Opaeula Watershed Project -- Patrick Rorie

From the Oahu Hiking Enthusiasts Archives

Date: Mon, 22 Jan 2001 14:08:41 -1000
From: Patrick Rorie (prorie@k12.hi.us)
Subject: Recent Ko'olau Summit Trail History

Ko'olau Summit Trail History

== 'Opa'eula Watershed Project (2000-2001)

On 20 January 2001 Patrick Rorie (HTMC President) and Stuart Ball (hiking author and a former HTMC President, pictured at left with wife Lynne) were flown with Joby Rohrer (biologist, U.S. Army Environmental Division) via helicopter to the 'Opa'eula Watershed Project, a newly established rain forest preserve located between Pe'ahinai'a Trail and the leeward slopes opposite the headwaters of Kaluanui Stream. The purpose of the trip was simple: establish specific instructions regarding how the fencers should proceed as they install a four foot tall fence along the historic Ko'olau Summit Trail to keep feral pigs from entering the preserve.

The chopper took off from the Army's East Range a short distance mauka of California Avenue in Wahiawa. As it neared the Ko'olau summit, the pilot carefully maneuvered through fog until he identified the designated landing spot. The helicopter touched down just long enough to allow the three men to exit the craft then lifted off into the clouds. The change in climate was substantial - from warm Schofield East Range to the chilly, foggy, and rainy Ko'olau summit. After putting on rain gear and speaking with one of the fencers, the trio headed east on foot over the skirt of an already completed section of the fence toward the crest and a rendezvous with the Ko'olau Summit Trail.

Once at the Summit Trail, the threesome halted, Rohrer to remove a notebook from his rain coat for note-taking, Rorie and Ball to envision how the fence and trail could coexist. While they walked the trail, Rohrer pointed out a couple of native tree snails and a rare native plant. At the end of the roughly one third of a mile segment that would be most impacted by the fence, Rohrer, Rorie and Ball sat down to have lunch and to summarize the new guidelines:

1. in general, keep the fence to the leeward side of the trail thus allowing an unobstructed windward vista
2.  keep crossings via wooden stiles to a minimum
3. although more difficult and expensive to do, create as many corners as possible to protect the integrity of the trail
4. when given the choice between the easy way and the hard way, choose the more difficult option

After consuming the midday meal, Rorie and Ball bid farewell to Rohrer (later, a chopper plucked the Army biologist from the Ko'olau summit) then they continued tramping south at a leisurely pace. The two men enjoyed gazing at the native flora (clusters of crimson 'ohi'a lehua flowers, tall loulu palms, lapalapa trees) and paused briefly at a waterfall notch and at the landing zone near the Pe'ahinai'a Trail terminus to get an idea of exactly where the fence would be positioned.

Upon arriving at the Poamoho Trail terminus, they inspected the recently reinstalled Cline Memorial plaque (pictured at left) then climbed a small grassy hump and sat down for a quick bite to eat. Pressing on, Rorie and Ball remained on the Summit Trail and stopped again at the fairly new Poamoho Cabin to check its condition. While on the porch, the two men recognized three 'apapane flying through the air or perched on an 'ohi'a limb and delighted in the distinct calls the birds produced. Leaving the Poamoho Cabin behind, Rorie and Ball gained pleasure from the wonderful shelf-like windward sections of the Ko'olau Summit Trail dug out of the sheer pali, but the normally spectacular views of Punalu'u and Kahana valleys directly below were nonexistent due to a thick fog.

At about 3 p.m., Rorie and Ball reached the Pauao Ridge/Summit Trail junction, and following another break to hydrate, commenced the final leg of the day. During the methodical descent along the ungraded Pauao Ridge Trail, they endured a periodic drizzle, identified additional native plants/birds and enjoyed viewing the manner in which the low cloud ceiling engulfed the Ko'olau summit. Eventually, the two men ended up at the Kahana watertank at 5:30 p.m. and walked out via a paved road to the locked gate mauka of a small cluster of houses.

A Kawainui Campout --By Kapa Reero -- 3 Jan 2001

This is from the OHE (Oahu Hiking Enthusiasts) archives and is written by Kapa Reero kapareero@lycos.com), an intrepid hiker and backpacker. It was posted to OHE on 3 Jan 2001. Here is what Kapa had to say:

Tucked away in the boonies, the Kawainui Trail is located in the leeward Ko'olau foothills many miles above the northshore town of Hale'iwa. Regarding Kawainui, Stuart Ball writes..."The circular pool at the end is the most beautiful one on the island. It is also one of the largest and is great for swimming."*

Every Labor Day weekend, members of HTM used to camp at Kawainui until access was prohibited. Prior to New Year's weekend 2000, I had never camped there, so I decided to go for it as a way to escape the noise and smoke of the New Year's fireworks. With Palama Uka closed and access to the trail limited to the Sierra Club/Boy Scouts/Audubon Society, I had to find another route to Kawainui. I decided to hike "over the top" of the Ko'olau Mountain Range, starting the journey in La'ie on Saturday, December 30 at 8:08 a.m. Saturday was a beauty weatherwise - an abundance of blue sky and sunshine, clear summit ridge due to light and variable winds, temperatures in the low 80's.

After tramping approx. 6 miles, I reached the Ko'olau Summit Trail (KST) at 10:27 a.m., dropped my heavy pack and proceeded to the La'ie foxhole to rest and enjoy the terrific vista of Kahuku and the La'ie coastline to windward. Pressing on, I traveled south along the KST for half a mile to the marshy region surrounding the Kawailoa flat-topped mound (obtained a liter of water from the pool below the tiny waterfall - barely a trickle).

At 11:11 a.m. I found myself a top the mound (elev. 2,360 ft) consuming lunch and gaining pleasure from the outstanding leeward view of the Wai'anae Range and northshore to Ka'ena Point in the distance, as well as the verdant wilderness stretching out for miles directly in front of me. Truely, O'ahu's backcountry. I changed into long pants and then at 11:45 a.m. started down the Kawailoa Trail, a graded contour footpath built in 1934 by the Civilian Conservation Corp (CCC). Of Kawailoa, Ball writes..."Kawailoa is a bear of a hike through extremely wild and rugged terrain.

The Kawailoa Ridge Trail receives little or no maintenance. As a result, it is heavily overgrown with uluhe ferns and Clidemia in the lower and middle sections.

Although basically graded, the trail has many uneven spots because of erosion and landslides. Watch your footing all the time. Expect to fall down and get muddy and wet."*

Nevertheless, Ball also writes..."Up La'ie, along the summit, and down Kawailoa makes a superb Ko'olau traverse."*

During the Kawailoa segment of the journey to Kawainui, I paused to look at tall loulu palms dotting the slopes of a leeward Ko'olau ridge to the north on the other side of the gully containing Kamananui Stream, startled a feral pig, and lost the trail a couple of times.

At 2:47 p.m. I rejoiced upon emerging from the overgrown footpath and soon reached a dirt road characterized by a long series of ups and downs. Despite the ups and downs, I enjoyed the vista from the road of the steep, verdant leeward slopes of the northern Ko'olaus in the distance and the pleasant combination of Norfolk Island pines, tall eucalyptus, and Koa trees which parallel the thoroughfare. However, due to the high humidity, I had to fight off a nasty leg cramp.

Once I reached Pa'ala'a Uka Pupukea Road beyond the forest reserve boundary at 3:36 p.m., I followed the military road to the junction with Kawailoa Road. Continuing on Pa'ala'a, I descended into and then climbed out of a gully to broad Pu'u Kapu, an active Army landing zone (LZ). Leaving Kapu behind, I dropped down into Kawainui Gulch, halting on one occasion to study the Hendrickson Memorial, a Private First Class who died at age 22 in 1936 while participating in the construction of the road.

Finally, at 4:40 p.m., I arrived at the Kawainui trailhead. Because access to the trail is extremely limited, I was not surprised to find the footpath in need of a good clearing. I became especially exasperated at the hau section, having to crawl on all fours under thick branches to continue the trek.

Despite the humidity (leg cramps), the Kawailoa "Bear", the hot dirt/gravel road walk, and the Kawainui hau tangle - a grand total of 16 miles, I reached the campsite (approx. elev. 945 ft) at 5:45 p.m. and immediately cleared away knee high grass in preparation for the setting up of my canvass covering.

After pitching my tent, I proceeded to the large, circular pool to wash off. When I returned to the campsite, I climbed inside my humble abode and took a much needed snooze. Later, I commenced dinner preparations then consumed the evening meal (Mountain House chicken a la king) while gazing up at the clear night sky, which afforded excellent star/planet action (layers of heavenly bodies).

Revived by the cat nap and delicious supper, I took pleasure from my surroundings: the gurgling of Kawainui Stream, the chill in the air, the silhouette of a nearby ridge, and the wondrous evening sky.

Eventually, at 11:22 p.m., I reentered my tent and fell sound asleep.

== Sunday, December 31 "Layover Day at Kawainui" ==

Just what the Doctor ordered, a layover day at the Kawainui pool to recover from an arduous trip the previous day. Definately a leisurely morning: slept in til 8:30 a.m. and ate breakfast til 9:30. Completely clear blue sky overhead as the sunlight of the rising sun slowly made it's way down onto the surface of the pool and onto the floor of the stream bed.

Upon arriving at the rim of the tarn, I decided to take an invigorating swim then sunbathed on a rock (the perfect size and shape for doing so) for a spell. Unfortunately, clouds moved in around noon, blocking the sun, and by 1:30 p.m. had created overcast conditions.

Between 2 and 2:40 p.m. I explored upstream using a narrow trail to get beyond the pool, but backtracked when the clouds broke, allowing sunshine to hit the region again. Next, I swam to the other side of the pool and walked upstream to a small waterfall (natural jacuzzi), where I gained pleasure from the therapeutic massaging action caused by the stream flowing down and around a huge rock. The final two hours prior to night fall were spent pretty much lounging beside the tarn, gazing at the reflection of the surrounding low rocky cliffs and vegetated slopes (including many kukui trees) on the placid pool's surface.

Once darkness began setting in, I returned to my tent. After preparing and consuming sweet and sour pork with a salad, I hiked back to the pool and enjoyed the manner in which the crescent moon light illuminated the pale green leaves of the kukui trees. I also noticed the Great Square (constellation) and traced the path of a satellite as it traveled across the heavens. Eventually, I ended up at the campsite, but continued to delight in the marvelous star/planet configuration in the clear night sky.

== Monday, January 1, 2001

Arose at 7:15 a.m., ate breakfast until 8 and then reluctantly broke down my tent/packed for the impending noon departure. Prior to heading out, however, I experienced another exhilarating swim in the pool, lay in the small waterfall (natural jacuzzi) and sat by the pool's edge right up to the moment when I had to leave.

Overcast skies and a slight drizzle told me it was time to go so after putting my backpack on, I hit the trail at 12:15 bound for Kamehameha Hwy on the outskirts of Hale'iwa. En route to the Kawainui trailhead, frequent sunny periods prevailed, and I paused to take in the sights.

I retraced my steps to the Pa'ala'a Uka Pupukea Road/Kawailoa Road junction and headed west (directly makai) at 2:41 p.m. Endured a 5 mile gradual downhill semi-paved road walk which was murder on my feet but made less boring by the terrific view of the northshore to Ka'ena Point, the white wake of breaking waves clearly visible off the coast. Also, a huge cloud bank engulfed much of the Wai'anae Range with a heavy downpour onto the Wahiawa plain. On the way out I couldn't help but notice acres and acres of tall, green stalky grass existing on both sides of the thoroughfare. "What a waste of land" I thought to myself. Farther ahead, about one mile from Kamehameha Hwy, I recognized a large field of corn growing near a building.

When I spotted tall date palms in a ranch bordering Kawailoa Drive, I knew the end of my journey was near, and sure enough, I reached a bus stop on the shoulder of Kamehameha Hwy a few minutes later at 4:15 p.m. My buddy Ned Dilmon arrived in my vehicle at 4:25 p.m. followed by his lovely wife in their car. A big mahalo to Ned for picking up my vehicle in La'ie on Saturday and dropping it off at our designated rendezvous point on New Year's day.

Notes:

The wooden La'ie Trail sign is missing (someone obviously confiscated it). Perhaps Mike Algiers can make a replacement.

The Kawailoa Ridge Trail is still there! The first mile and a half beyond the long series of ups and downs is open, relatively speaking. Hunters probably use it. We simply must keep these classic (and historic) CCC trails alive considering how much human effort went into building them!

The Army has repaired (filled in the ruts) the military road leading to Pu'u Kapu. However, the ruts remain as the road drops down into Kawainui Gulch.

There is a guard posted at the Kawailoa Refuse Transfer Station. I'm not sure if his purpose is to protect the transfer station or to keep people out of the corn fields. As soon as the dude spotted me, he got on his bicycle and sped toward my position. I ignored him; therefore, a confrontation did not occur.

REFERENCES

* Ball, Jr., Stuart M. THE HIKERS GUIDE TO O'AHU. Honolulu: University Of Hawaii Press, 1993.

Castle Trail

The HTMC is hiking the Castle Trail this weekend (Sunday 6/13). It's a members-only hike and with only a limited number of hikers allowed. The limit is very likely a result of a requirement of the landowners, the Kamehameha Schools/Bishop Estate, who probably are concerned about environmental impact and liability. In any case, it is good for the hiking community that KS/BE is allowing access to Castle as well as other trails, such as Kawainui, Kawai Iki and Opaeula, that are on KSBE properties.

I have hiked Castle a number of times, the first being back in the early 80s when I really wasn't into hiking at all. On that occasion, I joined two friends, Bob Benham and Guy Kaulukukui, who both worked for KSBE at the time and hence were able to get access.

During that hike of Castle, I remember a particularly dicey section where we had to inch across an exposed waterfall section of the old switchbacks. At the time, I thought that was the craziest thing I had ever done in my life.

I also remember only carrying a liter of water and drinking water out of the stream that the trail crosses what up in the mountains above Punaluu. At the time, I reasoned that the water had to be pure since no animals who could foul the water could exist this high up in the Koolaus. Of course, years later I found out how incorrect I was and that indeed there were lots of animals who live up that high (and higher) and they had no problem fouling the water.

Fortunately, I survived that drink-from-the-stream episode and lived to hike another day, which included other days in the years that followed hiking on the Castle Trail which is mentioned favorably in Stuart Ball's The Hikers Guide to Oahu.

Malaekahana-Kahuku

This hike took place back in June 2001 and involved three trails: Malaekahana Ridge, Koolau Summit Trail and Kahuku Ridge. The whole thing had to be at least 12 miles but it could have been as much as 15. Whatever it was, we all had a sweaty, muddy workout. Ken Suzuki even said the plants along the Kahuku Trail are better compared to sister ridges, Laie and Malaekahana.

The hike started at the Laie ballpark on Poohaili Street, the trailhead for the Laie Trail hike. The first phase was a romp along a dirt road that passed the Laie trailhead and crossed a (dry) stream. There are several side roads on the left and right leading to farms. One concern along this stretch is harassment by dogs. A couple barked and growled as we went by in the a.m. but no dog hassles took place in the p.m., at least when I went by.

Not long after the stream crossing, we headed mauka on another dirt road.
This road eventually becomes eroded and rutted and then transitions
into the Malaekahana Trail, which we headed up. About an hour from the
cars, we passed the junction with the trail heading down to Malaekahana
Stream and continued mauka up the ridge. The trail beyond the junction
was overgrown but still passable.

Eventually, the ridge trail angles left, goes over several humps, and
arrives at a junction at a low saddle, now very well ribboned. This is
about 2 to 3 hours from the cars, depending how fast one goes. It was
there we left the ridge trail (heading right) to begin a segment we
called "The Shortcut to the KST," a longtime brain-child of Bill Gorst.
This route drops down to a little stream, passes some paperbark trees,
winds around some low ridges and ravines, crosses little streams at least
twice more, and eventually gains the summit trail about a half mile (as
the mynah flies) north of the KST/Malaekahana junction. It takes about
half an hour.

Once on the KST, our loop headed right (north) toward the Pupukea summit
hilltop, where the terminus of the Kahuku trail resides. The KST segment
was muddy in many places (to be expected) and about 2/3rds was
well-cleared. Count on at least an hour to get this part done.

At the base of the Pupukea summit hilltop is a signed junction. Today's
correct choice was to head up to the right (heading straight ahead would
take one around the hilltop and on to Pupukea). Near the top of the hill
was another signed junction. This is where the Kahuku trail begins/ends.

Getting back to the cars from this location will take approx 3-4
hours. We did it by heading down the Kahuku trail, which is a typical
uluhe-ohia ridge higher up. This part is very obvious and marked well.
After the uluhe abates, the trail transitions into the guava zone. The
corridor thru the guava is generally distinct and well-marked when the way
becomes less clear. After the guava zone, the trail becomes drier, more
eroded, and populated by vegetation like ironwoods, some pines, and
christmas berry, with some guava thrown in to keep things from
getting too easy/pleasant.

About 90 minutes from the summit, there is a junction with what appears to
be an old jeep road. We went right at that point, leaving the Kahuku
trail, which continues straight down the ridge, very broad at
this point. The old road arrives at another junction in a forest of
ironwoods. The correct way at that point is to head right to begin
descending to Malaekahana Stream. Ribbons mark the way, which eventually
gets steep and proceeds down a swath thru uluhe, then a large eroded
patch, and then puts one in the side fork of the (dry) stream. The side
fork quickly leads to a junction with the main (babbling) stream. At that
point, there is ribboned trail that gets the old ticker a-pumping by
climbing steeply to the ridgetop of the south side of Malaekahana Stream.

Once the ridgetop is gained, the trail heads mauka for a short spell, then
swings to the left thru a forest of guava and ironwoods. This area is well
marked. The trail reaches a barbed-wire fenceline, which is followed for
a bit and then ducked under at a ribboned point. A road covered
with horse manure heads makai to mauka (head makai). Heading as such will
lead to a large antenna tower. Near the tower is an indistinct (but
ribboned well today) path that heads to the right. This path leads to a
gate and the start/end of a dirt road. Go thru the gate (make sure to
secure the gate with the attached rope) and proceed down the road.

This road will lead to a junction with the dirt road leading to
Malaekahana that was walked on earlier. The conclusion of the hike is the
dirt road amble back to the Laie ballpark.

Some notes about the hike:


Several folks ran out of water en route. This is at least a three-liter
hike, especially in the summer months.

Walkie-talkies were useful in helping us keep track of who was where. For
those who don't have a walkie-talkie, consider purchasing one.

Marriage, Hiking, and Life

While I haven't read the book Solemates: Lessons On Life, Love, and Marriage From the Appalachian Trail, it sounds like an interesting read.  Maybe someday I'll write a book similar to it and call it Solemates: Lessons On Life, Love, and Marriage From the Trails of Hawaii.

Well, today is my wife and I's 6th wedding anniversary (the picture to the left is us above Poomau Canyon [Kokee] on Kauai).  As I reflect on the years I've been married, I can say that they've been good years on the whole.  Yes, there've been lots of trials and challenges along the way but I can say that I love my wife and I love being married to her.  While it is true that I am hiking a lot less than I was in my pre-married days, I have no regrets.   

Hiking, as it turns out, has played an interesting part in my life.  I met Jacque in 1993.  Up to that point, I had hiked very little, perhaps less than ten times in the 30+ years of my life.    Interestingly, Jacque suggested a hike with a local hiking club (HTMC) as a date during my early courtship of her.  I liked the idea and we decided on a Saturday hike with club on the Hauula-Papali trails.  If you discount the suffering I endured on the climbs on these supposedly novice trails and also the fact that I led us astray at one point on the hike, we had a good experience that day

Such a good time did we have that we had other hiking "dates," one of them being a backpacking trip up Mauna Loa, which I blogged about recently.

Little did I realize that that date with my future wife would lead to LOTS of hiking thereafter (the pic to the right is us on a ridge in Kalihi Valley).  So much so that we became members of HTMC and even lead hikes for the club till this day.

Right now, my wife and I are engaged in an urban hiking expedition, with the goal of hiking around Oahu (via roads) in stages for a total of 120+ miles.  We have completed the section from Kaneohe to Haleiwa, from Pearl City to Kaneohe, and from Hawaii Kai to Nuuanu.  What remains is the West side (Waianae Coast) and Mokuleia to Pearl City.  We hope to complete all that by the end of summer 2010.

I also look forward to another year of happily married life with the woman of my dreams.

Aiea Hiking with the HTMC on National Trails Day

Tomorrow (6/5/10 Saturday) is my wife and I's sixth wedding anniversary.  On 6/5/04 at 3:21 in the afternoon, we were married at the chapel on the campus of the Kamehameha Schools, my alma mater.  Happy anniversary to us!

Tomorrow also is National Trails Day.  In tribute to the day, the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club will be conducting three (count 'em) hikes tomorrow, all in the mountains above Aiea.

The options, from longest/most difficult to shortest/easiest include

1. Aiea Ridge trail (12 miles)
2. Aiea Loop trail (4.5 miles)
3. Aiea bisectional trail (3 miles)

Meeting time tomorrow is 8 a.m. up at the upper trailhead in Keaiwa State Park.

Dunno if the missus and I will be hiking with the club, but we do plan on celebrating our 6th!  BTW, the pic you see of my wife and I on this blog is taken at the upper trailhead aforementioned.

Makiki-Tantalus Loop

One of my favorite workout hikes is the Makiki-Tantalus Loop which is actually a circuit of several trails including Moleka, Makiki Valley, Kanealole, Nahuina, Maunalaha, Kalawahine, and Manoa Cliffs.  Sound confusing?  Well it is, that is until you have gone out and done it.  After that, no problem.

The hike starts at the Nature Center in Makiki where there is a bathroom and water.  Parking is down the road from the Nature Center in a gravel lot on the left. 

Since this is a loop, it can be done in the clockwise direction (starting with the Kanealole Trail) or counterclockwise (starting with the Maunalaha Trail).  The latter option gets the pulse climbing more quickly because of the climbing commences right away and with greater steepness.  Most times, I prefer to get the hard stuff out of the way right off the bat.

The Maunalaha Trail climbs up a dry, rocky, tree-covered ridge (see photo at right) to arrive a big junction with a sign and a bench.   To do the big loop (about 7 miles), proceed up to the right on the Makiki Valley Trail and not long after that, head left on the Moleka Trail.  There are not many views along this part of the hike.  The views will come later.

Eventually, the Moleka Trail ends at a crossing of Round Top Drive.  Directly across Round Top is the start of the Manoa Cliffs Trail.  The cliffy part of the trail doesn't start right away but in about 5 to 10 minutes it will.

Much of the cliff trail isn't really cliffy but there will be some nice views down into Manoa Valley along the way.  The trail in this direction climbs gradually to make its way around Tantalus mountain.  along the way at a sometimes windy lookout, there is a rest bench.  I use this bench as a benchmark for my conditioning.  If I can reach the bench from the Nature Center (via Maunalaha) in an hour, I'm moving at a good pace for me.  The downhill part of the Manoa Cliff trail begins at a metal gate, which marks the entrance of an inclosed area to protect native plants.

Upon exiting the inclosed area, head left on the continuation of the Cliffs Trail.  Do note that straight ahead after exiting the inclosure is the Pauoa Flats Trail, which leads to the Nuuanu Lookout, Konahuanui, and the Aihualama Trail down into Manoa Valley.  But since we're doing the loop, we'll scratch that part, but if you feel so inclined, go for it. Just remember your landmarks.

The cliffs trail switches back several times to descend to the Kalawahine Trail.  At that junction, head left and follow Kalawahine as it contours on the Ewa-facing side of Tantalus.  The Kalawahine Trail ends at Tantalus Drive.  To continue the loop, proceed straight ahead on Tantalus Drive for about 60-70 meters.  On the left will be the Nahuina Trail which is accessed by hopping over a metal guardrail along Tantalus Drive.

Nahuina descends in switchbacks to a junction with the Makiki Valley Trail.  At that junction, head left to continue the descent to the valley bottom.  In a few minutes, the MVT will reach yet again another junction (this hike is big on junctions!).   At that point, head right down the Kanealole Trail which ends at the Nature Center.

On good days (for me), I've done this loop in two hours.  I will admit that I jog part of the flat and downhill sections of most of the route. 

For a shorter (1-hour) option, the Makiki Valley Loop is a good choice.  The variation on the route I described would be to head leftward instead of straight and up at the big junction to continue on the Makiki Valley Trail.  Then at the junction with the Kanealole Trail, head down to return to the Nature Center.

Makapu'u Lighthouse Trail

Most of us who live in Hawaii or have an interest in the islands are familiar with the TV shows Magnum P.I. and Hawaii Five-O. Remember scenes from a high vantage point with Rabbit Island and the Waimanalo coast in the background? If you were wondering, those scenes were filmed at the Makapuu Lighthouse overlook, a site accessible via a 45 minute walk from Kalanianaole Highway.
After years of driving from Honolulu to my windward side home in Kaneohe, I finally decided in the summer of 1994 to check out what lay beyond that gated roadway at the bottom of the long hill on the Hawaii Kai Golf Course side. What had taken a lifelong Oahu resident so long to explore this place? Probably like many others, I had a notion that access to the road beyond the gate was not allowed. Even though more times than not I saw cars parked along the roadway fronting the gate indicating that people were tramping around up there, I categorized these folks as trespassers who'd placed themselves at the mercy of the law, car thieves, or both.

I'm not sure if overhearing a conversation about the hike prompted me to venture forth; however, one midsummer morning I was on the road to Waimanalo and after a 20 minute drive from Kaneohe was parking at the Hawaii Kai Golf Course (I was more leery of car thieves than the law). By the way, you need not park at the golf course to do the hike. Parking along the fairly wide shoulder along Kalanianaole is fine.

Plan on a 15 minute walk to the gate if you park at the golf course. From there, simply follow the paved road that contours along the ridge in the direction opposite of your ultimate destination. The climb is gradual and soon enough you'll find yourself rounding the corner of the ridge where you'll have your first magnificent view of the azure Pacific from atop steep and rugged sea cliffs. However, the hike does not end there.

Continue up the road, this time heading in the direction of Rabbit Island. In some spots, the road skirts perilously close to the side of the steep pali. While walking along these places, I had visions of some olden day lighthouse keeper teaching his son or daughter to drive--certainly not a place to err.,p.
The ultimate reward of the hike is at the end of the road at a windswept lookout point high above Makapuu Beach and Rabbit Island. While I stood there and gazed seaward, visions of Tom Selleck, Jack Lord and television cameras and lights popped into my mind. In retrospect, I even recall episodes of Bodies in Motion, the aerobics show featuring Gil Janklowitz, being shot there. In fact, Makapuu point has been occupied or visited by many others before me: a couple generations of lighthouse keepers and their families, a group of Hawaiians who claimed family rights to the aina (land) there, scores of local fisherman who venture down the steep cliffs to take advantage of fruitful fishing grounds, armies of teens armed with beer and spray paint (graffiti abounds), and many others.

Along with Lord, Selleck, Janklowitz and a miscellany of siteseers, vagabonds and just plain folk, Dayle Turner can be counted among the many who have traveled up the Makapuu Lighthouse road.

I should mention that it is possible to hike from the road to the ocean. While walking up the road from the highway, look for the place where the concrete pillars begin (this is on the section of the road that overlooks the ocean and is heading in the direction of the lighthouse). Right at the first pillar, a trail descends the steep, rocky slope. The trail is readily apparent and if you think you have drifted off the path, look back upslope for arrows spraypainted onto the rocks.The descent to the ocean takes 10-15 minutes and at the bottom are some nice tide pools and a blowhole that puffs geysers of ocean water to the rhythm of incoming swells.

Once at the oceanside, it is possible to head right along the shoreline (toward Sandy Beach) to get to a cave and beyond. I've never gone beyond the cave, but others have told me it is possible to hike along the rocky shelf to reach Pele's Chair, the rock formation by the ocean in the Allan Davis area that is part of the Makapuu Shoreline Loop. Monitor the wave action if you decide to do this. Getting swept into the ocean in this area could mean curtains.

Bill Summers--Kalalau Trail Redeemer

For a number of years, I volunteered with the trail maintenance crew of the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club. The crew’s mission is to clear and maintain trails used by the club for its weekly outings. Almost without exception, the crew is out on Sundays working on some trail in either the Koolau or Waianae Mountains. Hats off to these hardworking folks.

Speaking of volunteers, I just found out about the good work of Bill Summers (pictured left), who, after arriving on Kauai in 2007, has done literally tons of work on the Kalalau Trail on the Na Pali Coast of the garden isle. And he has done this on his own dime, depleting his life savings and even being ticketed by a state conservation officer.  Jonathan Ley --  photo credit


Summers is still at work.  There are photos of his work here.  And more about him and his work here.  Hats off to Bill Summers.

Dupont/DePonte Trail on Oahu

"Honesty's the best policy" is a saying we're all familiar with.
Dr. Wing Ng calls Kamaileunu an "honest trail" because from start to terminus there is no concealed agenda: one climbs steadily with no appreciable drops. The antithesis of Kamaileunu is Manana, which taunts hikers with as many downs as ups. Like Manana, Schofield falls in the "dishonest" category, for its rollercoaster progression will kick one's tail ascending or descending.


Back in 2002, Pat Rorie and I, not in the mood for treachery, hiked what may be the most honest trail on Oahu: De Ponte (also referred to as Dupont). The route begins on a cane field road adjacent to Waialua High School and ends after a 4,000-foot vertical ascent gain at the summit of Mount Kaala, the apex of Oahu.


Stuart Ball tells us that Dupont (or De Ponte--recall a recent post quoting a *Honolulu Magazine* article) is a classic climb. He also says that the horror stories about the dangers of the trail are overstated. On both counts, he's correct.


Although not a cupcake, De Ponte isn't overly perilous. Previous hikers have strung an array of cables at steep and rocky sections of the trail (in some cases, the cables are overkill). And yes there are dike sections to traverse but these aren't of the Kalena- or Manamana-esque ilk. I suppose my view may be colored somewhat because De Ponte was dry and relatively windless today. Throw in some brisk trades on the dikes and some mud on the steeper sections and the hike would have been much tougher and tiring and potentially more dangerous.

Photo credit -- Jason Sunada

And it was plenty rugged and tiring as is, primarily because of its "honest" nature that had us climbing from the get-go to the end. We needed 3.5 hours to hike the 5.5 miles from our parking spot along Farrington Highway near the high school to the lookout spot by one of the huge soccer balls (FAA radar site) at Kaala's summit.


I can't say I enjoyed the ascent (sweating like a melting popsicle and listening to one's heart racing like a snare drum gets old after a while), but the miles and time moved by with reasonable quickness. We also were fortunate not to be stopped by anyone from Waialua Sugar or the macadamia farm or the horse ranch while going up or down. And although we saw scat of wild goats and pigs, we saw no signs of the scat makers. Further down, we did pass penned up goats, some wild pea fowl and later some horses resting under a copse of java plum. And the scratchy blackberry was present but not in huge quantities so we did not suffer any major flora abuse.


Thee trail passes through some lovely dryland forest and some exquisite native Hawaiian cloud forest near the summit. As inept as Pat and I are at identifying plantlife, we were able to recognize some trailside lobelia, lapalapa, and the more common koa and ohia. Hopefully, someone like Brandon Stone, Ken Suzuki, or Kost Pankiwskyj will hike the trail and provide a more detailed flora report.


Weather-wise, Pat and I had good fortune because a socked-in summit became a cloudless summit when we reached it, and during our one-hour lunch break we were treated to excellent views of the Oahu central plain and the distant Koolaus, the latter pelted by rain from dark gray clouds.


For me, the descent went much quicker and with less pain than I anticipated. Usually, a dry trail means a hard trail and a hard trail means pounding on feet and knees which means ouch to the 100th degree. But padded insoles, a pair of surprisingly comfortable Nike Sharks cleated shoes, and three aspirins popped down after lunch made the 5.5-mile descent quite nice. We left the summit at 1:30 and reached my vehicle at 4:00, ending an interesting day in the Waianae range.


For the record, this was Pat's third trip up DePonte and my first. And despite the long, tiring ascent, I'll do it again someday.


Honest, I will. :-)


--DKT

Puu Maelieli with the Sierra Club

Tomorrow, Sunday, May 30, 2010, the Oahu chapter of the Sierra Club will be conducting an outing on the Pu'u Maelieli Trail in Kahaluu.   It is a foothill/ridge hike and is 3 miles roundtrip.


This is a photography hike and the pace will be slow as a result.


The trail climbs to an old WWII pillbox with a good view of Kaneohe Bay and the Koolau Mountains.
 

For info, contact Stan Oka 429-9814, Clyde Kobashigawa 262-6092, John Shimogawa 227-9925

Poamoho

On Sunday (5/30/10) the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club will be hiking the Poamoho Trail, which is located in the Koolau Mountains out past Wahiawa.  The legendary John Hall will be coordinating the hike, which is a by-reservation outing (and all spots are filled).  According to club records, Poamoho was first hiked by HTMC  on July 14, 1935.  The hike involves a lengthy drive on dirt roads to reach the trailhead.  The actual trail itself is about three miles one-way to the crest of the Koolau Range overlooking Punaluu and Kahana Valleys.

The trail is graded (i.e. cut in the ridgeline) hence it is fairly easy to navigate.  The hike to the top might be accomplished in about an hour for speed hikers. Add 30 minutes for those hiking at a more relaxed pace.  Be ready to get muddy and wet.

Near the top is the Cline Memorial (pictured here), put there for HTMC member Geraldine Cline, who was tragically killed in an auto accident many years ago (no, not on the trail). There is even a memorial fund in memory of Cline.  


Also at the top is the Koolau Summit Trail which can be hiked northward to Pupukea and southward to Kipapa.

Kaupo Cliffs Trail-- Waimanalo, Hawaii

I did this hike back on Election Day in 2002 with Jay Feldman and Scott Villiger. Here is the write-up.

On the day that Hawaii will vote in its first wahine governor, Jay Feldman, Scott Villiger, and I elect to go hiking in the Waimanalo end of the Ko'olaus. We meet at 9:30 at the HTMC clubhouse in 'Nalo, then hash around some options for our outing, the top two being a circumnavigation of Koko Crater--my first choice--or a Kaupo Cliffs/TomTom combo, which Jay prefers. I actually like the Kaupo option but do not like the potential hassle we sometimes have from the guy who lives in the last house on the left on the street we use to access the trail. However, after some wrangling about transportation logistics and an assist from Man Friday, who says he'll help with the pre-hike drop-off, I relent and say okay to a Kaupo ascent, much to the delight of Jay, whose car we use to ferry us to our starting point on Manawaiola Street.

Thanks to MF's help, Jay, Scott, and I are dropped off at the end of the street and into the bushes of the vacant lot we go with no hassles from the guy in the last house on the left. In a minute, Scott and I are in a forest of koa haole, with Jay trailing behind us. Right off, we hit a snag when Scott and I veer left in the brush and Jay veers right to begin heading up the TomTom trail, thinking that is the plan. Meanwhile, Scott and I, not knowing where Jay has headed off to, wait in the forest for him. Fortunately, Jay and Scott have walkie-talkies, so we are able to summon Jay back to our position. After a couple minutes and a couple of whoops to home in on our locations in the thick forest, we all are back together again on our way to Kaupo Cliffs.

The "trail" over to the start of the climb up Kaupo isn't much of a trail. Instead, it's often just a meander thru a forest of knee-high grass, koa haole, some splotches of hau, and plenty of old rock terraces and walls. Remembering past hikes, I know that a key landmark is a fence line of old barbed wire that runs from mauka to makai, so that is the target. Once we hit the fence line, we turn mauka and began climbing, reaching, in a couple of minutes, an open area with a view back toward the ocean.

I start snapping some pics at this point with yet another disposable camera, and by hike's end I have shot the whole roll, 27 pics in all.

From the fence line ridge, we contour around the back of a steep ravine on a shelf that looks pretty gnarly from a distance but is quite safe when hiked upon. A very thin rope is available for grabbing if needed for a semi-exposed section, but in reality if a slip occurs, the rope isn't going to prevent the Big Spill.

After the contour, no spills having occurred, we begin climbing again, having switched over to a spur ridge more makai of the fence line ridge we have begun on. This climb is quite spectacular, most of it being on an open ridge with steep drops on both sides. At a couple points, the climbs are up and over some bouldery, exposed segments but the foot- and handholds are ample and generally stable. I take a bunch of pics along the way.

One of the more exciting sections of the climb involves a left-side contour to skirt around a vertical outcrop on the ridge. A long section of fixed rope, pitons, and cables is available to help prevent a Big Spill into a steep ravine.

Making use of the climbing aids, we execute the contour without a problem and then once on the ridgeline again, we climb a couple minutes more to an ironwood grove where we sit down to rest and talk story. During this respite, Jay shares some candy and almonds with us while we hunker down.

After the 15-minute break, we rise again to continue the ascent to the summit. We make our way thru the upper end of the ironwood grove, which Jay notes is a perfect place to string up a hammock and read a book, and then continue up a steep but broad slope with fairly decent footing. After climbing this way for ten minutes, the straight-up climbing becomes impossibly steep. At this point, we slab to the right, following a long fixed rope, which delivers us to an adjacent spur ridge. At that point, Scott spots a bunch of goats scrambling in the trees on the farside of a ravine to our right. At many points during our climb, we have seen evidence of the goat's presence via their black, pellety scat, so the sighting isn't a surprise.
Having executed the rope-assisted rightward slab, the major exposure sections are behind us and from then on we climb in relative safety thru another ironwood grove then up the final section of the ridgeline past or over a couple of rock outcrops. We acquire the summit very near the ironwood grove where we traditionally lunch during the Makapu'u-TomTom hike. A good climb completed safely.

From there, we hike along the summit, heading for the top of the TomTom trail. En route, we pause briefly at the Kamiloiki Ridge trail terminus in a shady grove of ironwoods and continuing on we pass the head of Kamilonui Valley. Beyond that, at the higher of two pu'us with powerline poles atop them, we reach the apex of the TomTom trail. A huge metal powerline pole with the word "FAT" spray-painted on it, marks the summit now. I take a pic of Jay and Scott next to the pole.

After resting and enjoying the wonderfully clear views atop the TomTom summit for a few minutes, we descend back to Waimanalo. While exiting in the grassy lot on Manawaiola, we see the man in the last house on the left. He is in his yard, cell phone in hand, with an angry look on his face. Is he calling the cops? We do not wait to find out and continue by somberly without pause.

Nothing comes of this but on the walk back to the clubhouse, Jay, Scott and I talk about how favorable it will be to talk story and make peace with this man, who may have some false impressions of us hikers. In fact, we may have false impressions of him. We agree that Mabel, with her grandmotherly looks and disarming ways, is an appropriate candidate to approach this man. We shall see.

When we reach Kalanianaole, we stop to buy lettuce from some nice folks at a roadside stand. An elderly tutu wahine at the stand, while eyeing us suspiciously, asks what we have been doing. When we say "hiking," her eyes soften and she smiles, replying, "Ahh, good exercise."
We smile in agreement, and each of us with a bag of fresh lettuce in hand, we tromp off back to the clubhouse for some cold drinks and snacks.

A good hike on a good day with good friends. I hope to have some pics up in a day or two.
With a new wahine governor to lead Hawaii for the coming four years, it's back to the grindstone tomorrow.

I hope you all are having a nice Election Day.

Kealia Big Loop 2/17/2001

Yesterday morning (2/17), 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.

I continued alone along the Mokuleia firebreak road toward Peacock Flats
and after fifteen minutes I came upon other hikers at a
junction with a lesser used road that descends a ridge to connect to a
lower 4x4 road.

I continued ahead of the three and ten minutes later came upon other hikers 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 took a short rest at the overlook, and then hiked
along the rim trail, bound for the Mokuleia campsite. When I reached the
switchback section of the rim trail, I noticed lobelia plantings some folks
had done during a recent service trip.

At a beautiful overlook of Makua, we came upon Nathan and Justin, both
lugging heavy packs (Justin's was VERY heavy). I 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, Nathan and I chatted about techniques for cleaning and drying
camelback bladders, an undertaking I usually neglect and that Nathan
regularly tends 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.

A few minutes later, I arrived at the Flats and spent time resting there.

Just past 2:00, I 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 the 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.

Kaunala Trail out on Oahu's North Shore

My wife and I lead hikes for the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club and the last hike we led (4/10/10) was on the Kaunala Trail in the hills above Waimea Bay on Oahu's north shore. About 40 people turned out for the hike, which was captured in words and pics by Richard Bailey and Nathan Yuen. The pic at left, in fact, was taken by Rich and in it are my wife and I hiking on a section of Kaunala.  Mahalo, Rich.

One of the new features of this hike is a newly paved road in the mountains.  Apparently, the military found it necessary to pave the formerly dirt road to make negotiation of the mountains easier for its vehicles.

For specifics about Kaunala, I wrote more about it.

Manana Trail--Pearl City, Hawaii

I did this hike back in 2002. The photo at left was taken in 2010 and credit goes to Doug Baker for it. Here is the write-up about Manana.

Manana is one of those demon trails that whipped me when I first began hiking. I remember that first attempt when I aspired to reach the summit, only to turn back, stricken with huge blisters on my heels, exhausted, on the verge of near collapse in the heat and humidity of that summer day, humbled and humiliated, promising myself I'd try again. It comes as no surprise that Manana kicked my butt that first time, for it is a tough five miles of ups and downs, eroded slopes, occasional narrow segments, low-grassed windswept meadows, overgrown sections of uluhe, and mushy bogs.

I kept my promise to myself, and a month or two after that first failed try, I made it to the top. In the years that followed, I've hiked Manana other times, mostly for maintenance work with the Trail and Mountain Club but occasionally on my own to test lungs and legs and heart.

This morning I hiked the trail for the latter, arriving at the Komo Mai Drive trailhead a few minutes before eight. While many on Oahu still lay in bed, I readied myself to hike, taking off my slippers and putting on wool socks, New Balance trail runners, and gaiters. In my pack were food and three and a half liters of water. Feeling energetic, I set off, pausing for a minute to sign my name on the register in the hunter/hiker check-in mailbox by the trailhead. I noticed that four others had already signed in, probably hunters since parked nearby were three trucks with the recognizable hunter accessory--metal rack/cages in the bed.

The weather forecast for the day indicated humidity and rain were likely. While I have no aversion to humid, rainy hiking, I prefer a dry trail and cool conditions. While today was never cool, I've hiked in steamier and more scorching circumstances. And while the trail wasn't totally dry, it was far from a mudbath.

The first section of Manana passes along a paved road leading to a water tank. During this initial stage, I focused on establishing a rhythm while tuning in to the feeling in my legs, to my breathing, and to any discernible tweaks I felt. I've recently been experiencing pain in my left shoulder, perhaps a rotator cuff malady or maybe a tendon pull or something else, for the shoulder is a complex joint and problems with it are sometimes difficult to diagnose, or so I've been told by those who know such things. A dull ache was still present this morning when I began hiking, and I hoped the activity would flush blood into the area, helping it to heal or dulling the pain or doing something beneficial. I also realized that I could do something to cause more damage.

Hopeful that I wouldn't do anything to make the shoulder worse, I moved in good rhythm through the first two miles of the trail, passing a couple of brown & yellow directional arrows signs, the down-trail to Waimano Pool, a sign for mountain bikers about an upcoming dismount zone, a lone male hiker stopped to inspect a plant, and a picnic shelter, complete with table and identifying sign, #15 to be exact.

Rhythm-maintaining short, quick steps were what I concentrated on as I faced the first significant climb of the morning. I dubbed this 2.5-mile hill because midway up the grade is the marker, actually the halfway point of the route if--and it's a big if--the 5-mile marker at the summit is to accurate.

Mauka of 2.5-mile hill, as I crested out another pu'u, there was sound of running water coming from the gulch to the west. Scanning for the source of the sound, I spotted a small waterfall and flowing stream, things I'd seen just once before on Manana, and that was on a rainy day and not a clear, warm one like today. I deduced that it must have rained here the night before or maybe in the early morning hours.

The pu'u used as a helipad is, if I recall correctly, between markers 3 & 3.5. Today, I stopped to rest and refuel at the pu'u, a place I once camped with my friend Bill Melemai. That campout was something to remember, for a military chopper--its interior and exterior lights off--hovered 100 feet over us for a couple of minutes on that dark night. We surmised the crew was on a training run and using see-in-the-dark gear, and we hoped the chopper wasn't trying to land and aborted because of our presence there. We never were sure what was up with it.

From the helipad to the summit, the trail became damper and mildly overgrown but nowhere was the path totally obscured. In fact, I had no problem seeing where I was putting my feet. More big hills stood in the way during the summit push, and I kept plugging away at these, trying to maintain the rhythm I'd established from the start. Meanwhile, the nagging little ache in my shoulder never worsened but it never went away either. I just had to deal with it.

Between markers 4 and 4.5, the final approach to the summit comes into view. I was surprised that clouds hadn't covered up the crest by now. Maybe just maybe I'd luck out and top out and have a view of the windward side.

No such luck, however. I arrived at the summit, establishing a strange standoff with a huge bank of clouds damming up just to windward. I had no view of the windward coast, but everything to leeward was open and visible, for the clouds just hung on the windward side of the crest, stopping right there.

It was too early for lunch, so after a few minutes to rest and to call my sweetheart Jacqueline, who made me promise to be careful while she dined on orange juice and waffles at some faraway Zippy's, I re-shouldered my pack, grabbed my hiking pole, and headed down the mountain with the goal of eating lunch at the helipad pu'u.

The return leg to the helipad went without a problem, but since it was still too early for lunch, I decided to continue hiking and stop at the best available spot when noontime arrived. On my way, I came upon an older couple resting along the trail. With a sandwich in one hand, the wife had in her other the Oahu trail bible (i.e. Stuart's book), and upon seeing me she asked how far it was to the helipad. I gave her an estimate of a half hour, and she thanked me.

Noontime arrived as I reached the top of hill 2.5, and I found a flat, shaded spot to sit down to eat my cottage/tuna/curry glop. Though I wasn't ravenously hungry as I often am during midday hiking lunchstops, I still managed to eat all the food I'd packed. Feeling dehydrated, I drank a liter and a half of water, all that remained in my platypus container. I probably had a half liter or so left in my algae-laced camelback (yum!),

After a fifteen-minute lunch stop, I was on my feet again to finish the hike, the day still sunny and muggy with no hint of pending rain. I hiked the remainder of the trail, still keeping a good rhythm and passing a couple local 20-somethings just makai of the picnic shelter, a group of four who just completed the climb of cardiac hill from Waimano Pool, and a group of local teenagers who'd been picking up trash along the first mile. After hiking alone for several hours, I was glad to see all these folks.

I was also glad to see my vehicle at the end of Komo Mai, for after slipping out of the dirty gaiters, socks, and shoes, I was back in my slippers and back in the vehicle for the 30-minute ride home to Kaneohe where waiting for me were a shower, a meal, and an afternoon of watching the UH Warriors win the NCAA volleyball title on TV.

Lanihuli Trail Access

Just got word last week that access to the Lanihuli trail is (temporarily?) available.  Here is the skinny from someone who lives near the access point:

At the top of Alewa Drive, there's a separate gate on the Kamehameha School property side adjacent to the Board of Water Supply gate. For unknown reasons, the gate has been unlocked for a couple of weeks -much easier access than jumping the fence there or down at the end of Kalikimaka Street. Could change any day but for anyone interested, easy access right now.

Lanihuli has been accessed by other start-points other than the end of Alewa Drive including

• an extension of the Kamanaiki trail
• Nuuanu via Moole Valley
• Kalihi Valley via Decorte Park Ridge
• Pu'u Pueo Park on Alewa Drive

The Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club also conducts hikes (members only) to Lanihuli, the most recent outing there being on May 24, 2009.

Photo credit:  Steve Rohrmayr (aka Waianae Steve)

Pu'u Manamana

One of the most dangerous trails on Oahu is Pu'u Manamana.  The first time I tried it, I lost my nerve and turned back.  The second time, with the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club, went better and I completed the hike.  After that, I have hiked Manamana a number of times without mishap.

I have also written a detailed hike description of the Pu'u Manamana hike elsewhere.  Check it out.

The photo at left provides some perspective of what this trail is like--spooky yet spectacular.

Schofield Trail -- 6/23/2002

Wahiawa, the home of the Mules, red dirt, military installations, folks of
many different ethnicities, and the best banana pie on Oahu. Wahiawa,
the land of many avenues--Kilani, Walker, Glen, Makani, Muliwai, Cypress,
Neal, and Kuahiwi, to name a handful. And, of course, in wet, wild
Wahiawa, the longest of all is church-lined California Avenue, where many
of us converge one summer morning, at a time earlier than the norm, at a
gravel parking area near its end, to prepare for a day of brisk winds, of
high clouds, of labor. To the mountains we go.

A briefing from a diminutive, silver-haired dynamo of a general begins
the day and from her we hear the plans for this day and for future days.
After the talk, there is a short drive to stage cars in the rear of
Army Rangers HQ at East Range, Wahiawa, and that done, we march on, up a
dirt road, graveled and graded in recent times, thus ridding it of
truck-eating ruts, boot-sucking mudholes, skin-scratching thick grass and
other such unpleasantness. We, members of the brigade, chat as we
march--talking in ranks being allowed in this people's army--some
choosing to move and gab at double-time and some at a less hurried pace.

Soon enough, after climbing a seemingly endless series of hills, we reach
one with a brown sign with yellow letters. "Schofield-Waikane Trail" it
says.

"We are here," I say to the battalion mailman, who we also call Man
of Feld, or simply Jay.

"Thirty minutes," is the report from the mailman, the time to march the
road of hills to this point.

Ahead of us is Nathan, one of the speedy double-timers, who allows us to
catch up when he stops to lay saw to branch of a tree that has fallen
across the path. I watch for a minute as Nathan saws furiously, then I
push on past him, saying, "See you later," later being three hours and
several miles up the mountain trail.

Alone now, I decide to break ranks and go forward, shuffling across a
small plank bridge that looks slippery but is not, past brushy sections
normally kept uncluttered by Na Ala Hele weed whackers, past a junction
with a pair of green arrow signs, one pointing mauka, saying, "Summit"
and then past the remnants of a campfire, still warm to the touch but
with no firemakers seen nor heard. The mystery of the makers of the
fire, like many others encountered, is unsolved.

After the junction, the parade of hills begins, some hills steeper and
longer than others, some with better footing than others, some more brushy
than others, some plain prettier than others. Inevitably, once atop a
hill, available is a view of coming attractions, which sometimes is
another hill, or a narrow corridor between ohia and koa, or a muddy patch,
or a pitch with hard-packed clay steps. The trail is graded, but
certainly not of the gentle ilk of Waimano, nor with a long, sustained
wide shelf of Maunawili Demo, nor of the muddy wildness of the KST.
Schofield-Waikane, despite its hills, is generally pleasant. "One of the
best sections of native forest on the island," says the great John Hall.

I push on, not listening to the sounds of the mountain as I should, not
hearing the fade-in-fade-out whistling of crickets, the playful warbling
whistles of native birds I can only guess the names of, the low-rumbling
whooshing of wind on treetops.

I amble on, flopping on my face at one point because of a short lapse in
concentration, and I chastise myself for inattentiveness, wiping off mud
from knees and shins then continuing on to pass a PVC pipe in the ground,
the marker signifying where Na Ala Hele stops clearing and where the trail
becomes more rutted and rough, though not bad at all and not nearly as
overgrown as feared. The way, in fact, is quite nice, and I proceed with
good pace, driving hard to make the summit before clouds cover its crown,
robbing views from a tired hiker and the rest of the people's army.

Deep in the mountains now, I tread along a section of narrow ridgeline,
passing an area of flattened vegetation, big enough for one small tent,
then another. "The campsite of the fire makers?" I wonder. Yet another
mystery. Unsolved yet again.

As the summit nears, I grow impatient and hurry, and with the haste
comes missteps and slips. I again chastise myself. "You know better," I
scold myself. And I do know better.

After I wind around a final turn, a brisk wind slaps me in the face and
moments later, I stride onto a saddle at the summit of the Koolaus. A huge
valley--Kahana--is a couple thousand feet below, with a massive Sphynx-ish
peak, Ohulehule, nestled in its na'au. Ka makani is strong here.
Jacketless and devoid of much of the internal insulation of two years
ago, I am chilled to the core by the steady whipping wind. Hoping to
warm up, I settle down near the edge, staring out at the green and
blue vista spread from left to right. Today's midmorning feed is an
energy bar, a protein bar, and a liter of water, and after consuming the
fuel, I try to raise good friend, Tom Yoza, on the walkie-talkie. He
is at home in Kahalu'u recovering from pneumonia and my thoughts and the
thoughts of others in this people's army are with him.

Cold and with no one for company, I do not feel compelled to linger at the
summit saddle, so after just ten minutes I shoulder my pack, grab my
hiking pole and machete and head back down the mountain.

Remembering the marching orders from the diminutive general, I put machete
to use, felling uluhe and clidemia where needed. At times I use feet and
legs and hips and elemu: crushing, and stamping and stomping work just as
well. When I reach a turn in the trail, I stop laboring for a minute to
gaze down the mountain ridge, seeing all the way to wet and wild Wahiawa,
and in the more immediate distance, spotting members of the people's army
advancing toward the windy summit I've just left.

An hour after leaving the summit, I meet the first member of the people's
army, Nathan the double-timing sawman, and over the next half hour I
encounter others, some hiking in small platoons, some traveling alone,
all carrying weapons of vegetation annihilation. "How far from the top?"
they ask.

"Twenty minutes," I say.

"Are there views?"

"Yes, views," I reply.

And after the small talk, we continue on, they for the summit, and I down
the mountain toward the home of the Mules and the best pie in the land.

I meet others advancing up the trail, and these others decide enough is
enough and they say they will go no further. So we settle down in uluhe
with a view, since the time is right, for the midday meal. As I gobble
my glop, I chat with (veteran) Bill Gorst, who seems to thrive on just
nuts and fruit. Also with us for chow are June and Lynn, other
infantryfolks in this people's army.

I complain about aching legs, partly a result of the earlier flop, and
after my meal is done, I head off, alone again, destination Wahiawa. By
this point, the trail has been opened to a reasonable width by the troops
of this people's army, so my weapon is holstered and I shift into
double-time.

After a few minutes and a few hills, I meet a resting & happy group of the
people's army. They are in good spirits and talk of future campaigns in
places like Mauna Loa and Wonderland, the former where lava eats soles
off shoes and the latter where bears eat unwary hikers out of their
shoes. Or so it is said.

Soon enough, leaving the resting and happy group to themselves, I continue
Wahiawa-bound down the mountain path, alone yet again. I pass the PVC
pipe in the ground, pausing to tie a pink ribbon to it, then commence the
parade of hills, this time in reverse order, and when fatigue starts to
overcome me, I transition into a calm zen state, my face appearing as if
I'm ready for sleep, or so I've been told. Sweating but in a zen calm, I
arrive at the green arrows junction and the mysterious fire pit, then
surmount a couple more hills. Then the short bridge. Then the final climb
to the brown sign with yellow letters. And then the regraded and graveled
dirt road which if double-timed puts wild and wet Wahiawa twenty minutes
away.

So I double-time, not really for any reason but to put the dreaded road
behind me as quickly as possible, and in the predicted twenty, I am done,
having returned to the Army Rangers HQ at East Range, Wahiawa, the home of
the Mules, military installations, folks of many different ethnicities,
and the best banana pie on Oahu. Over the next hour, others from the
people's army arrive, and we greet and congratulate each other for yet
another battle waged and won.

Butch the Koolau Bear

Contributed by Norm Roberts on 12/3/1997

While on the Ka'a'wa Valley Hike last August, there came a point at which the grazing cattle turned as one and stared menacingly at us as we passed nearby. One of the hikers expressed relief that there were no large, wild animals in Hawaii. What old timer could resist a straight line like that! "But there have been," I said. "There used to be a black bear that roamed both sides of the Koolaus from Maunawili to Pupukea and back to Moanalua."

My statement was greeted with expressions of polite, sheer, and stark disbelief. "Isn't that just a legend?" I was asked.

"It probably is now," I replied.

"Is he still around?" asked another hiker.

"Probably not. Bears live 20 to 25 years, and he was last seen in 1970."

"Did they ever find his body?" asked a particularly skeptical hiker.

"No," I replied, "but there are lots of reports of sightings and bear signs, most by reliable observers."

The subject dropped because by this time we were starting up "that hill."

For some time, I've been attempting to locate as much information as is easily available about Butch and his adventures. There ought to be a story there. Maybe there already is. I think I have seen a children's book about a little lost bear in Hawaii. It would probably have come out twenty or more years ago after a feature article on Butch appeared in the Advertiser.

The bear facts are as follows:

Sometime around the Ides of March and St. Patrick's day in 1956, Butch, an eighteen month old American Black Bear cub pulled up his stake and escaped from Al "Whitey" Jensen's animal farm in Heeia Kea, near Kaneohe.

Jensen boarded animals used for entertainment and other commercial purposes, and there were usually a variety of exotic (to Hawaii) trained animals at his farm. He had recently acquired two bear cubs, Butch and Sis. He and his trainer Jim Woods had been working with the cubs. Butch, apparently, learned fast. Both Jensen and Woods commented on the bear's intelligence.
The bears were secured by a chain attached to a stake and to a chain collar around their necks. These collars had an extra link, secured by a master snap link, to allow for expansion as the animals grew larger. Butch and Sis got on very well according to Trainer Jim Woods.
But something happened, and one night Butch broke loose from his stake and took off into the bush, trailing his chain from his collar.

Apparently Jensen was not terribly concerned. He expected Butch to come back to a regular food supply, female companionship, and regular grooming. No animal trailing a six foot or longer chain could get very far. The chain was bound to snag on a root or get caught in the rocks. The bear's freedom wouldn't last very long.

According to the newspaper reports, Butch did not stray very far from Jensen's farm. He came around at night looking for something to eat, cleverly eluding all the ingenious traps Jensen and Woods had set to catch him. There were signs that he had visited Sis on several occasions. The female bear evidently wasn't interested in a life in the wild because she made no attempt to escape to join Butch.

The bear had been free for six months before the story got reported in the papers. Then for the next year there appeared regular accounts of Butch's activities and his owner's attempts to recapture him. These articles are written in a whimsical style, poking good natured fun at the humans and expressing admiration for Butch.

At one time there were 150 men from Schofield, the Army's Search and Rescue Force, and two helicopters searching the area for Butch. According to the newspaper accounts M/Sgt Allen C. Wheeler and his men ran across the bear several times, but Butch always eluded them. Sgt. Wheeler said, "He's too slippery for us. There are too many places to hide. The area is thick. We could pass right by him and never know it."

At this time there were large numbers of wild dogs all over Oahu. According to Sgt Wheeler, they would hear the dogs barking, go to the location, and there would be Butch.

None of the newspaper articles make any mention of anybody seeing Butch's collar or the chain attatched to it. This fact makes me think that Butch must have got the chain caught early on, and by clawing at the snap link, eventually got it open, expanding the collar, which he then slipped out of.

During the fall of 1956 Jensen and Woods hit upon the bright idea of staking Sis out in the area where Butch was roaming. They figured Butch would come to Sis and they'd trap him. It didn't work. Butch was too intelligent to be taken in by a chained female.

About this time Woods reported that as Butch grew, the chain collar would gradually cause his death. The chain would get tight, rub the neck raw which would then get infected and the infection would kill him. Other experts thought that the tight collar would eventually strangle the bear.

By December 1956 the papers reported that Butch had not been seen for five weeks. There was speculation that he was already dead because of the tight collar. By January 1957 the search for Butch ceased. Bob Krauss reported in his column the difficulties the search teams encountered.

Quoting Sgt Wheeler, he wrote, "We have too much help. Pig hunters and their dogs just chase him into another area and we have to start all over again. It's a real jungle there, swamp, high grass, trees, bamboo, guavas." Jensen stated that volunteer civillian hikers had come out scared. "We need experienced people or someone will get lost."

A member of the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club was quoted as saying that the area was spooky and easy to get lost in. I'm not familiar with the area, but I'm not at all surprised that the bear easily eluded the searchers, many of whom were probably reluctant and others just plain ignorant.

None of the accounts reveal what the searchers expected to do when they finally cornered the bear. Jensen and Woods probably had a plan. In an interview Jensen indicated that Butch knew them and once he was cornered, they could get him.

Krauss's column was the only article that expressed a decided lack of sympathy for Butch. Wrote Krauss, who admitted he was no animal lover, "I'm wondering if it might not be time to quit chuckling over Butch as a symbol of a revolt against civilization. Maybe it would be kinder to shoot him and get it over with. Up to now chasing Butch has been described as a sort of combination Snipe hunt and a Sunday school picnic; I'm afraid it's just the opposite. The area in which he operates is jungle: guava, grass 12 feet high, lantana, swamp, nearly impenetrable bamboo forest. You're lucky to come back out at all, much less with Butch."

But before you can shoot a bear, you have to see him; and you have to see him long enough to get him in your rifle sights and pull the trigger. And you want to be sure you can get off a second shot just in case the first one doesn't get him. I don't think anybody caught more than a glimpse of Butch's back or tail as he slipped into thicker growth. In my experience bears are not seen unless they want to be seen. And if the Search and Rescue people, whose business it is to find what they go looking for, couldn't get close to him, who could?

March 9, 1957, the Advertiser reported that residents of Palolo had heard bear-like growls, and dogs gave chase to an animal that had attacked a garbage can. Mrs Jean Sasaki of a Palolo Ave. address said dogs chased the animal to the crest of the hill on the Ewa side of Palolo Valley. No one actually saw the animal, but Mrs. Sasaki said it did not sound like a dog or a pig. She reported that for a week the animal had been in the area, but this was the first time it had come so far down the valley.

On May 15, 1957, William M. Shields of a Kailua address reported that at 10 a.m. he saw Butch on the Maunawili side of the Kailua cut off road, a quarter mile on the Kailua side of the junction with Pali Road. I'm not sure just where this location might be. I didn't arrive until 1958 and didn't get around much until later. Maybe an older timer than I can tell where Shields saw Butch, perched on a bluff above Kailua cut off, watching the cars go by.
The area is described as brush land with guava trees, and Norfalk pine, not as dense as the area he had previously roamed. Evidently Butch was on the move.

Butch was supplementing his diet of guavas, roots, grubs, and whatnot with raiding the Kaneohe dump and an occasional garbage can. When interviewed about this time Owner Jensen said, "If he's been eating well, he could be 125 pounds by now. Any other bear would have been sleeping in somebody's bedroom by now, but not this one. He's shy, extremely clever, and capable of taking care of himself." He added that Butch was worth $2000 because of his training. "It's too bad," Jensen said, "He's a terrific animal. It's too bad."

There are no more newspaper reports of Butch until December 12, 1960. Marine Gunnery Sergeant Gus P. Lass, Jr. said that three weeks previously he and 40 companions saw a black bear in the Koolau mountains. "He was walking along a stream, minding his own business, and eating guavas. 500 yards away. Four feet high, walking on all fours. In good health."

It's the 500 yards bit that bothers me here. That's over a third of a mile. I know marine gunnery sergeants are pretty capable people, but to identify a bear at that distance and estimate his height with any accuracy is pushing the envelope. No mention is made of binoculars, but with the unaided eye, not even Daniel Boone nor my Uncle Charlie could make a positive identification.

Besides, I don't think there are many places where you can get that field of vision. The next day's follow up article presents some different facts. This time it's ten marines and the distance is 2000 feet. The animal is described as about the size of a large dog. Frankly, it's getting difficult to tell what the marines saw or thought they saw. Or did the reporter scramble his notes. Or did anybody care anymore about the facts?

Harry Whitten, long time Star Bulletin reporter on nature and the environment wrote up an interview with Al Jensen as a followup. Jensen said, "If he's alive and behaving himself, as he seems to have, I'd favor leaving him alone to become a legend. Won't do any harm if you leave him alone. Wild bears aren't dangerous. It's the tame ones that are dangerous. A wild bear won't come to you; he'll always try to get away. He may live to 20, 25 years if left alone."

At this time Jensen still had Sis, the female bear. He speculated that while bears wander around a lot, they are apt to stay in one area if there is food and water. Jensen said he wouldn't try to catch Butch unless there were more sightings to pinpoint the area. "If we couldn't catch him in '56, it won't be any easier now."

And so Butch became a legend in his own time. There are no more news stories about him for ten years, but during this period sightings were frequently reported to the police and the newspapers. A hunter reported finding bear tracks in Waimalu Valley which he photographed. A hiker reported seeing a bear above Aiea. This same hiker reported seeing Butch on the Pupukea Summit trail.

Honolulu Zoo Director Paul Breeze [1960] speculated that Butch was probably dead, if not from the collar, then probably pig hunters had dispatched and eaten him and kept quiet about it. "I like the idea of a bear in the woods." Breeze said in an interview. "In fact, I tell that to people. But it really isn't very likely any more."

And then in November, 1970, James Malcolm, from Schofield, while hiking the Waimano Trail with the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club, said he saw a bear about thirty feet down the trail from him. Malcolm came from New Hampshire and could be expected to know a bear when he saw one. He said the bear would have been five and a half feet tall if he had stood up. They looked at each other briefly whereupon the bear went up the mountain, as they are supposed to do, according to the nursery song. Malcolm hurried along the trail to catch up with the other hikers.

When I read the account in the Star Bulletin that evening, I announced to my boys (aged ten and eight at that time) that come Saturday, we would go looking for bear tracks. Neither seemed very excited about it. [When I asked number one son the other day if he remembered the hunt, he said, "No." So much for corroboration, but I remember quite distinctly.]

We started out about seven in the morning and hiked the Waimano Trail from the entrance. At the point described by Malcolm in the newspaper article I found where something had gone up the hill, but there was nothing that I could call a bear track in evidence. Nor did I really expect to find any. We hiked on to the dam where we had a swim, cooked our lunch, relaxed, had another swim, and then hiked out.

After a period of heavy rain the following spring [1971], we hiked to the dam one Saturday morning. It took us about three hours to get there. In those days before the dam washed out, there was a little sand beach at the far end of the pond, and it was here on that day, I found what I am pretty certain were bear tracks.

Beyond the sand beach in the campsite area I discovered a rotting log that had been torn apart. Some distance beyond was a kukui tree that had some pretty convincing claw marks. While I admit that an enterprising Boy Scout could have set the scene with a plaster cast and wire "claws," I like to think that Butch had passed that way. My sons were more interested in swimming than bear track hunting so instead of looking for more tracks, we hiked back home.
The last newspaper article about Butch appeared in the Advertiser on July 2, 1975. It is essentially a summary article based on previously published articles. There had been no reports of Butch since Malcolm's in 1970. It was about ninteen and a half years since Butch had escaped. He had been eighteen months old at the time. If he was still alive, he was a lonely old bear. In all probability he had been long dead.

Zoo Director Jack Throp [1975] speculated that a number of reported sightings had probably been wild pigs. If you only heard something moving through the brush or merely caught a glimpse of something black disappearing into a thicket, you couldn't really be sure what you'd seen or heard. And even a mongooses can make a lot of noise when they don't think there's anything around to bother them.

This account is mostly based on old newspaper reports which give the outline of the story with the names and dates. There are probably more details to be found in police blotters and officer's reports. There are most likely permit applications on file wherever the official city/county records are kept, and the state archives would have some information.

It would be nice to interview people who lived in Heeia Kea at the time, the people who engaged in the searches, and people who have claimed to have sighted Butch over the years. There must be a huge fund of oral tradition here if you could find people who would talk. There's the real problem; most people don't talk. They don't want the noteriety; they don't want to be contradicted; they no like make "A."

The psychologists tell us we see what we want to see. A bear in the Koolaus? Nonsense! It's just a legend, right?

Yeah, right.