Na Pali

Hiking to Hanakapi’ai Falls

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“How far is this hike?” I asked the War Department.

She waved a well-manicured hand (coral fingernail polish to enhance the Hawaiian experience) toward a steeply ascending trail. “Only two miles to the river crossing. That’s the hike we took with the girls six years ago. Then it’s only another two past there to the waterfall.”

I watched two considerably overweight individuals start up the trail wearing flip flops. “I don’t think they’ll make it. In fact, I don’t think I’ll make it either. Remember Dearheart, yesterday we both nearly collapsed after we tried to finish that little 200-yard climb up from the beach.”

We’re both in pretty good shape, but the steep 45 degree climb up the rocky path caused us both to collapse at the top. I felt nauseous for a long 15 minutes.

“We’ll be just fine,” she said taking off. “We did it once before.”

I followed behind, laden with a backpack full of camera gear, raingear, lunch, emergency supplies, and two gallons of water. She carried the same. “Yeah, but I was barely 50 years old then,” I reminded her.

“This is what we wanted to do when we retire, remember” she said as we began the steep ascension. “It’ll just whet our appetites.”

Rocks rolled from the trail and disappeared over the edge, crashing through the vegetation below. “But we’re not retired, and by the way, I’m already hungry.”

“We’ll eat when we get to the waterfall,” she said.

That’s over four uphill miles away, I thought. The extremely narrow rocky trail kept our attention focused on one step at a time. The occasional level spot allowed us a view of the deep blue Pacific and sandy beaches below. Waves crashed on the shoreline and pods of dolphins swam in the clear water.

An hour and a half later we finally reached the first river crossing. In celebration after wading across, we sat in the shade of coconut palms and ate a protein snack. “Just think, the waterfall is over 100 feet high,” she said. “It’ll be beautiful when we get there.”

I lay on the sand, staring at the trees overhead. “If I make it.”

“You’ll be fine,” she said, tying her hiking shoes much tighter. “Now it gets steep.”

I moaned. “How could it be any steeper than that last hill?”

She didn’t answer, because once again, my lovely bride led the way. I followed.

More rocky paths.

Heat.

Humidity.

Sweat.

People wept. Mostly me.

Bamboo groves in which no air moved.

River crossings.

Wet feet.

Steep drops of several hundred feet.

Two hundred yards later, we were at the hardest part of the climb. Then things got rough.

We went up and down. We trekked through mud. We came to a rainforest. There’s a reason for that name. It rained, and we trudged through dense jungle on the wet, muddy trail.

We came to a fork in the road, but it wasn’t marked. After considerable discussion, we took the high road and half an hour later realized the trail was made by confused hikers such as us. It ended abruptly at a sudden drop-off. I peered over the edge. There was no bottom.

We returned, prudently selected the alternative trail and were off again.

More river crossings.

My boots began to rebel and I realized trouble was afoot.

Ahem.

The trail led downward for a long period of time, and that’s when I realized the cheaply made hiking shoes weren’t any good.

“I should have bought better shoes,” I told my bride. “I’m afraid I’ll lose a toenail before this is over.”

“Just a little farther,” she said, finally sounding somewhat out of breath.

“My toes are killing me,” I said, looking around at the jungle. “Are you sure this is the right trail?”

She pointed at a faded orange ribbon. “This is it.”

I finally located the object she saw. “Being color-blind has disadvantages. I wouldn’t have seen that by myself.”

“Then you have to make sure we don’t get separated,” she answered, turning an abrupt corner and stopping. “Uh, oh.”

I joined her. “Uh, oh?”

Then I saw it. Our trail moved from steep and rocky, to steep rocks. The hike that began on a somewhat difficult trail suddenly became treacherous.

The hike became a climb. For the next forty-five minutes the grade took us up a nearly virtually vertical path requiring both hands and feet. Over logs, up and down boulders that required the War Department’s short legs to feel for solid footing as she climb down backwards over steep obstructions like a two-year-old coming down steps, we continued the March.

And then disaster struck that could have required a helicopter evacuation.

But that’s next week’s installment of The Na Pali Coast.

By: REAVIS WORTHAM, (the name rhymes with crevice)
Published: Friday, July 23, 2010 12:10 PM CDT
http://www.rockportpilot.com/articles/2010/07/23/sports/doc4c49b5276cb46503887543.txt

Tags: Hanakapi’ai Falls