HAWAII’S NA PALI COAST: A LIFE CHANGING EXPERIENCE
Three years ago, while vacationing in Hawai’i, I bought a panoramic poster of a picturesque coastline of green and red fluted cliffs. I brought it home and framed it. Later, after researching its location - the Nā Pali Coast on Kaua’i– I discovered the remote Kalalau Beach is only accessible by foot or seasonally by kayak. Though intrigued, I thought I would never see this breathtaking paradise with my own eyes – three years ago, I wasn’t a hiker.
The following year that changed. My daughter encouraged me to hike with her to Manoa Falls on O’ahu. It rained and we were soaked and muddy, but we saw an amazing rainbow, heard tropical birds calling, saw the largest fern I’ve ever seen, and I came to the realization there’s so much more out there than sitting on a beach. Other trails have led me to awe-inspiring places that pictures and videos couldn’t even come close to capturing. The vastness, sounds, smells, breezes, and physical exertion engage my senses simultaneously. It became difficult to find other people interested in joining me for day-long hikes at the crack of dawn, so I started venturing alone. While this greatly concerned my family and friends, since I was a 50-year-old woman, all my critics hadn’t been on a trail. I assured them the wonderful outdoors wasn’t as scary and dangerous as they might think.
Last February, I took the plunge and purchased a permit to camp and hike the Kalalau Trail along the Nā Pali Coast. I was actually going to turn that poster into reality. My excitement led me to REI for a backpack, and then several more trips to the store for my first tent and trekking poles and a class for beginners. My excitement turned into terror after watching YouTube footage of the infamous “Crawler’s Ledge” portion at mile 7 of the 11-mile remote trail to Kalalau Beach.
On my 51st birthday, just two days prior to the hike, I started to get cold feet. My brother had researched satellite phone rentals, my mom gave me a lucky cat charm, my daughter in Spain mailed an engraved identification tag, and my sister’s birthday card also contained a tag to help identify my body with instructions to give her a call if I perished. The thought of making my loved ones this concerned for my safety, even if light-hearted, was overwhelming. I convinced myself to at least give it a try. I could always surrender. With my ultralight gear, I set off on the trail an hour before dawn. Frogs’ eyes were reflecting into my hiker’s headlamp, while I enjoyed listening to the sweet sound of tropical birds waking up in the rainforest. In the dark, I suddenly felt extremely alone, a bit panicked, and wondered if I had made the right decision; but as the sun came up, my nerves were calmed by the sound of helicopter tours over my head. At the first clearing and bend, I could see the outline of the majestic Nā Pali cliffs reaching from the crashing surf below to the pre-dawn sky and the moon above. It was breathtaking, but I still had many stream crossings and cliffs to navigate to arrive at my destination at Kalalau Beach where I could camp overnight. Most deaths on the Kalalau Trail are from flooded stream crossings. There are many warning signs and helicopter landing sites just in case you aren’t already apprehensive.
At mile 5, I crossed paths with a gentleman headed in the opposite direction who camped at mile 6 and never made it to Kalalau Beach. He was the first person I saw since starting my hike. Just before mile 7 and the start of tempting fate, I asked a young couple about “Crawler’s Ledge”. They said it was a breeze compared to the day before when they had risked their lives during intense trade winds. Yikes! I physically and mentally prepared myself for the scariest part of the hike, removing my hat and sunglasses, tucking everything inside my pack except one pole. I only looked directly where my feet needed to land, when along came a tour boat in the sea below me, and I heard them announce, “This is Crawler’s Ledge, an uneven, narrow ledge up against a cliff.” Great, now I had an audience! It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but the loose red dirt around the next corner was a bit more nerve-wracking.
At noon, I arrived at the secluded Kalalau Beach. I wondered if I should turn around and go back. What would I do alone in such a remote place for such a long period of time with no access to the rest of the world? I had previously read about the illegal squatters living in the valley and a hiker who had all his belongings stolen, so I kept my things with me while I showered in the waterfall and replenished my water. I managed to find the camping spot recommended by passing hikers which was encircled with large rocks, under a shady tree, with an amazing view of the ocean. Since I had already practiced setting up my tent at home, it was up in minutes, and I crawled in and took a nap. When I woke, there was a woman sitting alone on the beach. I couldn’t wait to talk to her. We both expressed how intense the hike was, and she admitted to shedding tears on the ledge. We were not exactly looking forward to returning to the narrow ledge again the next day. I even jokingly asked a kayaker I met at the waterfall if he could take me back with him. The woman and I agreed 5 am would be a good time to get underway to avoid the heat on the red hill ascent. I met her husband, we enjoyed the amazing sunset, and then said our goodbyes.
Since I opted for ultralight backpacking, I didn’t have a sleeping bag or mat. The ground was a little too hard, so I un-staked my tent, precariously carried it down the rocky embankment in the dark to the soft cool sand. This turned out to be a great decision, because I slept soundly until 5 am when I was startled by a dream about my new friend telling me it was time to go. I packed and headed to the most difficult stream crossing. I wore sandals and waded through since there wasn’t enough daylight to navigate the rocks. As soon as I was past Crawler’s Ledge for the second time, I truly began to enjoy the Kalalau Trail and didn’t want it to end. My phone had plenty of battery power, so I started recording short videos. I slowed down, looked all around, and enjoyed identifying the variety of trees, plants, flowers, fruits, nuts, birds, and even insects. Each stream crossing could easily be heard well in advance, and treated you to a beautiful waterfall with clear, cold water to refill your bottle.
Then the clouds started forming at an alarming rate. With 2 miles left, in the most crowded area of the trail, the rains came, which quickly made it extremely muddy and slippery. Some people were wearing flip-flops and flat-bottomed sneakers. A gentleman stepped directly on a retaining rail and his feet were no longer under him. He almost took me down with him. I met a very nice group of people to hike out with and they were astonished I had hiked the whole trail by myself. I think most people don’t attempt adventures because family, friends, and even strangers make remarks about how crazy you are. If you carefully prepare, do the research, are physically able, and enjoy the challenge, it can be done, and even alone!
My priority should have been to clean off the dirt, but all I wanted to do was rejoin my family, share my exciting adventure, and eat a hot meal. Besides, I wasn’t ready yet to wash away the remnants of the Kalalau Trail. The hour drive back to the hotel was also beautiful and new since I had arrived in the dark the day before. When I finally laid my head on the pillow, I thought I’d be exhausted and fall right to sleep, but I was still euphoric. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel the sun and breeze, and the adrenaline of seeing the crashing waves far below. You can’t get that from a poster!
We want to acknowledge and thank the past, present, and future generations of all Native Nations and Indigenous Peoples whose ancestral lands we travel, explore, and play on. Always practice Leave No Trace ethics on your adventures and follow local regulations. Please explore responsibly!
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