Yesterday morning (2/17/2001), I hiked up the Kealia Trail to meet friends backpacking their way from the Kaena tracking station to Peacock Flats and/or the Mokuleia campsite. I figured to get a workout out of the deal. I got that plus some unanticipated adventure.
I launched from the parking lot by the Dillingham airfield control tower at 9:30, feeling relaxed and energetic after the hour drive from Kaneohe. The switchbacks up the pali were overgrown, perhaps a consequence of the budget/personnel shortcomings of Na Ala Hele.
Once I reached the ridgeline, I kept moving up the dirt road, a steady unrelenting, and at times steep climb up to the rim of Makua Valley. With a nice view into the controversial valley, I paused to rest and scan the rim trail for any signs of my friends. Heading away from me to the left appeared to be Pat Rorie. And coming toward me in the distance was June Miyasato.
I continued alone along the Mokuleia firebreak road toward Peacock Flats and after fifteen minutes I came upon Pat, Cera, and Magnolia at a junction with a lesser used road that descends a ridge to connect to a lower 4x4 road. Cera and Magnolia had been hiking together and, unsure which way to head, stopped at the junction. Pat then came along to give them directions.
I continued ahead of the three and ten minutes later came upon Larry, Kris, Ginger, and Carmen resting at a junction with a road that climbed a slope to the right. The righthand road ascended to an overlook above the abandoned Nike Tracking Station and connected with the Makua Rim Trail. The Mokuleia firebreak road, the other option at the junction, winds in and out of a series of gulches to eventually connect with the paved road leading to Peacock Flats and up to the abandoned Nike Site.
I headed up the righthand road and caught up to Carmen just before the overlook. After a short rest at the overlook, she and I hiked together along the rim trail, bound for the Mokuleia campsite. When we reached the switchback section of the rim trail, she pointed out lobelia plantings she, Charlotte, and others had done during a recent service trip with the Army Environmental folks.
At a beautiful overlook of Makua, we came upon Nathan and Justin, both lugging heavy packs (Justin's was VERY heavy). We hiked with them, still bound for the Mokuleia campsite. We passed sections of trail cleared very nicely by Pat last weekend and later stopped to examine the twin pines that mark the junction with the Piko Trail. Nathan and I looked for a sign affixed to the tree but found none.
We stopped for lunch at the final hilltop before the junction with the trail leading down to the campsite, and I happily and hungrily chowed down on vienna sausage and a powerbar and glugged down a liter of water. During lunch, Carmen displayed her fairly new camelback pack and she, Nathan, and I chatted about techniques for cleaning and drying camelback bladders, an undertaking I usually neglect and that Nathan and Carmen regularly tend to.
A bit before 1, I said goodbye to my friends and headed off. After descending, I passed through the campsite and headed down the trail toward Peacock Flats. Enroute, I met Kay and Brandon, who were off on a dayhike after having set up camp.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the Flats and spent time resting and talking story with the folks there, including Mike, Helene, Larry, Kris, Cera, Myra, June, Carole, Ken, Ralph, and Bev. With no other campers around, HTMC had the run of place and everyone was hopeful for continued good weather for the weekend.
Just past 2:00, I said my farewells and headed out of the Flats. Initially, my plan was to climb the paved road up to the old Nike site, then drop back down to the fire break road and continue on to Kealia. However, not enthused about the ascent up to the Nike site, I opted for Plan B, which was to follow the fire break road and then veer makai down an old jeep road which eventually would hook up with Kealia just mauka of the top of the switchbacks.
After ten minutes of hiking along the firebreak road, I arrived at what I thought was the junction with the old jeep road heading makai. So makai-ward I headed. After a minute or so, I realized that what I was descending was a trail rather than an old road but, using an all-roads-lead-to-Rome analogy, I figured that all makai-heading trails in this area lead to the lower jeep road complex.
How wrong I was.
I kept descending the non-road, spurred on by the presence of a well-used path and an occasional old ribbon or cut branch. "Hunters must use this trail," I reasoned, and as such they surely must have found a way to connect with the old road and/or an adjacent ridge that will lead to the old road.
After a half mile of descending, what had been a trail became less distinct. In fact, the trail all but ended when I reached a 30-foot dropoff. I found a way on the right to skirt the dropoff and continued down the grassy, trail-less ridge. Further down was another dropoff which I again skirted to the right.
The prudent thing to have done was to end the charade that this ridge was going to lead me to the old road or a connecting trail. But stubborness, ego, and a sense of adventure egged me on. Plus it would make for a good story to write about.
Off in the distance, I could see that the ridge would eventually level out in a broad expense of rolling hills and then flatten out at a large banana farm. Already in my mind I was preparing my verbal defense when confronted by owners/workers of the farm. "I'm a poor lost hiker," was one possible spew. "I parachuted from a plane and was blown by the wind into the mountain," was spew two.
Also as I was descending, thoughts of falling, hurting myself, and waiting for rescue popped into my head. I visualized Tom Yoza meticulously scouring every ravine in the area weekend after weekend until finding just the tatters of my red shirt and the blue lanyard with assorted doo-dads I wear around my neck. I also had visions of a pack of huge pua'a grinding my body as I lay helpless and injured (go see the movie *Hannibal* and you may have similar visions).
Well, I didn't fall nor was I devoured, but I did have to spend a good hour wading and swimming through thick buffalo grass until I caught a break and came upon an ancient road that runs across the base of the mountain (a review of the Kaena quad topo indicates that I was on what is labeled as the "Peacock Flats Trail"). Now overgrown with chest-high grass, the road was still apparent and I moved much more easily by following its tread. Finding this meant was that I wouldn't have to cut through the banana farm and if I was lucky, I'd be able to make it all the way back to the Dillingham Airfield without having to pass through a farm or ranch or homestead.
The old road/PFT eventually ended its traverse along the base of the mountain and began climbing up along the side of a ravine toward the top of the pali. No, I certainly didn't want to go back up again, so I hopped over a barbed-wire fence and waded through high grass to make my way toward lower ground.
I weaved through waist-high grass in a forest of haole koa and then happened upon another old jeep road. This road soon ended at a barbed-wire fenceline, which I hopped to continue my wade and weave. My next objective was to make my way under a string of powerlines, thinking a swath or road of some sort would be under it. I made it to the powerlines okay but found nada swath or road.
Still determined to find my way out of the mess, I continued to angle toward lower ground and in the general direction of the airfield until, voila, I stood on a slope looking down on a large paved expanse that probably once was an old landing strip for planes. I made my way down to the old strip and followed it toward Dillingham Airfield.
The old air strip led to a well-used (military?) jeep road that led me to the road that runs along the mauka side of the current airfield. I followed the road to the hangars adjacent to the control tower and then arrived at my car. It was 4:30, 2.5 hours after I'd left Peacock Flats and only a half hour longer than I thought I'd need if I had hiked the route I'd had planned in my mind.
The adventure was a nice tradeoff for the extra 30 minutes. In retrospect, if I had a map with me I'd not have turned off the fire break road to head down the ridge when I did. That being the case, I wouldn't have stumbled (literally) upon the old Peacock Flats trail and hike back to the airfield as I did. This adventure, it seems, was born out of being mapless. And by the end of the day I had completed a loop of about ten miles, never once having to retrace my steps. A nice hike.
--dkt
