortest and steepest flank to the southeast edge of Mokuaweoweo. This trail was used in 1794 by Archibald Menzies of the Vancouver Expedition to make the first successful ascent by a non-Hawaiian.

These earlier routes fell into disuse after 1915, when a segregated company of black soldiers of the United States Army constructed the Mauna Loa Trail, which stretched from the present location of Volcano House up to and along the northeast rift to the summit caldera. Lower portions of the trail were widened and improved for vehicles, and in 1936 the CCC built the last increment of the road from Bird Park to near the site of Camp Bates at 6,650 feet elevation. The road has since been paved, and most hikers start their trip at the upper end of this road."*

THE STORY

Part 1 - "Taking Care of the Logistics"

On Friday, April 30, Gene's girlfriend Julia dropped us off at Honolulu International Airport and we caught the Aloha Air 12:15 p.m. flight to the Big Island of Hawaii. Upon landing in Hilo, Gene's backpack, an external frame pack, didn't arrive (we just barely got on the plane in time) so rather than wait for the next plane to arrive (after 2 p.m.) we picked up the rental car and headed for Walmart to purchase propane and other last minute items. It was a nice day in Hilo with puffy white cumulous clouds filling the blue sky and bright sunshine.

As we approached the entrance to Walmart I noticed a man with only one leg. Gene commented,"Whoa! That's the second one legged man I've seen today! Bad omen?". If Wing Ng had been with us he surely would have promptly returned to Oahu! :)

After returning to the airport and securing Gene's pack, the two of us drove from Hilo to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park (HVNP). Along the way we passed through the village of Kurtistown (that's Kurtistown with a 'K'!). When Gene and I stopped at the HVNP fee collection booth I thought about claiming Hawaiian ancestry thus saving the $10 entry fee. If the Ranger gave me a hard time I would simply state that I was a rare albino Hawaiian named Paka. For some reason and probably for the best, the idea never came to fruition!

Arrived at the Kilauea Visitor Center (elev. 3,974 ft) at 3:05 p.m. and commenced the permit process with Ranger Jay Robinson (same last name as Gene, a good omen!). During the thirty minute procedure, Gene mentioned that we would be ascending the Ainapo Trail. Almost immediately, Jay's facial expression changed to one of bewilderment. The Ranger then began eye balling our shoulders and chests as if conducting some sort of crude physical evaluation to ascertain our skill level. Gene also asked if he could use sticky red tape he had purchased from Walmart to mark some of the more confusing sections of the trail. Jay replied, "Absolutely not! Its against the law. What if it blows off? It could lead future hikers astray!". Not one to argue, Gene accepted the rebuke and patiently completed the forms needed to obtain the backcountry permit.

From the visitor center, the two of us traveled to nearby Volcano House and checked into a standard ground floor room in the Ohia Wing ($85.00 a night). We sorted through our stuff to decide what to store in the car then, at 4:30 p.m., drove 14 miles to the Mauna Loa lookout at the top (end) of Mauna Loa Road (elev. 6,662 ft) to leave the vehicle for our get away upon exiting the mountain.

A few minutes after 5 p.m. Gene and I began jogging down Mauna Loa Road. The lovely koa-ohia forest and almost continuous conversation made the miles fly by. Gene, an avid runner (the 1980 Boston Marathon among his accomplishments), glided along with ease like a gazel in the African plains. While exhibiting good form, I struggled to keep pace due mainly to my hiking boots (I had forgotten to bring running shoes). Once we had gone ten miles and reached Rte 11, I started to run out of gas. We shaved off half a mile by cutting through the Kilauea Military Camp (KMC), passed by a few active steam vents, veered onto the wide Halemaumau Trail and stopped for a breather at the Kilauea Caldera overlook.

Pressing on, Gene and I accomplished the final stretch to the Kilauea Visitor Center as darkness set in arriving there at 7 p.m. We hydrated using the water fountain then studied the miniature model of Mauna Loa. At 7:06 p.m. the two of us approached Volcano House, entered the Ohia Wing and took showers. Fulfilled 8 p.m. dinner reservations enjoying delicious meals inside the rustic Volcano House Restaurant. I consumed friend chicken ($9.90) while Gene dined on linguine, and we both ordered a bowl of clam chowder ($4.50 per serving).

After dinner I relaxed briefly in the Ohia Wing lounge complete with two chairs and a couch each covered with dark red satin, a fire burning in the fireplace. Entered our room and found Gene carefully organizing his pack for the next day's journey. I made some adjustments to my gear as well. Before hitting the sack, Gene (a medical doctor) gave each of us half a tablet of diamox to help our bodies cope with high altitude. Lights out came at 11:11 p.m.

Part 2 - "A Leisurely Stroll to the Halewai Cabin"

Arose at 6 a.m. on Satuday, May 1 (lei day), to the sound of my watch alarm. Stumbled into the bathroom to shave and brush teeth, my right calf extremely sore from the run the previous afternoon. Gene and I switched places and I changed into hiking attire as well as stuffed my Kelty backpack to almost overflowing. At 6:34 a.m. Gene gave me another half pill of diamox which I downed with some tang.

By 7:07 a.m. the two of us were packed and ready to go and departed the Ohia Wing lounge of Volcano House. Overcast skies and a chill in the air greeted us as we tramped down to Rte 11 (Hawaii Belt Road) hoping to hitch a ride to the start of Ainapo (lit. "darkened land" not "dark land" as I mistakenly typed in the prologue) Road 14 miles south of HVNP. About one hundred vehicles passed without stopping between 7:10 and 8:40 a.m. and I commented to Gene that we should have brought Mark Short along to help. "Mark must have used up all the hitch hiking good luck during his recent trip" I continued.

Frustrated by our inability to gain transport, Gene and I walked back to the HVNP fee collection booth to get advice from the Ranger. The wahine failed to impart any incredible wisdom but did cheer us up. Meanwhile, the clouds dispersed revealing blue sky.

Upon returning to the shoulder of Rte 11, our fortune continued to improve when a haole dude in an old, light blue four door sedan pulled over and offered us a ride at 9 a.m. Gene carried on a conversation with the man as he drove us toward Ainapo Road and found out that he had relocated to Hawaii in '77 from one of the Dakotas. Thirteen minutes later between mile markers 40 and 41 the dude pulled over and we exited the vehicle.

After retrieving our packs, Gene and I thanked him for the lift and entered an open, green, grassy, flat ranchland praire (elev. 2,600 ft). By now the day was an absolutely gorgeous one with lots of sunshine and a gentle sea breeze at our backs. At a spot on Ainapo Road near a corral, Gene stopped to take a GPS reading. While waiting, I scanned the territory ahead recognizing a large forest of silver oak with their attractive yellow flowers, Mauna Loa in the background our ultimate goal. As we tramped along the dirt road at a deliberate pace, I noticed small guava trees growing on both sides of the thoroughfare. Behind us, in the distance, various black cinder cones in the desert of lava. The road took us into the forest and eventually ohia with cherry red flowers and koa trees began appearing among the oak.

Surrounded by tall eucalyptus with cattle grazing nearby, the green Ainapo Ranch House became the first landmark we encountered at 10:30 a.m. and 3,700 ft. The aroma of the trees filled the air, and the gentle refreshing breeze and singing birds made for a very pleasant stroll.

Beyond the ranch house upslope the number of silver oak thinned replaced by native forest including tall ohia, uluhe ferns and pukiawe. Enjoyed a fairly level stretch about 1 mile in length, the imposing flanks of Mauna Loa dead ahead and much more detailed. The sound of bees buzzing in the native forest caught my ear, and I appreciated the contrast of red ohia blossoms against the deep blue sky. Gene and I startled a black cow and her calf in the level section and reached the 4,700 ft elevation mark at 11:55 a.m.

Fifteen minutes later at the top of a rise the two of us approached the Kapapala forest reserve boundary bordered by a firebreak road/fence.

We also spotted a mouflon sheep to the west. We watched it scurry away then proceeded through a gate into the forest reserve. Further ahead, the road went west for a significant distance then returned to its mauka heading. Koa trees with light green moss growing on the branches highlighted this segment.

At 1:16 p.m. (5,650 ft elevation and eight miles from the Rte 11/Ainapo Road junction) Gene and I arrived at the Ainapo trailhead and promptly sat down to have lunch.

During the break clouds moved in leaving only a few small patches of blue overhead. We started up the Ainapo Trail at 1:54 p.m. and traveled over pahoehoe lava through pristine native forest with occasional sunny periods.

Note: Pahoehoe lava is the smooth, solid kind (like walking on a side walk). A'a, on the other hand, is similar to walking on a pile of rocks (unstable footing), each step shifts and it is sharp and jagged. An ankle sprain, tripping or falling are very real possibilities.

Initially, a gradual climb ensued but as we passed through a fern grotto (not uluhe) the angle of ascent increased. At 2:53 p.m. and 6,500 ft the two of us took another break. Following a gradual ascent we resumed steeper climbing, a chill in the air. Gene brought to my attention the appearance of the first "baked potatoes" (pieces of a'a lava rapped in aluminum foil used to mark the trail) atop a few of the ahu along the footpath.

Completed the three mile stretch from the trailhead to the Halewai Cabin at 3:42 p.m. (elev. 7,750 ft).

Gene and I immediately entered the shelter and removed our heavy packs. The sun came out so we returned to the outdoors and took photos of the structure. Soon after, Dr. Robinson jogged around the area to keep the lactic acid in his legs from building up. Meanwhile, I relaxed at the table on one of the stools inside the cabin.

The luxurious Halewai Shelter, constructed in March of 1994, is a small 'A' frame building equipped with a solar powered compost toilet (the solar panel is on the roof), a south facing porch, and a separate room with a small window adjacent to the porch containing the toilet. The main room (15 feet by 18 feet) has a large window facing Mauna Loa (native trees and the nearby hill block the view). Both the toilet room and main room contain a small light (twelve volt batteries supply the current). The one in the main room is located in the middle of the ceiling. Three two person bunk beds (mattresses on each bunk, sleeping bags on each mattress) and two cots are available for sleeping. The floor of the main room is green in color, the walls and ceiling white. The ceiling is ten feet above the floor and a vanity mirror (two feet long, one foot wide) leans against the wall opposite the window above hooks screwed into the wall used for hanging clothes. Also, six wooden stools are piled up neatly beside a six foot long, four foot wide table (formica top). Quality workmanship went into building the shelter, bunks, and table.

A set of five wooden steps leads to the porch and a green picnic table exists a few feet in front of the stairs, a small fire pit above the picnic table. The steps and porch are green in color while the building exterior is a shade of dark brown. A piece of wood is mounted above the porch and carved into it are the words "Ainapo Trail Shelter". Blocks of cement support the structure and the white roof is grooved. A water catchment system transports moisture from the roof to a large tan container in back of the shelter (almost full during our stay). A "chimney" originating from the toilet room juts out of the roof near the five feet long, two feet wide, five inch deep solar panal. A separate, smaller dark brown building below the cabin comes equipped with a shower and I noticed an old wooden CCC shelter covered by a rusty tin roof to the right of the lower building. On the inside of the front cover of the log book (Vol. 2) I read "The Ainapo Trail Shelter at Halewai - It is built on the site of a campsite constructed by the civilian conservation corps in the 1930's".

Once Gene returned from his run, I set out to explore the surrounding territory. Enjoyed nice views downslope and discovered a helipad. Next, I did a day hike above the cabin as the Ainapo Trail continues through old pahoehoe and native forest. After about a quarter of a mile, the terrain changes abruptly to a'a with much less vegetation. Eventually, I turned around and headed back to the shelter but I had achieved the purpose of the day hike - to get a feel for what lie ahead. Spotted two sheep upslope during the return leg and entered the cabin a few minutes beyond 6 p.m.

Between 6 and 7 p.m. dinner preparation and consumption took place. I dined on Mountain House lasagna, salad, and an apple while Gene ate Caribbean stew or beans. Both of us drank a cup of hot cocoa and I also downed a bottle of tang. The completely clear sky sponsored excellent star action that night with Orion's Belt, Venus (esp. bright), the Big Dipper, Hokulani (Hawaii's star), Spika, and Gemini dominating the heavens. Later, Gene and I experienced the best of both worlds when an awesome nearly full moon rise took place! It looked like a giant orange ball.

Gene recited a few of the interesting stories from the log book and then made an entry himself before retiring for the evening at 8:25 p.m. At 9 p.m. I penned a short paragraph describing the shelter:

"Nestled among one of Hawaii's most pristine native forests, the Halewai Shelter is one of Hawaii's best kept secrets. Described in Stuart Ball's BACKPACKERS GUIDE TO HAWAI'I as luxurious, I couldn't agree more. Very nice!"

I ventured out of the cabin into the still, cool, crisp night for the final time at 9:30 p.m., the abundant moon light illuminating the pristine native forest very beautifully as well as a thick white cloud bank on the same level as the shelter dead ahead in the distance. Flossed and brushed teeth by moon light then reentered the shelter and noticed that the temperature inside was 52 degrees fahrenheit. Reluctantly hit the sack at 10:10 p.m.

Notes:

A DLNR Na Ala Hele pamphlet states, "CULTURAL HISTORY: The Ainapo Trail, from Kapapala to Moku'aweoweo, the summit caldera, was pioneered by prehistoric Hawaiians. Probably most early ascents were made to honor Pele since no adz quarry is known to exist on or near the summit of Mauna Loa.

Archibald Menzies, the surgeon of the Vancouver expedition, is the first European known to have ascended to Moku'aweoweo. For this reason the trail is sometimes referred to as the Menzies trail. With the permission and assistance of Kamehameha, he made the ascent in February of 1794.

Until 1915, when the Mauna Loa trail was built, Ainapo trail was the preferred route to the summit. From 1870 horses and mules were used along this route. In 1913 the men of Kapapala Ranch modified it (and probably realigned portions) to create a bridle path.

In 1914, volcanologist Thomas A. Jagger, traveled the Ainapo trail to observe an eruption at the summit. His experiences on the route prompted him to lobby for construction of the Mauna Loa trail.

Since then the Ainapo trail gradually fell into disuse, portions of it becoming "lost" until Forestry and Wildlife crews reestablished the route under the auspices of the Na Ala Hele program in 1993."

During Gene's research of Ainapo, the Doctor thought that he had discovered a Chinese immigrant named Lop Sum Ng among the members of Menzies first successful ascent. Upon further scrutiny, it turned out to be false information. Sorry Wing! :-)

Part 3 - "The Tough Climb to the Summit Cabin"

On Sunday, May 2, at 6 a.m. Gene and I awoke to a new day inside the Halewai Shelter (45 degrees fahrenheit inside that morning). Upon traipsing outside, we discovered a gorgeous sight - the nearly full moon on the western horizon and the rising sun on the opposite. A beautiful arrangement of high clouds partially obscured the sun, and other than the high clouds to the east, entirely blue sky overhead.

After breakfast (including another half pill of diamox) and packing up, the two of us departed the shelter (elev. 7,750 ft) at 7:28 a.m. bound for the Mauna Loa Summit Cabin (elev. 13,250 ft). Initially, not much discussion took place as Gene led the way up the Ainapo Trail above Halewai. It was THE BIG DAY (the most difficult leg of our trip) and like warriors entering the coliseum to do battle, we had our game faces on, both of us focused on the task at hand. With plenty of time to get to the Summit Cabin, Gene laid out a simple plan - hike 1,000 feet per hour then take a brief rest to avoid any symptoms of altitude sickness.

Beyond the first quarter of a mile where the pahoehoe and most of the native forest abruptly end, I turned around while Gene took a GPS reading and spotted Kilauea Caldera downslope in the distance, steam rising out of her vent. A thick band of clouds also existed hanging slightly above the caldera stretching from north to south around the mountain as far as the eye could see. Gene and I methodically plodded along the vast dark brown 'a'a field (large ahu marking the route) climbing steadily and recognized the stark beauty of the region (a different kind of beauty), a gentle sea breeze at our backs.

At 8:43 a.m. (elev. 8,760 ft according to Gene's altimeter) we took a break. Before sitting I noticed rain coming down on the green prairie far below and clouds slowly approaching us (Kilauea Caldera now completely obscured by the thick cloud bank). I became concerned because the trail would be more difficult to follow with precipitation and/or white out. Gene's GPS told us that we were approx. 1 mile from the start of the long 'a'a section as the crow flies.

Fifteen minutes later the two of us continued our pilgrimage. With no route description available for reference (Ball's BACKPACKER'S GUIDE only contains the Mauna Loa Trail), I began to record the outstanding topographical features of the area in a notebook for future reference.

Three prominent hills appeared one hundred yards to the right (facing mauka) of the footpath, and Gene and I crossed a lava tube bridge at 8,850 ft, a collapsed section of the tube revealing a cave for possible emergency bivouac. We traversed a very short stretch of pahoehoe then returned to 'a'a. Heat rising from the lava fields was clearly visible (not due to volcanic activity) and Gene brought to my attention the existence of goat scat on the trail. Encountered another brief pahoehoe segment passing through a narrow defile between walls of pahoehoe. The footpath alternated between the two types of lava reminiscent of the way the KST switches back and forth from leeward (difficult) to windward (easier) then shifted to pahoehoe above the tree line (no more trees or other vegetation visible upslope) at 9,000 ft.

Gene and I paused briefly at 9:43 a.m. (9,310 ft) to check out a large opening in the ceiling of a lava tube, a beam of sun light partially illuminating the cave floor twenty feet below. Pressing on, the two of us ascended gradually learning to appreciate the pahoehoe and watching our steps on the 'a'a, "baked patotoes" and ahu marking the route. The abundance of blue sky and unobstructed sun made spotting the aluminum foil fairly easy.

At 10:19 a.m. and 9,760 feet we took another snack/water break. Gene consumed a balance bar and some gatoraid while I had a bagel and tang. During the recess I applied more sun screen and Gene took another GPS reading. Meanwhile, the clouds that were approaching from Ka'u appeared to dissipate as they gained altitude and I breathed a sigh of relief.

By 10:40 a.m. we were back on the trail trudging along at a steady pace, and at 9,900 ft the ahu all but disappeared. As we entered "No Man's Land", Gene and I spotted "baked potatoes" about thirty yards to the right of the footpath on nearby pahoehoe. Gene concluded that someone (DLNR?) had attempted to establish an easier route. The only problem is that the original path (also marked with "potatoes") still exists over sunken piles of 'a'a paralleling the new one and in white out conditions often leads to confusion (ambiguity).

Accomplished a short, but steep ascent to 10,360 ft where I noticed stakes pounded into lava bordering the trail, and fifty yards on the left at 10,500 ft I recognized the existance of a weather station. Because of its continuous uphill nature, Ainapo is certainly an honest trail.

Several "potatoes" were sighted on pahoehoe to the left with a lone ahu placed twenty five yards off the original route as a guide to the improved section. Two "potatoes" side by side on the original trail marked the junction. An easier footpath, no doubt, but more likely to cause confusion.

Identified another stake in lava at the end of a tough, steep ascent over loose 'a'a. Further ahead, I counted atleast a dozen "potatoes" in a line spaced about twenty yards apart marking the footpath. Observed yet another stake protruding slightly above the surface of the lava followed by a stretch of pahoehoe.

At 11:57 a.m. (10,870 ft and 1.16 miles from our previous break spot) Gene and I sat down on pahoehoe to rest again at a desolate place (nothing but acres and acres of lava surrounging us in all directions). Saddled up and continued our journey about half an hour later. The trail returned to 'a'a for a short stretch then switched back to pahoehoe. A few ahu helped distinquish the trail from the rest of the lava field and a mild, cooling breeze at our backs accompanied the now gradual climb.

Enjoyed a lengthy segment of pahoehoe marked by intermittent ahu on our way to an old abandoned CCC camp (windbreak, elev. 11,350 ft) made out of large pieces of lava with sea rations inside. Adjacent to the windbreak was an entrance to a lava tube, old rusty cans and glass bottles located five feet down littered the floor of the cave. We also ascertained a campsite ideal for a tent above the cave entrance. Large pieces of lava made up three quarters of the perimeter and a hill blocked the wind on the other side. Gene brought to my attention the remains of old sea biscuits each originally the size of a hockey puck. He also suggested that the area would make a great local for an intermediate cabin on the way to the summit cabin.

Departed the pahoehoe for more 'a'a , our feet shifting with every step. Lovely white cumulous clouds appeared upslope in the distance a few hundred feet above the horizon and were not taken as a threat.

The trail alternated again between 'a'a and pahoehoe and eventually the two of us entered "The Easter Egg Hunt" region (elev. 11,670 ft), a poorly marked, confusing section of the Ainapo Trail. Small "potatoes" spread out (hidden?) among the rolling hills ("dunes") of the broad pahoehoe flow hindered upward progress and the trail seemed to meander for no rhyme or reason. However, due to excellent visibility (unobstructed sun, mostly clear blue sky), Gene and I experienced, at most, short delays in identifying the ensuing "potatoes". We even took the time to rebuild fallen ahu blown over by high winds and make new ones as well as relocate a few of the small "potatoes" to improve the section. Gene commented that the dudes who designed this stretch of the footpath must have been smoking pakalolo!

At 1:59 p.m. (elev. 11,930 ft) the two of us took another break sitting down on pahoehoe. The surrounding "dunes" made it feel like we were on Mars. I ate an apple, drank half a liter of tang (the beverage of choice for the apollo astronauts and one thirsty backpacker on "Mars") and Gene recorded another GPS reading. Twenty four minutes later it was back to the grind.

Noticed more stakes pounded into the lava positioned along the footpath at 100 foot intervals. We endured steep climbing and I felt fatiqued but not dizzy. At 12,340 feet elevation I spotted a grey Dept. of Interior geological survey marker then, further ahead, Gene and I got side tracked briefly when we couldn't find the next "potato". Instead, we ended up hiking to what appeared to be an ahu.

The final steep ascent concluded (yee ha!) at 3:21 p.m. when we arrived at a dark red, wooden sign with "Entering Hawaii Volcanoes National Park Mauna Loa Cabin 2.9 Miles" carved into it on the ocean facing side (elev. 12,500 ft). On the opposite side the sign read "Entering Kapapala Forest Reserve Ainapo Trail Shelter 4.6 Miles", a bogus figure in Gene's opinion.

Ahu reemerged as guide posts beyond the sign toward the Mauna Loa Cabin and we were also led by more "potatoes". I noticed an increase in the wind blowing from the Ka'u direction, a chill in the air.

At 3:45 p.m. (elev. 12,770 ft) the two of us reached a rain gauge and an eveready lantern battery dump (former weather station?). A few of the rusting batteries were located inside the compartment at the top of a short white wooden structure which resembled a lifeguard stand. A pile of batteries in the shape of an ahu existed twenty yards from the stand.

Pressing on, Gene and I carefully traversed a large crevice and recognized yellow dots marking the route along with the "potatoes" and ahu. With the exception of a few ups and downs, the fairly level trail gradually ascended to the Mauna Loa Cabin.

We passed through an area featuring a lava formation (cone) on the left that looked like a huge version of Madonna's French bra (not that I'm a Madonna fan but that's what it resembled), a pu'u with twin humps (breasts). A note to the reader - Gene and I may not have been suffering from altitude sickness but we were certainly having delusions!!! I proclaimed the geological peculiarity "Pu'u O'Madonna" and paused to study it while Gene took a GPS reading.

After moving away from the formation, the two of us encountered 'a'a for a distance then tramped mainly over pahoehoe. The footpath returned to 'a'a and we noticed ahu across the lava field which marked the South Pit Trail at 4:49 p.m. (elev. 13,000 ft). Fifteen minutes later Gene and I accidentally veered off the Ainapo Trail but gained our first vista of the true summit across Mokuaweoweo (the summit crater). Observed a piece of snow covered ice inside a crack and came upon a windbreak made of lava four feet deep with four foot walls on each side.

At 5:09 p.m. we reached the crater rim and spotted the summit cabin in the distance for the first time. Careful not to get too close to the 500 foot vertical drop, the two of us recognized steam rising from vents on the far side of the crater floor, the South Pit gap on the left.

We traveled for a distance along the crater rim over plates of pahoehoe. I saw another geological survey marked on the right (elev. 13,105 ft) at 5:32 p.m. and veered that way while Gene continued straight. Dr. Robinson spotted a narrow wooden sign about fifty yards to the right. As I headed for it I had to scramble over nasty 'a'a. The sign contained the words "Ainapo Trail" and I tramped north on the footpath mostly over 'a'a using ahu to stay on track.

Suddenly, the Mauna Loa Cabin came into view! Fifty yards to the left was the set of two ahu that mark the year round watersource. During the final stretch to the Mauna Loa Cabin I walked on 'a'a and pebbles, the dirt underneath sinking with every step.

Triumphantly arrived at the Mauna Loa Cabin at 5:56 p.m. (elev. 13,250 ft). Gene, having pulled in a few minutes prior, helped me remove my heavy pack inside the cabin then we exchanged high fives! Both of us reclined at the table as Gene recited a few of the entries from the log book.

Afterward, I proceeded to the toilet to relieve myself and recognized Mauna Kea in the distance completely clear of clouds, its golf ball shaped observatories scattered about the summit. Exited the latrine, strolled over to the edge of Mokuaweoweo and shouted "Yes!" (my voice echoing throughout the crater) not as an advertisement for First Hawaiian Bank, but to express the joy of accomplishing the difficult trek up the Ainapo Trail from the Halewai Shelter.

When I returned to the summit cabin, Gene went for a quick jog and I recorded an entry in my journal. At 6:36 p.m. (55 degrees fahrenheit inside the cabin) the sun disappeared below the crater rim and I began putting on just about every piece of clothing I had brought including HTM legend John Hall's red sweat pants and shirt. John, a frequent visitor to Mauna Loa in his younger years, gave them to me as a gift, a symbolic passing of the baton.

In the storage room next to the kitchen, Gene and I discovered Randy Ching's external frame backpack. According to the permit attached to the backpack, Randy had made a sojourn to the summit cabin with a friend around New Year's. I found out on Tuesday, May 11, that he developed a bad case of HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema) during the trip and almost croaked.

Once fully clothed I ventured outside to fetch water from the tank in back of the cabin. Cooked and consumed Mountain House beef teriyaki at the table as Gene read aloud again from the log. At 8:06 p.m. the two of us braved the cooler outdoor temperatures and marveled at the incredible star action in the night sky. We identified Leo directly overhead, Venus, Mars, Orion's Belt, The Dog constellation in front of Orion, the Orion nebula, the Milky Way, the Southern Cross, the Big Dipper, Hokulani, Spika, the North Star, and Gemini. I went back out on another occasion, perceived the amazing stillness, and witnessed two shooting stars and a nice moon rise as well!

Gene retired for the evening at 9:40 p.m. and I hit the sack about forty minutes later.

== Paka

REFERENCES

* Barnard, Walter M. MAUNA LOA - A SOURCE BOOK Historic Eruptions and Exploration Volume One: From 1778 Through 1907. Published by the Editor: Walter M. Barnard, Department of Geosciences, State University of New York College at Fredonia, Fredonia, NY, 1990.

Mauna Loa Three Cabin Loop -- Dave Webb

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 03 Jul 2021 06:20:00 +0000

Saturday, June 25th, 2005, I was joined by three good friends for a grand five day adventure on Mauna Loa. I call it an adventure because there isn't really any other good way to describe what we did, it was certainly more than just a normal backpacking trip for me. Besides myself, the other participants were Cheryl Batangan, George Privon, and Matt Wordeman. Cheryl and George are HTMC members whom many of you probably know and Matt is a friend who lives in Kula. The trip went something like this:

June 25-

Meet at the airport for breakfast and fly to Hilo. We were picked up at Hilo International by the one and only Stan (the Man) Atkins of Hawaiian 'Kine Adventures. For an extremely reasonable fee Stan dropped us off at the end of strip road at the Mauna Loa trailhead. He had already picked up fuel and our permits the day before so we were able to bypass the National Park and save a bit of time. We got underway at 11:15 am under beautiful sunny skies and were on our way. I should mention that each of us was taking Diamox to help combat the effects of altitude sickness. My original plan was to camp at Namakani Paio the night before starting the journey to hopefully help acclimation, but it didn't work out logistically for everybody else so the idea was shelved. Diamox had worked for me really well on some earlier high altitude trips so I was confident in taking it again.

We walked at a slow, steady pace and gradually gained altitude through the forest. Soon we reached the last Ohia tree that I have read so much about and snapped some pictures there with Mauna Loa's summit ridge in the background.

Further on the trail got steeper in some places with a few sandy sections. We reached Pu'u Ula'ula' around 4:45 in the afternoon and thankfully dropped our packs.

Five minutes later we were joined by a nice young couple who had descended from the summit cabin that day. As it would turn out, they would be the only other human beings that we would encounter during the duration of the trip (no Potsy and Bozo for us thankfully - sorry Dayle but I had to throw that in there). After dinner we climbed to the top of the Pu'u behind the cabin to watch a nice sunset. We could see the shadow of Mauna Loa on the clouds to the east as well as Mauna Kea, Haleakala and Pu'u Kukui in the distance. Once it was dark we were treated to a wonderful array of constellations as well as an interesting planetary cluster in the west. Venus, Saturn and Mercury were all visible and quite close together. Other constellations of note were the Southern Cross and the Pointers, Ursa Major and Minor and Scorpius. Jupiter was also quite bright high in the sky. Overnight temps in Red Hill cabin dropped down to 49 degrees.

June 26-

The big day of the trip. 11.6 miles and over 3000 vertical were on the program for today's hike. We got an early start so we could stretch out the day and really take our time. It stood to reason that the trail wouldn't be as steep as what we did the first day since the elevation gain was the same but we would be walking 4 miles further. I tried to use this knowledge to convince myself that this second day would actually be easier, not harder. I also remembered reading one of Dayle's old write-ups warning future hikers not to take the final two miles for granted. This would prove to be very valuable information indeed.

The day passed surprisingly quickly and we passed many colorful cinder cones along the way. There were plentiful high cirrus clouds during this tough day and I think they helped somewhat to occasionally block out some of the sunlight. I did make one mistake today, I forgot to put sunblock on my legs. I knew that it was very easy to get burnt at elevation so I was quite careful about blocking my nose, lips, ears and neck. I even wore a hat during the duration of the trip. The sun must have been behind us during most of the day and by late afternoon I began to wonder why the back of my legs were itching so badly. I took off my sunglasses and my legs were strawberry red! Thankfully, I had lightweight pants with long legs so I wore those for the rest of the trip. Future hikers beware. Take lots of sunblock, a good hat and sunglasses for sure.

Eventually we hauled up to the edge of north pit. We stopped there for a nice long rest and water break. We had all heard how tough the last two miles to the cabin were so we were mentally prepared. Matt had actually been over to the cabin in May from the Observatory trail so he knew firsthand what was in store (it was a first time on the mountain for the rest of us). After our break we dropped down, crossed north pit, and staggered over the remaining a'a' to the cabin. I believe it took us about 8 hours altogether and we got there in the neighborhood of 3:30. There isn't much to say about the view from the summit cabin, it really is amazing and you have to go up there to really appreciate it. The cabin has bunks for 12 with extra sleeping bags and wool blankets. Metal folding chairs were also provided as well as a dining room table. The cabin is set back from the rim of Mokuaw! eoweo maybe 150' with some rock walled emergency campsites nearby. The famous lua is a short distance away and whilst seated on said lua one can gaze across the crater (no door on the lua). The evenings festivities included sunset watching, stargazing, and talking story.

June 27-

Ahh, a nice relaxing layover day at the cabin. Well, that's what we would have done if we had a lick of sense among us. I think I've been hanging around with too many HTMC er's since we just had to go over to tag the true summit. Did we take the normal trail over there? No, not exactly. In his backpacking book, Stuart describes descending a landslide near the waterhole and crossing the crater so that's what we did. On the way up to the trailhead, we told Stanboy of this possibility and he said, "No way, that's impossible to go down those cliffs." Stan is quite the hiker himself and he has been on darn near every tough trail on the Big Island so we wanted to have a story for him so down the landslide we went. The way down is pretty obvious once you look down from above. There aren't any other possibilities unless you walk all the over to south pit. I believe! there is a small ahu to mark the start of the trail as well.

Upon reaching the caldera floor we had to endure a rough stretch of a'a' and then thin pahoehoe all the way to the 1949 cone which leans up against the far wall. We went up on it's right side, next to the olivine scree slope. There was a fantastic view from the top and we rested for a bit before continuing on to the true summit. The summit ahu was pretty unremarkable really after everything else that we had seen so far. There were also choke flies there for some reason so we didn't linger more than 15 minutes or so.

We stopped to check out Jagger's cave on the way back and contemplated what it would be like to camp out there for 2-3 weeks. No thanks. In an emergency, it probably wouldn't be too bad since you would be well out of the wind and the floor is composed of fine gravel as opposed to the rest of the area. Finally arrived back at the summit cabin at 4:30 after a long day.

June 28-

Down Ainapo today. We were looking forward to the downhill, but a little nervous about routefinding since none of us had been on the trail before. We were well prepared with a topo map provided by Stan, a compass, and some notes from a previous writeup by Patrick Rorie from his 1999 Ainapo climb with Dr. Robinson. The trail is actually really easy to follow now since most of the ahu have been rebuilt on the upper portion of the trail (this was done in the spring of 2000). Ainapo is pretty easy for the first 3 miles or so and we stopped for lunch at an old CCC emergency camp at 11,300'. The camp has several rock walled emergency campsites and a pile of firewood as well. There is a lava tube there that could be used in the event of extreme weather but it is filled with rubbish so a tent would certainly be best.

Almost immediately below the camp we came into the really hellish section of the trail. If you have ever been to Volcano National Park then you probably know what a'a' lava is. Well, imagine walking a steep downhill trail for 3-4 miles on it. That's exactly what we did. Only one word comes to mind to describe this exercise - brutal. Every step is a potential fall or twisted ankle. Each of us had trekking poles and they really helped with balance and braking. Still, my feet and knees took a beating and I was thrilled when we finally came to the end of the lava flow in the forest. The cabin came into view almost immediately thereafter.

The Ainapo cabin is truly a beautiful place located in the middle of an ohia forest. From the cabin porch one can watch Apapane and Amakihi flit about sipping nectar from the lehua blossoms. I would certainly have to say that the area surrounding the cabin is the most impressive ohia forest that I have ever seen. This cabin has an attached water catchment and solar-powered composting toilet with a nice, small porch and picnic table in front. There is even a regulation shower if you want. Around sunset the fog lifted and we were treated to a nice sunset and lights from Volcano could be seen below in the distance.

June 29-

The final day and the walk out to the highway. This final day was to consist of a 2.5 mile walk on a trail follow by an 8 mile walk on a dirt road to the highway where Stan was to pick us up. This road could be covered by a 4 wheel vehicle if one was available, but since we wanted the whole experience we chose to walk. The going was pretty easy compared to what we had been through the past 4 days and the distance was covered in a timely manner. We passed through a mixed forest of ohia and koa and the sounds of the birds in the trees kept me going. There are some absolutely giant koa trees just makai of the cabin - bigger than I could have imagined. One of them must have been 8 feet in diameter at it's base. Matt makes koa ukuleles in his spare time and we discussed how valuable some of that wood would be. We passed through several cattle pastures and saw a wild turkey but no muflon sheep or other g! ame animals. Stan was waiting for us at the highway with water and gatoraid and we arrived almost exactly upon our agreed meeting time of 1:00pm.

From there we stopped at the National Park Visitors Center to let the rangers know that we got out OK and headed down to Stan's house for some refreshments and pizza. Stan and his family live on a 3 acre lot in Hawaiian Acres (between Mountain View and Kurtistown). We spent several hours on his back deck talking story and comparing adventures. He dropped us off at the airport and we were off to our respective homes with some incredible memories (and sore feet).

I would like to take a moment to thank my friends for sharing such a fantastic experience. George, Cheryl, and Matt were really good company and a pleasure to spend 5 days with. A big mahalo to Stuart Ball for his trip writeup (I took a copy of his trail directions just in case) and description of the dayhike across the crater. Thanks also to Patrick Rorie for his description of the Ainapo trail (I don't know how he had the energy to take notes during such a hard climb) and the use of his stove. Mahalos to Stan Atkins of Hawaiian 'Kine Adventures for getting our permits and fuel and shuttling us around to and from the trailhead. Without his help we would have had a lot of trouble putting this trip together. Finally, thanks to my wife Sandy for getting up at 6:00 am and dropping Cheryl and myself off at the airport.

If anyone has any questions about this hike or if you want info on how to contact Stan on the Big Island you can email me or call (my number is in the HTMC roster). Thanks for your attention and enjoy the rest of the summer!

Author: Dave Webb <davewebb15@YAHOO.COM>

Malaekahana and Kahuku Trails

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 25 Jun 2021 22:29:00 +0000

It's been years since the HTMC has hiked the Kahuku Trail. Perhaps some long-time members might know when the club last hiked Kahuku. My guess is that it's been at least 20 years. Access restrictions at the makai end of the trail might have led to its disuse, but recent exploratory jaunts into the area by club members have not only resulted in the re-opening of the route but also a solution to the access bugaboo.

What does that spell? K-A-H-U-K-U. The club will be hiking it again.

Today, a group of us gave the route a nice going over in preparation for the members-only club hike on Sunday 10/7/2001. The indubitable duo of Jay Feldman and Wil Kawano will coordinate the hike.

Today's TM roll call: Mabel Kekina, Jay Feldman, Wil Kawano, Bill Gorst, Mike Algiers, Kay Lynch, Brandon Stone, Dick Cowan, Brenda Cowan, Gordon Muschek, Connie Muschek, Tom Yoza, Ken Suzuki, June Miyasato, Grant Oka, Georgina Oka, Jason Sunada, Ed Gilman, Art Isbell, Larry Oswald, Kris Corliss, Dayle Turner. Apologies if I missed someone.

As we sometimes do on TM outings, we work in several teams: Team Pupukea, comprised of Larry and Kris, start from the Boy Scout camp at the end of Pupukea Road and work on Kahuku from the top-down; Team Malaekahana, composed of Ed, Jason, and I, go up the Malaekahana trail, then up the Malae shortcut to the KST, and also pitch in with the top-down clearing of Kahuku. Everyone else, except Mike and Mabel, is part of Team Kahuku, and do a bottom-up attack on the trail. Mabel and Mike, btw, work on and mark the Malaekahana Loop, which Mike will coordinate for the club this Saturday.

We get off to a relatively late start this a.m., shoving off from the Laie ball park at 8:30. Jason, Ed, and I, hiking under a high ceiling of clouds, move steadily up rollercoasterish Malaekahana Ridge (it's getting overgrown), reaching the junction with the shortcut trail in two hours. Using the shortcut, the KST can be reached in approx. 30 minutes. Jason puts up some supplementary ribbons along the shortcut route; meanwhile, Ed and I push ahead to open up a direct connector path where the shortcut and KST merge. A multitude of ribbons are affixed at the KST/shortcut junction and a hiker will have to be in a coma to miss this spot.

Bound for the summit of the Kahuku Trail, we head north on the KST at 11:25. This segment of the summit trail is muddy and about half of it is generally overgrown (though passable). Hiking at a good clip, we need an hour to complete it.

At 12:25, we sit down to eat lunch at the summit of the Kahuku Trail (a small green sign marks the spot). Below us down-ridge, we hear the drone of Larry's hedge trimmer. Radio checks with the Kahuku team indicate the bulk of them are hammering through the trail's lengthy guava section while a smaller group is forging ahead upridge to attack the uluhe.

By 12:45, Ed, Jason, and I are on the move again and heading down Kahuku. The work that Larry and Kris do is wonderful, and I remark to Ed that I hope they have cut their way a good distance ahead of us before we catch up to them. Eventually we do, and we join them in the uluhe assault.

Around 2 p.m., we make visual then physical contact with the Kahuku team at a breezy hilltop populated with ti plants, and at that point I invoke a stipulation of my trail clearing union contract that says, among other things, that I shall not be maketh to hack at vegetation after 1400 hours. With no union busters in sight, I put my machete in my pack and saddle up for the hike out.

During the descent of Kahuku, it is great to see the freeway condition of the trail. Great work has been done on the uluhe slopes and equally fine labor has been done in the lengthy guava segment. What a transformation that trail has gone thru since I first did it a couple years ago with Jim Pushaw, Mike Algiers, Helen Sroat, and Larry & Kris. Nice work by today's crew!

The first are back at the ball park by 4 and the last by 5, and there we all enjoy the cold drinks, lilikoi pie, watermelon, chips, dips, and assorted other goodies Mama Mabel provides for us. The party breaks up at 5:45, and I enjoy the pleasant drive back home to Kaneohe via the coastal section of Kam Hwy through Hauula, Punaluu, Kaaawa, Kualoa, and Waiahole. A productive day!

Author: Dayle Turner <turner@hawaii.edu>

Hike date: 23 Sept 2001

Backcountry Molokai to Wailau Valley

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Jun 2021 07:45:00 +0000

Exploring the remote Molokai wilderness - Traversing the divide between Wailau and Halawa Valleys

by John B. Hall

PART I

One of the earliest outer island trips I took with the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club was a short jaunt to Molokai sometime in the early 1960s. We flew to Molokai and were driven to Halawa Valley. There we donned our packs and hiked up the jeep road that runs north, parallel to the coast, climbs into the hills above Lamaloa Head and then winds for 4 or 5 miles through the hills above the north shore of the island until it ends in range land at the edge of scrubby native forest near a small peak called Pohakuloa.

Here we camped in the cow pasture. I had some difficulty in finding a place to sling my hammock, since the pasture was essentially treeless, but I finally found a small dry wash with the stumps of long dead trees at appropriate distances apart on either side, and hung my hammock across this. I can't remember whether we spent 1 or 2 nights in this spot. I think it was just one, since there really weren't any trails for day hikes in the area, and I think we were only on Molokai for a 3 day weekend. I know that one time we went up to see the Phallic Rock, above Kalapapa, and may have spent a night in the park there, so perhaps this is where we went for the second night.

In all, it was not a very exciting overnighter, but what did attract my interest was the fact that this campsite seemed to offer an excellent jumping off point for some cross-country exploration of one of the most remote, unvisited areas of Molokai. This pasture was near the headwaters of the streams that flow through Halawa Valley, and by circling the watershed, we could hike along the divide between the head of Halawa and the side wall of Wailau Valley. The high point on this divide is an unnamed peak at 3627 ft. elevation on the wall of Wailau.

From here, we would have the option of continuing along the rim over Puu Ohelo (see map below) and on to where the Wailau trail comes up across the ranchlands below and drops down the sheer back wall of Wailau Valley.

Alternatively, it appeared that turning right at the 3627 ft. peak and following the rim of Wailau would bring us down the narrow, steep, but (on the map) passable-looking Kukuinui Ridge (see on map below) between Wailau Valley and the small side valley through which Kahawaiiki Stream flows, and allow us to access the floor of Wailau Valley almost at the valley mouth. Much to my regret, I never got around to exploring this route.

A few years later, in July of 1976, I finally organized a trip to visit this backcountry. I was able to interest two companions in this trip. The first was Bill Scatchard who hiked with HTMC for a few years in the 80s, and who, with John Robinson, was to join me on my first trip down the Southwest Rift of Mauna Loa, as well as on some lesser adventures. The other chap was a young graduate student in Biochemistry at UH Manoa, whose name, I think, was Rolland, though I am not sure, as he left the Department after a year or less, so I did not know him for long. He claimed to have had a lot of backpacking experience, although when he showed up for the trip with a Boy Scout knapsack instead of a regular backpack, I began to doubt this.

I had been into Wailau at least once in the meantime, so I was familiar with the trail that drops down the back wall of this valley. We flew to Molokai, and somehow made our way to Halawa Valley, where we camped for the night. There was a young haole fellow hanging out in the neighborhood who apparently lived near by and seemed to feel he knew the country pretty well. He asked what we were planning, but on being told said, "Oh you can't do that! That's impossible. No one's ever done that!"

I had been told such things before, but never let it discourage me. He also said that the two husky young Hawaiian fellows who were living in a small trailer at the side of the mouth of Halawa Stream, were caretakers for the ranch that owned the property we would cross, and he thought they probably would tell us we couldn't go up there if we asked. We hadn't gone to all the trouble to plan the trip and travel to Molokai to be thwarted at this point, however, so to avoid any problems, we decided not to ask.

Instead, we got up hours before dawn the next day, ate a hasty breakfast, packed up quietly, and headed up the jeep road, hoping to get off the working ranch property and into the bush before anyone came to tell us we shouldn't be there. There were no cattle in sight, but we did not escape entirely unnoticed. A small black and white dog, hardly more than a puppy, had apparently been abandoned at Halawa, and he attached himself to our party. I don't know if one of my friends fed him the evening before, or if he was just desperate for company, but nothing we could do would discourage him from following us.

As usual, in an exploratory backpack of this kind, we were traveling as light as possible, and were not carrying any extra food; certainly not enough extra to feed a dog for a week. But he had no collar and we could hardly tie up an animal in the wilderness, even in Halawa Valley, not knowing if anyone would release him once we were gone. We hiked up the jeep road in the early dawn light without incident.

When we reached the pasturelands, our companion dashed off barking, and chased one of the axis deer that infest the island into the bush. It was still early in the day when we reached the end of the ranch lands and pushed into the native bush. I had laid out a few compass bearings on the map, but as long as we stayed on the divide and avoided dropping down into one of the gulches, we should be on course.

We made slow progress through dense, but not very high brush through the day. I don't recall using a machete, but I am sure we must have been carrying such implements for an exploratory, off-trail trip of this kind. The clouds hung low on the mountains above us, obscuring the view of our objective.

In the late afternoon, I became convinced that we were veering off course for the route up peak 3627, and wanted to cross some of the small gullies to our right to proceed in the right direction. Bill and Roland disagreed, and when I got out my compass, I discovered that my sense of direction was really awry, and I had wanted to go off at an angle of almost 90 degrees to the right of the correct course! It was getting late, so after continuing up the ridge a little farther, we looked about for a campsite. My companions cleared a patch out of the brush for their tent, and I dropped down into the sturdier trees on the side of the ridge to find a spot for my hammock.

The next day we reached the summit of peak 3627 without incident. We were then in the clouds and it drizzled off and on throughout the day. Most of the route between this peak and Puu Ohelo was relatively level plateau country, with the rim of Wailau Valley dropping off steeply to our right. It was boggy and open, but relatively easy walking, if rather wet and sloppy.

We had walked for a ways across this terrain, when we heard a great commotion as the young dog began yapping frantically somewhere out of sight in the dense mist. A moment later, with stately tread, a large, majestic sow minced ponderously out of the fog. She was the size of a bathtub, as broad as she was tall, with a regal air and imperturbable presence. She deigned to bestow a haughty glance on our humble persons, but seeing in us nothing of consequence to her scheme of things, continued with her solemn promenade and soon vanished once more into the mist. Meanwhile, the little dog danced in excited circles around her, yelping madly, a performance to which she paid no more attention than a limousine would accord to an importunate gnat. And so ended our brief audience with the Queen of the Molokai Bogs!

There were pools of water scattered across this country, some up to 5 or 6 feet across, but only a few inches deep. In one of these I noticed a strange plant that I had never seen before, and have not seen since. It was shaped like a miniature, frilly green umbrella, about an inch or inch and a half high, and looked very like the textbook pictures of Acetabularia, a giant unicellular alga that was very popular with experimental biologists 60 years ago for studies on nuclear-cytoplasmic relationships. Unfortunately, I had no way to preserve it and so brought no samples home. Since then, I've often carried a few 15 ml vials full of alcohol with me on such explorations, but have rarely found anything I wanted to collect.

PART II

We hiked on to the summit of Pu'u Ohelo and decided to continue on to the junction with the Wailau trail before camping for the night. We followed what we thought was the rim of Wailau Valley, but it seemed to be bending too far east and turning into a ridge, although in the mist it was hard to be sure. We finally back-tracked to the summit of Pu'u Ohelo and camped for the night. I found a sheltered nook among some trees for my hammock, and the other two set up their tent. It continued to drizzle.

In the morning we decided that perhaps we had not gone far enough, so we once more tried to skirt the edge of Wailau to trace it around to the back wall of the valley. We descended the slope even further than we had gone the night before, and eventually got below the clouds, to where we could see that we were definitely hiking down an easterly ridge that ran parallel to other ridges and was heading toward the sea on the southeast coast of Molokai.

Feeling baffled, we retraced our steps, watching closely for any sign of a route off the mountain that would keep us on the rim of Wailau. Shortly before we reached the site of our camp, I noticed a heavily used pig trail dropping steeply down the cliff. It looked like it was descending the sidewall of Wailau Valley, but I knew of no passable route to the valley floor in this area, and believed that the pigs probably stayed on the rim also, so we decided to follow this path. It was a steep, difficult scramble for a hundred feet or more, but if the pigs could do it, we knew that we could follow, even with our packs. After a bit the grade began to ease somewhat. As we proceeded, the weather improved and the clouds lifted briefly, enough to show us that we were, in fact, following the rim of the valley.

By noon we were at the junction with the trail that dropped steeply into the back of Wailau Valley itself. At this point, Rolland announced that he was going to leave us. Apparently, his boots did not fit properly and had been giving him a great deal of pain. We were sorry to loose him, and apprehensive about letting someone hike out of the backcountry alone. However, Bill and I had planned to spend the better part of a week in Wailau Valley, and really didn't want to cut the trip short after only 3 days. In addition, Roland would be in ranch country within a mile or so, so the risks appeared to be minimal. Fortunately, he got back to town without any problems.

After lunch, Bill and I began the scramble down the nearly vertical trail. By mid-afternoon we reached Waiakeakua Stream at the foot of the wall, and set up camp for the night.

I laid out my food bags while preparing supper, and while putting them away afterward, I noticed that a bag of gorp, containing raisins, nuts, and a little cheese, was missing. Apparently, our canine companion, who must have been very hungry by now, had made off with it. It didn't seem like much, but I had planned my menu for this trip so closely that I really missed it - this was one of the few trips I have taken in which I was constantly hungry for most of the last few days. I was very careful with my food stash after this!

In the morning we hiked on down to the valley mouth and set up camp in a pleasant grove of guavas. I have made several trips to Wailau, at least two with Kazuo Yamaguchi, I believe, in addition to this one, and the incidents of different trips tend to mingle in my mind. I recall that one time Yamaguchi and I arrived in the valley just at the end of one of Lorin Gill's Sierra Club Service Projects. About 30 Sierra Club people had come in, hard on the heels of a group from a school in Waimea on the Big Island, if I recall correctly. Unfortunately, the school group had a member who was harboring a case of Shigella, an intestinal bacterium that causes rather severe dysentery. The rains were heavy and the river over-flowed while both groups were there, which meant that the bacteria were washed out of the poorly-sited latrine area used by the school group and were spread through the water supply. Practically all members of both parties became sick. The school group had been evacuated some days before we arrived, but the Sierra Club people were present and thoroughly miserable. Fortunately, we were able to avoid contracting the disease.

It rained the first night that Bill and I camped at the valley mouth. Bill had bedded down on a lovely patch of soft grass among the trees, and I was awakened during the night by a sudden outburst of profanity and commotion. We were apparently in a low spot and several inches of water were flowing briskly through Bill's bed. My hammock was well above the water, of course, but I had to get up and make sure that none of my gear was floating away. The next morning we moved to higher ground.

We spent several days in Wailau. One day I climbed the ridge that parallels the beach above the small, relatively level, hala-covered peninsula called Waiehu. A hippie couple had constructed a neat bamboo and tarp hut on the ridge, near its foot, in a lovely location with views of both the ocean and up the valley. Near the top I had a difficult scramble up a steep, grass-covered slope that brought me to the lower corner of the isolated, triangular, Olokui plateau, probably one of the most undisturbed areas in the islands, surrounded as it is by the steep cliffs that form the sides of Pelekunu and Wailau Valleys, and possibly not even inhabited by pigs or goats, though I am not certain of this. If so, it should be of great botanical interest, and I believe that Dr. St. John did do some collecting there. I always meant to return to explore it some day - I had approached it rather casually this time, not planning to go to the top at all, and had brought no supplies, perhaps not even a water bottle. Much to my regret, I never did get back to it, however.

There were other people living in the valley also, which is quite large - probably nearly the size of Manoa Valley when all its reaches are considered. One chap, who seemed to be by himself, was quite friendly. He solved one problem for us by agreeing to adopt the young dog that was still following us. I was visiting him alone one morning while waiting for Bill to finish getting ready for a day hike up the Kahawaiiki stream, which drained the major amphitheater-like side valley at the mouth of Wailau. The hippies had given him a sponge cake, and he offered me a hearty slice. I noticed it had flecks of green in it, and assumed that they had spiced it with some kind of herb. It was quite delicious, and as mentioned previously, this was a hungry trip for me, so when he offered me a second piece, I was happy to accept. I thought he had a rather sly look about him, but could not imagine what it was he found amusing. I soon began to realize that the green flecks were bits of pakalolo that had been baked into the cake! I had received a fairly potent dose! This is the only time I have ever indulged in an illicit drug to the extent that I actually got high from it. Unfortunately, I was not able to relax and enjoy the sensation, since Bill appeared, and I was forced to devote all my attention to my feet as we rock-hopped up the stream and explored Kahawaiiki Valley. By the time we reached a place where I could relax, the effect had worn off.

At this time, the streams in Wailau were teeming with hihiwai, the freshwater mollusk that is sometimes called fresh-water opihi. There were half a dozen on every rock, and we could have collected a quart very easily from almost any square yard of streambed. The Naki family, who own property in the Valley, I believe, came in every summer to fish, and later they harvested the hihiwai to the point where few were to be seen in the streams when I went in on later trips.

In later years, Yamaguchi and Herman Medeiros carried out another trip that I had long planned, but never did do - the hike up Pelekunu Valley to the low point of the saddle on Pohakaunoho Ridge, which connects Puu Olokui to the Kamakou summit of Molokai, and then down Pulena Stream, a tributary of Wailau. Dick Davis had done this years before, with Joyce Davis and some other people, I believe. He saw the Malahini Cave (as spelled on my map - probably meant to be Malihini) while it was still intact, I think, but it was destroyed in a landslide soon afterward. Yamaguchi said that the descent of Pulena Stream was an extremely arduous one. The brush above the stream was too thick to penetrate and the terrain extremely rough, with sheer-walled side gulches dropping down to the stream making it impossible to hike parallel to it. They had to follow the stream itself, rock hopping where possible, but often having to bag their packs to float them across deep pools while swimming behind them, and scrambling down treacherous falls. I wish I had been with them, but I think I was overseas on one of my sabbatical trips when they did it.

After 5 or 6 nights in Wailau Valley, Bill and I hiked back up to the rear and over the pali to home.

Koolau Summit Traverse -- Ryan Moss

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Jun 2021 02:32:00 +0000

Author: Ryan Moss" <m.l.d.video@gmail.com>

Ryan Moss

As for my journey... I would first would like to thank anyone whoever cleared a trail, tied a ribbon as a trail marker, pioneered those saddles and just wasn't afraid to go out and explore. I owe a huge thanks to first off my family for always being there to support me throughout this journey. Kris and Martina Harms for always making me feel at home and giving me a place to stay every time I flew in to attempt this journey. Not only taking me in, but helping me through the healing process as I had to lick my wounds a few times. Windy Purdue for dropping me off at the trail head in Pupukea on December 27th (2013) at 7am and being there to pick me up at 6pm on January 1st 2014. The same goes for Kris and Martina who greeted me with a champagne shower on that final day. I need to also thank Fancis Joy, Marcus Greigo, Laredo, Jeremy Kreis, Thomas Engle, and Katie Ersbak for helping me out with trail knowledge, checking up on me, making sure I was always making rational decisions and just sending messages to brighten my days. Thank you to Elizabeth Barney for helping me face some inner demons and appreciate being in the moment along those final 5 and a half days.

I need to thank all my friends back home especially Eric Mehlberg, Ryan Marcus, Rob and Chelsae Donegan, AJ Purdy, Ricky, Bek, Alese, Kathleen, Ugis, Mom and Pop Lesser. I would like to also thank many of the people who I never have met who supported me through social media. I would also like to thank Chase Norton for having documented and opening the possibility of this amazing journey to the rest of the dreamers like myself. To the HTMC members and all the people who take the time to document, maintain, promote in a positive light and preserve these special places, thank you.

I believe that is everyone I wanted to thank. If I forgot to mention you, I am truly sorry and I do reach out with the warmest possible thank you I can give from the bottom of my heart.

As for the journey itself. It can best be described as a mental chess match the entire way. I have learned from spending now roughly a month in total on the Koolau summits that you can always count on the weather being unpredictable, unforgiving, and not really caring what you want it to be like. Even when you think you have the perfect conditions for the traverse some wrench will be thrown into the mix and your plan will be taken for a spin. Knowing this taught me how to learn to control the aspects and challenges that are within my control and let everything play out the way it should or was meant to.

If you want a cliff note version of the summit here it is:

Pupukea Boy Scout Camp to Koloa Cabin: 11.38 Miles.

First part is pavement, then really really muddy and overgrown. Be prepared to have a warm change of clothes and dry pair of sock by the end of the day to help lift your moral. All in all though it's a really enjoyable hike and goes by a lot faster than you think. The views from the helipads, the cabin itself and certain parts of the traverse are amazing. I chose to carry in 6L of water so that I wouldn't have to filter from any streams. I drank 3L that first day and saved the remaining 3L for the next day's trek to Poamoho.

Koloa Cabin to Poamoho: around 7.8 Miles.

Once again expect wet conditions more often than not and it to be extremely muddy. The trail has some holes in it on your way from Koloa to Castle as well as a landslide if I remember correctly. All in all I remember this day passing by quickly as well. I had time to enjoy the views that overlooked Kahana Bay. I always enjoy Poamoho for many reasons, but mostly because of the incredible view you can get from watching the sunset at the helipad.

Poamoho to Waimano: 15 to 16 miles

This day started off as what I thought was going to be where I was going to quit. I think the only reason I didn't was because I wasn't going to let myself not make it at least to Manana. It poured that night and the clouds were swirling on the summit. I remember taking my time getting out of bed because I didn't want to leave the comfort and warmth of my sleeping bag. I finally got out of the cabin around 730am I want to say. I was glad I pushed on because as I started out towards Waikane I was greeted with the most amazing sunrise I have ever witnessed up there. This alone motivated me and gave me my first sense of hope that this would be the journey that I finally reach the finish line. I took several moments to embrace the warmth of the sun and the change of scenery. The previous two days had been cold, windy and wet. This was by far one of the defining moments of my journey through the Koolaus, and the main reason why I will always find myself returning to Poamoho.

The rest of the day after you reach Kipapa is filled finally with ridge walking. You leave behind all the contour trails and embark on a 2-4 ft wide ridge for the rest of the journey. (Those numbers of course are a rough estimate.) My endurance and will power is always tested on these sections between Kipapa and Waimano. Once again the moment you start to really feel the burn and think about how much pain you are in, you have reached a beautiful campsite and get to enjoy the sunset on the summit.

I remember listening to music this day as I watched the sun fade below the horizon line. It's a mind trip to actually see civilization below you as you are camping thousands of feet above.

Waimano to South Haiku: 11.2 miles

Once again up and downs and I was forced to move rapidly as the weather started to shift from bad to worse. I fell asleep to clear summit skies with not rain around 10pm the night before and woke up to a light rain and low clouds. This of course turned into heavier rain and windy conditions. This is everything I feared heading into the saddle sections. I remember reaching the Aiea Powerlines stopping to rest. It was roughly 10:30am. It was raining and I knew there was a cold front on the horizon with unstable winds and weather. Today would be the day that was ultimately the defining moment in the trip at least for me anyway. I vividly remember closing my eyes, visualizing the clouds lifting and the rain stopping as I was reaching the saddle. I sat there in silence and in peace for several moments visualizing all of this and watching myself summit South Haiku. I opened my eyes and as I did a serene tranquility shot through my body. I was finally at peace with myself and was going to accept the out come of this day whichever way it played out. I reached north Haiku about 11:45am and the summit was still covered in clouds and a light rain. I yelled out clear, common clear up for me. I walked with a purpose, slightly optimistic, frustrated, and entirely hopeful that my vision would play out.

As I reached the midway point of the Moanalua Saddle the rain had stopped and the cloud were parting. I could now see the summit of South Haiku clearly. I didn't think much of it at the time. It was roughly 2pm as I had taken my time to make sure I didn't make any mistakes descending the first half of the saddle. I started to make my way up to the summit of South Haiku and reached the stairs that mark you're out of harms way around 3:15-3:30. I was tired but not exhausted. I was relieved to know I had a concrete shelter to camp in to protect me from the winds. I actually contemplated descending the first part of the Kalihi Saddle due to potential showers the next day, but decided not to. At this point I told myself I don't care how fast I finish this summit traverse; I'm here now, i know what lays ahead and how to deal with it. I just want to finish. The sunset was absolutely incredible and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. I passed out around 9pm but was woken up around 10:30 as people were starting to ascend the stairs and camp on the summit to enjoy the sunrise.

South Haiku to K2: mileage ?

I don't know the mileage but I can tell you exactly the amount of years this section will take off your life expectancy due to your nerves being tested..... :)

It's not the safest section, nor does it necessarily have to be as life or death as everyone makes it out to be. I feel comfortable enough now having solo traversed this section 3 times to say that there is a safe manner that it can be completed. This part of the KST demands your full attention to every detail and your respect. Everything is crumbly and eroding right in front of your eyes. It took everything I had to quiet my mind and follow my heart of the decision to continue on to bowman when I realized the summit was once again socked in and wet. I told myself today was going to have to be the biggest day of my life. This was it, leave everything on the ridge. When you walk away today, no matter what the outcome is, there is no shame in error on the side of caution. I reached the eroded dike and it was dry. The clouds were once again parting and I felt like the weather and elements, while they appeared to be toying with my sanity were ultimately on my side. I powered through Kalihi in 3.5 hours and was ecstatic to the summit of Lanihuli. I don't know why this time was so much faster, maybe because I didn't injure myself this time. It may also have had something to do with the fact that I was now familiar with the terrain and what to expect.

Summited Lanihuli around 1130 or so and made my way down to the Puka. I called friends and let everyone know I was safely at the Pali Lookout. It was around 2pm and I knew I would be able to summit to K1 by the end of the day. I'm not going to lie, I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. I climbed the chimney and made my way to that eroded contour that I hate so much. I made it past the contour and continued on.

I was exhausted at this point but had everything I needed. The cloud rolled in and the sun made their really weird circular rainbow. My body somehow was casting a shadow right in the middle of it. It was the most bizarre thing I ever witnessed. I took a photo with my phone just to make sure it was real. I summited K1 and crossed over to K2 and set up camp. I texted everyone that had been checking up on me to let them know I was safe. I also called my mom and finally let her know what I had been up to for these past five days. I promised her after the last attempt that I would stop hiking...... Yeah I had my finger crossed. She took it fairly well, mostly because I was done with the saddles and I told her I only had a half a day or so left. I pitched my tent and did not sleep a single hour that entire night. I now know what it must have been like to go through WW2. The sounds of fireworks echoed through the night and erased any notion of trying to sleep from my mind.

K2 to Makapuu:

Don't know but it feels like an eternity as the expectation of that lighthouse lingers in your mind. I'm going to fast forward through this day to all the highlights. I met and ran into several hikers who were doing new years day hikes. It was a warm welcome from the solitude that I had previously spent along most of my journey. I stopped to chat with everyone of them as I was trying to ease my mind from the stress of just trying to touch the finish line. Some other highlights were running out of liquid just past Mariners Ridge, a guy in passing asking me where I had just came from, and seeing my friends at the Makapuu Lighthouse trail head. To make it official somewhere around 530pm that evening I swung my body around the fence at the light house and slapped the lighthouse wall. The overwhelming feelings of joy, accomplishment of my journey, and the weight and pressure of finishing this incredible hike I started back in May began to lift off my shoulders. Flashbacks of every failed attempt, every broken bone, every sprained knee and ankle, the bee stings, and the miles walked with those injuries. All the sensations of pain and defeat were dripping away as the tears of joy feel from my eyes. I don't know if anyone that days who was walking past me knew or even cared what just happened. I didn't really care to tell you the truth.

5 days 11 hours. I didn't do it in a ultralight fashion.

I wasn't the first and I wasn't changing history, or doing anything that had never been done. I didn't become a expert hiker, a role model, a badass hiker. It didn't make me more famous, or better than anyone else who ventures up into those mountains. I didn't become a hiking celebrity or authority. THere's no fame or glory that come from wandering those mountains for multiple days. You may however find yourself up there somewhere. You may witness some of the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets you will see anywhere in the world. You may find peace, serenity, and pure bliss. You'll have to silence a lot of inner thoughts and fears about venturing into the unknown. There's no rules or right way to complete the KSR: Solo, in groups, day hikes, multi day hikes, combination of both, self contained or assisted. It's just a long journey. It's not something that you should do to prove your worth as a member of the outdoor community. You should do it for yourself and whoever else you invite along your journey. =)

Kahawainui Falls

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 11 Jun 2021 22:45:00 +0000

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

My long-time hiker partner, Dave Webb, was visiting Hawaii from his (slightly) colder home in Oregon, so I got to take him on one of my favorite hikes. Between jeep-road-walking segments, we got to spend three adventurous hours in Kahawainui Gulch, negotiating 18 waterfalls and a crazy hau tangle along the way.

Not surprising, the busted up kayak was still present. However, this time it was between the hau tangle and the first falls. Last May it was at the base of the 8thfalls –a good distance upstream. How this thing gets downstream despite all the obstacles is a mystery. The water level must rise A LOT to accomplish this. In any case, it was busted in two now, with the pieces several feet apart and well above water level. Here is Dave hoping for a big swell to ride it out.

The flow was about perfect this time –not too low and stagnant, and not too high and dangerous. We didn’t get rained on, and the sun even poked through at times. Below is Dave making an attempt on falls #3. This one has deep pool, slick handholds, and is one of the trickiest ones to climb.

Falls #5 is much easier, but still has a deep pool to swim through.

#8 has a nice double falls and tends to get more sun as the gulch widens briefly here.

Below is notorious #10. This is the most dangerous one to get past. Dave (and August) can attest to that.The route that I have used twice prior is seriously degrading, and Dave watched in horror as I nearly fell to the bottom when the delicate handholds gave way.

Side note: Another friend (who will remain nameless) was with me the first time I discovered this hike. He freaked out at #10 and we got into a huge argument on whether or not we should continue. To this day, he still excitedly tells people (usually after several beers)how he entered the woods a boy that day, but left a man. And he refers to this as a “rite of passage” versus a hike.

#12 is another beauty. Here is Dave at the middle tier of that one.

#13 is my favorite one to climb and the only one that would be “unclimbable” without a rope on it. This would easily become “Unlucky#13”if the rope were gone when you got here.

#14 was Dave’s favorite. It was twisting and stair-stepped making for a very cool climb.

#16 is the last big climb. Not far after this are the 17thand 18thfalls and the trail back out of the gulch.After a much anticipated lunch break, we exited the gulch, headed back to civilization, and celebrated with a couple cold beers. Good fun hiking with Dave again!

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

Hike date: March 2011

Back Door to Puu Piei (Piei Mauka) -- Pete Clines

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 02 Jun 2021 07:30:00 +0000

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

Having hiked Pauao ridge from the water tank to the Koolau summit several times, and having scrambled along the tricky section of the same ridge from Puu Piei to the coast a couple times (Piei Makai)…. I thought it would be interesting to complete the remaining section in the middle. Chenay Borja was up for it, and we headed into Kahana valley on foot sometime around 9-9:30am. We endured the long road walk to the water tank at the foot of the Pauao up-trail that I have become too familiar with. Once on trail, I was bummed to see that the uluhe was already growing back from a recent clearing that was done here.

Upon reaching the ridgeline, we paused for a snack at the clearing before heading makai with Piei far in the distance. With knowledge of the terrain and vegetation on the extreme ends of this ridge, I explained to Chenay that we would face the hardest bushwhack at the beginning due to uluhe…with that tapering off along the way…and the ridge gradually becoming more narrow and crumbly but less vegetated. That turned out to be an accurate prediction.

Uluhe choked up the ridge, but it did not grow as high as in the upper regions of this ridge. For the most part, we pushed through at a reasonable pace. A few times I would battle a denser section while waiting for Chenay to catch up. At other times a swath would appear, and then turn off the ridge into the valley on either side. Pigs and pig hunters obviously visit parts of this route.

An impromptu goal of this trip was to check out a spur ridge with a prominent rocky feature that we had noticed many times from the valley. So when we hit the puu where we estimated it originated from, we dropped our packs and went to take a look.

This section provided a nice break from the bushwhacking. It was far more open, but was also steep and narrow in places, and involved using the trees as handholds. There were also a couple trees growing out of the narrow ridge that we had to hike over or through to get by.
After negotiating a tiny saddle in the ridge, I popped out into the open and confirmed I was on the rocky point we were targeting. This was definitely one of the better vantage points in Kahana Valley.

Chenay soon joined me, and we hung around for a while to appreciate the surroundings.

Looking mauka, we could see the ridge snake its way up to Puu Pauao in the clouds.

This vantage point would be a destination in itself, but Chenay reminded me we had other places to be.

Zooming in, the fun and challenging “teeth” of Piei Makai stand out in the shadows.

Refocused, we made our way back to the main ridge, grabbed our gear, and continued makai. We continued to make good progress. Some stretches were surprisingly open while others required more effort. But it all balanced out.

At one point we looked back and could see how far we had traveled from our “prominent rocky feature.” (Spot is too cool to not have a name. Let’s call it Reference Rock, for now.) That’s it in profile, just left of the puu at center.

Moving along, other spur ridges appeared. Some (below) looked really exciting.

As I promised Chenay, the uluhe was being replaced with “trumpet trees” and bad rock. Some sections were so brittle that the slightest foot pressure re-arranged the trail bed. I luckily realized not to trust the large rock in the photos below. A gentle tap was enough to drop this chunk hundreds of feet.

As we neared our goal, we began to encounter several ups and downs that were a bit unexpected. Some were narrow enough to require caution, but the ultimate result was simply a slower pace versus a threat of danger. Given the time of day, though, I checked my watch more than a few times on these parts to make sure we weren’t getting into trouble. In the end, I believe Chenay agreed that some of these spots looked worse from a distance that they were up close.

There were two spots that made the final ascent more rewarding: a diagonal climb on hands, knees, and feet up a loosely vegetated slope….and a short rock face that I scaled before dropping a rope for Chenay. Once the terrain started to level off, we sat down to relax and study our route. Once again, “Reference Rock” is visible, at the very top of the photo. As a reference point, we had begun our bushwhack a fair distance mauka of that - out of view from this angle.

As the sun set behind the Koolaus, the scenery became even more pleasant. With darkness encroaching, we finished our meal and crossed the actual summit of Puu Piei, before descending down the “traditional” route back into the valley. When our eyes alone couldn’t guide us, we broke out the headlamps to finish the journey through the forest and back to the car.

We were fatigued and scratched up from the bushwhack (tore my pants apart) but as always, it was definitely worth it. Pauao ridge has killer views from tip to tail, and wildly varied terrain and challenges one end versus the other.

Hike date: December 2011

Konahuanui 3 -- Waiakeakua Loop

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 11 Apr 2021 23:47:00 +0000

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

“Hiking is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.” That held true for several aspects of last Sunday’s outing. The weather, trail conditions, and even the route would all be a surprise when Duc, August, and I started off into Manoa Valley at 8:40am.

First, the route. I originally planned to lead us up Manoa stream and bypass some waterfalls until we could no longer progress, and then we would climb to a side ridge and decide what to do from there. Simple enough, as Laredo and I had done this previously, encountering 17 falls before we decided to loop out another way. But on this day we only got past two falls –by climbing banyan trees as seen below –before we made a split-second decision to keep climbing up the ridge we were on instead of following the stream.Figured we were already pointing that direction....

So up we continued, sometimes with evidence of previous hikers –a swath -and sometimes not. Steep and slick, but not particularly dangerous, we soon hit the crest of the ridge we were climbing from the west (shaded) side. We took a snack break before popping up onto the ridge top where we would be blasted with the heat of the sun. (And no trades to cool us.) Since I mistakenly only brought my thick rain pants –which trap in heat like a rubber suit –I groaned under the knowledge that I would not be able to wear them as we continued upridge. Since this would mean my shins and thighs taking a beating on the overgrown route, Duc and August volunteered to rotate off with me as lead man today.

Below, August takes a picture of the ridge ahead of us. Konahuanui’s major peaks are visible. On the left (in the shadows) is K1 at 3150’...then K2 at 3050’...and K3 at 2900’. Our newly formulated plan would now lead us up to K3at the center of the photo. Notice how sunny (and warm) it looks.

Our next surprise of the day would be the vegetation along this ridge. It was surprisingly easy to get through –at least when compared with other“seldom used” ridges in the area. At times a swath seemed to exist, while at others it seemed we were the first visitors for quite a while. The low-growth meant excellent views and we could see a group of hikers descending the Konahuanui trail across the valley to our left (west). They whooped out upon seeing us –we did likewise –and I imagine they were curious how we got there.

When we got to the 2500’ mark we were on a level spot and our best guess was that we were standing on the intersection with the old Olympus-Castle trail. This was somewhat “confirmed”as we could see a faint horizontal line continuing along on the ridge to our right (east). Pretty cool. As we scrambled the final 400’to the top, we observed that the weather was rapidly changing. We could see the clouds streaming in from the west, and figured it was only a matter of time before the rain hit us. Below, Duc races to the top as the forecasted lousy weather sets in.

We hit the summit of K3 at 1:15pm and were quickly socked in with clouds. The rain soon followed and the temperature dropped markedly. This was yet another surprise/contrast of the day. The hot, sweaty climb was replaced by a downright chilly lunch break. Fortunately, our summit was enclosed by a cluster of those mossy trees like on K1-K2 so we had a windbreak and a partial rain cover above us. August switched into rain gear to stop shivering, while Duc munched, and I carefully applied salsa to my bean/cheese/rice burrito. Yummy.

We hunkered down for over an hour at the summit, and Pessimistic Pete groaned that we would be in for a wet, view-less crossover along the Koolau. But as we popped out of our enclosure, we were thrilled to see our next surprise. High clouds and gray skies remained, but the low clouds were lifting!

So we enjoyed the scene for a bit, and then departed the summit at ~2:40pm heading east. As we hiked along, the low clouds continued to disappear and reveal the awesome terrain below.

Full of energy and having done this stretch many times recently, Duc raced ahead. August and I poked along at a slower pace to soakin the beauty of the area. The chilly temperatures and light breezes made for comfortable travel. At one point, August and I spotted a ridge far below that appeared to have a swath running through the uluhe. A possible windward route that we were unaware of? We saw no continuation of this route along the summit ridge, but it might warrant an expedition in the future. Below, August points in the direction of the swath. Also visible is “Olympus Windward” from a couple weeks ago. It looks sort of nuts from this angle.

Moving along, we started to get this warm sensation –the sun was breaking through. Rain jackets came off and it started to feel like typical Hawaii again. We took some photo breaks, and August snapped this one of me in my not-so-camouflaged outfit. (My bright yellow backpack can’t be seen from this angle, but I looked like a test pattern for Laredo’s next hairdo.)

Soon after, we arrived at a trail terminus at 2400’. August and I got thereat about 4pm, but Duc had already been there for a while enjoying the windward views. In no hurry, we all hung out until ~4:50pm when we noticed the clouds starting to engulf us from the Manoa-side. We began our descent into the Middle of the valley, with clouds obscuring much of the way. No worries, we’ve seen it before.

We made good time....dropped below the cloud line...and hit Waiakeakua Stream at ~6pm. We all jumped into the pool out of tradition more than to cool off, and after the break we were on our way out of the valley. Back to the cars at sunset. Another enjoyable loop hike safely concluded.

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

Hike date: 30 January 2011

Mamama -- Manana, Waimano, Manana

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Aug 2020 00:15:00 +0000

August Smith (front) and Nate Yuen on the Manana trail

Author: Pete Clines

Hike date: August 2010

...when you summit via Manana, come down Waimano, but finish at Manana. (The other version would be Wainano, btw.)

Sunday was SUPPOSED to clear up in the afternoon. Never did. At least not where we were during this marathon trek. August Smith, Laredo Murray, Nate Yuen and I met up at the Manana trailhead and pushed off at 7am. Overcast skies and socked-in summits kept the ascent cool and comfortable. Expecting too sweat more, I carried 5 liters of refreshments but only drank 2.5 in the end. Lively conversation carried us along the otherwise uneventful trail. We also paused tooo check out several side trails that will require exploration in the future.

We stayed together, and by 10:45 or so we were all at the Manana summit. A lunch break occurred, and we sat in the canopied area toooo talk story. After a while Nate departed back down the Manana trail as he had a committment that would not allow him a late finish. The rest of us packed up and at 11:30 headed along the Koolau summit ridge destined for the Waimano summit. Facing howling winds and cold temps, I put on my blue rain jacket and pants. I looked like a big smurf, but at least I was dry underneath. August has dreads tooooo keep him warm, and Laredo (on cell phone below) is just a tough SOB so he was the only entrant in the "wet T-shirt" contest.

Since none of us had done this particular summit crossover before, we were unfamiliar with the route. No problem when blessed with clear skies, but when faced with near-zero visibility....problem. We followed a swath and some orange ribbons for a while, and soon entered a very interesting "bowl" area. The winds were absolutley whipping here, and we got pushed around a bit as a PHOTO shows. Not long after, the orange ribbons dropped down a gully on our left in an area that quickly disappeared in the clouds. Confused, we continued along the prominent ridge we were on for another 10-15 minutes before second-guessing our route. August warned us of a tricky spot up there where people sometimes go astray in bad weather. Though we were still on a major ridge - and quite a bit higher than what that gully dropped into - we no longer saw ribbons and the swath was practically non-existant. My map showed that we wanted toooooo go due south, but my compass showed that we were beginning to turn SW.

So we decided we'd backtrack. Once back to the ribbons, we opted tooooooo go down a ridge instead of the gully. This eventually joined up with the ribboned route again, and my altimeter reading seemed right, so we figured we were on track. But after a short while the ribbons ceased altogether, the swath choked up heavily in places, and the ridge seemed narrower than we might have expected. Still, my altimeter reading said we were not descending to much, and we were still going south. It was not until a brief (3 seconds?) break in the clouds that we confirmed we were on the KST and not some windward spur that was about toooooooo drop into nothing. Relief.

Laredo Murray and August Smith on the summit crossing

A short while later the clouds lifted again, this time for 10-20 minutes so we were able tooooooooo take some pics and enjoy a break. However, we soon spotted rain coming at us and when the clouds enveloped us again we took off. That's when it got really wild. Fierce winds were blasting us with horizontal rain pellets. They were stinging my face, so I tried toooooooooo hold my jacket hood over my left eye and navigate and clear the trail ahead with only my right eye. Not easy. We got blasted like this the remaining way towards Waimano. Unpleasant, but definitely an adventure. Despite nasty conditions (and getting lost) we reached that trail summit at 2:10. We rested for a while in the lee side tooooooooooo dry off, had snacks, and waited for a view. By 3pm we still had no view so we took off down the Waimano trail. Lots of puddles, on-and-off rain, but again good company.

Sometime around 4:30 I felt an unusual feeling on my face: sunlight! Don't break out the SPF50 just yet, it lasted about 20 seconds. Not long after the rain came back. A quick break under the covered picnic table and then we soon diverted from the Waimano trail into the tunnel that would bring us toooooooooooo the connector route that August and I cleared on a rainy day back in April. Tunnels are always fun, and as before, it was the driest part of our afternoon.

We followed the FURTHER IMPROVED route (thanks, Rich) down the hillside, through the hau, along the stream, through the other hau, etc, etc...reaching the base of "Waimano Pool." What a disappointment. Not only were the falls dry and the pools low (see comparison PHOTOS of Sunday and April)... but there was trash everywhere. Worse than ever. I wish we had bags - and time - for cleaning up the crap people were to lazy and uncaring tooooooooooooo pack out.

With all of us cold from the hike, the pools uninviting, and the daylight fading....we were soon following the trail that would take us up "Cardiac Hill" and back to the Manana trailhead were the cars were. We kept a steady pace and reached the road at 7:15. Just over 12 hours for the day, with 13-14 miles covered. A very worthwhile loop even with nearly no views of...well...anything.

Check out my pics. August also supplied some. He helped me with the spelling to. -Pete

Keaau Middle -- Ohikilolo -- Bob Burd

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Dec 2019 00:36:00 +0000

These unofficially named summits are located in the Waianae Range of western Oahu, on ridgelines separating the Makua, Ohikilolo and Makaha Valleys. Access is from the west in Ohikilolo Valley, at the end of Keaau Homesteads Rd. The looping hike is 6.2mi in length with 3,500ft of gain. Nandor had provided me a GPX track that was super helpful and all I needed to complete the hike in a bit over 5 hours. Unlike the previous day's muddy hike to Ka'ala, today's weather was much better and the entire route dry. Great views all day long, too.

I started just after 8a, having driven Keaau Homesteads Rd as far as I could, through a first open gate at the highway, but stopped by a second gate just past Ohikilolo Adventure Park (not what you might think - this is a horseback riding establishment). I parked on the wide, mowed shoulder outside the adventure park and started up the road from there.

Ample signs let you know this is a hunting area, the current month for gamebirds only.

The area is open for hunting Saturdays, Sundays and holidays. I have no idea if hiking is allowed on other days, but I didn't see anything to suggest I was violating some statute of the Forest Reserve. The first mile follows up to an equestrian staging area and then up a rocky road heading inland, gaining moderate elevation.

Around the one mile mark I noted the fork for the two branches of the GPX track and headed right to do it counterclockwise (it seems the more common direction might be in the opposite direction, but I saw no advantage/disadvantage either way). There are a number of unsigned trails that fork off from the road, so here's where the GPX track is helpful to get you to the start of Middle Ridge. The road gives out, branching off as trails, and I followed one that crossed a dry streambed before turning northeast towards Middle Ridge. I noticed after a short time that the trail I followed was off the GPX track some, so I moved left to try and find the suggested trail in that direction. I never found what I was looking for, though. I found myself at the base of Middle Ridge climbing steeply up through heavy brush, floundering to gain ground for perhaps 10-15min before stumbling upon a good trail to the right - probably the same one I had abandoned. Live and learn.

Very soon thereafter, the first of perhaps a dozen ropes appeared, handlines to help as the ridge begins to steepen appreciably.

The ground was dry today so no need for the help, but they could be quite helpful in wet conditions, especially going down the ridge. The tall grass gives way to shorter versions of the same, fine views and a narrowing ridgeline that winds its way quite impressively up to Kea'au Middle.

The trail is well-defined here and marked periodically with ribbons. Views are present along most of the ridge.

Ohikilolo Ridge to the north looked fantastical with fluted aretes covered in lush green dropping precipitously to the gorge below.

To the right rises Kea'au Ridge, not quite as vertical as Ohikilolo Ridge, but still very picturesque.

There is a knife-edge(ish) section halfway up the route that is quite airy, though no need to diverge left or right from the rocky ridgeline.

Past this section, an abrupt cliff edge is encountered, the trail moving right, off the ridge to do an ascending traverse through a squat, shady forest. The route moves back to the main ridge above the cliff section, eventually emerging at the very summit of Kea'au Middle. I spent just over two hours from the trailhead to reach this first summit.

Lying on the crest between Makaha and Ohikilolo Valleys, the views are stunning and almost surreal, like something invented for a Jurassic Park movie. To the east rises the island highpoint of Mt. Ka'ala, its distinctive flat summit plateau seen in profile. To the northeast rises the day's second peak, Ohikilolo, about 100ft higher than Kea'au Middle.

The ridgeline between them is not for the faint of heart and a tougher challenge than the Middle Ridge I had just ascended.

There is no well-defined trail along this ridgeline and no ribbons to mark it, but one pretty much stays on the ridge with very few deviations, and these just minor ones to avoid small cliffs. Its pretty airy and often looks like you'll run out of room, but I was happy to find it all goes relatively well. It took me 45min to cover the distance along the ridge from Kea'au Middle to Ohikilolo Ridge where one finds a pig fence running the entire length of this east-west ridge. Immediately upon gaining Ohikilolo Ridge I noticed a boarded up research cabin on the other side of the fence.

I would visit this after first turning right and paying a visit to Ohikilolo with more than 500 ft of prominence. Reaching the highpoint is really just a matter of following the pig fence, moving to the north side when difficulties are encountered, and takes all of about ten minutes.

Like Kea'au Middle, Ohikilolo has a small, rounded summit open to views in all directions, revealing coastal views to the north and south, with rugged mountains and valleys in all directions. After snapping some photos from the top I turned to follow the Ohikilolo Ridge heading west.

Returning to the cabin, I paid it a short visit (doors locked, all windows boarded up), then began the 1.2mi hike along the fence and ridgeline a spur ridge that drops south into Ohikilolo Valley. This spur ridge has a few easy class 3 sections, but mostly a steep class 2 descent, pleasant enough.

After about 30min the descent gradient eases as the bottom is nearly reached, changing from a low grass and rocky ridge to tall grass becoming forest. Remembering the trouble I had getting off-route at the start of Middle Ridge, I was quick to get back on the trail when I got off-route a few times. After wading a few hundred feet through very tall grass, I found myself on a more regular trail that came out at a fenceline in the hunting area. There were two trail options here and I followed the one to the right that corresponded to the GPX track. This might not have been a good idea as the trail petered out in a squat forest. It didn't become a bushwhack, but there was a lot of ducking under tree branches before it emerged on a better trail.

I think the left branch back at the fence would have been a better choice, leading more quickly to the main road/trail. Regardless, I got back to the road I had traveled in on, and with a mile remaining, I was back to the jeep by 1:15p. A very fun outing, this one.

Pali Notches to Piliwale -- Pete Clines

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 12 Feb 2019 11:01:00 +0000

Hike date: 23 January 2011.

In January of 2003 I climbed up to Konahuanui from the Pali Lookout by way of the “Notches” ridge. My climbing buddy back then, Brian, was naïve enough to join me. Except for a tense moment when a handhold-rock busted loose on Brian while in a crucial spot over a death drop…. we had a fantastic time with lots of excitement and killer views on a cloud-free day. We exited via the seldom traveled (overgrown) Lulumahu Ridge and looped back to the Lookout.

This past Sunday – almost exactly eight years later – I got Laredo (Murray) and Duc (Ong) to join me for another round of adrenaline. This would be their first time on this ridge. We met at the Lookout and began for the Notches at 8:30 or so. Below is a map of the route, with the orange dash marking the hardest part. This picture was taken from the summit of Lanihuli East – the equally nasty ridge across the valley.

We got to the ridgeline in no time, and were treated to a blast of wind. We realized the gusts would keep us cool as we climbed, but they were also strong enough to make it risky. At times we could feel ourselves being pushed around - not good when you are traveling so near to the sheer windward drop. And the drop on the town side wasn’t much safer. But we had nothing else to do that day…We easily dropped into - and climbed out of - the first notch. There are lots of handholds. The second notch was trickier, but someone has roped it up real good making it reasonable. Back in ’03 there was no rope, and I remember Brian and I climbing halfway down before jumping to the bottom. At that point I remember we joked about being committed to reaching the summit.

Following the second notch, the ridge stays narrow but it also levels off for a stretch until you get to “the Nipple” which is a prominent feature that needs to be climbed. Below is a picture of Laredo and Duc on top of the Nipple. In the background in the photo below is the vertical wall that stops most summit attempts on this ridge. The guys are smiling because they know I volunteered to go first.

A hefty backpack and high winds conspire against you here, so as in 2003, I dropped my pack and tied a long rope around me. I also removed my sneakers so I could get my toes in the cracks and minimize slipping on the wet rocks. I gave Laredo my camera to record the foolishness.

There is a rope in place along the upper half of this wall. But it is possibly the same one from back in ’03. We didn’t trust it much then, and I certainly wasn’t about to bet my life on it now, so I used it only as a guide. Mostly I was using my toes, finger, elbows….anything I could jam in the rocks or create friction with. At the top of the climb is “The Chimney.” Here you are sandwiched between two relatively featureless slabs of rock, and I shimmied up it like I was Santa. The photo below shows me just about to enter the Chimney. A fall here would be painless. The impact…now there’s the problem.

Upon successfully reaching the tiny flat(ish) spot at the top of the chimney, I got to work hauling up the packs. Bracing myself against one of the large boulders, I first pulled up my pack before tossing the rope back down to pull Laredo and Duc’s packs together. The wind was so gusty that I had to tie a heavy rock to the free end before sending it down to Duc. A couple prior attempts with a lighter object (my survival knife in the sheath) resulted in the rope and knife wildly going skyward. Luckily Duc’s knots held as I dragged the gear up the rocky wall. A few snags occurred on the overhangs, but it got done.

With all the packs behind me on the tiny flat spot, I began tying off the ropes for the guys to use in the climb. To be extra safe, I put up a second rope that would reach just below the chimney. As I was doing this, and standing in a sketchy spot above the chimney, I was startled to see a bag go flying over my head! The wind had picked up Laredo’s pack and launched it over me. I helplessly watched it sail down to the town-side…below the ridgeline. Crap. At this time Duc was getting into position to climb while Laredo was resting on the Nipple. He was probably wondering why his bag was now below him.

Duc worked his way up the wall and the Chimney, as I snapped a photo.

After Duc arrived, Laredo made his equally successful attempt. It was then that I learned that Laredo had over a hundred bucks in that pack, along with IDs! He insisted that I go back down and retrieve it. Just teasing. He repeatedly told me to forget it, but I didn’t want this on my conscience so I descended the Chimney and wall…climbed down off the ridge….and managed to get to a tree where his pack got hung up. Even found the water bottle that had flown out.

Relieved, I got back to the ridgeline with a little maneuvering, and made my second climb up the wall. Much easier with the ropes installed! Back together, I climbed several feet above the others to get this look at the top of the Chimney. The boulder on the left was my “brace” when hauling the packs.

We pressed on, reaching another tricky section. We were on a narrow spot and were blocked by another rocky wall. Going over or to the windward side was not a safe option, and the town-side route wasn’t any better. But this was how we would go. This was where Brian slipped the last time, and that memory haunted me as I looked at the death-drop below. So I took off my sneakers and pack (again) and worked my way along a near-non-existent ledge, digging in my toes as I clawed above for handholds. At one point I shoved my knife in the wall to get a momentary foothold and then scrambled up to the ledge above. Then I sent a rope down for my pack…and then Duc and Laredo climbed up the rope which was now affixed to the lone anchor there – a suspect looking rock. With that out of the way, the ridge was more agreeable again to visitors, and we charged up through ie ie and other low vegetation.

We soon passed the junction with “Konahuanui Windward” – a spur that I tried (unsuccessfully) to climb several years ago. The upper portion was just too steep with nothing solid to hold. Soon after this junction we reached a flat spot and took a break to enjoy the views. Following the break, we continued upward, passing a small notch at ~2500’ and a steep wall at ~2800’. I remembered this wall from before. You need to hoist up into a small tree and pull at uki grass and other such things to get above it. With that accomplished, we could taste the summit.

Unfortunately the summit tasted moist. The clouds began to collect as we got nearer, but we soon passed the Piliwale junction, and then saw the “three pinks” marking the terminus of the Club hike from the town side. We did it - and ahead of schedule! Despite messing with ropes and my detour into the valley to fetch Laredo’s pack, we still summitted at 12:45 – 15 minutes ahead of goal. No views, and it even misted on us a little, so we just used the time to have lunch before prepping for the descent.

I had climbed Piliwale Ridge in September 2002 and did not particularly care for it. The upper parts were really overgrown at the time and progress was scratchy and slow. I never returned. But with all the recent use of this route – particularly August who cleared on the way up last summer – we were treated to a pleasant swath on the descent. This would be Duc and Laredo’s first time on Piliwale, and I had to explain how much uglier it used to be. And once we got down to the rocky parts – the ones I like – we were babied with long lengths of fresh new ropes. Before, I just remember old, rotten cables. So even though going down steep ridges like this can be harder (since you can’t see your footing and gravity is pulling) we had no problems. Just took it slow. And once we were below ~2500’ the views came back as we dropped below the cloud line. Great views! Below is the exposed stretch above the (Piliwale) notch.

The ropes were certainly helpful (thank you to the installer) but getting into and out of the notch is certainly doable by relying on the strong trees in the area. And Duc and I even used a welltimed leap to get across one gap in the notch…to avoid going down lower into it. Rainbowman, meanwhile, said something about liking to go down and we left it at that.

With all of us up on the town side (safe side) of the notch, we sat down to finish lunch and soak in the views. It was then that my phone rang. August was stuck in Vegas for work and he must have sensed what we were up to. He guessed correctly on his second try and was obviously bummed to be missing out. See, only hardcore hikers would prefer to be sweaty and dirty on a crumbly ledge than in the “City of Sin.”

Break time concluded, we departed the notch and made our way down the mellow trail to eventually meet up with the Maunawili Demonstration Trail. What exactly it was demonstrating was fodder for our conversation as we took one last break there. Then we set off towards the hairpin turn parking area at a brisk pace….turned left on the connector just before it….and followed it to the “Old Pali Road.” We stopped along the way to check out the ridges we climbed. Below is Piliwale, with the notch directly above Laredo.

The road brought us back to the Pali Lookout at 5:45pm

Backpack to Wailau Valley, Molokai -- Ted Kanemitsu (2017)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 22 Jan 2018 20:55:00 +0000

Ascent of Kawaikini (Waialeale)--Lou Hibbard (2017)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 22 Jan 2018 20:03:00 +0000

I did this as part of family vacation- they stayed on Oahu. I dayhiked Kawaikini.

I drove to Mohihi Trailhead in fading light - gravel road all in the dark and an adventure. It was odd to have this marginal road with the fancy bridges and yield signs.

I slept in truck and started hiking at 5:19 AM. It was cool to have so much ridgetop hiking in early section. The river crossing involved a skip across boulders. I would have went later in trip but weather looked good now.

I had never bothered with using a GPS track before - this time I tried but data truncated. I have an old GPS. I only had data to near the creek crossing. I never had used Tracbac before except a neighborhood try 2 days before - that was interesting.

The trail was overgrown in places but still could be followed. I only lost it twice momentarily on the way back.

I hadn't memorized all the old trip reports I looked at as good as I thought so the fenceline was confusing. Ribbons ran out after cone so backtracked and took left fence variation. There were lots of options so I just kept going toward summit and it all worked out. The best tactic is to just keep the fence on the left the whole way (see pic below) even if ribbons run out.

pic credit: zoink On the final ridgeline I saw 4 goats. The clouds were blowing in and out. The Summit was just a bump in the ridge.

But there was no rain all day, so I was very lucky. I did carry a very lightweight tent and pad for emergencies but no sleeping bag.

I was back to truck at 8:15 PM. What a cool adventure! I loved this hike. Maybe being in the jungle made it more unique.

Perhaps on this trip more than any other having read old trip reports was very important - although I still messed up the fence hiking on the way up. --Lou Hibbard

An Ascent of Pu'u Kukui -- Burton A. Falk (1978)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 21 Jan 2018 06:07:00 +0000

Early on in my long fascination with Maui I became intrigued with the idea of climbing 5;788' Puu Kukui (lit., "candlenut hill"), rising just east of Lahaina, the high point of the West Maul Mountains. Doing a little research, I found that this peak--because of its almost permanent cloud cap-is one of the wettest spots on earth. The mountain, in fact, has an average rainfall of 40 feet/year, and often competes with Kauai's Mt. Waialeale as the soggiest spot on the planet. Read more...

Kawiwiunu (Puu Kawiwi to Kamaileunu) -- Pete Clines (2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 21 Jan 2018 05:37:00 +0000

Finally got to do the crossover between Kawiwi and Kamaileunu! I have been interested in this route since hearing that Al Miller did it years (and years) ago. I was supposed to take some of the gang up there back in January, but I got sick and spent that weekend in bed. Then the weather was just uncooperative all the recent Sundays. But this past weekend we had the trades back and the forecast was for less rain, so we (Kevin, Duc, August, and I) went for it. Below is the route starting from the usual trailhead in Waianae Valley. The blue arrow marks the notch which is where it gets particularly exciting.

After leaving my car near the Kamaileunu trailhead, we rode in Duc’s car to our starting point, and set off up the paved road at 8:30ish. The road was wet and slick - not a good sign as we would prefer dry conditions for a safe climb up and across. From the curve in the road we ducked into the forest on the path to the base of Kawiwi. Most of my ribbons from last year were gone, but we had no trouble finding our way. The heavy rains lately had caused a lot of growth. We waded through torso-high grasses on the approach… and even the rocky scrambles at the base of the climb were covered in “green.” As we gained elevation, the greenness subsided, and we tackled the rocky sections carefully as they were moist and our shoes were not getting much friction. In fact, after a few minor slips I began to rely more on pulling with my arms than trusting my legs.

Above, Kevin casually offers August “a hand” on one of the rocks. Below left, we came across a familiar trail-marker. Last winter, I had tied a pink ribbon through the eye sockets of this goat skull as a surprise for the others in our group. Totally faded, it still gave the skull a decidedly feminine look.

Above right, Duc points out the best way up a large, smooth boulder. It looks much easier in the photo, but the lack of dry handholds made this a fun “bouldering” challenge. From there we continued upwards, with Kevin occasionally asking if we were there yet. As the only one with an altimeter, I kept reassuring him that we were getting closer. We were fortunate that the weather stayed cool and overcast, but with only minimal sprinkles. When it did spit on us, I secretly wondered if we would have to skip the crossover if it got too slick. But at 11:10 I found myself on the broad, open summit and was more optimistic. The others joined me shortly after, and we enjoyed a leisurely lunch break with panoramic views. Looking mauka, we could see “No Name Peak” and the ridge beyond. Duc has been that way before…August and I have done that section twice…and the weather was more menacing in that direction than makai. So at noon we packed up and prepared to keep with our original plan. Immediately after leaving the summit of Kawiwi, there is a sharp drop on the makai side of the ridge. Having scouted this way last winter, my cable was still in place as an aid to get down. Not wanting to trust it 100%, I set up a second rope. Since there are no dependable trees, I looped it around the large boulder – similar to my cable - but leaving both free ends hanging down. This meant descending while gripping both ends, but since it was not tied to anything, we were able to retract the rope from below once we were all down. Group consensus was to lower the packs on a separte rope to ease the process. (below left) Duc was last man down. (below right)

Once everyone was down and the ropes were put away, I led the guys down the saddle of the ridge. The first half has its rocky descents, but also a bunch of bushwhacking through haole koa andother progress-slowing branches. After the low point – was it 2600’? – we began to climb a crazy pile of boulders that I liken to “a giant’s building blocks” in a previous report. At one point, there is a large square block in the way. You can either do a jumping pull-up on top of the rock, and then a jump off the other side (as Duc and I did) or carefully tunnel under the block (as did August and Kevin) on the narrowest of ledges. Immediately after that, we reached the massive rock outcropping that marks the mauka side of the notch. This was as far as I had gone during my previous scout trip. The views from here are truly awesome and the drop into the notch is imposing. Below is a shot of August and Duc approaching the notch. Kawiwi’s summit is at the center of the photo.

Once gathered at the notch, I pointed out the old cable dropping into it that I found last year. Since this is likely Al Miller’s…and thus at least a decade old…I opted to install our own safety line. The drop here is long, smooth and scary. A broken cable/rope would be the end of you. As with the cable, I decided to loop the rope around the strongest object – a boulder partway down the notch. Since we wanted to be able to retrieve the rope as before, I cut a length of August’s strong rope and looped it around the boulder, knotting it off at a pinch point in the back. I then snaked another rope through this “loop anchor,” again, with both free ends hanging down so we could simply pull it to us when finished. I went down first to get the ropes straightened out and check for footing. As luck would have it, the two ends of the 50’ rope were just long enough to get me to a usable ledge. Just below that was a relatively level spot. This makes the main drop about 25’. Add in the drop to the anchor point, and the final drop below the rope to the level spot, and total height is roughly 40’. However, the drop just slightly to either side – if one were to fall – was an additional several hundred feet. From the level spot, Kevin and I were able to snag the packs, including August’s bag-o-bricks, as the guys lowered them. Because of their angle, they would toss the packs outwards until the rope went taught and then they could lower them. Seeing these heavy packs momentarily free-falling on us was nerve-wracking as we had no where to go if the rope snapped or they misjudged the amount of slack. Below is the view looking back up. Rock is overhanging here, so we descended just to the left.

Below is a photo of the guys celebrating. All the packs have safely made it down to us.

Kevin took a photo of me guiding Duc down the wall as August repacks a rope. Behind me is a horrific drop. In the background is “No Name Peak.” The weather was steadily improving by now.

Below, Duc begins, and then completes, the descent of the mauka side.

From the notch, we climb back out on the makai side. A series of steep, natural switchbacks keeps it rather simple, and we make it up the wall with less difficulty than anticipated.

The ridge begins to level off, and we know we are just below the Kamaileunu Trail terminus.

At 2:30 pm, I notice “three pinks” and recognize the large boulders marking the end of the Club hike. The challenging crossover took a full 2.5hrs but never had a dull moment. A fantastic stretch.

At 3:30 pm we finished our second lunch break and packed up to leave. At 3200’ and under high clouds, the conditions were cool and comfortable, and we were all smiles. But as we got lower and closer to the coast, weather got progressively sunnier and hotter, resulting in a different expression, as seen below left. Are we there yet?

As we moved along we couldn’t help notice how green and overgrown Kamaileunu was. The high grass made it tough to avoid hidden rocks, so a slower pace was warranted. The number of evil plants up there was also shocking and several varieties would leave “spikes” in your socks, skin, or anything else they touched. Worse still were these unusual “trail mines” as seen above right. None of us had remembered seeing these before, but Nate has since identified them as Leonotis nepetifolia or “Lion’s Ear.” They were all over the lower portions of the trail, with a patch covering the trailhead that grew about head high! They would sharply poke you with even the lightest contact. Very annoying. Despite the painful entry onto the paved road and back into civilization we were thrilled with the day’s outing. We walked through a neighborhood replete with barking dogs and were back at my car at 6:10pm. We had just enough daylight to drive back into the valley and retrieve Duc’s car before darkness (and additional theft risk) set in. A traditional post-Waianae-hike trip to Jamba Juice for coldsugar pleasantly concluded the day.

Olomana 3rd Peak (Ahiki) backside

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 20 Jan 2018 23:07:00 +0000

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Feq7JBQa8c

Ascent of Kawaikini on 2017-06-28

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 28 Jun 2017 23:01:00 +0000

View of Poipu from Kawaikini

Hikers: Greg Slayden, Laura Newman, Shannon Dilmore, Peter Barr

Ascent Trip Report

Useful Info:

As recently as 2006, the trek to Kawaikini’s summit took up to five tough days of intense jungle bushwhacking through soggy swamps and impenetrable brush. However, over the past decade the access situation here has improved dramatically, mainly due to the construction of pig-control fences. At this point, the trip to this peak no longer involves any bushwhacking and is mainly a trail hike. To be sure, it remains a very rough, rugged, and difficult hike of 23 miles round-trip, and the rainy climate can cause issues with stream crossings and deep mud. But a dry-weather climb by hikers with a 4x4 for trailhead access can be a relatively easy two-day backpack trip.

From the Kokee State Park lodge and museum area, a dirt road across Route 550 signed “YWCA Camp” leads east towards the Alakai swamp. This road leads 6 miles to its end, and in most conditions a 4x4 (or maybe AWD) vehicle will be needed to drive the full distance.

From the picnic shelter at the end of the road, the Mohihi Trail leads 5.8 miles to the first pig fence. This path is often overgrown in several places, unsigned, and has lots of ups and downs, but for the most part provides easy footway. A GPS with a trail track is helpful at confusing junctions. The main obstacles are the crossing of the Koaie Stream during times of high water, and several low logs to duck under in the last mile or so.

The pig fence now begins at the spot where a log arrow once existed. A meter-wide swath in the jungle to the right of the fence provides a good pathway for 4.6 miles to the edge of the Blue Hole escarpment in an area of boggy, open moorland. There are some steep and muddy ups and downs and sometimes you have to climb over fences at junctions but overall it is good going. From the fence end it is a mile stroll south to Kawaikini, or a third of a mile north along a fence to Waialeale and its rain gauge and little pond.

The peak has been day-hiked, but most parties will want to camp at least one night. In rainy conditions finding level, dry ground for tents could be challenging, but at dry times the grass at Sincock’s bog, a mile past the start of the fence, makes a logical camping spot for a two-day trip.

Our Story:

Tuesday, June 27:

The four of us gathered together in a Lihue motel on Monday night and got our gear all organized—we were prepared for the infamous rain with lots of wet-weather gear and plastic bags. Unfortunately, our rental car company was all out of 4x4 vehicles. So on Wednesday morning, after doing some grocery shopping, we tried to switch our car, but we would have had to switch companies and we didn’t want to take the time.

The weather looked clear and sunny as we drove from Lihue up to Kokee State Park, and Peter took the wheel of our Nissan Rogue 2WD—we hoped his extensive experience with off-roading would help us coax our soccer-mom SUV to the end of the road. Sadly, after 2.6 miles, we encountered a muddy hill that it just couldn’t conquer, so we had to pull into a turnout, get our packs together, and start hiking 3.3 miles of road. Ugh.

At the picnic shelter we regrouped and started hiking the trail. It was so hot and sunny I wish I had brought my special sun hat and shirt—I had to make due with my rain hat. The trail was good at first, passing another picnic shelter quickly and then becoming a bit narrower and overgrown. After 3.7 miles of minor ups and downs the trail plunged steeply down to the feared Koaie Stream, scene of some epic crossings by previous parties. However, on this dry day, it was a trivial rock hop. We rested on the rocks and Shannon sterilized some water for us. On the far bank was a squalid hunter’s cabin, and we stashed the rope we brought to help with the crossing here.

The trail then led steeply uphill and then undulated along for a couple more miles. It was a bit more obscure here, and I found ducking under low logs with a full overnight pack tiresome. We were looking for the “Arrow” carved into a log as the next landmark, but at its location was a brand-new pig fence. Hiking the swath to its right made for easy going, and in less than a mile we came to the grassy meadows of Sincock’s Bog.

It had been a long day so far for us, with heavy packs, so we decided to camp here. The grassy areas were a bit spongy and wet underneath, but dry enough to pitch our tents on. Peter and Shannon shared one tent, I had a small tent for myself, and Laura elected to sleep under the stars and only come inside a tent if it started raining, which looked unlikely under the blue sky. We could see a cloud bank to the east, over the summit area, but it seemed static in place there.

We had a leisurely evening of gear sorting, eating our cold food (we brought no stoves, anticipating wet and miserable weather), and remarking on our good weather. Laura had been to this spot in 2013 before turning back, and she barely recognized our entire route, since she had been in a downpour the whole time. For us right now, ironically, a big issue was lack of water—we were “dry camping” with just what we had brought from the Koaie Stream crossing.

We turned in at nightfall, around 7:30 PM. During a midnight bathroom break I was happy to see a sky full of stars—Laura might have been the first person to do a dry bivvy so near the summit.

Wednesday, June 28:

We were up around 5:30 AM, and we quickly ate some cold food and got our daypacks together for the summit trip. We left around 6 AM and continued following the fenceline east-southeast towards the summit. The terrain was a mix of low trees and open bogs, and the fence made several steep, short ascents and descents on muddy chutes, where holding on the fence (or, sometimes, a helpful rope left on the path) made things easier. At one point the right side of the fence had eroded away and we had to cross it twice, or do an airy move over the washout.

The nearer we got to the summit, the cloudier it got, and when we finally reached the edge of the huge Blue Hole escarpment we were in a windy, foggy white-out. It never rained on us, but the fog was unfortunate, severely limiting visibility. We followed GPS tracks south over easy but somewhat frustrating terrain—there were many low hillocks to circumvent, and the grassy moor was marshy and spongy. The faint paths we found were muddy and therefore not much use, and navigation was hard in the dense fog.

At last we made our final climb and found ourselves on the prominent little knoll that clearly marked the highest point of Kawaikini. Ecstatic, we passed congratulations all around—Laura has just become the 11th person (and first woman) to complete the Hawaii county high points, while I completed a long-term goal of finishing the “Apex” (“twenty toughest”) county high point list, the third person to do so. We then sat down in the lee of the strong wind, and, since there was cell reception, those with phones let the world know where we were.

After resting, snacking, and texting, I had one last task—to scatter some ashes of my late friend Edward Earl, who, like me, was stuck at 19 on the Apex list for many years. We had talked about making this trip together, and Kauai had a special meaning for him. Shannon filmed my brief ceremony while Laura and Peter, who both also had known Edward, looked on.

We then packed up and navigated back north over the foggy, windswept terrain, taking a route that was slightly longer but better protected and with less vertical gain. Back at the fenceline we turned north, with two objectives—the world-famous rain gauge at Wailaleale, and a small pond that Shannon had located while web surfing on his phone at the summit, where we hoped to fill up our dry water bottles.

It was not far along the fence to where we struck off left up a small knoll to check out the gauge and its associated infrastructure—Shannon stayed below to conserve strength. We went back down to him and shortly located the little pond further north. The weather was atrocious at this point—no rain, but very intense wind and very dense fog—so we didn’t feel like waiting around to use the Steri-Pen. We just dunked our bottles in the clear water and hoped for the best. Peter made a brief foray to look for the Heiau (ancient Hawaiian altar) in the area but the rest of us were not interested.

We returned to the fence gate stairs shortly and were soon retracing our path back towards camp. The weather improved with every step we took, and by the time we were back to our tents was hot and sunny again. It was along here we saw the only other party on our entire hike, a two-person state pig hunting crew, complete with GPS-collared dog and high-powered rifle. They had us going for a minute by kidding that we had pitched our tents on an endangered plant.

We were at camp by around 1 PM, and we elected to pack up and head out today—the weather was holding and we saw no need to hang out. Before 2 PM we hit the trail and followed the fenceline to the “Arrow”, and then the Mohihi trail towards the trailhead. As before, it was nice going. My relatively new leather boots had kept the water out during our summit bog traverses, and there was hardly any mud on the trail, so I had the luxury of dry socks for the entire hike. This may perhaps be a first for this trip!

We had another long rest at the Koaie Stream to refill our water supplies, and then grunted up the very steep slope up from the river and then the miles of good trail towards the trailhead. We made the picnic shelter at the road’s end by 7 PM and began hiking the road towards our car, cursing out our rental car company (and all the posers who had taken our Jeeps merely to look cool). We thought it was 2 miles, based on GPS straight line distance, but the twists in the road added up to 3.3 miles total. We had to break out headlamps halfway along, and at last arrived at our car at about 8:30 PM, quite tired after hiking over 19 miles this day.

One thing that kept up going was the knowledge that Peter’s wife Allison had reserved a large cabin for us right at Kokee State Park, so we did not have very far to go for shelter, food, and showers. We pulled in to the cabin within 10 minutes of ending our hike, and Allison even had pizza, beer, and other snacks waiting for us. The cabin had 3 single and 1 double beds, perfect for our party. The four of us took showers in turn, ate, and passed a relaxing evening before turning in after a successful ascent.

Epilogue:

We called ourselves the “fortunate four”, in contrast to the “soggy six” Laura had been part of in 2013. We had zero rain for the two days we were out, no issues crossing the stream, and no bushwhacking due to a reasonable trail, a fenceline, and open grassy terrain. June is known as the driest month in Hawaii, and while this in not reflected in the Waialeale rain gauge statistics, it could be that the permanent cloud bank we encountered on the summit is the reason for this, and the bulk of the area sees better weather in the drier summer.

Our trip would have definitely been better with a rented 4x4 vehicle, and no fog on the summit, but overall it was a successful and enjoyable trip to a rarely-visited spot.

Ascent of Kamakou

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 19:45:00 +0000

Ascent of Kamakou

by Rob Woodall

9 Jan 2013

We (Laura Newman, Adam Helman, Duane Gilliland and I, Rob Woodall) take an early flight from Lihue via Honolulu to Molokai. John Mitchler, Don Nelsen and Bob Packard are already here: John meets us at the airport, Art picks up a rental car and we drive into town to buy food, water and cooking fuel. We have lunch then call back at the airport to meet John Klein who's on a later flight; Bob Packard and Peggy Swift also meet us here to say hello. John M and Don drive us and our gear up the rough dirt road (Don's 2WD pickup makes it OK) to the picnic site N21.13049 W156.92148, 1088m. An impressive location, with a superb three-quarter-circle rainbow and a view down a steep short valley to the ocean nearly 1100m below.

Here the five us set up our tents, under the picnic shelter out of the wind and rain showers. A welcome contrast to the cramped dirty sloping site we occupied at Sincock's bog below Kawaikini a few days ago. We arrive about 3 pm and enjoy a leisurely evening. John, Don, Laura and Bob sleep down in town and will join us in the morning.

10 Jan 2013

I leave camp at 4.50 am, a few minutes after the others and soon catch them on the winding muddy potholed 2 mile road. Just before the trailhead there's a signed fork N21.11822 W156.90845 where we keep left. In a few metres we reach a very small turning head N21.11819 W156.90818, 1186m which could accommodate 2 or 3 cars, although only the more dedicated 4x4ist would want to drive here.

From the trailhead we take the board walk which continues straight ahead (east). It's underwater in places, and narrow, although the one place where it's significantly elevated it's double width. It's surfaced with a metal mesh so is generally an easy walk, except for a few trip hazards where the mesh is unattached. We reach an area of low vegetation; at N21.11914 W156.90087 is a junction where we turn R. Below is Don Nelsen's video footage of the same boardwalk from another trip (to Puu Alii), in daylight.

Bob Packard goes in front and we discuss Ultra bagging. He tells one of his tales, of an embezzling Filipino guide who had to be bailed out during a group trip.

It's just daylight when we reach the gate N21.11957 W156.89716, 1295m - perfect timing. After a brief stop we turn R (SE), following the low metal fence - all except Art Janssen who turns back at the boardwalk. We navigate using a GPS track with a compass bearing as backup. Don Nelsen leads as he and John Mitchler have attempted the peak before, also he seems to have a feel for navigation in this dense jungle terrain.

Initially the jungle isn't too dense and we make reasonable time over the first 0.8 miles to the first summit Kaunuohua, N21.11460 W156.88589, 1387m. There's a fine view down over precipitous jungle to the ocean; also a two stage rusty metal pole of unknown function, topped with a white plastic bottle.

We've been following blue tape flagging for most of the route, apparently making a bird transect line from a survey undertaken in 2011 (and probably earlier dates). This means there's a trail of sorts, which is very helpful except at one location....

Soon after this top it's necessary to turn L at about N21.11147 W156.88307 onto a side ridge, keeping L ie fairly close to the steep edge, looking out for pink marker tape instead of the blue. This turn is not obvious from the map and we miss it. We've been following blue tape flagging from almost the start, and go maybe 15 minutes down a false ridge too far L, before we notice (this has been edited out of the posted GPX track). Don has been following on behind with Bob and even he misses it. We continue as a group, back tracking to where we should have turned, then we head down a steep dense jungle slope. There's no sign of a trail and at first, no sign of a feasible descent, but we force our way down through dense vegetation, finding a few pink markers.

Once at the foot of this steep slope we pass R of a dense tangle of vegetation then pick up another line of blue flagging which continues all the way to Kamakou summit. Without this marked trail the jungle bush whack would have taken far longer than our 12.5 hours round trip: even so it is very slow and arduous, with many obstacles to be gone under or over, and thick vegetation to be pushed through where the jungle has reclaimed the old transect route. The most difficult thing for me is getting the pack caught when trying to go under obstacles. Laura just has a bum bag / fanny pack with a litre of water and some food - this seems ideal.

Below is a short video clip, captured by Don, which show the terrain involved.

With such tough going it soon becomes clear that Bob will either have to travel independently or stay back. He stays back while the remaining seven continue, with Don and I mostly breaking trail.

There are half a dozen false summits to go over, with a couple of awkward steep descents. We reach the summit at about 2 pm, far later than intended and well beyond our proposed 12:30 turnaround time. We'd decided we can bushwhack the last hour out in the dark if needed. The summit (N21.10666 W156.86832, 1530m) is a fairly obvious spot in fairly dense jungle, within a few metres of the locations given by Peaklist, Peakbagger and the topo map.

At 2.20 pm we head back down. Much better progress now we have a trail opened up but still very slow, with the team tiring. Don goes ahead to retrieve Bob (we never see them again and the pickup is gone from camp when we finally arrive: we later learn that Bob navigated back to the boardwalk in daylight). Don at a youthful 65 years is an incredibly strong hiker.

The remaining six of us get back to the easier terrain of the main ridge with half an hour of daylight remaining, and bush whack the last half mile in the dark. As expected, this is doable but difficult: I repeatedly find, lose and refind the GPS track recorded on our way out. We take some pretty bad lines but everyone is patient and in time we find the fence and are then soon back at the boardwalk gate, at 7.30 pm

I head down on my own and am back at our picnic site at 8.40 pm: a 16 hour round trip. Someone doing the hike "tomorrow" and travelling light could save a few hours on this time thanks to our trail - but the jungle will quickly grow back over the tiny graze we have inflicted. Next day we hike Puu Alii the Kalawao county highpoint.

Overall I thought the trip was good fun, quite challenging, quite unlike anything I've done before. Far more enjoyable than the Kawaikini backpack. My jungle memories: the tree ferns which seem to each have its own character; the soft mosses which cloak every tree like towelling; the beautiful liquid song heard frequently from some unseen bird (the Apapane, I later learn, a Hawaii endemic); the three points where our route emerges at the clifftop and I'm taken in by that superb view down over precipitous jungle to the ocean far below.

Would I do it again? Yes, probably, although as it's the opposite side of the world from my UK home I doubt if I ever will.

Don Nelsen's excellent photo album (alternatively this link) - impressive photos considering the wet dirty conditions of the hike. You may have to log in as a guest using donnelsen@yahoo.com then if necessary look for the Kamakou album.

Also Don's fly-through of the route

Hint: once the page loads, hit play (lower left of the page) and then stop right away to let the graphics catch up, then start again.

Post script: we learn next morning that it's possible to access Kamakou from the east, in a 4 hour round trip, via ranch roads: the Conservancy have an easement. But is this true? ....

Loop of Waiahole Middle (aka Old Kipapa Windward) to Waiahole Uka (Current Kipapa Windward?)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 29 May 2012 19:08:00 +0000

Around the turn of the century (I love saying that) a group of hardcore HTMCers scouted a prominent windward ridge that divides Waiahole Valley into north and south. They named this ridge “Waiahole Middle” and/or “Kipapa Windward.” Aside from two notches roughly mid way up, their reports indicate a ridge that was otherwise gradual and seemingly “doable.” They managed to get past the lower notch, but stopped at the imposing second notch when common sense prevailed. They were later successful in scaling its neigbor to the north, which is now an advanced Club hike named “Waiahole Uka” (or occassionally “Kipapa Windward.”)

Having less common sense than Dayle and Patrick and crew, Chase and August and I decided to check out the “original” ridge – the one with the notches – to see if we would have better luck. A detour including pie and koi fish (don’t ask) meant that we would have safe parking in the valley, but also a late start. At 9:40am we began into the valley, first on the jeep road, but quickly bushwhacking off to a ridge on our left. This spur would eventually bring us up to the desired main ridgeline. We rotated front man to conserve energy through tall uluhe. (See August’s photo below.)

Following some steady plowing, a final steep scramble through uluhe brought us to the ridgeline. We would fight our way a bit further until intersecting the contour trail of the Waiahole Ditch Trail. After stepping across this flat grade, we continued up the main ridge with more open conditions. We assume this is where other groups had jumped on this ridge. But after a while the way choked up a bit and we were hacking on the fly again. We affixed extension cord (old school style!) on two short descents. Helpful, but not really needed. Did eliminate some pack weight, though.

The first notch was reached, and we found it has a sizable rock pinnacle jutting out of it. Chase was on lead at this point and got high up before running out of safe holds. We agreed he should descend and we would look for a contour. On his way down the tricky pinnacle, a number of chunks dislodged and gave me a scare as they plummetted by! With Chase back down, we contoured to the left on a steep slope but with safety of tree-handholds. We climbed steeply out of this notch, finding old ropes buried in the vegetation. Looking back, we realized we made the wise decision to contour the pinnacle as it was even worse on the mauka end. Very tall, very steep, and very bare. Would have been dangerous and unnecessary. (No comments, please.)

Not long after the first notch, we hit the second. August snapped a pic just before the drop.

We studied it for a while, and could understand why other hikers did not continue. The photo does not show the crumbly, exposed rock in the lower portion. My turn in front, so Chase and August tied my 150’ webbing to….something sturdy I hope… before I dropped down a very steep uluhe wall. Not knowing if I had solid ground under me, I took my time, and tested for hidden holes. In the notch, I asked the guys to wait while I investigated the mauka end. I cut the webbing at the bottom of the makai wall and secured it to a branch so it wouldn’t blow out of reach if I needed to go back up. Then I tied one end of the remainder of the webbing around my waist, and dragged 100+feet of it behind me as a way to mark my path. When the steep contour wore out, I began up a wall of mostly dead (poorly rooted) uluhe. I inched my way up using friction from my arms, knees, and feet to keep me from slipping back down. The holds were terrible, but patience paid off and I pulled myself onto the ridgeline, now above the notch. I untied the webbing from my waist, attached it to a sturdy root, and began clearing a rest area while Chase and then August negotiated the drop/contour/climb. Below is a pic of the makai end of the notch after 3 hikers crashed a swath down it.

Below is a pic of our planned descent route, Waiahole Uka, across the valley.

With all of us safely past the tough spot, we were motivated to summit. But that was going to take longer than expected. Travel past the notch seems nil, and the growth was thick. We traded out on front man as we battled uluhe, i’e i’e and other tangled mess. Worst were the stunted, mossy trees that had to be climbed over, tunneled under, or broken through. Solid ground was a rarity. But the grade was always gentle. In fact, when the clouds enveloped us and visibilty dropped, the ridge just seemed to continue forever with no sign of the summit.

But at 4:30pm the ridge finally topped out and we intersected a faint swath that indicated we hit the Koolau summit. The winds were whipping and the clouds kept it cold so we hunkered down at that spot to have a rest/meal break. We tied a ribbon to mark the junction. And soon we were on our way to Kipapa with “KST Chase” leading the tour. We moved swiftly as 1) it was late, 2) it was cold, and 3) there were no views to distract us. We paused briefly at the Kipapa summit to take a pic of the clouds.

Chase showed us a way around the landslide near the Kipapa summit…we paused to observe the cabin remains amongst the Sugi Pines… and by 5:30pm we were on our way down Waiahole Uka, which was a familiar route to us all.

With no views and no time to wait for them, we descended fairly quickly. We hit the bottom of the uluhe swath and the junction with the “Kuolani-Waianu” contour trail at 6:30pm. Below the clouds, we had been able to see our ascent ridge while crashing down through the uluhe. In the photo below, the two notches are visible. The upper (trickier) one is easy to make out with the cloud in the background. Somehow it looks easier from far away…

Heading left (north?) on the contour trail, we traveled in and out of several gulleys until crossing the dry stream by the intake. Then it was down the wide jeep road to our exit point, which we hit around 7:30-7:40 I think. No headlamps were needed, and conversation entertained us on the brisk walk. Good loop with enjoyable and capable company.

I should also mention that while on the ridge past the upper notch we had views towards Manana and the Waiawa Gap – until higher up and clouds rolled in. At the low point in the Koolau summit, we could make out a series of straight lines zig-zagging down the pali. I remembered reading about a switchback trail in Waiahole Valley in Stuart’s new book. We believe that is what we saw. This would be above the giant water tunnel that goes through the mountain to the leeward side. The upper third was fairly distinct from a distance, but the lower parts were anyone’s guess. Would be cool to recreate THAT route!

Author: Pete Clines <peteclines@YAHOO.COM>

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 8, Konahuanui to Makapuu

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 06:45:00 +0000

Day 8 (04/01/12), Konahuanui to Makapuu, 15 hrs, 10 miles

Total Pack Weight: 18.6125 lb.

The standard trek. It's the cool down from the workout. Enjoy every moment and laugh the entire way. You have made it, but still take caution, now is not the time to injure yourself. If you do not have it in you to finish today there are many camp options. Mariners, Camp Awesome and Chaps to name a few. But you got this so push!

Bail: A lot, don’t do it though

Pitter patter against the tarp woke me around 6:30 am and I decided to try and wait for it to pass before getting out of bed. Shortly, the rain ceased and I began what would turn out to be the last day of my journey.

Today I started with 3L of water to get me to Makapuu and what does idiot me do? Make 500ml of coffee to start the day! Really would have enjoyed that water later in the day. Mistake 3. At K1 there used to a pink ribbon blocking the descent of a side ridge. It is no longer there and in the fog of my morning mind and the excitement I made mistake 4 by descending down this ridge. At some point I realized the clouds were much darker around me than the ones to my left and a quick yell confirmed my suspicions that I was descending off the summit. Grumbling, I retraced my steps to my camp site and started off an hour late at 8:45 along the summit.

I crossed over to K2 and took a short break before heading to Olympus. I ran into a small group checking out the summit, said brief hellos, and continued onwards. Lanipo came up shortly after which I ran into a OWH group and chatted with a guy named Dan for some time as their group tried to find their way through the socked in summit to Wiliwilinui. When possible I side skirted them and continued onwards at a steady pace. Summited Wiliwilinui around noon and met a guy chilling on the bench. We sat silently and ate lunch together. He left shortly after I arrived and a grandfather/grandson summited. We talked briefly and I was excited to hear the young grandson so eager to hike and push himself. Really nice folks. I had to respectfully decline the food they were offering and stood up to depart around 12:30 pm. I was now down to 2 liters and understood that rationing was to be required. I allowed myself 3 gulps every hour which turned out to be too generous. The rest of the cross overs were made without much thought to time or really which summit I was passing. At some point past Ka’au I realized I was going to have to make it the whole way or else I would be camping without any water. My head was down and my legs were pumping to get me home. Around Hawaii Loa I was down to 1L of water and by the time I reached Mariners I was empty. The section between Mariners to Makapuu while enjoyable hiking wise, was very difficult due to lack of water. It is not like I was well hydrated to begin with and by the time I was empty I was already very dehydrated. As the sun began to lower itself and the heat reduced some I was able to move a little faster but still my hiking was mainly, “Get up that and then I’ll lay down for 10 minutes” and repeat. I have done this section countless times and again knew if I took my time, rested when needed, I could make it to the lighthouse by nightfall. Just as the light was starting to fade away I tagged the lighthouse fence and quickly descended back down to make it to the road/look out right as complete darkness set in around 7:45.

PAU!

I called Rasta for a possible pick up but he was unavailable so he called Duc and Thea who both happened to be coming to pick me up. I descended down to the Makapuu beach park water fountain for a well needed water chugging session. Silly, just a little knob and fresh clean ready-to-drink water in unlimited supply. With the last few percentages of my battery I let family know I was safe and let Duc know Thea was coming to pick me up. She showed up with what I believe to be my first lei and an amazing one at that! It had the power to mask all of my horrible smells! I enjoyed a great conversation with her on the ride back into civilization. She had driven me home on the attempt in November and we both agreed this drive felt much better :-)

Slowly, we pulled into my apartment building and with a hug and good byes I walked back into my old life, stronger and more confident in who I am and my abilities than a mere 8 days ago. My apartment may be in town but my home will always be in the mountains. A great friend summed this entire journey up well in an email afterwards, “I feel like you have completed a long journey that has covered years gradually building up your knowledge and abilities. Discovering the KST, the tough sections, not listening to naysayers (like me) and just seeing and doing for yourself.”

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 7, Powerlines to Konahuanui

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 06:03:00 +0000

Day 7 (03/31/12) Power lines to K1, 6-10 hrs., ~2.5 miles

Total Pack Weight: 22.6125 lb.

Civilization? Today we get to visit the Pali Lookout. The issues do not end until summiting Lanihuli. The next section contains the sharks fin, bunny ears(up and down), doorstop(ascend, lower), pimple(lee contour), can opener(windward contour). Summit Lanihuli and have lunch. The initial descent will feel like any portion. From memory you will need to descend and contour leeward until you reach the base of the dirt rock. Use cable to climb the dirt rock. Cross over narrow ridge then climb a baby tooth. Contour leeward and gain elevation. Continue until you reach more teeth. Look right and descend to the contour of hell. Gain ridge, continue, descend contour around 100 ft face. Descend old Pali road and then turn left to hit the road. Walk down road until reach the hairpin turn and fill water containers. Return to the notches the same way. To the notches(1,descend,ascend,2,use rope to descend on the right) and past the nub(lee contour), up the chimney (Use both ropes) and onward to Konahuanui. Continue on to the Konahuanui trailhead and camp at summit.

Bail: Power line, Lanihuli, Pali Lookout

Ready for the most challenging day of your life Chase? Wake up! Got out of bed around 6:45 am and did all my usual morning chores. I was excited because by the end of the day I would either be done with the most challenging aspects of my trip or I would be severely injured and the trip would be over. Today was the day this had all built up to for me and I felt more ready than ever!

I packed up, said good bye to my camp spot and headed up the power line trail to reach the summit by 8 am. The wind was blowing strong but weather overall seemed perfect for today with complete visibility to the summit so off I went. This side of the saddle is a tad better in my opinion than the other side. But after talking to some who have done this saddle I think I feel that way because I enjoy ascending crap rock rather than descending it. Also, it does not feel like every moment is a new challenge. First couple of challenges are up and overs with rope on some section. At one point the option is provided to contour the doorstop leeward or now with a rope affixed one can up and over it. Mistake number 2 occurred here when I contoured leeward. This contour was semi ok when wearing a day pack but with my current pack even as small as it was, I made very slow going through the dense leeward vegetation. With the additional weight and off balance the pack provides, when I tried to gain the ridge line I failed multiple times. First I tried past the pimple and had that inner voice yelling at me to retreat. Unable to find a safe ascent I backtracked to before the pimple but past the doorstop. There seemed to be an ascent possible using tree roots but the rock was crap and my pack made everything hellacious. Finally after about 6 failed attempts in total, I found the right balance of luck and roots to make it up without an incident. Had I been coming top down and had rope there was a nice tree to fix it to and would be a nice addition to this contour from hell.

Now I looked on to the pimple which requires a nasty leeward contour where balancing myself became a true challenge as the rock seemed to want to throw me off. I tried about 4 different times until I had to sit down and gather myself. The only time I ever thought about giving up was at this moment. Again, this is one of those, “If I could just get 2 feet over there!” moments but extreme caution was needed. I could not find a way to contour the pimple and going up and over was just not an option. Then I remembered I had my guy line for my tarp in my pocket and saw a small little root I could attach it to and possibly provide the extra balance needed. Slowly, I undid my guy line and connected it as a loop to go around the root and allow me to contour/swing to the spot I knew I needed to get to. I realized at that moment how much I took the ease of a day pack for granted as it felt like my pack and rock were working against me.

Slowly, I made it around the pimple and with feet on somewhat solid ground I knew the worst was behind me. Contoured windward to connect up with the ropes of the can opener and climbing steadily to reach the top. Past the can opener are a couple eroded sections that needed me to cross on my butt with each leg on a different side of the ridge. Soon enough I started to find the signs of being near the summit with a couple of different ribbons and an old red rope now turned white. At 10:30 am I stood atop Lanihuli alive and dancing! Lunch was had and I joked with myself about camping there as it was the original plan, but began my descent down to the Pali lookout.

Almost immediately I could see in the distance the W and incisor and at each someone had put up new rope since my last trip across and I was smiling big. Dropped down leeward and contoured over to reach the rope attached to the anvil rock and what did I find?!? A new rope that was tied to a tree root instead of the dirt rock! Awesome! With all of these ropes I breezed through these parts that used to take forever and move onwards. Mentally, I was in the zone at this point and was feeling great! There is a leeward contour or one can take the teeth both of which I've done in the past and after the previous leeward contour hell I opted for the teeth as I decided nothing could be worse then contouring. I believe I made the correct choice. Worked through the teeth and before I knew it I was at the huge descent/contour one must make to get past the wall face at the puka. I quickly descended using the ropes and came out to the puka feeling like I was on top of the world. I could see very clearly the people at the Pali lookout and began to race down. As I approached people after 7 days out I became overwhelmed by smells of perfume and cigarettes so much so I almost had to sit down. I reached the Pali by 1:15 pm and laughed out loud to myself at my accomplishment of that day. I rested very briefly and made some phone calls to let friends and loved ones know I was safe and then knowing time was important, descended the old Pali road and walked down to the hairpin turn where I knew a water source to be. This was the only time I pulled out my iPhone and listened to some music to pass the time down to the stream and it put me into even better spirits. I reached the stream which was flowing strongly and filled up all my water containers and immediately headed back up to the lookout.

Now, I had two options. Find camp nearby or try and finish the saddles. This half saddle is one I have done many times in the past and one in which I really enjoy. Also, I knew that the sleep I would get that night would be made even better with the thoughts of all saddles pau and just K1 to Makapuu left. So off I went at 2:45 pm making the climb to the notches. The first notch was passed with no problem but coming upon the 2nd notch I noticed all rope had been removed. I had descended the 2nd notch once without rope but it ended with me jumping a good distance to the ground and I did not want to risk an injury this close to the finish line. So undeterred, I started to work with the rock to find a route down and either the previous saddles had taught me something or I’ve gotten better at climbing as the descent happened almost without thought and before I knew it I was down and heading to the nub. A contour around nub and then the climb up the chimney were done quickly. Someone has put new black webbing at the top of an annoying rock climb past the chimney and so I used it to help with a contour ascent.

The challenges fell fast and then as if my body knew the worst was behind me I hit a mental and physical wall of exhaustion. It felt like my body just let go of all the built up stress over the last 7 days. I had never felt so empty of everything inside me. I had run out of water around the last rock climb and still had 2 1/2 hrs until the hairpin water was deemed drinkable. It was around 3:30 pm at this point and I knew even if I went extremely slow I would make it to the summit before dark so the remainder of the ascent became 2 minutes of rest for every minute of hiking. Literally, 5 or 6 steps, rest, then repeat. That last climb up the steep mud with the tree you have to use for footing was by far the hardest thing I have had to do the entire trip. But I made it and dragged myself to the summit laying on top K1 at 4:45 pm.

It took about 30 minutes until I could move enough to call friends and family to let them know where I was and I was safe. Even talking was difficult. My mother later told me she has never heard me sound like that and it had worried her. I played with the idea of crossing over to K2 but my body quickly told me what I could do with that idea so the highest point on the summit of the Koolau mountains was my home for that night and I could not have been happier. I was exhausted, extremely dehydrated and starving but I was alive and had successfully crossed the saddles in 2 days.

As the day faded into night, clouds began to roll in and for the first time this entire trip I was setting up my shelter for possible rain that night. I welcomed the thought of it knowing tomorrow would be a very long and very dry day. I hoped to do the entire section the next day, but since I had pushed my body beyond its limits today I told myself to just go as far as I could.

I sent out a email to the ground crew, quickly ate dinner, chug the now drinkable water and climbed into bed for a great night of sleep. Throughout the night I awoke to the sound of rain coming down making me snuggle up more into my sleep bag with a big smile on my face. Life is good.

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 6 North Haiku to Wilson Tunnel Building

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 05:20:00 +0000

Day 6 (03/20/12) N. Haiku-Wilson Tunnel Building, 6.5 hrs, 5 miles

Total Pack Weight: 24.6125 lb.

This begins the saddles. There were a couple of eroded sections in the beginning. Three I think. Then the eroded dike. The ridge isn't too narrow here but you always slip at the second section. Take your time and tie off if needed. Reach the eroded dike(contour leeward) Gain ridge and reach trail junction. Descend 30 minutes to collect water. Refill all containers. Regain trail and immediately it turns back to serious mode. Three problems face you. Remember contour left when you don't think to and contour right to use the root to climb. Remember to not go too far right and never to climb without veg unless on root. Use two ropes (1 in each hand) to get past the third problem. Soon you will see the pre-Stairs stairs. Climb up to the radar structure. Time depending, go inside for a snack and short break. You have about 1 1/2 hr along the summit ridge until the camp spot. Continue along the summit towards bowman. Reach Bowman terminus and snack. You will not have many more chances until the power lines. Reach eroded dike and drop leeward to contour. Reach 2nd Triangle and descend using rope slightly leeward. Similar with the next triangle. Lower yourself past the witch’s hat and then windward contour when needed. Reach power lines. Descend power line trail to camp spot at power line pole.

S. Haiku-Halawa 45min
Halawa-Godek 30min
Godek - 1st Saddle 15min
1st Saddle - Southern Haiku stair terminus 3hr 30-4hr
S.Haiku - Bowman Terminus 2hr-2hr 30min
Bowman Terminus - Power Line trail 2hr 30 min

Camp near pole

Bail: Halawa, Godek, State trail, Haiku Stairs, Tripler, Middle, Bowman... tempting? ;-)

On this day last attempt I had fallen off the saddle and cracked my head causing an abrupt end to my plans. This was in my head all day and hard to shake.

Is it morning yet!!?!? After the worst night of sleep on this trip, at the first sign of dawn I jumped out of my cocoon and checked to make sure everything was still in good enough condition before packing it all up. This was the first morning I’ve woken in socked in conditions and slight rain so I was a little happy with myself being in the shack. I decided to wait and see if the clouds would clear so pulled out my cooking system and made some hot coffee and toasted my flatten bagel with Nutella.

After about 45 minutes the clouds lifted and the saddle began to show itself in full profile. Taking this as a sign, I grabbed my belongings and began walking along the extremely rusty stairs. Every time I am here I cannot get over the obvious impact exposure to the elements has on metal. If the stairs have a bush blocking it, then they have an almost brand new look but a few inches past the bush the metal resembles a creepy rusty dagger ready to impale you.

Passed Halawa and Red hill fairly quickly and was moving with the same sort of speed that had carried me through the previous days. There looks to be good camping at Halawa right before the summit for one small shelter setup. Might consider that if ever near this section and don’t want to sleep in the shack nor descend the saddle.

Began the descent down to the state trail at the middle of the saddle around 9:15 am. Personally, I enjoy this descent compared to other saddle descents. There are two or three eroded areas but the words of my mother the night before to “take it slow and I would get through it safely” rang through my head often during the following days. It is only at one section where I have to lower myself down an eroded spot and a tree is there for hand holds but no matter what I do I always end up having to let go of the tree and fall a foot or so which causes me to slide down the crap rock and catch myself in the vegetation. Always. Every trip. I considered using my guy line cord to lower myself but knew I would need it for other parts on the Kalihi saddle. So sliding I went and everything went smoothly. Reached the eroded dike and dropped down then contour leeward to get past it. After the dike it is basically smooth sailing to the flat area that marks the trail terminus. Reached it at 10 am and dropped my gear and put my front pack around my waist to descend down to the stream to collect water. Man, going from summit conditions to state trail is a little overwhelming at first and I proceeded to run down the trail. Reached the stream within 10 minutes and smacked my forehead as I saw all the beautiful camping spots that lay around the stream. Next time, next time! I was tempted to take a quick bath but just threw some water on my face, filled up all my water containers and proceeded to run back up the trail ready to get past the obstacle that put me out last trip.

I reached the trail terminus at 10:30 am and got ready to tackle the three challenges of the Moanalua saddle to Haiku. Weather was perfect for this attempt and just told myself take it slow and I knew how to do this. First challenge is just rock climbing with a windward contour and was handled with ease. The second challenge, my previous downfall, is to leeward contour but only slightly. Too far and one will begin to ascend with very little vegetation and will likely slip at some point. With this in mind I
slight contoured and began to climb the obvious vegetation. This area really could do with a rope if people are actually doing this section as often as seems to be indicated. Had to climb using trees and vegetation until the root needed to gain the ridge appeared and then shifted right until I could reach it. No problems this time and was sitting upon the ridge with smiles on my face.

Honestly, throughout this entire trip, that was the most fear I will encounter because of the mental block caused by my old mistake. There is a little voice inside my head that knows when something does not feel right and in November I ignored that voice with the thought that “If I can just reach that spot right ther.....e”. This trip I strongly feel was successful because probably 6-7 times that voice began yelling at me and this time I listened, stopped and reattempted the problem from a different angle. It sounds like common sense but sometimes when all you need to do is get to a spot 2 feet away, it can be easy to quiet that voice and think it is just 2 feet away!!! One of many hard lessons I’ve had to come to learn on the trail.

The third challenge would be more difficult than it was if numerous ropes were not set up. Using one in each hand I got past the third problem with no real fuss and continued on up to the summit. With the main problems of that done I knew the first saddle was behind me which meant I would be going further than I had ever gone before and I was ecstatic!

I reached the Haiku Summit by 11:30am and scarfed down lunch with full intent to cross over to tripler and set up camp. Then who comes running up the stairs but the haiku troll himself! I had seen no one since Sunday and was really happy to see and chat with him. He offered to cross over to tripler with me and of course I let him. We made great time and I loved being able shake the nerves off with some good laughs and stories shared with him. We arrived at Tripler terminus where I had planned on stopping for the day but it just did not feel right. It was only noon and I imagined a repeat of the previous night. So we moved on and crossed over to Bowman. This is when I started to contemplate descending the Bowman side of the Kalihi saddle that day. By the time we reached Bowman I was trying to talk the troll into descending the saddle with me but unfortunately for me a group of 4 wahines passed us on the way to tripler and I knew where his priorities lay. At Bowman it was only 12:20 pm and I knew camp was not going to happen so I said my good byes and pressed on to descend the saddle with hopes of reaching the power line trail. I look back on it all and doubt I would have descended to the power lines that day if it wasn't for running into him. The ability to laugh and share stories does amazing things for the morale and put me in the right mood. I am very thankful for that encounter.

I began the descent and it is like most of these saddles where first you have to reach a smaller peak before the actual descent begins. The thing about this descent is the problems really do not stop until you reach the middle. There are three main challenges that require use of ropes and sometimes dropping almost a hundred feet just to contour correctly. But even beyond the main challenges, the “minor” challenges are more difficult than any other major challenges on the other saddles in my opinion. It takes putting my mind in a certain state of pure focus and movement. Fear and nerves were the fuel to push me, but it has taken a long time to learn to use fear as a fuel and not lock up. It also becomes important to learn to focus on only the problem in front of me. If I would begin to try and figure out how much further to the power lines it became overwhelming and my mind would lose focus. At times I look back and realize I have very little memory of these dangerous sections compared to other sections. I think my mind handles the one problem in front of me and when I make it past, my mind removes that entire thought and begins working on the new problem. Adding to the complexity, the rock on this section is some of the worst I’ve ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Nothing is sturdy. As I told a friend in the past, the Kalihi saddle is a section of the summit that anyone could go across and die. You could take the most inexperienced hikers up and lead them through it and maybe they would make it, but then the world’s best hiker goes up there the next day and touches a rock the wrong way and falls to his/her death. It really is a game of Russian roulette. I never suggest anyone do this saddle as someone will get hurt very badly at some point. I had a moment while descending one of the triangles that my footing gave way and I was left dangling by a rope attached to a tree that wiggles when you touch it.

Slowly, ever so slowly I made my way down the ropes, down the rock faces and around the eroded sections until that glorious windward contour that let me know I am very close to the end. I did a little “I am alive dance” at 2:45pm.

1 1/2 saddles completed in 4 hours does a number on one’s heart and nerves. I dropped shortly down to a leeward sheltered area and was able to calm myself back to normal levels before picking up and descending. Down I went via the power line trail about 500 vertical feet to a really nice flat spot next to the old wilson tunnel building and a power line pole. I immediately called certain people and let them know I was alive and had made it to the middle of the Kalihi saddle. Then I did some quick calculations and realized that it would be very wise for me to find the Kalihi stream if I wanted to make it from Konahuanui to Makapuu without a water stop.

First, I set up camp and did all my typical evening chores that had become almost robotic now. Then I grabbed my water gear and went exploring for the Kalihi stream. First couple of stream beds I found were bone dry and I began to get a tad worried. I gave a call to Rasta to see if he had ever run into water. He seemed quite sure that the stream always had water in it and if I went down the road and cut off onto a trail I would find it. He cautioned to not get lost. So off I went down the road and then I found a trail leading off to the left and took it. Some really nice camp spots throughout this trail but ignored them as water was my mission. Walked over some pipes that were dry and continued deeper into the woods. I went probably 40 minutes in and had ventured onto a few trails that led nowhere until I finally accepted no water was to be found. It was almost 5pm by the point and did not want to be wandering around in the dark. So I started to head back until I realized that things did not look right and I was beginning to bushwhack when I never had to coming in. Before I knew it, I was lost. So immediately I got my phone out and took a GPS reading and took note of where the road was and got my compass bearing. Over time, I have gotten lost quite a few times but I have learned how to stay calm and what I need to do to get myself out safely. Normally, it begins with a gut feeling of something being off. After two times of that feeling I begin to take it seriously and go to my compass and then go to my GPS as a last resort. From my readings I knew where I needed to go but could not find the trail to get me there and bushwhacking was becoming problematic without anything but my phone and water gear. Then after some time trying to find my way home I heard the glorious sound of water trickling! Laughing to myself I walked over to a flowing stream.

So it takes me getting myself lost to find water, great. As I told myself, now I have water but am still lost. I briefly washed up and continued down the stream thinking that it would eventually lead me to the road. As I went through a concrete tunnel and vegetation began to block the way I turned left out of the stream and ran right into the road leading to the old wilson tunnel building! Success! Found water and found my way home!

I walked back up to my camp site and sat down extremely pleased with myself for that day’s work. Night was coming and from where my camp was I had a great profile view of my challenge for the next day, the ascent of Lanihuli from the saddle. I made myself dinner and sent out emails as the sun set. At this elevation the temperature was much warmer so I did not need to jump in the sleeping bag as early. I sat out and read under the moon light deep into the night. At some point the lights at the Wilson building turned on which kind of creeped me out but I let it disappear from my thoughts as I got into bed and let sleep over take me.

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 5 Waimano to North Haiku

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 05:15:00 +0000

Day 5 (03/29/12) Waimano - N. Haiku, 8.5 hrs, 5.3 miles

Total Pack Weight: 26.6125 lb.

Get up early regardless. If you move fast enough you can reach N. Haiku Stairs. At the end of the day the feeling of how far we have truly gone will start to kick in. Water source at Waimalu Middle. There is camping at both Aiea and N. Haiku. If arrive at Aiea past 3:30 then camp there. I prefer under the power lines due to wind blockage. If the winds are gentle enough, the summit offers amazing camping and sunsets/rises. It will result in a push the next day from Aiea to South Haiku stairs and on to Bowman.

Waimano - Waimalu Middle 2hr-2hr 30min
Waimalu Middle - Aiea 4hr-4hr 30min
Aiea to Hidden Haiku 2 hr
Camp near in building to block wind

Bail: Waimalu Middle, Aiea

Pulling myself out of a deep sleep I woke up to clear skies and calm winds. This was the first comfortable and planned night sleeping without a tarp in just a bivy and I loved every minute of it. I felt very rested and ready to take on the day ahead of me. This section would involve a steep climb immediately and continual ups and downs until reaching Aiea and if not prepared can be similar to the previous day.

I did morning chores, made breakfast and hit the trail by 7:30 expecting a 3pm arrival in Aiea based on last experiences. Climbed out of the Waimano and passed the old remains of a hiker who spent the night unplanned out on the trail. Broken headlamp, water bottles and emergency blanket have all been here for over a year. So sad as whoever stayed at this spot was very close to the Waimano trail. Pressed on up and over two more peaks and towards Waimalu middle. Reached it by 8:30! Then dropped down to the wind swept area where there is a puddle I have collected water at in the past and seems to be fairly constant. After collecting and tableting, I crossed over to the side ridge that makes ascent easier and summited by 9 am.

Not a single cloud in the sky gave me views unlike any other time I’ve been up there. I could look out and see the power lines of Aiea in the distance. Anytime you can see your destination the going is somehow easier. Sat up there for some time before making the descent from Waimalu middle heading towards Aiea. The descent has some thin regions and I dropped down in elevation fairly quickly. I think the descent is easier on the body then ascending it. To be honest, this whole section just flew by without much thought.

I lifted my head and staring me in the face were the Aiea power lines. Without stopping I kept climbing until I laid upon the wide flat region of Aiea summit where I had camped at in November. Looking aver 3 hours. Unpacked and sat down to clear skies and a spam hot mustard wrap for lunch. I could look back on Kahana valley and see the route I came from and the route I would be going. Ahead of me were the saddles, challenges that I’d been trying to not think about to allow for good sleep and calm nerves. I decided that noon was far too soon to set up camp and while I absolutely love the camp at Aiea summit I knew I could find good camp in the N. Haiku shack or possibly descend half of the Moanalua saddle and camp by the creek.

Packed back up, said my good byes and continued on around 12:20 pm. There are two climbs one must do between Aiea and the N. Haiku shack and then a major descent next to a land slide. These were all negotiated and I appeared in the shack doorway by 1 pm! This is where I made one of a few mistakes of the trek. Hard to look back on a successful trip and find mistakes but this is one. I decided to wait and spend the night in the shack instead of pushing on to descend half of the saddle to creek camping. Next time, creek camping will be had!

I arrived at the shack and dropped my gear off. First thing was to make sure I could sleep here. Had to brush the rusty metal into one corner. Moved a concrete block over a hole where possible rodents seemed to be entering from. Cleared the millions of spiders that have come to call the shack home. Set up my sleep system and tied out guy lines to make an almost torture looking device (which I would find later it was). After making it livable, I tried to find good spots for relaxing and immediately started to notice my problem. No where to sit that was sheltered from the elements and did not have rust every where. Finally I found a spot on the steps in front of the shack and brought my sitting pad over to it with my Kindle.

Unable to focus because of how early it was I looked at the cloud free S. Haiku and the saddle for probably around two hours playing a mind game of continuing onwards but deciding I would tackle each saddle on a fresh night of sleep and I wanted to sort through all my gear and discard every bit of unnecessary item.

North of the shack in a small valley is what looks like the remains of a crashed plane. I stared at it for a while and sent some messages to people I thought might know of it but no one had any information. It is clearly unnatural and unlike anything I’ve seen before. I still have no information on it but will do a scouting mission to see if I can get over there. It looked like one could contour to it.

I shuffled around “camp” as the saddle sat under perfect weather laughing at me and I felt very restless. It was not until the sun started to set that I could convince myself going further was not an option and I had to accept my decision. Pulled out the cooking gear and heated up some spam while I went through all of my gear and food pulling out what I had learned to live without over the past 5 days and putting it into a pile in the corner. The majority of my excess items came from food. Other UL backpackers have told me that often we pack our fears and it is clear from my pack reduction that I fear being hungry. I dropped every piece of food that I had brought as snacks or comfort consisting mainly of trail mixes, candy and cliff bars. The gear dropped were my gaiters which had failed me miserably, my knee strap in case of knee injury, and an extra pair of injinji socks. Combined with the decreasing water, my pack was feeling really good for the saddles the following days.

I chowed down on dinner and wrote out an email before slipping into my bed of hell. I had been down for a few minutes when I realized my guy line setup restricted my movement and was tightening around my stomach making sleeping difficult. Of course, I did not fix the problem immediately but instead thought I would just fall asleep. I think stopping at 1pm also made for sleep being difficult as I had just sat on a step for 6 hours. I rolled around until about 10:30pm when I realized that my groundsheet protecting me from the metal underneath my bivy and inflatable pad had slipped out from under me. This left my pad exposed and with all my restless tossing and turning I was worried I could pop my pad and leave me in a worse situation. So I got out of bed and tried to fix everything but never could figure out the correct solution. Then the guy line attached to my bivy face netting broke and the netting fell on my face making things even more annoying. To add on to this my sunburn was making me burn up and the shack has zero air flow with a very hard ground. I ended up stripping down to nothing and laying on top of my sleeping bag on pad and rigged up a fix to get the netting off my face. By this point it was 1am and, of course, somehow I was 100% awake. I went through many periods of trying to sleep but failing however finally I was granted some slack and remember last looking at my watch around 3:27.

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 4 Kipapa to Waimano

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 05:05:00 +0000

Day 4 (03/28/12) Kipapa-Waimano, 10 hrs, 5.5 miles

Total Pack Weight: 28.6125 lb.

If moving fast one can reach Waimano by 2pm. Leave Kipapa as early as possible. Ups and Downs, Ups and Downs. Hopefully, it will be clear skies to motivate you. Remember at the gap to descend right for water. Also, bring your pack because the side ridge gives better access to gain the summit ridge. The gap to the corner involves the use of side ridges or annoying moss climbing and with a heavy pack I suggest the right side ridges. There was water down where I camped that time. From the corner turn right and head to the Manana terminus which feels longer than it takes. Relax, snack, chill at the terminus, you have about 1 1/2 - 2 hrs ahead of you to get to Waimano. You will know when you are getting close, namely because you start to see it in the distance. It is the flat section before the first major ascent. The last section to Waimano always makes me feel like the Konahuanui to Olympus stretch, not sure why.

Kipapa-Ravine 30 min-1hr
Ravine-Metal pipe (Possible camp for Day 3) 30 min
Metal pipe - Waiawa Gap 1hr- 1hr 30min
Waiawa Gap-Corner 3hr
Corner to Manana Terminus 30min
Manana-Waimano 2hr-2hr 30 min

Determine wind strength and if is mild, camp at a lower point at the Waimano terminus. If the wind is strong, high camp back on Waimano trail ~2 minutes.

Bail: Manana, Waimano

Woke up around 6:45 am from a great night of sleep that involved very light winds and zero rain. I have been averaging 10 hours of sleep every night and it feels amazing on my body. I would had thought by now that my body would be fighting me, but every aspect of this trip so far seemed to be working with me and encouraging a safe and happy trip.

With smiles on my face I made up a warm cup of coffee and enjoyed my breakfast again to the rising sun. I prepared myself for the hike of that day as in the past it had put serious strain on my body and mind. With my pack, belly and mind ready I stepped off of the KST and onto the Koolau summit towards Waimano at 8 am. Off of the KST, the trail disappears requiring one to wade through leg high vegetation up and down every peak. I knew my first goal was to hit the Waiawa Gap where I should find water – and where lunch was planned. The weather was perfect. Not too hot nor too cold, not too wet nor too dry. I had never seen the summit so clear and it made the going very smooth.

Since I’ve done this section many times in the past I was expecting a 2-3 hour descent to the gap and was shocked when I reached it by 9:45 am!! I credit this to the weather, proper footwear and now a clear (to me) swath. It seems every time I come up here swaths are getting better which is motivating as it lets me know these sections are getting more use. Even a year ago there were zero swaths or signs of any activity. Also, it seems that people are creating leeward contours on some thin ridge portions and these contours are getting use! Gotta love what a small group of people can do. Not hungry at all, I dropped down the lee side of the gap and reached my water source. All water was stagnate and had dead bugs floating around in it but you do what you have to do and I collected 3 liters from various small puddles then filtered through my bandana and dropped the tablets.

Climbing out of the gap involves three major peaks and can be very taxing under wet and muddy conditions. I was fortunate for the dry and sunny conditions. Under any conditions, the climb out of the gap is easiest for me: side ridge, main ridge, side ridge. This bypasses the steep mossy sections that will pointlessly drain energy. Just had to remember to contour windward early to connect back up with the main ridge. Before I knew it, I was looking down on the three challenges and straight ahead at the “Corner”. I laid down and relaxed with clear skies overhead knowing that the worst of the day was behind me and it wasn't even 11am yet!

About this time a helicopter came by and I had to do that awkward non-action that means, “I can’t wave or look at you because I don't want you to think I need help.” The moment passed and I pressed onwards to the beautiful wind swept Corner. Reached it by noon and now was playing a game with myself to see how quickly I could get to Waimano as I had never moved this fast, this smoothly and with this big of a smile across my face. I reached Manana by 12:25pm and took a short five minute break before pressing on to Waimano. The trail to Waimano is wide open these days and after being on non-trails, this might as well have been paved. To Eleao is quick and the windswept area of it is absolutely beautiful. I always loved that name Eleao for some reason.

In the past it has been easy to descend the wrong ridge at this point when socked in but with clear skies and knowledge of the area it made the descent heading towards Waimano easy to find. I felt like I was running to Waimano and could point out the terminus making going even faster. I made it a mission to arrive by 2 pm and would dance around with joy. Then before I knew it after a few ups and downs I arrived at the last uphill contour and knew I had reached it. On the last attempt, I had two friends meet me at Waimano, camped out and crossed over to Aiea with me. The morale boost that was provided allowed me to continue on that trip. This time my morale boast came from the ridiculous time I was making, the beautiful weather I was experiencing and the natural high I was getting from it all.

At 1:58pm I tagged the trail sign and let out a huge yell. I considered moving on to Waimalu middle where there was a camp site I had stayed at on a previous overnighter but the camp at Waimano is really nice. I’ve learned how important a good night’s sleep is on every aspect of the trail and some of my camp decisions were based on this key point. Waimalu middle summit is about 2 hours from Waimano so I told myself just make it an early night and early morning which a good night of sleep would allow.

I love the terminus of Waimano where 6 inches means the difference of wind that could blow you down and slight wind that eases you into sleep. Did my normal evening camp chores (at 2pm!) and went exploring down the small valley behind the camp site until overgrowth got more annoying than fun and headed back up to the camp to get my Kindle. Finding a spot to read was not too difficult at that camp site especially on a day like that.

I have been saying in my emails to some people how this trip is the first time I feel like the summit wants me to be here and that it feels more like fun than work. From previous experiences, I’ve equated this section with misery and struggle. To find myself with 3+ hrs of spare relaxation time boggles my mind to this day. The open time was therapeutic, allowing my soul and mind to focus on the tasks ahead of me instead of the continually feeling of minute to minute survival.

As the sun began to set I put on my evening clothes, made dinner and got ready for the next day’s hike. I was getting into my book and for the first time stayed awake long enough to see the moon come out. It seemed to light up my entire surroundings. If Kipapa was my favorite night, this had to be my second. I took down my tarp and laid under the light of the moon in my bivy. Looking up into the stars trying to find the constellations kept me mesmerized until I fell into a deep sleep.

Koolau Summit Trail 8-day thru hike by Chase Norton--Chapter 4: The Trip, Day 3 Poamoho to Kipapa Sugi Pines

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 05:00:00 +0000

Day 3 (03/27/12), Poamoho-Kipapa Sugi Pines, 5 miles, 5 hrs

Total Pack Weight: 30.6125 lb.

Enjoy today! This is one of the quicker days so I would suggest the trip’s only warm breakfast. Enjoy yourself and make sure you refill all water containers. Leave by 9 a.m. after cleaning up, signing the log, and boarding the place up. I did not find any water after the cabin to Kipapa. If you find it, take it. You will arrive at the Pauao terminus within 30 minutes of leaving the cabin. Enjoy the beauty around you! This is the most enjoyable section of the KST. Around you is Kahana Valley. The S/W junction comes too soon as you know a long leeward stretch is coming up from Waikane to Waiahole Uka. Don’t forget to look for the pink ribbon rusty pole on the right. If you ever look up and see a contour, turn around and find the junction. Remember the set up on the side ridge to the right. Reach sugi pines and decide if want to continue 20 minutes up the landslide to reach true Kipapa terminus. Ascend landslide and look below you on the right for the contour. Supposedly, one can turn down Kipapa trail and campsite ~45min down near a possible waterfall. I tried this and found the overgrowth on Kipapa to be too much of a deterrent. I see this as a waste of 1hr 30min. Remember last camp spot sucked but the new one is amazing – it is located about 5 minutes before the summit right off the trail on the right.

Poamoho-S/W 2hr 1/2min-3hr
S/W-Waikane junction 30min
Waikane - Ka’aumakua 30min
Kaaumakua-Waiahole Uka 2hr 15min-3 hr
Waiahole Uka-Sugi Pines 15min
Sugi Pines to Kipapa Trail Terminus 20min

Camp near wind protected Sugi Pines, at old cabin structure or off Kipapa trail.

Bail: S/W, Waikane, Waiahole Uka

Woke up early today around 6 am to the sound of rain tapping away on the roof of the cabin. I rolled off the top bunk with an enthusiasm for the start of a great day. This day is hands down my favorite section of the entire trip with the long stretches of windward contouring. On one side is a tall carved out wall in the mountain and on the other is the vast expanse of the hiker playground known as Kahana valley. I was eager to get on the trail but knew that I did not want to arrive at Kipapa too early. So a warm breakfast and cup of coffee were enjoyed watching the rising sun. A very soothing morning as the rain began to settle down, the birds came out chirping and the sun began to show itself above the horizon. This place is and hopefully will always be a place I enjoy to come and find the peace and calm lacking in other areas of my life. It is amazing to live in a cabin with no electricity and disconnected from society as every problem fades and activities are planned around the rising and setting of the sun. I question if we really are progressing as society and the praises of certain innovations. With my soul in check, I packed and cleaned up, signed the log and said my good byes as I hit the trail by 8:30am.

The trail seemed almost magical as clouds were covering most of the sun and the smell of wet tropical plant life was all around me. Pauao came up quickly and I took notice of the well cleared trail that wasn't there a little over a year ago. It is amazing what some of these hiking groups can create. Along the Pauao to Waikane section, little tiny waterfalls were flowing down the wall making perfect natural water fountains and keeping me well hydrated not to mention smiling. Looking down into the valleys every stream bed was full and it seemed as though water was in plenty. It was not raining during my hiking hours but I questioned how long that luck would last. Some of these sections of carved out windward trail really are just breath taking and make for quick and easy going. At times I would just sit down; legs hanging over the edge, lay back and take in my surroundings knowing where I can find true happiness.

In the far distance I can see the Waikane trail contour and as I get closer I begin to do random checks by looking up for any trail. It is easy to bypass the rusty ribboned pole to mistakenly continue down the Waikane trail. I’ve had to learn from my own errors that if I look up and see another trail, backtracking is needed until the pole is found. Thankfully, this trip I was cautious enough to find the pole and made the turn to contour high and continue along the KST to the lookout about 5 minutes up trail.

The trail at this point changes dramatically to leeward overgrown contouring and wraps up the final segment of the KST. Most hikers go between S/W and Poamoho, but few venture on to Kipapa. Over the years this has resulted in this section being lost to the vegetation. I joined a group that opened up a good portion of it during our Waiahole uka to Waikane hike, but many sections were left overgrown. Pat and Rainbow man had come through and opened up the remaining sections a few months after our trip which allowed for the entire Waikane to Kipapa segment to be done with a backpack. Hiking through it now is somewhat of a grind, but much more enjoyable than in the past. As I stated in my email to folks that night, “Waikane to Kipapa is good initially then gets bad then gets worse then gets ok.” The main area to watch out for is the switchbacks, but someone has placed very nice ribbons to mark the turns so keep ones eye open. The day seemed to be flying by as it was only noon at this point and I knew I was coming up on Kipapa within the next couple of hours. I passed the weather station on the leeward ridge. I’ve always wanted to descend down to get a closer look but knew it would have to wait for another time. The switchbacks arrived along with the views of Kipapa trail in the distance and Sugi pines. I’ve been told that camping can be had at the Sugi Pines, but after much searching, the terrain is simply not flat enough for my liking. I figure they meant it is a good emergency camping area as the Pines and terrain block most wind and rain. Next to the pines are the old remains of the Kipapa cabin with rusty metal spread out all over the ground. Thoughts of camping at the flat old cabin spot went through my head but I knew that I was not at the true Kipapa trail terminus and a large landslide was about 10 minutes ahead on the trail that had to be negotiated. Continuing on I did some of the last contouring before reaching the large landslide.

In the past, I’ve climbed the landslide briefly, contoured right slightly and then climbed near vertical vegetation to summit right near the Kipapa terminus. With so much time left in the day (it was 1:15pm!) I was determined to find the correct way around this obstacle. I noticed some pink ribbons descending down from the landslide and seemed to be following a dry stream bed. I followed the pink ribbons down until the descent became steeper with some drops requiring climbing. After my 20 minute time limit had passed, I knew this could not be the correct way and decided that even if it were I would rather climb steeply up a route I’ve done then descend down dry waterfall chutes into the unknown. Climbing back up to the landslide I proceeded and contoured slightly right as I had done in the past. Then I looked down and noticed a faint line about 20 ft below me and decided to give it a shot. BINGO! Found the correct contour trail that intersects the Kipapa trail very near to the summit. I was ecstatic!

It was now 2:00 pm and somehow I had arrived 2 hours earlier than my last attempt. To go forward would mean a deviation from my plan. When each days water is already determined based on location, deviation can become a problem. So I decided to find camp and enjoy myself. This is supposed to be fun, right? According to old reports of previous attempts by Pat and Gene there was a nice camp spot down the Kipapa trail about 45 minutes. Off I went to discover the condition of the trail and see what I could find.

The trail from the summit down is in really nice condition for approximately 25 minutes and gave me good hope of getting to the camp site early. However, soon the vegetation began closing in and the conditions worsened. After about 45 minutes I could see no visible camp spot nor trail and decided to listen to my gut and head back to the summit. I really did not want to stay at the spot I camped at last time, but I still had hope of finding a different spot with a lot of time left in the day. As I came upon the intersection of the Kipapa and KST I noticed a little hump to my right. Two minutes of heavy vegetation walking got me to the top of a little gem of a site. Set back from the summit enough to block all wind but high enough for incredible 360 views and a large flat open spot big enough for my shelter. It was probably my favorite camp site of the entire trip and one I will return to many more times in the future - I hope.

I set up my shelter and sleep system then did my preparations for the following day. With so much time left in the day I went exploring off a side ridge from Kipapa and revisited my old camping area at the summit behind a mound. What was I thinking! Holes everywhere on slanted terrain and a nice drop off. Chase Chase Chase. Around 4:15 I got out my Kindle and sat down next to my shelter to read. As time went on and I had not moved for a while, summit life started to come back around me and before I knew it the birds were chatting up a storm, insects were flying around, and bugs were crawling all over me. I loved it.

As the evening started rolling in I got my warmer clothes on and set out to make dinner of hot spam. Sitting in complete isolation on a spot just big enough for me, eating a warm dinner I had made, drinking water I had collected, and watching the setting sun turn the sky amazing shades of pink and purple - this will be a memory that sticks with me forever. My sleep cycle seemed to quickly change on this trip to the rising and setting of the sun with a late night being 8:30 pm and a late morning being 7:30 am. With the sun setting, I climbed into my bivy, read and responded to emails and then laid still with the sounds of nature drifting me off into a wonderful dream.