Kealia, Mokuleia, Peacock Flats, Old Peacock Flats Trail

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

Manana, Waiawa, Ahern Ditch

Despite their battered, dirt-stained state, my topo maps are among my most
treasured possessions.  One of my favorite pastimes is to spread a topo
on my bedroom floor and trace out with a yellow highlight pen routes
I've hiked.  In fact, I just finished inking in a route I, along with a
bunch of HTMC colleagues, hiked and cleared today. Having done that, my
rough calculations indicate we covered 12 miles with an elevation gain of
2600 feet.  A decent workout in the mountains it was.

In what may be a surprise to some, we weren't hiking a ridge trail to the
summit of the Koolaus or Waianaes.  Indeed, we never came close to a
summit.  During the course of the day, we crossed three streams--Manana,
Waiawa South, & Waiawa North; we hiked along an old ditch trail
(Ahern); we climbed to a high point of 1400 feet and descended to a low
of 350; we battled uluhe, ginger, and palm grass; we descended and
ascended muddy, slick slopes; we strolled along motorcycle trails; we
sauntered along old jeep roads.

We also encountered over half a dozen hunters and double the amount of
hunting dogs.  Some of us saw (4) pua'a. We all saw many areas damaged by
pigs.  A handful temporarily went astray (we refuse to say we're ever 
lost).  One temporarily misplaced personal items that were
recovered.  Some used gas-powered tools to attack encroaching flora; most
used handtools to clear the trails we hiked.

The majority--the cross-country crew--started at the Manana trailhead atop
Pacific Palisades.  A smaller group--the covert crew--began hiking from a
locale with problematic access but with quicker access to the
major work area.  

Covert crew: Pat, Ed, Ralph, Roger, Thea, Reuben, Bill.

Cross-country crew:  Jason, Charlotte, Georgina, Carole, John, Connie,
Nathan, Gordon, Mike, Helene, Kris, Ken, Thomas, Stuart, Carmen, Deetsie,
Dayle.

Since I was with the cross-country crew, I'm in better position to
describe what our day was like.  We gathered at the end of Komo Mai Drive
at just before 8, having seen our colleagues in the covert crew
whisked away in two vehicles about twenty minutes prior.  Stuart,
who'll coordinate the club outing on 2/25, briefed us on what to expect,
and we were off up the single-lane paved road for about a quarter
mile.  At a large metal powerline tower, we turned left off the road and
followed a trail that after an initial level section began descending
steeply to Manana Stream.  At a fork a third of the way down, Tom, Jason,
and I opted to descned a steep trail to the right; meanwhile, everyone
else veered to the left to descend and clear a trail that way.

Once at Manana Stream (dry), Tom, Jason, and I crossed it and picked up a
trail on its far bank.  The trail, overgrown and damp from the previous
night's precipitation, was still passable, and Tom and I began ascending
it through uluhe, then guava, then low-level dryland vegetation.  Jason,
not a big fan of the status quo, decided to climb a vaguely-trailed spur
to our left. In the meantime, the others were heading up a better trail
further downstream (this is the trail that'll be used on the club hike
and the best of the three). 

Once the climbs via the various trails were completed, we all, in various
ways, found our way across a grassy, flat-topped mesa to a broad,
powerline-topped spur that filtered down toward Waiawa Stream.  In
anticipation of hot, thirsty conditions later on, some of us stashed
water bottles along the trail on the mesa for the afternoon return
leg.

The descent steepened for a couple hundred meters then eased as we made
our way through a grassy meadow along an old fenceline.  Ken pointed out a
seemingly out-of-place orchid by the fence.  As we approached Waiawa
Stream (south branch), Carole came upon a hunter and his dog.  Even though
I wasn't far behind Carole, I didn't see the hunter nor the dog, which had
blood spattered on its face, according to Ms. Moon.

Waiawa South was narrow and gently flowing at its ford.  Soon thereafter,
after passing the toe of a prominent middle ridge, we crossed broader
Waiawa North, the main river, just upstream of a large circular pool.  
With ribbons from last year's hike removed by some unknown person, we faced
the challenge of finding the trail to ascend out of the gulch to a
junction with the Ahern Ditch trail.  Charlotte, who has a nose for such
things, eventually located the trail; meanwhile, I was nearby doing some
"exploratory ascending" through guava, vines, and pig paths (no, I wasn't
lost). :-)

After completing the stiff, sweaty climb from the stream, we regrouped
at the junction with the ditch trail.  Snacks of various kinds appeared
and eagerly and thankfully disappeared.  Though we had done some work on
the rollercoaster cross-country trek from Palisades, our real labor
commenced on the ditch trail, where we whacked down christmas berry
branches, palm grass, clidemia, ginger, uluhe, et al. As we worked 
and hiked, remnants of the now waterless ditch lay to our left.

The ditch trail, cut into the side of a large ridge at the 900-foot
elevation, winds in and out of several clefts in the mountainside.  Kukui
trees are plentiful along the trail as were areas rooted out and decimated
by resident pigs.  After a mile and a half, the trail entered a crease
between two ridges and switched back to gain a saddle at the crest of the
righthand ridge.  At that point, the ditch trail dropped into Waiawa
Valley via switchbacks.  At the saddle, we stopped to eat lunch and
chat with a hunter who was tracking his collared dogs in Waiawa Valley
with an electronic device.

The hunter, a friendly man, answered our many questions about his
equipment, his dogs, and his hunting experiences.  The senior man in his 
crew, he was hunting with several other men and over a dozen dogs.  The
dogs had killed at least three pigs in the morning: two babies and a
90-pounder too badly mauled for dressing and hauling out.  He had no
problem with us being there.  In fact, he especially liked HTMC's
no-dogs-on-hikes policy.  

After lunch, we ascended west along the ridgetop (the club no longer
hikes the switchbacks down into Waiawa).  We worked hard to clear back
thick patches of uluhe and large lantana plants.  After an hour, we
finally made the connection with the covert crew, who'd been
clearing the route the club hikes as a loop in a clockwise direction.

Meetings like these are always happy times, for not only are we glad to
meet friends we've not seen all day, but we also know our
work for the day has ended.  And that's a good thing.  

Though are chopping work was completed, we all still faced a rugged return
leg to get back to Komo Mai.  The group I was with continued around the
loop counterclockwise, admiring the nice clearing job the covert team had
done (way to go, gang). Eventually, we emerged on a motorcycle trail just
seconds after a pack of dirt bikers noisily roared by. The motorcycle
trails, after some initial ups and downs, descended steadily southwest,
with three critical left turns to make to return back to the junction with
the ditch trail.

By my estimate, the loop is about four miles, with a third being 
motorcycle trails, a third a graded ditch trail, and a third an ungraded
(but now well-cleared) ridge route.  The loop's high point, and in fact
the highest point of the entire hike is 1400 feet. The crossover from
Palisades to the junction with the ditch trail is about two miles and
involves two large descents and ascents.  Double that for the roundtrip.

Slippery morning slopes were drier and easier to manage in the
afternoon.  Additionally, cool, overcast conditions helped lessen
overheating problems we might have faced on the double-dip crossover back
to Palisades.  Stashed bottles of water also didn't hurt.

Worthy of note was that just about every wahine who attended today's
outing didn't go "topless."  That should make Jay Feldman proud and/or
envious. Also worthy of note were the steamed hot dogs Mabel served up for
post-work consumption.  I had at least six, sans buns, of course.

Next Sunday's TM outing is Pu'u o Kila in Kahana Valley. A significant 
percentage of the crew will be participating in the Kuaokala campout next 
weekend, so extra hands will be needed to help out with Kila.  Meeting
time is 8 a.m. in the parking lot on the mauka side of Kam Hwy across from
Kahana Beach Park. Come on down if you can.

--dkt

Hunting Miconia in Maunawili

If exploring and bashing around off-trail is your kind of thing, consider taking part in a Sierra Club miconia hunt outing one of these months. I did my fifth SC hunt today, netting a nice purple t-shirt from the SC in the process. To set the record straight, I've yet to find a miconia plant. In a way this is a plus because it gives me incentive to continue turning out for hunts. By gee, by golly, by gum, I'll find a damn miconia. Mark my words. We were supposed to start in Maunawili Valley by the Falls trailhead, but a snafu left us on the wrong side of a locked gate, which nixed Plan A which was to truck-pool on a dirt road in the valley to near our designated search quadrant. Plan B had us caravan over to the 'Nalo end of the Maunawili Demo Trail on Waikupanaha Street. There were about twenty of us altogether, including HTMers Charlotte (my idol), Thomas (search master of Maunawili), and Mike (a fairly new member). From Waikupanaha, we climbed up a wide section of the demo trail that was once called Old Government Road. OGR climbed toward the crest of Aniani Nui Ridge, switching back near the top. Aniani Nui, for those not familiar with it, includes the three peaks of Olomana and crowns out at Pu'u Lanipo. It is also the ridge the separates Maunawili from Waimanalo. Right before the crest, we stopped to regroup at a junction by a gap in the ridge. Straight ahead through the gap was the continuation of Old Government Road, which some of us would use as a return route in the afternoon. The demo trail continued up and to the left to contour on the Waimanalo side of Aniani Nui. After several minutes of map reviewing, we pushed on along the Demo Trail until it crested Aniani Nui and then crossed over to the Maunawili side of the ridge. We regrouped again, the main consideration being to determine what areas we'd cover, how many groups we'd divide into, and who'd go where. The outing leaders, Kapua and Joby, asked that the HTMers, plus a couple of others, canvas the steep slopes on the mauka side of the trail (they knew we were able and willing to do this kind of searching). Meanwhile, everyone else would divide into two to three teams to search the slopes and ravines on the makai side of the trail. Charlotte, Thomas, Mike, a mom, her teenaged daughter, and I comprised the mauka team. The daughter was quite a good climber and was doing very well until she took a spill that had her cartwheeling down a steep slope after a lauwa'e handhold gave way. While I enjoy climbing, I'm not a fan of cross-sloping along steep pitches. And when searching for miconia, at times cross-sloping is a necessity. Bah, humbug. The three wahines covered the highest ground while Thomas, Mike, and I covered the the mid- and lower slopes. After reaching a section near a steep, trickling waterfall, Tom, Mike, and I descended back to the demo trail and continued along it to a place where the path made a sharp left turn. Several date-less date palms are situated at this turn, and it was here we sat down to eat lunch (we knew it was lunch time because Charlotte announced on her walkie-talkie that it was noon and she was going on strike). Charlotte, the mom, and daughter lunched at a higher vantage point and later descended back to the demo trail near the waterfall. Since four of the six folks on our team had walkie-talkies, it was easy to keep track of who was where as we searched. Kapua, Joby, and several others on the makai team/downslope team also had walkie talkies, so we were able to follow their progress as well. After lunch, we decided we'd did enough mauka searching, so we followed a fairly distinct trail down a spur ridge. We bottomed out at a finger of Makawao Stream, that fed an old ditch. The ditch system was quite impressive and someone, perhaps area farmers or Luana Hills Golf Course workers, is still maintaining it for the water it provides. Tom and I followed a trail along the ditch, passing an orange pipeline enroute. We continued along the ditch and its slowly flowing, clear water, noting a lack of fish and other stream creatures. Curious, we kept following the ditch and the trail on its bank. We passed a well-used trail that descended a spur ridge to our right and contoured around a lower section of Ainoni Ridge. At one point, a blowdown forced me to slosh in the ditch (Tom opted to duck and weave through the blowdown to keep his boots dry). Not long afterward, we heard a thwaaack below us to the right. The thwaack, we discovered, was the sound of a golf ball being whacked by a Luana Hills golfer. It turned out the ditch trail was seventy meters above one of the fairways of the golf course. So much for the feeling of remote isolation. Just a bit ahead, Tom and I arrived at Ainoni Stream, one of the water sources of the ditch. An elevated wooden trestle, now rotted and collapsed, once stood at the spot. It was here that Tom and I decided to stop and turn back. We backtracked along the ditch trail and upon reaching the junction with the well-used trail down a spur ridge, our sense of adventure told us to check it out. After a hundred meters, the spur trail forked. The left fork descended to the golf course while the right headed back toward Aniani Nui. Right it was. Mapless but relying on well-honed wayfinding skills :-), we pushed forth, reckoning we'd find the extension of Old Government Road at some point. Well, we eventually did, but not before a bunch of bushwacking, bouts with threatening tangles of cat's claw (nasty stuff), and some sloshing in Makawao Stream. We climbed Old Government Road up to the left. After a few minutes, we saw a trail heading up a slope on the right. "A shortcut," we surmised. However, shortcuts, in hiking and in life, rarely pan out. This one was a case in point and took us to a hilltop that revealed we weren't quite where we expected/wanted to be. Ever the optimist, Tom exclaimed, "It's still early. We have all kinds of time." He was right, of course. He also reminded me of the day's mission: "Remember, we're looking for miconia." Yup, right you are, Tom. So we backtracked down to Old Government Road which eventually brought us to a junction. We turned right to continue climbing (I believe if we'd continued straight ahead we'd have descended to the golf course). In a few minutes, Tom and I arrived at the gap junction where everyone had regrouped in the morning. We radioed the others to let them know our location and then hiked back down to Waikupanaha and our cars. Even though I was shutout miconia-wise (someone found two plants early on but that was all for the outing), it turned out to be a good day, exploring-wise. Hiking along the ditch trail was interesting and pleasant, and I think I'll put a bug in Mabel's ear to create a novice/intermediate loop that includes the ditch trail and part of the demo trail with a start from Waikupanaha. We'll see how that goes. Hope everyone is having a pleasant weekend. --dkt

Waimano Ridge

Today's TM outing was Waimano Ridge, a 7.5 mile trail that starts in the hills above Pearl City and ends at a Ko'olau summit overlook of Waihe'e Valley. I didn't get a head count but there were between 20 to 30 of us on hand to work. As is usually the case when we bear down on this trail, some folks blitz to the summit and then work from the top-down. Others begin working as soon as intruding brush is encountered, usually about the 2-mile mark. Some hike in a bit further and then begin clearing. Nobody is assigned a particular section; instead, folks do what needs to be done to complete the job the best way. The trail was moderately overgrown but by day's end it was cleared to club standards. Based on a small notebook in a bottle that serves as a summit register, many hikers make it to the summit of Waimano Ridge. And based on the folks signing the register, the majority are island visitors or military personnel. During our outing today, we saw four other hikers on the trail. One, a woman hiking solo, said she was only hiking it partway. Three others were summit bound. Today's weather was great, with a mainland-like chill in the air. The summit was cloudfree to the north and south. A fine day for hiking and doing trail work it was. Next Sunday's TM outing will be Manana Ditch, a rugged rollercoaster affair that always tests our leg and lung power. Meeting time is 8 a.m. atop Pacific Palisades at the end of Komo Mai Drive. --dkt

Kipapa Windward

Jason Sunada, Pat Rorie, Laredo Murray, and I were successful in reaching the summit of the
Ko'olaus from Waiahole Valley today.  Since the topping out point was quite
near the terminus of the Kipapa trail, I will refer to the ridge we
climbed as Kipapa Windward.

As I mentioned in a recent OHE post, Jason and I pushed partway
up the ridge last Sunday. What took us two hours a week ago required
only 30 minutes today.  What a difference a swath made.

Once we reached last Sunday's stopping point, we were on virgin
ridge.  Laredo, shirtless and with hair dyed partially red, jumped out
into the front and bravely ascended through uluhe, an assortment of native
plants, clidemia, and the like. The most challenging sections were
1) a contorted climb around/through an ohia tree that spanned a narrow
section of ridge, and 2) a steep scramble up a loose rock section just
above the tree.  Cables and/or rerouting might help for future
ascents/descents.

The critical area was between the 1500 and 2000-ft level where we saw very
closely packed contour lines on the topo map, a red-flag zone meaning very
steep stuff.  Yes, it was steep but never cable-steep, and with plenty of
grunting, twisting, ducking, and crawling, we made progress.  At one point
during the steep section we found ourselves tunneling through a dark
corridor formed by uluhe, an interesting albeit less than pleasant time.

After the 2000-ft point, Pat assumed the lead and powered us up the
ridge.  This section was fantastic, with more open ridge conditions so we
could see the hogback ahead as well as the array of steep, magnificent
spurs left and  right that stretched and strained up to the crest.  We
passed plenty of native vegetation, including loulu palms, lapalapa,
olapa, kopiko, and others I can't name.  Yes, we damaged native plants as
we climbed and later when we headed back down.  There was no malice in our
damage.

At 11:45, 3.5 hours after we set our from our vehicles, we summited at a
wind-whipped pu'u at the 2640 elevation level. Shouts rang out and
arms were thrust skyward, save for Jason, who is not the shouting or
hand-thrusting kind.  We also exchanged handshakes, Jason a bit
begrudgingly, to mark the summit acquistion.

In an adjacent ravine to the south (our left) was a grove of sugi pines
where the remains of an ancient cabin (sometimes referred to as
Uncle Tom's cabin) lay in shambles.  We descended toward the ravine,
hopped onto the Ko'olau summit trail, and hiked to south side of the pine
grove to hunker down by the cabin ruins for lunch.  From our lunchspot,
the Kipapa summit was about ten minutes away.

Clouds had enclosed the area by this time and a chilly wind prompted us to
put on raincoats or windbreakers to stay warm.  We spent half an hour
resting and eating, and perhaps would have lingered longer if we had
warmer, sunnier conditions.  A brief rainshower prompted Jason to open
an umbrella and ultimately the wet stuff hastened our departure.

The return down the ridge back to Waiahole was one of the great descents
I've experienced.  After 15 minutes or so of down-hiking, we were below
the cloud line and from there the ridge dropped in fantastic fashion like
a steep escalator toward the valley floor.  There were often precipitous
dropoffs left and right but since the ridge never narrowed to dangerous
proportions and since we were surrounded by ample vegetation that provided
security, I never felt in danger.  It was actually quite enjoyable.

The rain had made the way slick, but we took care not to make a bad error
that might lead to "the plunge."  In all, we needed about 90 minutes to
reach the ditch trail from the summit (more handshakes exchanged) and
another 30 minutes to hike back to our cars. By 3 p.m. we were on Kam Hwy
headed back to home and warm showers and meals.

--dkt

Waiahole Ridge

In the summer of '99, a handful of us tried to gain the summit of the
Koolaus from Waiahole Valley (see the OHE posts for June '99 for
write-ups).  We climbed up a ridge christened Kipapa Windward.  I was
so confident we'd reach the crest, I made a bold prediction success
would be ours.  Well, success wasn't to be had and it was humble pie
eating time.

I mention this because today I, along with the TM crew from the club,
returned to Waiahole, not for a summit attempt, but to work on the
Kuolani-Waianu trail for a 2/11, Sunday club hike.  There was something
out of the ordinary that happened, and I'll get to that later in the
write-up.

We, about two dozen of us, met at 8 by the Waiahole Poi factory just off
of Kam Hwy.  Along with the usual gang, we had three newbies out with
us.  It's interesting to have new faces in the crowd and observe how the
vets act and interact with them.  There's an intriguing dynamic that
transpires and a definite variance in behavior patterns.  I won't go into
specifics, for if you reflect on what happens when a new person appears
amongst a group of people who have a long association with one another,
you'll understand what I mean.

Okay, enough observational mumbo jumbo. Mabel gave us our hiking orders
and off we carpooled--some heading up the left fork of the valley road and
most heading to the right.  I caught a ride with Charlotte Yamane and her husband Volker 
to the end of the left fork, and hiked with Jason Sunada, Grant Oka, and
Georgina Oka.  After about 15 minutes, we caught up to Dusty and Sandy Klein.  Right
at that point, Jason and I bailed on the usual club route and began
climbing up the brushy but still doable lower segment of Kipapa
Windward.  I mentioned to Jason that it'd be good if Wing would come back
to re-clear the uluhe in the beginning, for it was Wing who reopened this
trail back in May '99 (www2.hawaii.edu/~turner/ohe/May99/5-29b.html).

But the uluhe was manageable and we were soon above it and climbing in
more unhindered conditions underfoot.  In less than 30 minutes, we emerged
on the Waiahole Ditch Trail, where we headed right (or north).  Neither I
nor Jason had ever hiked this segment of the ditch trail.  And, based on 
its overgrown, landslidish state, it appeared few, if any, folks hike it
nowadays.  But there's something about being able to say, "Yes, I've hiked
that trail."  And Jason and I can say that about this segment of
the ditch trail though it's unlikely I will be hiking it again
soon, for I can take only so much of weeds in my face and fallen logs to
crawl over & under.

After 90 minutes of moving slowly along the overgrown ditch trail, we
finally arrived at the improved section the club uses on its
outings.  Dusty was standing at the junction when we arrived and we found
out from him that most of the group had gone the other way around the loop
and were working toward us.  

This segment of the ditch trail didn't need much work aside from rocks and
branches that we tossed or kicked off the path. At one point, we passed an
outflow of the ditch, with water gushing out forming a noisy
cascade.  Not far past that, we explored a tunnel on the left.  Assisted
by Jason and his photon light, we stooped and shuffled through the tunnel
for 40 meters, stopping at a 4-foot  retaining wall.  Fifteen feet beyond
the wall was the Waiahole ditch.  Jason said something like, "With some
inner tubes away we'd go." No tubes, no go, however.

We exited the tunnel and continued north along the ditch trail.  I tried
to raise various members of the crew via walkie-talkie but had no
luck.  With all the intervening side ridges and a thick canopy of trees
overhead, negative radio contact was expected.  

I pushed a little ahead of Jason and Dusty and when I came to place along
the trail with ironwoods and an open uluhe slope on the left, I decided to
climb up the slope to try to gain a vantage point where I could
A) Sit down to eat lunch with a good view of the valley and
B) See further upridge to determin if I could find a way to try and climb
up toward the summit of the Koolaus.

As I climbed, I saw Jason and Dusty hiking along the ditch trail, and I
called out so they'd see where I was and follow me if they wanted.  Jason
waded up the slope after me.  Dusty, with trail marking duties to tend to,
declined. When Jason caught up to me, I pointed out an octopus tree 100
meters ahead of us that would be a good place to accomplish goals A &
B.  He was agreeable to that, and after huffing, puffing, and swapping the
uluhe-crashing lead position, we arrived at our lunchspot right around
noontime.  We each had altimeter watches that put us at the ~900-foot
level.

We had a nice lunch and jabbered about a variety of things, including
the merits of various new and used cars, the material composition of
gaiters, and the equitable dispursement of gifts for multiple
siblings.  And we also talked about the likelihood of summiting via the
spur ridge we were on.  From our lunchspot, it was clear we'd have to have
our ridge join up with an even larger one just to the north of us.  Humps
in our ridge kept us from seeing if it indeed connected with the bigger
ridge, so we made the decision to keep climbing to find out what would
happen.

Faced with overhead uluhe and no trail, we traded off in the lead
with the front man plowing through and the trailer doing some
chopping and uluhe stomping.  Our ridge narrowed a bit but never
approached a razor-like state.  To provide some perspective, it was like
climbing to Pu'u o Kila in Kahana but today's ridge wasn't as steep nor as
narrow.  We eventually climbed above the uluhe and had an easier go in
a section of  native forest (lama, ohia, akia, maile).  The ridge became
rockier on the final ascent but the climbing wasn't that difficult. At
around 1:15, we reached the place where our ridge joined the bigger ridge
to the north.  The bigger ridge had a faint (pig?) trail on it and from
the look of things, it appeared we could have continued on up and perhaps
even summited.  Jason, one of the few to climb Piliwale ridge to
Konahuanui,  was game for a summit go, but I had had enough climbing and
excitement for the day.  An altimeter check put us at the ~1500-foot
level, about 1000 feet from the top. A topo map review gave us an idea
what ridge we were on and where it would hit the summit.  

Based on all this, I'm cautiously optimistic we can acquire the
summit with this route and do so without great peril.  Keep in mind I
made a similar prediction before and was very wrong.  Although I'm not
sure when we will make a try for it, it'll likely be before the end of
February. 

Jason and I returned the same way we'd climbed, and on the way down we did
additional uluhe stomping to further establish the swath we'd created.  We
needed about half an hour to descend back to the ditch trail and another
hour to hike out to the end of the right fork of the valley road.  Tom
Yoza was waiting for us there and provided a ride back out to the
highway.  Mahalo, Tom.

Refreshments aplenty were being had at Waiahole Beach Park, and in
addition to consumption of cold drinks and snacks, I did more observation
of vet/newcomer dynamics and interaction. Interesting, indeed.

Next Sunday's TM outing will be Waimano.  Meeting time is 8 a.m. at the
top of Waimano Home Road next to the Waimano Home guard
checkpoint.  Newcomers are certainly welcome.  See you there.

--dkt

Moanalua Saddle to Halawa Ridge

What a difference a swath makes.  That's a thought that popped into my
head a bunch of times today while I hiked.  Joining me was fellow
swath-buckler Ed Gilman, who needs no introduction since he's been
mentioned on the list quite a bit.

The swath we were glad to have in front of us was on the west (aka
north) ridge of Moanalua Valley.  A small group of us did this ridge a
couple weeks ago, and in my write-up of that hike I belabored the point
that we had a pretty tough go of it because no trail existed up there.

But there is a trail on Moanalua west now as a result of the push-through
we did two weeks ago and some chopping Ed and I did today.  Mabel tells me
she will lobby the HTMC schedule committee to include a hike on this
route, so club members stay tuned.  And for non-club members, new hikes
like this might be incentive for joining the ranks of the HTMC.  We're a
pretty good bunch of folks.

My motivation for doing what we did today was two-fold.  First, the club's
trail maintenance crew would be working on Halawa Ridge--the
sequel.  Since I had taken part in the original flick last Sunday, I
wasn't brimming with enthusiasm for Part Deux today.  Second, I wanted to
hike a section of the crest between Moanalua and Halawa, the
penultimate hikeable segment of the Koolau summit I have yet to traverse
(Aiea to Waimalu will complete it).  

It would be good if I had some company, so I through out a line to OHE on
Friday night to see if I'd get any bites.  While there were some nibbles,
only Ed swallowed the hook.  The plan was to meet this morning at 7:30 at
the Halawa trailhead on Iwaena Street, and Ed was there to meet me at that
time.

We had planned to use either Ed's or my vehicle to drive over to Moanalua
Valley, but we didn't have to since Deetsie Chave, an early arriver for
Halawa trail clearing, offered us a ride. Thanks, Deetsie.

We were dropped off at the Moanalua community park at about ten to eight,
and as Ed and I tied our boots and checked our packs, we saw an off-duty
soldier with a big ruck sack checking his gear in front of the park's
restroom.  From his sweaty, disheveled disposition, he appeared to have
spent the night camping somewhere up mauka.  Either that or he'd hiked up
the valley and returned. Give him credit.

Ed and I began hiking up the valley road a couple minutes before eight,
and we moved along at a steady pace, talking story to help pass the 45
minutes we needed to reach the place where we'd leave the road to start
the valley trail.  Ed's an interesting and pleasant gentleman, and I found
out, via questions I asked, about his background in photography, his
fondness for sailing, his reasons for moving to Hawaii (he's originally
from the east coast), and other things.  We had a pleasant chat.

The chatting diminished in the next 45 minutes, which is what we needed to
reach the crest of Moanalua west ridge. We had an easier time today thanks
to the trail work of Mabel Kekina, Deetsie, and Charlotte Yamane a couple of Sundays
ago.  Like I said at the beginning, what a difference a swath makes.

At 9:30, Ed and I began heading mauka on Moanalua west after making
walkie-talkie contact with the HTM crew coming up Halawa.  I talked with
Tom Yoza, who was in the eucalyptus section at the time.  I radioed Tom
several other times that morning, usually to report our status.

And our status was always quite good, mostly because of the swath created
by our gang of six two weeks ago.  Feeling energetic, Ed and I fished out
machetes from our packs and did some cutting as we made our way
up the ridge.  Guava branches and i'e i'e tangles were chopped.  Ditto for
uluhe.  Hopefully, the swath will hold until the next time we go up the
ridge, perhaps with the TM crew.

At 10:30, we had completed the ascent of the steepest part of the ridge (a
rope is situated there) and we stopped to rest at the pu'u where we'd
eaten lunch two weeks ago.  We were over an hour ahead of the pace from
that ordeal.  The faster (and easier) progress was very encouraging.

Mushing on along the swath stamped down a fortnight ago, we dropped into
an intermediate saddle, ascended to a large pu'u (false summit), dipped
down into a significant saddle, and completed the final curving climb to
the Koolau summit.  We arrived at 11:15, two hours ahead of the top-out
time two weeks ago.

We rested for five minutes at the summit clearing (there's a metal pipe in
the ground there) and soaked up the clear views down in Haiku Valley and
beyond to Kaneohe and Kaneohe Bay.  A light, cool wind lifted up and over
the crest, and I found this very pleasant.

I radioed Tom Yoza to let him know we'd reached the top and that we were
commencing the crossover to the Halawa summit.  A pretty decent trail
exists on the crest and I spotted several areas rooted out by
summit-loving pigs.  There was one substantial nob to climb enroute to
Halawa, with severe dropoffs to windward much of the way.  The footing was
quite reliable and there was virtually no mud.  We needed about 30 minutes
to reach the Halawa terminus.

I again radioed Tom to let him know we had finished the crossover and that
we'd be eating lunch.  Tom reported that the group he was with was nearing
the Halawa crossover and that others had pushed ahead and were heading for
the summit.

Around noon, Nathan was the first member of the crew to arrive at the
summit.  He joined Ed and me for lunch.  After our repast, we spent a
couple minutes clearing the summit area lunchspot for club hikers,
and as we did, Inger and her friend arrived.  

We left them to have the summit clearing to themselves, and Ed, Nathan,
and I began heading down Halawa. "It's possible to be back at Iwaena in
two hours," I announced to my colleagues, who chuckled and nodded to humor
me.  Picturing a 2:15 arrival at my car, I set off at a konk-head pace
(and, yup, I did konk my head when I misjudged a duck under a branch). As
we wound our way down the switchbacks, we enjoyed the good hedge trimmer
work done by Pat two weeks ago.  We also passed other members of the crew
heading for the top--Arnold Fukioka, Reuben Mateo, Mike Algiers, Helene

Sroat, Lynn Agena, Kris Corliss, Larry Oswald (weedwhacker in hand), Jason Sunada, 

among others. Mike did some nice gradingwork on a couple trouble spots.  Ken Suzuki

also did some nice grading of a lower section of the trail. Awesome stuff.

The planned two-hour outbound leg of Halawa never materialized.  I
ended up hiking out with Mabel, Georgina Oka, and Michael Valentino (Ralph's
son).  Mabel told me she had hot dogs for the post-outing feast, and as an
avowed meat-lover, I was eager to scarf some 'dogs.  I also realized I'd
have no hot dogs until Mabel arrived back at Iwaena, so there was no
reason to blitz down the trail.

I have to give Mabel her due.  Now in her early 70s, she can still hoof
it at a good pace.  She'll probably still be hiking in her 80s.  I forget
what time we arrived back at Iwaena--it might have been 3:30.  What really
mattered was that Mabel was there with her butane stove, pot, and boiled
hot dogs.  I ate my share, plus the share of any/all vegetarians in
attendance (and even a couple who were not (wave to Jay and Jim).  In
exchange, I offered any takers my share of cupcakes, cookies, chips, and
other miscellaneous available carby-fare

We had one injury casualty today: Deetsie, who dislocated her shoulder
in a fall and had to be driven to the hospital.  Let's hope for a
quick, painless recovery.

Next Sunday's (1/28) clearing outing will be Kuolani-Waianu.  Meeting
place is by the poi factory along Waiahole Valley Road at 8 a.m.  This is
one of the less strenuous work days and will give the crew a chance to
recover for a couple of upcoming toughies--Waimano on 2/4 and Manana Ditch
on 2/11.

I'd also like to encourage anyone and everyone to turn out for the Halawa
Ridge hike on Sunday 2/4.  The trail is in wonderful shape.  Though long,
the route offers a gentle way to reach the summit.  And like Stuart Ball
says about Waimano, "the miles will fly by."

--dkt