Kalalau trail - Kauai, Hi
A backpacking story by k Munson
This year much like the last we started out with a death wish, only this time it was the Kalalau (Call a laow) trail along the Napali (Na paul e) coast. We arrived on Kauai a day and half before we were to start on our backpack trip, this was the perfect amount of time. One so that we could get everything else we needed to buy and two, so we wouldn't have too much time before we could chicken out. We had done our research like normal, months in advance, had all the gear we needed, did a bit of training all the while we had pegged in the back of our minds the comforting words written on the permit, which you must have well in advance (park permit). The information itself read in part, "... pack out what you pack in... boil or treat water before drinking... swimming is not recommended... stream crossings hazardous during periods of high rainfall... no emergency or rescue services." It was the last two that first caught our eye, coupled with other excerpts from books, articles and just people that had tried the trail itself giving a warning around the 7 - 8 mile marks. Seems that there is some rather disturbing terrain between these mile marks that send some into a panic, some made it that far would quit and turn around, and some unlucky souls to their death, which I guess is not too uncommon. So needless to say... this lingered quite often in the back of our minds while filling out the missing persons information needed for the Kauai Police Department. You see the word Napali literally translates; cliffs, which is ... what this trail was, it was on and along cliffs, anywhere from sea-level to 800ft up, and many variations between.
We had a good idea what we were in for so we continued to prepare as if it were all a go, with the intent to do the entire 11 miles in, in one day, which we knew was insanity. But as usual, if it is truly insane I will only try it once. The permit also read that while the whole 11 was a possibility it wasn't necessarily
the best idea. In fact the permit stated that it would be a long tough day for very experienced well trained hikers, well my attitude was, I'd be damned if I
wasn't going to give it a go. We also knew going into this that there were only 2 camp areas open, one at the 2 mile mark and the other... at the end. For some
reason unknown to us the other area was "closed." Knowing we had only 4 days on the permit we wanted to make the best use of our time. As far as the trail
itself, thankfully Ken and I had a realistic insight, from hiking part of the trail to Hanakapiai beach the prior years and from the hike into the Hanakapiai Falls in 2005. Our next project was figuring out our ETA, normally our hiking pace is somewhere around 2.5 miles in an hour, which is clipping along pretty good, in 2005 when we were on the first section of this trail it took us 5 hours to travel 4 miles in and out, which ends up to be about 35 minutes to go 1 mile or 1.75 miles an hour - needless to say is much slower than our normal pace. However this is what we had to base our travel time on. Going on this assumption we gave ourselves a good healthy 6.5 to 7 hours, with full packs, including some rests here and there. We were hoping that if we started around 8 am we'd get to camp somewhere around 4 - 4:30 at worst, and still be good for daylight... here's what really happened...
Day 1 - Tuesday January 11, 2006
For any individual that attempts the trail, whether completed or not, this will be the most difficult trail of their life. With much apprehension and anticipation we hit the start of the trail like planned 8:00ish with full packs, gear and all. The first two miles were pretty much as expected; it is your typical wet, slippery, tropical rainforest trail which meant slick mud, water, heat and humidity. Trails are wide at this end and well traveled by tourists. When you start the trail, you are at the "wet end", and you finish somewhere around the "dry side", which is all relative. The wet part held true this particular morning. Prior starting we'd been talking too many of the locals regarding the weather, this was definitely a drought year. When we first arrived on the island you could see that the island had been dry for some time. There had actually been burns recently which is something never heard of here, the vegetation looked parched and thirsty. We had also heard that Mt Wialaiali which normally gets about 42 inches in December alone, received not even 2 inches in 2005, this was good news for us, we were hoping for a dry trip, just not good news for the island. Even though the island was considered "dry" the trail was still very wet. There had been showers in the area, which is not unusual being that the North end of the island is the wettest part of Kauai.
As we slid into Hanakapiai beach we noted how low the river was. Dry as it was, there was still plenty of water flowing, one good rain in the mountains and the
water level could change in a moments notice. You always have to be alert to flash floods no matter what you do, be it hiking or driving on the road. If it happens, you just have to make yourself comfortable and wait it out. With enough rocks exposed and using trekking poles we crossed the first river fine. Stopping briefly on the other side we noticed we were traveling a little slower than we'd originally anticipated. We said hello to a couple we saw the day prior when they had headed out, needless to say they didn't get too far, their goal for this day was to get to mile 6, just before the tricky mile 7 - 8. While we chatted briefly we guzzled water and choked down the first of our many Cliff bars. Knowing that with full packs time would make some difference, we also knew we didn't have much time to spare. Starting off again was a little tricky, up to this point you don't need a permit, so many of the daring islands visitors will hike out to this beach, and for those that really want an adventure they head into the HanakapiaiFalls. Heading out the Kalalau trail was a completely different beast. Thinking we are going the right way we ended up walking through all the camp areas, then made our way up past some other trail and finally found the one we should have been on in the first place, personally I took this as some sort of bad sign.
It wasn't long before we understood where the coast got its name. We were starting to feel the heat and humidity of the day set in, so we quickly headed up. That is as quick as you could go as you were backsliding in slick snot mud with 2 - 3 extra pounds of it caked on each of your boots. We were anxious to see what the rest of the trail was going to be like, from what we could see it was going to be wet and hip displacing slick. Miles 3 - 6 were indeed that, they were very tricky and quite taxing physically. This was much the same as the first two miles, the trails were just much more narrow (12inches wide more and less, usually less), wetter, steeper and more sheer drop offs loaded with loose rock, roots and then covered with topical foliage and razor blade leaved drooping trees, all which was terrain I'd been on just never at the same time. If it weren't for the shrubs on the downhill side of the trail you'd literally be walking on the edge of a cliff.
Once you came to peace with the ground you were on... the trail just became status quo, you just didn't want to run into someone and have to pass. As the clouds loomed you climbed the hillside just waiting for an outbreak of tropical rain, and from time to time it let loose a small shower or two. We were very thankful we had a cloud cover, as it was it wasn't long before you got sticky hot. When it did rain we would just try to lean back into the overhanging thicket of trees and wait it out. After a while we decided we liked this kind of rain, it was pretty light, it kept us slightly cooler, and became quite refreshing. While the trail was killer, the beauty became more and more intense, the tropical canopy and views were amazing.
About the 3.5 mile mark we stopped to pause for a few minutes. We did a little recalculating of our time and ... it was taking us 45 - 50 minutes to go about
1 mile... we realized we were in trouble, this was going to take a little longer than we had planned, and due to the terrain there seemed to be no place you could make up any of that time. Recalculating our ETA it would take us closer to 8 hours to finish, definitely NOT what we in mind.
Leaving this point and after refueling, we soon headed back into a much awaited thicket of forest heading away from the exposed cliffs. Still dealing much with
steep sided hills somehow being around trees and waterfalls gave you a little comfort, not that there was less likelihood of a fall but that there was more
there to catch you when you did. These miles we traveled to this point covered a landscape that was more beautiful than I'd ever imagined, along with a
challenge of a trail that came with the territory. Miles of beauty that traversed in and out of the cliffs that went up in elevation and down, trails that were slick, muddy, and exposed to dense, dark, tropical, humid, wet, buggy forests, there was never any constant. The ground became a little wetter and the mud didn't cake your shoes quite like the beginning. Mile 5 pretty much stayed in and out of the thick tropical forest giving you another taste of differing terrain.
Mile 6 was the camp area we were told was "closed", seemed that the couple people that were staying there didn't know that. This didn't matter much... there were still a couple lovely smelling composting toilets and a rain shelter that we took much advantage of. We quickly took to the shelter, stripped off our packs; before we fell forward on our face we laid down on the only table there and put our feet up. Earlier on the trail we had taken off our packs and put our feet up, this was a welcome second time. These last 4 miles were by far the most difficult with, the humidity, constant terrain change and climate was quite energy sapping. Here we started rethinking our plan of action, seemed energy stores were getting tapped early and the dreaded mile 7 was quickly approaching.
This point was a real mental task, you had to be strong leaving here, which was something I was questioning. We'd both stay here for the night and head
out early in the morning, or we'd tackle the dreaded 7 - 8 miles now.
There weren't many people along the trail, the only ones we passed were those coming out from Kalalau. We passed a group of 3 that said it took them 8+ hours to get in. Others instilled much faith in the 7 mile mark by saying "just go slow... it's really scary and exposed", another lady was totally freaked out. For us we'd never seen a picture nor knew exactly what to expect, knowing that we were familiar with "exposure" because of rock climbing we realistically had
some idea. Our friend Luke told us the day before that he was out in a boat in the water once and saw people on their hands and knee's pushing their packs
across. The lady we talked to in the Kayak Kauai shop said that it's all rock cliffs with a definite drop off but the worst of it is only about 15 to 20 feet across - then you're fine. With this looming in our minds, we were just hoping we had enough strength to continue to stay upright on the trail and not fall over due to exhaustion, but ... we decided to take it on and get it over with. Several people said that there was another camp at mile 8, so that was our goal, we'd decided "lets just get mile 7 out of the way and stay at 8."
Just after leaving mile 6, you cross a slick river maze, re-found the trail. Half mile or so later the terrain turned quickly into something totally new, one that was much drier, with new obstacles all it's own and mile 7 was approaching quickly you could feel it. The ground became very dry, loose dirt and sand with pebble gravel covering much of the trail, it was as if someone turned off the water and it all dried out. Earlier we had run into a couple that mentioned they were glad to be back where the ground was wet... now we saw why. You went from trying to stay upright on the trail on slick ice like mud to trying to stay on the trail where there wasn't one. Most of the time there was trail and you never had to do any "trail finding or bushwhacking", but you did have to make sure there was stable ground to step on, because there were spaces that the trail just no longer existed, it just wasn't there.
Coming out off the hillside you saw part of what everyone had been talking about... mile 7. Well, while they weren't the most welcoming sight... I was most anxious to see if they were anything like everyone had been freaking out about. I was first to go, and slowly headed down. A couple feet down the trail and it became exposed, very dry and windy. The trail was no longer level from side to side, it became quite steep in spots with many wash outs. I took a better but quick look at the "fearsome evil cliffs of doom", with a deep breath and a big question mark over my head I knew I needed to move on before I started to get sketched out. Expecting the worst to this point proved very helpful, if we were going to turn around... this was not the place to do it. We headed down a crumbly dry switchback that stood about 300 feet above the ocean level, for me this was the crap that was a little uncomfortable. Ken tried to get a few good
shots but nothing compares to the actual perception as you know. The key we learned on many previous trips and also in rock climbing is ... don't think about it, don't look up don't look down just keep your eye on the trail and go nice and steady. You didn't want to trip, fall or slide in the shale because it would have meant your end... either way it wasn't near as bad as what we were anticipating. It wasn't a walk in the park nor something I wanted to do everyday but it wasn't quite as bad as originally envisioned, but still nasty. (In the photos, if you can't see the trail... just look near the center of the shot.)
Once we knew we were across and in a safe spot we turned around and looked back. We both realized that it would not have been a comfortable landing, and we were very thankful that it wasn't wet, raining or goats on the trail. Ken mentioned at this point, "The good thing about this is, for those that dare to do this trail, let alone finish, you definitely earn the bragging rights." I couldn't have agreed with him more. As we looked back we also wondered and came to the conclusion that the 15 - 20 sketchy feet were continuous... I honestly can't tell you which of the 15 - 20 foot sections were worse, the whole thing sucked!
With the adrenaline rush still kicked in we quickly came in on a canopy thicket of trees and back out to exposed dry crumbly ground, only to find a more tricky
washed out areas just beyond that, the obstacles never seemed to end. The solid rock exposure was nothing... the sliding shale and sand dropping off into the sea... that we weren't liking as much, but on you went because you pretty much had no choice. Coming up on mile 8 wasn't like we'd expected once again. The only camp areas actually on the beach were at miles 2 and at the end of the trail mile 11, the other 2 or 3 we encountered were up away off the water. None the less we passed one person's tent and started looking for the clean running waterfall that we heard was nearby to refill our supply. While we disembarked the trail pulled up a comfy boulder to lay upon we managed to find our water filter and a place to refill our bottles. There we rested for a few minutes and contemplated the thought of having to walk back up the short hill we just came down and stay at mile 8 or continue up and over the remaining 3 miles with our now completely exhausted bodies. Needless to say I was pretty convinced that we wouldn't make the full 11 miles by sundown. The time was whizzing by and our pace wasn't getting any better. I had at that point accepted that fact that we were going to be camping here and looking forward to it. Both Ken and I knew endurance from many past experiences... but we'd never "endured" something like this before. So I laying half alive over a rock, feet swelling and filling the remaining space in my boots, await the final word from my fearless leader to walk back up the very short small hill to make camp at mile 8. His mouth opened and started to speak and he says "... well... I think... ya... lets keep going, let's just do this!" My eyes suddenly found themselves to be opened quite wide and a gulp of YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!, setting in. However since I was the one that was insistent in the beginning to make the full 11 in one day and because now there was a challenge put in front of me, I wasn't exactly going to back down. Continuing on at this point was pure lack of intelligence coupled with stupidity. If we had had a mind on us and an extra nights stay I'm sure we would have stopped by now, but we didn't have either so we went on.
Knowing we had the nasty part behind us we figured it had to be getting a little easier. Coming up out of the waterfall where we filled our water at mile 8 was a little tricky, sandy, not much trail left, steep cliffs, nothing new. Off we went, like a turtle in his last mile of the race. For us these last 3 miles equated the last leg of the Reach the Beach bike ride I did which was 104miles, or last few miles of the 197 mile Hood to Coast relay or the last 3 painful killer miles of the 26.2 mile Portland Marathon. Our remaining energy stores scraped off of the insides of our bodies gave us the final push for the end. It didn't take long before the swearing commenced. “WHAT WAS I THINKING?” “WHO PUT THESE ROCKS HERE?” “... AND WHY THE *&#$%! DID WE DECIDE TO COMPLETE THIS IN A DAY?” Ken was making me laugh, it made me feel much better hearing him voice the words I couldn't help but feel. The miles seemed to be endless... there was always more rock to cross, more sand to slide on, more cliffs to stare at, it never seemed to end. What exactly was it that kept you going? Was it the mileage factor, was it the intensity and diversity of the trail, or was it the beauty of the landscape? I honestly think that insanity and exhaustion had set in and took over. At this point It could have been a very depressing thing, but in reality it was the most intense beautiful views in these miles on this trail that one may ever see, never will a photo do it justice.
After cursing for sometime, we ran into a guy and lady chatting along the trail somewhere around mile 9. While we were contemplating our move as to how we were going to get around them without rolling down the side of the cliff we said our hellos. The guy himself was camping back at 8, he had left his gear there that morning, hiked into Kalalau for the day and now was heading back. The gal had been on her last stretch out to Kalalau. She had camped at mile 8 and was making her final descent. Dude man said... "It's all down hill from here". He was quite a nice chap and gave us a few pointers for the last go of it. He
pointed to a rather large rocky mass just beyond where we were, he said "when you get to that... you can see the beach. At that point you go down a red clay
slick exposed area that resembles the moon, and then you go into the trees for the remainder of the trail ". The gal asked if we were slow hikers... and asked
if she could tag along the rest of the way. My response was at that time nothing could get much slower than us right now... our bodies are on full auto pilot and on their own, all we could really get out was, "sure". Now the 3 of us continued to trek on. I do have to say that our definition of slow and hers was a little
different, but none the less... we kept together.
We hit the spots just as the guy said. Just before hitting the red moon we saw a sign that told us we were pretty much there, though we had close to 2
miles to go, none the less we pressed on. Slowly we headed down the red clay, slid on some gravel, scraped our leg on a rock here and there but then we were down and heading into the thicket once again. I turned to see if our tag a long was still there and noticed she hadn't come into where we were as of yet. We stopped and waited... and waited... we had just seen her but a few feet behind us coming off the clay. Then we thought she stopped to pee. Soon she came along, she said "... you guys wanna here something funny?" At this point the pain and sweat from body wasn't into laughing too much but if she wanted to share a corny joke I was nice and said "sure". She says "I come all this way with not really any issue... never fell once... until the last step of that hill, and wham right on my face!" Somehow my body found a little chuckle, then I asked if she was ok, and we went on.
Miles 9, 10 and 11 were all different in themselves. Getting to the 10 marker was a welcome sight, but the small Kalalau River wasn't. We knew we had 1 mile
more to go, we assessed tge situation as much as we could, feet were already not happy and they didn't want to walk in wet boots. There was a rope crossing
with stones to step across on. This was fine if you were 6 feet tall, and had the leg span of a giraffe, I personally have the span of something closer to a chicken. Ken went first, holding the tight rope, leaning just right, balancing while lifting the rope up over his pack while not falling and over to the other side he went. My turn... I just shook my head, I was so exhausted, I knew by that point I was going in. Either I just take off my boots and try to walk in the water, across on slick rocks, twist my leg and crawl across or try crossing with the rope, slip, fall in sideways and get everything wet while I manage not to drown, as a nearby sign had proposed was possible. Ken wanted me to try how he went, so I started across the rocks. My feet started slipping, I very quickly decided I didn't want to get wet that way, I came back to steady ground and almost took off my boots. The chick that was with us didn't help me much, she just went down stream a bit, entered the water which reached up her thigh, crossed the river boots and all. Ken offered to help, so I took a deep breath and I gave it another try. Heading back onto the rocks, I got somewhere close to where I was before, having to temporarily let go of the rope so Ken could meet me half way, I balanced myself using my poles. Ken comes back up on one of the larger rocks and helps me get over to the next center rock. The rope was just beyond my reach but Ken helped me grab on to it, I was barley able to I hold on but I did and made it across without falling. There weren't enough words of any kind left in my mind to reply to whatever it was we just did.
Coming out of the river crossing we see the sign that welcomed us to the beach and pointed us in the right direction. You found yourself at sea level still walking on dirt and clay; the trail crossed the beach next to shrubs and trees just above the sand. Our first encounter with another human there was with a
local to Kalalau standing in the middle of the trail, she was waiting for the chick we'd picked up. The chick that was with us looked as though she was about to break, her will was shot for the day and with good reason. With the two girls glad to see each other, we said our goodbyes and off we went to find a camp spot and get rid of these horrible packs we were carrying. Ken and I kept going looking for we were going to crash. We came up on 3 more locals to the
area. They had the camp of choice, nestled under a few trees and right up off the sand. They had lava rock walls that looked as though they had been placed by professionals, beautiful spot. Feeling almost like they were camp hosts we stopped to chat a moment, in a very calm relaxed mellow tone, their best words
spoke "...welcome home", this... is indeed how we felt.
Up the path a few more feet we found a camp sight just off the beach, 9 hours after we'd left the trailhead, 1 hour or so from sunset. We figured it took us
8 hours hike time, and having to stop a few times it had taken us to 9hours. So relieved, we just crumbled, so happy and ecstatic to get the pack and boots
off. This was it, this is were we were going to be for the next 2 days, we were so glad that we came all the way. I immediately wished I had requested more
days on the permit, this is because I knew it was going to take at least 2 full days to recover from our trip in before we were ever ready to head back out. 11 miles in one day on the most difficult trail of my life, is by far NOT the smartest thing I've ever done, but I've never claimed to be brilliant. Ken's words were and I quote "tomorrow... I am doing... NOTHING", I couldn't have agreed more.
Day 2 - & who really cared what day it was... I was just glad we were there.
We were in paradise... We spent the day doing not much of anything, we walked on the beach and rinsed off in the waterfall near by (which also happened to be the only source for fresh water) all the while contemplating the meaning of life, and how the *&#%$! we got in here in the first place. Most of the time we sat and reflect on the trip in and how we were going to get out. We also spent some time getting to know our neighbor, who we will just call 'naked guy'. He was also a resident here in Kalalau. Note: Nudity was not uncommon here, it was not promoted nor was it shunned, it was something we knew was possible from the start. He was quite wise and helpful as to the whereabouts of the food in the Valley and the whatnots with the area. His famous last words were always, "FREE UP!" While we became accepting of 'naked guy' as is, and the others that shared his same free spirit, we weren't so willing to "free up" just yet. Regarding those that live in the valley, he mentioned there were a select few that live in the Kalalau Valley full time. While we wanted to make sure we didn't stray too far off any given path, these people are very accepting of those that make the journey to Kalalau. They feel that those that come have come for a reason, soul searching, spiritual, mental or physical healing. At moment our reason was focused on the physical healing, and was as the welcoming crew stated the day before... we had come home to rest in every way shape and form.
Walking the warm sand beach, sitting in the sand and watching waves, relaxing, and healing seemed so nice and totally at peace. This place was the closest we'd ever come to perfection, with an abnormal amount of helicopters flying by. So we found things to do, and as if the day prior weren't enough, we decided
after talking to our naked neighbor, we were going to go for a little walk. He told Ken that if you come in this far you must go up into the Kalalau Valley, so we did. We knew there was a waterfall up in there somewhere, along with fruit trees a plenty. However the extent of it all was almost 3 miles from where we were and our boots were not going to get back on our feet. We figured we'd just put our sandals on our feet and see how far we'd get.
The trail up into the valley started back where we'd come in by the Kalalau river. One trail takes you along the river (the one we never found) and the other trail takes you through the old trails next to the old Taro terraces through a tropical canopy. We found ourselves traveling in and out of the canopy cover, next to the red rock and clay very similar to the rock and clay we'd come down the day before. With stream crossings and pools of water clean enough to bathe in for years, you now had the time, some energy and mind to appreciate and take it all in. The heat and humidity in the winter time made us really appreciate the timing of our trip, we didn't really want to experience the hotter heat of summer, this was plenty enough. We didn't make it all the way back in to the falls, because we were still so exhausted, we were still so glad we took the opportunity to come in as far as we did.
Walking back we cut off near the beach, I paused a moment and said "this is going to suck getting out of here"...Ken's response, "oh ya going baaack..." it
wasn't even something our bodies were ready for and with good reason. We may have made it in one day... but... it did come at a cost, always does. Our little
5 mile day trip seemed like a walk in the park in comparison to the trail in. Back at camp we decided we weren't going to go far for the remainder of our stay. Though we really never wanted to leave this place we both knew it would be wise to start out sometime the next day. Questions rose, if we were to start heading back the next day at what camp area would we stay, or if we should stay one more night here, to recover could we really manage to push the 11 miles again? This was truly a battle because we both really felt we never wanted to never leave.
Day 3 - starting back
Morning arrived all too soon, we knew we needed to leave. The last walks in the sand, the crashing waves, and the last views of what looked like a dead monk seal never seems to capture the moment of leaving home. Grabbing our last meal and still wondering how we'd get away with just living here we packed up our things. By far this was the more solemn moment of reality. We had to leave home to go home, knowing we had one more night on the trial gave some comfort. The liberation and feeling of comfort one gets from the total experience will last forever. Saying goodbye to our new friends we load up our packs and head down the paths for the last time this stay. Taking in as much of the air we could inhale, our minds turned back on for a moment we started to process the trail home.
We decided we'd stay at the 8 mile mark, we were so glad we did. The views and the sunset were incredible, we also met a new group of people here. While we ate our dinner we chatted with the small crew whom we will refer to as 'California'. Seems they recognized us from the trailhead when we started. They started the same morning, it took them 3 days to get to mile 8. When we told them we barely made it in, in one day they were shocked, almost as shocked as we were, we let them know that there was a heavy cost associated to it. They questioned us as to the end, if there was an alternate way out. We told them that we met a guy with a boat and for about $100 each, he'd take you back to Ke'e Beach. It seemed that they weren't the most experienced hikers or campers let alone backpackers. They had pots and pans, clothing strung out all over a clothes line and more gear than you'd ever want on a backpack trip. What really clued us into their experience was when they brought out their video camera to film the sunset. Video is one thing, one of this magnitude was another. Needless to say we didn't spend much time trying to acquaint ourselves with their techniques. If they had read the literature you receive when you get your permit it gives you a good idea of what to bring... light weight stuff and not much of it, I think they can't read... but... none the less they were there.
Due to the late start we had leaving Kalalau we knew that we were at the best stopping point for the night. This would be the last stop for many that were on
the trail. After we set up camp for the night there were a couple stragglers come in. One guy you could tell right from the start was a resident returning home to Kalalau. Another one traveling alone, came in just in the nick of time just before the sun set. He's been on the 'cliffs of doom' while dusk was setting in, not necessarily the most comfortable position to be in, his name was Hans. He mentioned he'd run into a "goat issue" along that very section, they were all over the trail and weren't letting him by. He tried to shoe them along so he could keep going, seems goats on the trail are just, if not more stubborn than ones on a farm. Soon we all settled in, watched the most incredible sunset we'd ever seen and headed for bed.
Soon we woke to a new day. We heard rustling of people and breakfasts starting to brew. We decide to get up. Wow what a view. Never before had I seen the moon in the morning like it was, we watched it go down while and the sun come up all in the same moment.
Once we ate we took off. We wanted to get through the ugly spot before any rain, goats or people hit it. All three of which you don't want to meet along the path. We did have a few goat issues during these tricky 2 miles. Goats are fine and all but when they are above you kicking loose rock, sand and dirt down
on you it makes for a little scary ride. We both kept alert and called out when we heard the rocks rolling. One of the times I had to stop, a rock about the size of a baseball flew about 2 feet in front of my face. Another time one a bit bigger smacked my trekking pole. We decided that with goats above and below we wanted to get the heck out of there, making haste we got out of there.
Coming up to the rocky cliffs in the morning made us a little hesitant, we weren't sure if we'd run into someone on the trail or not. You can only see a little bit of the trail around part of the rock, so once you get going you are pretty much committed. I do have to say that hindsight helped us get through much quicker this time, still scary but a little easier. We had heard goats around us so we knew to be alert, we had already crossed most the washouts, and the wind hadn't kicked in yet. This was good, soon we were going to be safe on the other side.
Once comfortably past this point it seemed like it took hours to get anywhere, the miles once again went on and on. The terrain became monotonous, soon we found ourselves as others we'd passed coming in, waiting to get onto wet ground again. We made it to mile 3 before we really saw any people, we only passed 4 people before this point, which was good because passing them was rather tricky. Not to far past the 4 mile mark I have to say I almost had an "off
trail experience", I am so thankful for the branch that caught me or I'd have spent the rest of our stay somewhere else.
On arriving back to the 2 mile mark at Hanakapiai Beach we were greeted by a young guy that quickly recognized where we had been. All he said was, "ahh you went all the way, how was it?" We welcomed the stop, chatted with him for a few minutes, it was like seeing an old friend, yet this was a guy we'd never met before. This guy had been to Kalalau several times before and was a Kauai local, so he no doubt would be going there again. One thing we learned was that you can tell just by a quick glance if someone has visited Kalalau, lives in the Valley or has no idea what they are in for. For those that have been, you have a common respect and you gain friends immediately.
After our stop and a bite of what we hoped would be our last protein bar ever, we headed out for the home stretch. We quickly noted the mob of people coming into Hanakapiai Beach. Ken and I took no time to stop and chat anymore. We grabbed our poles sped across the river rocks like pros and headed up the slick hill. The rain that had come through that morning didn't slow many down. We ran into others quite often, saying a quick "hi" or "hey" when warranted and moved on. We knew we were on the home stretch so we didn't bother to stop any longer to chat with anyone, we had big fat trails, renewed energy and the best pizza place waiting for us when we got done. Several times we came up on larger groups of people. As we approached, all of the people became silent like stone, you could feel the eyes watching us as we quietly came and went. It was as if they knew where we'd been and had a appreciation and respect for our doing it. The honor you felt as you passed them was all momentary but overwhelming, you just smiled and passed.
Dodging many clean white shoed people, we flew to the final few yards of the trail. Noting those that were in full gear heading into Kalalau we quickly knew
who would really make and who wouldn't. By our own conclusion there were only a small percent of people that actually made it the entire way, and many of those can't make the trail back so they pay the $100 boat ride. There was only one guy we started the trail with that made it all the way out, knowing that we
were of the minority gave us respect for ourselves. All the couples and people that we'd seen on the trail out... we never saw again. This huge task we'd taken was about to come to it's end. Pausing a moment to catch up to each other, Ken and I took the last step of the trail together, what an accomplishment. Our trip to Kalalau was over, to return there was in our plans, just NOT this trip. Now when we say the word home it takes on a totally new meaning... Kalalau.*
*For those that wish to take on this task, PLEASE do all your research, what I have shared with you is the story of our trip. Please be advised, the risks very from day to day, month to month. Research, reading and training is a must for for the entire take on this task. If you doubt yourself and abilities at all you are safer and are welcome to continue living vicariously thorough us. If the Kalalau Beach is where you want to see but not hike if you have other options. You can Kayak, take boats or water tours visiting the beach as well as many other areas along the Napali Coast.
**Training for this trip is a must! We thought long and hard on the perfect way to train, and with all honesty and sincerity this is about what it would take. Training program= take one outdoor football stadium in the middle of a hot summer, cover all the bleachers and cement stairs with clay, turn on heavy sprinklers wait until the water starts pooling. Then put on ski boots, a 40lb backpack, ski poles and start running up the bleachers and down the stairs, while the sprinklers turn on and off. Do that for several hours. Then pour several truck loads of sand upon the same surface and continue routine adding wind gusts for the remainder of the day. When you are through check into the nearest hospital and have a doctor analyze your condition, this should give you some idea of what this trail will do to you.
We had a good idea what we were in for so we continued to prepare as if it were all a go, with the intent to do the entire 11 miles in, in one day, which we knew was insanity. But as usual, if it is truly insane I will only try it once. The permit also read that while the whole 11 was a possibility it wasn't necessarily
the best idea. In fact the permit stated that it would be a long tough day for very experienced well trained hikers, well my attitude was, I'd be damned if I
wasn't going to give it a go. We also knew going into this that there were only 2 camp areas open, one at the 2 mile mark and the other... at the end. For some
reason unknown to us the other area was "closed." Knowing we had only 4 days on the permit we wanted to make the best use of our time. As far as the trail
itself, thankfully Ken and I had a realistic insight, from hiking part of the trail to Hanakapiai beach the prior years and from the hike into the Hanakapiai Falls in 2005. Our next project was figuring out our ETA, normally our hiking pace is somewhere around 2.5 miles in an hour, which is clipping along pretty good, in 2005 when we were on the first section of this trail it took us 5 hours to travel 4 miles in and out, which ends up to be about 35 minutes to go 1 mile or 1.75 miles an hour - needless to say is much slower than our normal pace. However this is what we had to base our travel time on. Going on this assumption we gave ourselves a good healthy 6.5 to 7 hours, with full packs, including some rests here and there. We were hoping that if we started around 8 am we'd get to camp somewhere around 4 - 4:30 at worst, and still be good for daylight... here's what really happened...
Day 1 - Tuesday January 11, 2006
For any individual that attempts the trail, whether completed or not, this will be the most difficult trail of their life. With much apprehension and anticipation we hit the start of the trail like planned 8:00ish with full packs, gear and all. The first two miles were pretty much as expected; it is your typical wet, slippery, tropical rainforest trail which meant slick mud, water, heat and humidity. Trails are wide at this end and well traveled by tourists. When you start the trail, you are at the "wet end", and you finish somewhere around the "dry side", which is all relative. The wet part held true this particular morning. Prior starting we'd been talking too many of the locals regarding the weather, this was definitely a drought year. When we first arrived on the island you could see that the island had been dry for some time. There had actually been burns recently which is something never heard of here, the vegetation looked parched and thirsty. We had also heard that Mt Wialaiali which normally gets about 42 inches in December alone, received not even 2 inches in 2005, this was good news for us, we were hoping for a dry trip, just not good news for the island. Even though the island was considered "dry" the trail was still very wet. There had been showers in the area, which is not unusual being that the North end of the island is the wettest part of Kauai.
As we slid into Hanakapiai beach we noted how low the river was. Dry as it was, there was still plenty of water flowing, one good rain in the mountains and the
water level could change in a moments notice. You always have to be alert to flash floods no matter what you do, be it hiking or driving on the road. If it happens, you just have to make yourself comfortable and wait it out. With enough rocks exposed and using trekking poles we crossed the first river fine. Stopping briefly on the other side we noticed we were traveling a little slower than we'd originally anticipated. We said hello to a couple we saw the day prior when they had headed out, needless to say they didn't get too far, their goal for this day was to get to mile 6, just before the tricky mile 7 - 8. While we chatted briefly we guzzled water and choked down the first of our many Cliff bars. Knowing that with full packs time would make some difference, we also knew we didn't have much time to spare. Starting off again was a little tricky, up to this point you don't need a permit, so many of the daring islands visitors will hike out to this beach, and for those that really want an adventure they head into the HanakapiaiFalls. Heading out the Kalalau trail was a completely different beast. Thinking we are going the right way we ended up walking through all the camp areas, then made our way up past some other trail and finally found the one we should have been on in the first place, personally I took this as some sort of bad sign.
It wasn't long before we understood where the coast got its name. We were starting to feel the heat and humidity of the day set in, so we quickly headed up. That is as quick as you could go as you were backsliding in slick snot mud with 2 - 3 extra pounds of it caked on each of your boots. We were anxious to see what the rest of the trail was going to be like, from what we could see it was going to be wet and hip displacing slick. Miles 3 - 6 were indeed that, they were very tricky and quite taxing physically. This was much the same as the first two miles, the trails were just much more narrow (12inches wide more and less, usually less), wetter, steeper and more sheer drop offs loaded with loose rock, roots and then covered with topical foliage and razor blade leaved drooping trees, all which was terrain I'd been on just never at the same time. If it weren't for the shrubs on the downhill side of the trail you'd literally be walking on the edge of a cliff.
Once you came to peace with the ground you were on... the trail just became status quo, you just didn't want to run into someone and have to pass. As the clouds loomed you climbed the hillside just waiting for an outbreak of tropical rain, and from time to time it let loose a small shower or two. We were very thankful we had a cloud cover, as it was it wasn't long before you got sticky hot. When it did rain we would just try to lean back into the overhanging thicket of trees and wait it out. After a while we decided we liked this kind of rain, it was pretty light, it kept us slightly cooler, and became quite refreshing. While the trail was killer, the beauty became more and more intense, the tropical canopy and views were amazing.
About the 3.5 mile mark we stopped to pause for a few minutes. We did a little recalculating of our time and ... it was taking us 45 - 50 minutes to go about
1 mile... we realized we were in trouble, this was going to take a little longer than we had planned, and due to the terrain there seemed to be no place you could make up any of that time. Recalculating our ETA it would take us closer to 8 hours to finish, definitely NOT what we in mind.
Leaving this point and after refueling, we soon headed back into a much awaited thicket of forest heading away from the exposed cliffs. Still dealing much with
steep sided hills somehow being around trees and waterfalls gave you a little comfort, not that there was less likelihood of a fall but that there was more
there to catch you when you did. These miles we traveled to this point covered a landscape that was more beautiful than I'd ever imagined, along with a
challenge of a trail that came with the territory. Miles of beauty that traversed in and out of the cliffs that went up in elevation and down, trails that were slick, muddy, and exposed to dense, dark, tropical, humid, wet, buggy forests, there was never any constant. The ground became a little wetter and the mud didn't cake your shoes quite like the beginning. Mile 5 pretty much stayed in and out of the thick tropical forest giving you another taste of differing terrain.
Mile 6 was the camp area we were told was "closed", seemed that the couple people that were staying there didn't know that. This didn't matter much... there were still a couple lovely smelling composting toilets and a rain shelter that we took much advantage of. We quickly took to the shelter, stripped off our packs; before we fell forward on our face we laid down on the only table there and put our feet up. Earlier on the trail we had taken off our packs and put our feet up, this was a welcome second time. These last 4 miles were by far the most difficult with, the humidity, constant terrain change and climate was quite energy sapping. Here we started rethinking our plan of action, seemed energy stores were getting tapped early and the dreaded mile 7 was quickly approaching.
This point was a real mental task, you had to be strong leaving here, which was something I was questioning. We'd both stay here for the night and head
out early in the morning, or we'd tackle the dreaded 7 - 8 miles now.
There weren't many people along the trail, the only ones we passed were those coming out from Kalalau. We passed a group of 3 that said it took them 8+ hours to get in. Others instilled much faith in the 7 mile mark by saying "just go slow... it's really scary and exposed", another lady was totally freaked out. For us we'd never seen a picture nor knew exactly what to expect, knowing that we were familiar with "exposure" because of rock climbing we realistically had
some idea. Our friend Luke told us the day before that he was out in a boat in the water once and saw people on their hands and knee's pushing their packs
across. The lady we talked to in the Kayak Kauai shop said that it's all rock cliffs with a definite drop off but the worst of it is only about 15 to 20 feet across - then you're fine. With this looming in our minds, we were just hoping we had enough strength to continue to stay upright on the trail and not fall over due to exhaustion, but ... we decided to take it on and get it over with. Several people said that there was another camp at mile 8, so that was our goal, we'd decided "lets just get mile 7 out of the way and stay at 8."
Just after leaving mile 6, you cross a slick river maze, re-found the trail. Half mile or so later the terrain turned quickly into something totally new, one that was much drier, with new obstacles all it's own and mile 7 was approaching quickly you could feel it. The ground became very dry, loose dirt and sand with pebble gravel covering much of the trail, it was as if someone turned off the water and it all dried out. Earlier we had run into a couple that mentioned they were glad to be back where the ground was wet... now we saw why. You went from trying to stay upright on the trail on slick ice like mud to trying to stay on the trail where there wasn't one. Most of the time there was trail and you never had to do any "trail finding or bushwhacking", but you did have to make sure there was stable ground to step on, because there were spaces that the trail just no longer existed, it just wasn't there.
Coming out off the hillside you saw part of what everyone had been talking about... mile 7. Well, while they weren't the most welcoming sight... I was most anxious to see if they were anything like everyone had been freaking out about. I was first to go, and slowly headed down. A couple feet down the trail and it became exposed, very dry and windy. The trail was no longer level from side to side, it became quite steep in spots with many wash outs. I took a better but quick look at the "fearsome evil cliffs of doom", with a deep breath and a big question mark over my head I knew I needed to move on before I started to get sketched out. Expecting the worst to this point proved very helpful, if we were going to turn around... this was not the place to do it. We headed down a crumbly dry switchback that stood about 300 feet above the ocean level, for me this was the crap that was a little uncomfortable. Ken tried to get a few good
shots but nothing compares to the actual perception as you know. The key we learned on many previous trips and also in rock climbing is ... don't think about it, don't look up don't look down just keep your eye on the trail and go nice and steady. You didn't want to trip, fall or slide in the shale because it would have meant your end... either way it wasn't near as bad as what we were anticipating. It wasn't a walk in the park nor something I wanted to do everyday but it wasn't quite as bad as originally envisioned, but still nasty. (In the photos, if you can't see the trail... just look near the center of the shot.)
Once we knew we were across and in a safe spot we turned around and looked back. We both realized that it would not have been a comfortable landing, and we were very thankful that it wasn't wet, raining or goats on the trail. Ken mentioned at this point, "The good thing about this is, for those that dare to do this trail, let alone finish, you definitely earn the bragging rights." I couldn't have agreed with him more. As we looked back we also wondered and came to the conclusion that the 15 - 20 sketchy feet were continuous... I honestly can't tell you which of the 15 - 20 foot sections were worse, the whole thing sucked!
With the adrenaline rush still kicked in we quickly came in on a canopy thicket of trees and back out to exposed dry crumbly ground, only to find a more tricky
washed out areas just beyond that, the obstacles never seemed to end. The solid rock exposure was nothing... the sliding shale and sand dropping off into the sea... that we weren't liking as much, but on you went because you pretty much had no choice. Coming up on mile 8 wasn't like we'd expected once again. The only camp areas actually on the beach were at miles 2 and at the end of the trail mile 11, the other 2 or 3 we encountered were up away off the water. None the less we passed one person's tent and started looking for the clean running waterfall that we heard was nearby to refill our supply. While we disembarked the trail pulled up a comfy boulder to lay upon we managed to find our water filter and a place to refill our bottles. There we rested for a few minutes and contemplated the thought of having to walk back up the short hill we just came down and stay at mile 8 or continue up and over the remaining 3 miles with our now completely exhausted bodies. Needless to say I was pretty convinced that we wouldn't make the full 11 miles by sundown. The time was whizzing by and our pace wasn't getting any better. I had at that point accepted that fact that we were going to be camping here and looking forward to it. Both Ken and I knew endurance from many past experiences... but we'd never "endured" something like this before. So I laying half alive over a rock, feet swelling and filling the remaining space in my boots, await the final word from my fearless leader to walk back up the very short small hill to make camp at mile 8. His mouth opened and started to speak and he says "... well... I think... ya... lets keep going, let's just do this!" My eyes suddenly found themselves to be opened quite wide and a gulp of YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!, setting in. However since I was the one that was insistent in the beginning to make the full 11 in one day and because now there was a challenge put in front of me, I wasn't exactly going to back down. Continuing on at this point was pure lack of intelligence coupled with stupidity. If we had had a mind on us and an extra nights stay I'm sure we would have stopped by now, but we didn't have either so we went on.
Knowing we had the nasty part behind us we figured it had to be getting a little easier. Coming up out of the waterfall where we filled our water at mile 8 was a little tricky, sandy, not much trail left, steep cliffs, nothing new. Off we went, like a turtle in his last mile of the race. For us these last 3 miles equated the last leg of the Reach the Beach bike ride I did which was 104miles, or last few miles of the 197 mile Hood to Coast relay or the last 3 painful killer miles of the 26.2 mile Portland Marathon. Our remaining energy stores scraped off of the insides of our bodies gave us the final push for the end. It didn't take long before the swearing commenced. “WHAT WAS I THINKING?” “WHO PUT THESE ROCKS HERE?” “... AND WHY THE *&#$%! DID WE DECIDE TO COMPLETE THIS IN A DAY?” Ken was making me laugh, it made me feel much better hearing him voice the words I couldn't help but feel. The miles seemed to be endless... there was always more rock to cross, more sand to slide on, more cliffs to stare at, it never seemed to end. What exactly was it that kept you going? Was it the mileage factor, was it the intensity and diversity of the trail, or was it the beauty of the landscape? I honestly think that insanity and exhaustion had set in and took over. At this point It could have been a very depressing thing, but in reality it was the most intense beautiful views in these miles on this trail that one may ever see, never will a photo do it justice.
After cursing for sometime, we ran into a guy and lady chatting along the trail somewhere around mile 9. While we were contemplating our move as to how we were going to get around them without rolling down the side of the cliff we said our hellos. The guy himself was camping back at 8, he had left his gear there that morning, hiked into Kalalau for the day and now was heading back. The gal had been on her last stretch out to Kalalau. She had camped at mile 8 and was making her final descent. Dude man said... "It's all down hill from here". He was quite a nice chap and gave us a few pointers for the last go of it. He
pointed to a rather large rocky mass just beyond where we were, he said "when you get to that... you can see the beach. At that point you go down a red clay
slick exposed area that resembles the moon, and then you go into the trees for the remainder of the trail ". The gal asked if we were slow hikers... and asked
if she could tag along the rest of the way. My response was at that time nothing could get much slower than us right now... our bodies are on full auto pilot and on their own, all we could really get out was, "sure". Now the 3 of us continued to trek on. I do have to say that our definition of slow and hers was a little
different, but none the less... we kept together.
We hit the spots just as the guy said. Just before hitting the red moon we saw a sign that told us we were pretty much there, though we had close to 2
miles to go, none the less we pressed on. Slowly we headed down the red clay, slid on some gravel, scraped our leg on a rock here and there but then we were down and heading into the thicket once again. I turned to see if our tag a long was still there and noticed she hadn't come into where we were as of yet. We stopped and waited... and waited... we had just seen her but a few feet behind us coming off the clay. Then we thought she stopped to pee. Soon she came along, she said "... you guys wanna here something funny?" At this point the pain and sweat from body wasn't into laughing too much but if she wanted to share a corny joke I was nice and said "sure". She says "I come all this way with not really any issue... never fell once... until the last step of that hill, and wham right on my face!" Somehow my body found a little chuckle, then I asked if she was ok, and we went on.
Miles 9, 10 and 11 were all different in themselves. Getting to the 10 marker was a welcome sight, but the small Kalalau River wasn't. We knew we had 1 mile
more to go, we assessed tge situation as much as we could, feet were already not happy and they didn't want to walk in wet boots. There was a rope crossing
with stones to step across on. This was fine if you were 6 feet tall, and had the leg span of a giraffe, I personally have the span of something closer to a chicken. Ken went first, holding the tight rope, leaning just right, balancing while lifting the rope up over his pack while not falling and over to the other side he went. My turn... I just shook my head, I was so exhausted, I knew by that point I was going in. Either I just take off my boots and try to walk in the water, across on slick rocks, twist my leg and crawl across or try crossing with the rope, slip, fall in sideways and get everything wet while I manage not to drown, as a nearby sign had proposed was possible. Ken wanted me to try how he went, so I started across the rocks. My feet started slipping, I very quickly decided I didn't want to get wet that way, I came back to steady ground and almost took off my boots. The chick that was with us didn't help me much, she just went down stream a bit, entered the water which reached up her thigh, crossed the river boots and all. Ken offered to help, so I took a deep breath and I gave it another try. Heading back onto the rocks, I got somewhere close to where I was before, having to temporarily let go of the rope so Ken could meet me half way, I balanced myself using my poles. Ken comes back up on one of the larger rocks and helps me get over to the next center rock. The rope was just beyond my reach but Ken helped me grab on to it, I was barley able to I hold on but I did and made it across without falling. There weren't enough words of any kind left in my mind to reply to whatever it was we just did.
Coming out of the river crossing we see the sign that welcomed us to the beach and pointed us in the right direction. You found yourself at sea level still walking on dirt and clay; the trail crossed the beach next to shrubs and trees just above the sand. Our first encounter with another human there was with a
local to Kalalau standing in the middle of the trail, she was waiting for the chick we'd picked up. The chick that was with us looked as though she was about to break, her will was shot for the day and with good reason. With the two girls glad to see each other, we said our goodbyes and off we went to find a camp spot and get rid of these horrible packs we were carrying. Ken and I kept going looking for we were going to crash. We came up on 3 more locals to the
area. They had the camp of choice, nestled under a few trees and right up off the sand. They had lava rock walls that looked as though they had been placed by professionals, beautiful spot. Feeling almost like they were camp hosts we stopped to chat a moment, in a very calm relaxed mellow tone, their best words
spoke "...welcome home", this... is indeed how we felt.
Up the path a few more feet we found a camp sight just off the beach, 9 hours after we'd left the trailhead, 1 hour or so from sunset. We figured it took us
8 hours hike time, and having to stop a few times it had taken us to 9hours. So relieved, we just crumbled, so happy and ecstatic to get the pack and boots
off. This was it, this is were we were going to be for the next 2 days, we were so glad that we came all the way. I immediately wished I had requested more
days on the permit, this is because I knew it was going to take at least 2 full days to recover from our trip in before we were ever ready to head back out. 11 miles in one day on the most difficult trail of my life, is by far NOT the smartest thing I've ever done, but I've never claimed to be brilliant. Ken's words were and I quote "tomorrow... I am doing... NOTHING", I couldn't have agreed more.
Day 2 - & who really cared what day it was... I was just glad we were there.
We were in paradise... We spent the day doing not much of anything, we walked on the beach and rinsed off in the waterfall near by (which also happened to be the only source for fresh water) all the while contemplating the meaning of life, and how the *&#%$! we got in here in the first place. Most of the time we sat and reflect on the trip in and how we were going to get out. We also spent some time getting to know our neighbor, who we will just call 'naked guy'. He was also a resident here in Kalalau. Note: Nudity was not uncommon here, it was not promoted nor was it shunned, it was something we knew was possible from the start. He was quite wise and helpful as to the whereabouts of the food in the Valley and the whatnots with the area. His famous last words were always, "FREE UP!" While we became accepting of 'naked guy' as is, and the others that shared his same free spirit, we weren't so willing to "free up" just yet. Regarding those that live in the valley, he mentioned there were a select few that live in the Kalalau Valley full time. While we wanted to make sure we didn't stray too far off any given path, these people are very accepting of those that make the journey to Kalalau. They feel that those that come have come for a reason, soul searching, spiritual, mental or physical healing. At moment our reason was focused on the physical healing, and was as the welcoming crew stated the day before... we had come home to rest in every way shape and form.
Walking the warm sand beach, sitting in the sand and watching waves, relaxing, and healing seemed so nice and totally at peace. This place was the closest we'd ever come to perfection, with an abnormal amount of helicopters flying by. So we found things to do, and as if the day prior weren't enough, we decided
after talking to our naked neighbor, we were going to go for a little walk. He told Ken that if you come in this far you must go up into the Kalalau Valley, so we did. We knew there was a waterfall up in there somewhere, along with fruit trees a plenty. However the extent of it all was almost 3 miles from where we were and our boots were not going to get back on our feet. We figured we'd just put our sandals on our feet and see how far we'd get.
The trail up into the valley started back where we'd come in by the Kalalau river. One trail takes you along the river (the one we never found) and the other trail takes you through the old trails next to the old Taro terraces through a tropical canopy. We found ourselves traveling in and out of the canopy cover, next to the red rock and clay very similar to the rock and clay we'd come down the day before. With stream crossings and pools of water clean enough to bathe in for years, you now had the time, some energy and mind to appreciate and take it all in. The heat and humidity in the winter time made us really appreciate the timing of our trip, we didn't really want to experience the hotter heat of summer, this was plenty enough. We didn't make it all the way back in to the falls, because we were still so exhausted, we were still so glad we took the opportunity to come in as far as we did.
Walking back we cut off near the beach, I paused a moment and said "this is going to suck getting out of here"...Ken's response, "oh ya going baaack..." it
wasn't even something our bodies were ready for and with good reason. We may have made it in one day... but... it did come at a cost, always does. Our little
5 mile day trip seemed like a walk in the park in comparison to the trail in. Back at camp we decided we weren't going to go far for the remainder of our stay. Though we really never wanted to leave this place we both knew it would be wise to start out sometime the next day. Questions rose, if we were to start heading back the next day at what camp area would we stay, or if we should stay one more night here, to recover could we really manage to push the 11 miles again? This was truly a battle because we both really felt we never wanted to never leave.
Day 3 - starting back
Morning arrived all too soon, we knew we needed to leave. The last walks in the sand, the crashing waves, and the last views of what looked like a dead monk seal never seems to capture the moment of leaving home. Grabbing our last meal and still wondering how we'd get away with just living here we packed up our things. By far this was the more solemn moment of reality. We had to leave home to go home, knowing we had one more night on the trial gave some comfort. The liberation and feeling of comfort one gets from the total experience will last forever. Saying goodbye to our new friends we load up our packs and head down the paths for the last time this stay. Taking in as much of the air we could inhale, our minds turned back on for a moment we started to process the trail home.
We decided we'd stay at the 8 mile mark, we were so glad we did. The views and the sunset were incredible, we also met a new group of people here. While we ate our dinner we chatted with the small crew whom we will refer to as 'California'. Seems they recognized us from the trailhead when we started. They started the same morning, it took them 3 days to get to mile 8. When we told them we barely made it in, in one day they were shocked, almost as shocked as we were, we let them know that there was a heavy cost associated to it. They questioned us as to the end, if there was an alternate way out. We told them that we met a guy with a boat and for about $100 each, he'd take you back to Ke'e Beach. It seemed that they weren't the most experienced hikers or campers let alone backpackers. They had pots and pans, clothing strung out all over a clothes line and more gear than you'd ever want on a backpack trip. What really clued us into their experience was when they brought out their video camera to film the sunset. Video is one thing, one of this magnitude was another. Needless to say we didn't spend much time trying to acquaint ourselves with their techniques. If they had read the literature you receive when you get your permit it gives you a good idea of what to bring... light weight stuff and not much of it, I think they can't read... but... none the less they were there.
Due to the late start we had leaving Kalalau we knew that we were at the best stopping point for the night. This would be the last stop for many that were on
the trail. After we set up camp for the night there were a couple stragglers come in. One guy you could tell right from the start was a resident returning home to Kalalau. Another one traveling alone, came in just in the nick of time just before the sun set. He's been on the 'cliffs of doom' while dusk was setting in, not necessarily the most comfortable position to be in, his name was Hans. He mentioned he'd run into a "goat issue" along that very section, they were all over the trail and weren't letting him by. He tried to shoe them along so he could keep going, seems goats on the trail are just, if not more stubborn than ones on a farm. Soon we all settled in, watched the most incredible sunset we'd ever seen and headed for bed.
Soon we woke to a new day. We heard rustling of people and breakfasts starting to brew. We decide to get up. Wow what a view. Never before had I seen the moon in the morning like it was, we watched it go down while and the sun come up all in the same moment.
Once we ate we took off. We wanted to get through the ugly spot before any rain, goats or people hit it. All three of which you don't want to meet along the path. We did have a few goat issues during these tricky 2 miles. Goats are fine and all but when they are above you kicking loose rock, sand and dirt down
on you it makes for a little scary ride. We both kept alert and called out when we heard the rocks rolling. One of the times I had to stop, a rock about the size of a baseball flew about 2 feet in front of my face. Another time one a bit bigger smacked my trekking pole. We decided that with goats above and below we wanted to get the heck out of there, making haste we got out of there.
Coming up to the rocky cliffs in the morning made us a little hesitant, we weren't sure if we'd run into someone on the trail or not. You can only see a little bit of the trail around part of the rock, so once you get going you are pretty much committed. I do have to say that hindsight helped us get through much quicker this time, still scary but a little easier. We had heard goats around us so we knew to be alert, we had already crossed most the washouts, and the wind hadn't kicked in yet. This was good, soon we were going to be safe on the other side.
Once comfortably past this point it seemed like it took hours to get anywhere, the miles once again went on and on. The terrain became monotonous, soon we found ourselves as others we'd passed coming in, waiting to get onto wet ground again. We made it to mile 3 before we really saw any people, we only passed 4 people before this point, which was good because passing them was rather tricky. Not to far past the 4 mile mark I have to say I almost had an "off
trail experience", I am so thankful for the branch that caught me or I'd have spent the rest of our stay somewhere else.
On arriving back to the 2 mile mark at Hanakapiai Beach we were greeted by a young guy that quickly recognized where we had been. All he said was, "ahh you went all the way, how was it?" We welcomed the stop, chatted with him for a few minutes, it was like seeing an old friend, yet this was a guy we'd never met before. This guy had been to Kalalau several times before and was a Kauai local, so he no doubt would be going there again. One thing we learned was that you can tell just by a quick glance if someone has visited Kalalau, lives in the Valley or has no idea what they are in for. For those that have been, you have a common respect and you gain friends immediately.
After our stop and a bite of what we hoped would be our last protein bar ever, we headed out for the home stretch. We quickly noted the mob of people coming into Hanakapiai Beach. Ken and I took no time to stop and chat anymore. We grabbed our poles sped across the river rocks like pros and headed up the slick hill. The rain that had come through that morning didn't slow many down. We ran into others quite often, saying a quick "hi" or "hey" when warranted and moved on. We knew we were on the home stretch so we didn't bother to stop any longer to chat with anyone, we had big fat trails, renewed energy and the best pizza place waiting for us when we got done. Several times we came up on larger groups of people. As we approached, all of the people became silent like stone, you could feel the eyes watching us as we quietly came and went. It was as if they knew where we'd been and had a appreciation and respect for our doing it. The honor you felt as you passed them was all momentary but overwhelming, you just smiled and passed.
Dodging many clean white shoed people, we flew to the final few yards of the trail. Noting those that were in full gear heading into Kalalau we quickly knew
who would really make and who wouldn't. By our own conclusion there were only a small percent of people that actually made it the entire way, and many of those can't make the trail back so they pay the $100 boat ride. There was only one guy we started the trail with that made it all the way out, knowing that we
were of the minority gave us respect for ourselves. All the couples and people that we'd seen on the trail out... we never saw again. This huge task we'd taken was about to come to it's end. Pausing a moment to catch up to each other, Ken and I took the last step of the trail together, what an accomplishment. Our trip to Kalalau was over, to return there was in our plans, just NOT this trip. Now when we say the word home it takes on a totally new meaning... Kalalau.*
*For those that wish to take on this task, PLEASE do all your research, what I have shared with you is the story of our trip. Please be advised, the risks very from day to day, month to month. Research, reading and training is a must for for the entire take on this task. If you doubt yourself and abilities at all you are safer and are welcome to continue living vicariously thorough us. If the Kalalau Beach is where you want to see but not hike if you have other options. You can Kayak, take boats or water tours visiting the beach as well as many other areas along the Napali Coast.
**Training for this trip is a must! We thought long and hard on the perfect way to train, and with all honesty and sincerity this is about what it would take. Training program= take one outdoor football stadium in the middle of a hot summer, cover all the bleachers and cement stairs with clay, turn on heavy sprinklers wait until the water starts pooling. Then put on ski boots, a 40lb backpack, ski poles and start running up the bleachers and down the stairs, while the sprinklers turn on and off. Do that for several hours. Then pour several truck loads of sand upon the same surface and continue routine adding wind gusts for the remainder of the day. When you are through check into the nearest hospital and have a doctor analyze your condition, this should give you some idea of what this trail will do to you.
