Greetings, all. Sorry for the late entry, but yesterday was a busy day. It's about 7 PM Wednesday (midnight for EST folk) and although I had been writing in the mornings, it didn't work, for reasons I'll tell you later.
I need to go back and write about my hike on Tuesday. The story behind my blog title is that I was debating on my way back to the car what I was most grateful for on the hike. The trekking poles won, hands down (no pun intended). Tied for second were my barefoot shoes and my drinking water. But I digress.
I woke up around 4:30 AM and couldn't go back to sleep. I got up, ate some breakfast, and got together the things I thought I'd need for the hike, including but not limited to three bottles of water and my trekking poles, and the sunscreen I bought at Costco (in convenient 3-oz sizes so I can take them on the plane if I don't use them all). I got on the road just around 6:15, about 1/2 hour before sunrise. The world was beginning to lighten as I drove west toward the Kalalau Trail. I was compelled to stop in several places along the way due to photo opportunities. :)
I drove into the trailhead area and managed to get a fairly close parking space, though I was not the first one there. I strapped on my DSLR camera (made the adjustable hiking harness myself), put on my backpack and headed off. The first two miles of trail leads to Hanakapi'ai beach, and from there it is almost 2 miles to the falls of the same name. Last time I was here (two years ago) I hiked the Kalalau Trail to the halfway point (6 miles) and turned around and hiked back, which took me something like 9 hours. This is no ordinary hike. And I didn't even do the really scary part. This time I thought I'd take the side trip to the waterfall. I figured I could hike a mile between 1 and 2 hours. That turned out to be true, although it was closer to 2 than 1. I realized several hours into this endeavor that I was not in as good shape as I was in 2013. In that year I had run 3 half-marathons and a 25K, in addition to several other races. This year I haven't run much at all, though I've been trying to get some workouts in the last few weeks.
How to describe this trail? Even the photos don't do it justice, because there's no way to see truly the steep climbs and descents, combined with the rough terrain and the heat. I was happy to go in the morning, when the sun had not yet climbed over the mountain, and the west coast was shady. I was wearing my sunblocking shirt and a pair of "travel fabric" capris over a tank and my triathlon shorts, and had my essentials (including my water) in my backpack. I also included my Kauai guidebooks, which is about an inch thick and HEAVY. Why I did that I have no idea, because I never took it out. It ain't going with me on future hikes beyond going in the car. I actually left one of my bottles of water in the car, thinking two would be enough. I started to rethink that later.
The first 90 minutes of hiking to the beach wasn't bad - lots of ups and downs (several hundred feet of elevation change) and switchbacks, but shady and I was full of energy. I passed a few people, some of whom were, like I, planning to hike to the beach and/or waterfall, some of whom were planning to go the whole 11 miles to Kalalau Beach (camping overnight by permit only). The trail goes back down to sea level just before the beach, and one has to cross the river to get there (there are stones on which to climb to cross). I stopped at the beach for perhaps 20 minutes. The water was much higher than last time. The trees give way to a rocky shoreline, and only a small strip of sand was visible. On the rocks to the south of the river, someone had placed dozens of cairns. It must have taken a lot of time. It looked amazing.
After a drink of water and a snack, I turned mauka (inland) to head up to the waterfall, 1.8 miles, according to the guidebook. It took me almost 2 hours to get there. I'm not used to traveling 1 mph, especially on foot. The trail was definitely different than the coastal trail. I was thinking on the way back how to describe it. "Grueling" comes to mind, or "not for the faint of heart," or even, "What was I thinking?" Picture a narrow, winding trail, ranging from 12-18 inches wide, but sometimes widening into 6 or 8 feet across, or dividing into two trails, most instances of which converged again, but some which did not. (I took a false trail two or three times and had to backtrack.) The dirt was covered with a thin layer of mud, except when it was covered with a thick layer of mud. Almost none of it was level, and there were always rocks, tree roots, sticks, fallen nuts and fruit, stalks of plants, or piles of boulders to negotiate. Although most of the trail was in the shade, it was humid and hot, and I was dripping sweat most of the way. Rotting fruit fallen from the trees attracted swarms of flies, not the kind that bite people, but certainly the kind that are easily inhaled when disturbed by a hiker gasping for breath. The trail crosses the river at least 5 times, more if one takes a wrong turn, and some of the crossings were more difficult than others, for those who were trying to cross and stay dry.
I kept checking my GPS (yes, the GPS still worked, although the phone service did not) to see how much farther. I saw some people coming back and they would give an update - "about 20 more minutes," etc. Most of this distance I hiked in solitude, though I occasionally passed people resting and paused to say hello, or once or twice I got behind some people and there was no real way to get around, so I just plodded behind them for a few tenths of a mile (passing the time by talking to them, of course). Finally, the waterfall was in sight. Don't get me wrong - there was plenty to see on the way as well: flowering trees (more of these closer to the beach), stands of bamboo, lush foliage, ferns, collections of boulders, and the smell of tropical greenery, rotting fruit, and (sometimes) flowers, plus the ever-present sound of the river, sometimes close at hand, other times more distant. But I can't tell you how glad I was to get to the falls.
At the base of it was a pool that was delightful for swimming. At least, that's what some others said. I didn't swim, though I did go in up to my neck and dip my hair in (there's potential leptospirosis in the fresh water so I was being cautious). I had my swim togs under my clothes (remember?) but some people just changed right there in front of everyone, though I couldn't be sure because I averted my gaze as soon as I noticed a lot of skin showing. A nice woman took my photo in front of the waterfall. I discovered that she is from the GR area, and works as a nurse in the local children's hospital. Cue the "small world" music. Anyway, the photo she took was so nice:
I spent maybe 30 minutes there, dipping in the cold water (which felt wonderful) and then dressing without drying off, hoping that the wet clothing would help keep me cooler (though in the humidity, it didn't really). I also soaked my hat, and drank all but 2/3 of a bottle of water. Then for the trek back. Sigh. I could have taken a nap right there on the rocks, but I had 3 hours' worth of walking to get back to the car.
So I set out. One thing that made the trek so tiring was that it wasn't just hiking; it was cognitive hiking. In other words, there was almost no stretch in which I didn't have to think about where the next footfall would be. I was constantly having to decide which part of the trail was less likely to cause a broken ankle, or a shoe lost in 6 inches of mud; which way would be best to scramble up (or down) the next pile of boulders; which part of the river seemed least likely to cause a spill that would soak my camera.... Pair this with the uneven ground, the mud, the false trails, the heat and the fatigue.... yup, next time I'll be in better shape, and I WON'T go to the waterfall. Been there, done that.
It was certainly worth the hike. It was. And now that I've seen it, I don't ever have to do it again. :)
I stopped briefly at the beach to drink some more water, and hoisted my backpack and crossed the river for the 7th time since I'd left the waterfall and headed makai (toward the sea). By the time I was on my way back, I didn't bother trying to cross on the rocks anymore; I just plunged in (sometimes up to mid-thigh) and waded across, first making sure that my phone wasn't in my leg pants' pocket.
When I made it to the trail head, I got some water (they have a bathroom near the Ke'e beach and drinking fountains), got in the car, cranked the AC and headed east. I stopped in Hanalei for some light shopping and a chicken sandwich and lemonade (I ate at the Hanalei Gourmet, and had the same server, Lisa, as last time) and made a point of going to the Havaiki shop, where the clerk, Dylan, was also the same as was there last time. He is from South Africa and was wearing only a sarong. Nice dress code. I have to say it looked good on him, though I'm not sure every employee could pull that look with the same garment. He showed me some of the scrimshaw but I didn't buy any this year. It was pleasant to speak to him, though.
Princeville is not far from Hanalei (boy, do I hate those single-lane bridges between the Ke'e and Princeville, though - and there are 6 or 7 of them) so I was home in a jiffy. I thought about collapsing but instead went back down to the condo beach (a 15-minute walk, if you recall) and sat on the beach until just before sunset. It was mostly in the shade long before that, though, because of a big hill to the west. I didn't want to get stuck a 15-minute hike away in the dark, so I went "home," took a shower, and did a load of laundry, including everything I had been wearing and my backpack.
Today my calves are a bit sore, and my left quadricep aches when I change position, but if I keep moving, it works itself out - until the next time I sit still.
time to sit still again - I'm going to bed. I'll tell you about today later, not that there's much to tell. I think I'll save any big adventures for a couple of days from now.
Good night, all
blessings
Wendy
No comments:
Post a Comment