Kawiwi Waianae Kai -- 11/18/2000

I wrote this post on 18 Nov 

2000 17:06:46

(Photo by Peter Clines taken

in 2010) 

Five club members--Richard Fernandez, Roger Breton, Justin Ohara, Dave Waller, and Peter Kempf--joined me today for the 11th Super Hike conducted by the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club. While Super Hike X (Wahiawa Nui) covered the most distance (~17-18 miles), today's outing covered the least--maybe six or seven altogether. However, portions of today's hike were more hazardous than any part of the previous ten, and I can happily report that all of us made it up and around our course without casualty. I also will report that I will end my coordinatorship of HTMC super hikes after Number XX, which will be after the first quarter of 2003. I'm sure a willing and able member of the club will carry forth thereafter since there is no lack of gung-ho types in HTMC. New blood will be a good thing. 

We started hiking at the end of Waianae Valley Road by the hunters' check-in at 8:25. Around the halfway point up the single-lane Board of Water Supply Road, we headed left on a trail through haole koa. This section was generally overgrown, and the waist-high grass we waded through was wet from overnight rain. But we hiked in good spirits and commented how the cool conditions were welcome, particularly in upper Waianae Valley which often is muggy and hot. 

After about twenty minutes of grass-wading, we began climbing steeply and emerged on open ridge. At that point we enjoyed a nice view of the spread of the valley and also of the massive bulk of Kaala, which was cloaked in clouds. I was concerned about rain since wet conditions on parts of the ridge we had to traverse would make the going extremely hazardous. Fortunately, when the rains did hit later in the day, we had completed the most dangerous segments. 

In my pre-hike briefing, I mentioned the hazard of falling rocks raining down on trailing hikers. And in many ways the small size of our group today was beneficial since more folks would have multiplied the chances of rock falls. As it was with our small contingent, rocks became dislodged inadvertantly several times, but thanks to attentiveness and good communication ("Watch out, rock!" or "I'm climbing directly below you"), we completed the steep climb to Kawiwi without mishap. 

From cars to summit, the group completed the Kawiwi ascent in under two hours. However, I didn't let them rest at the peak more than ten minutes because I wanted to complete the dangerous dike crossing to No-Name Peak before rain hit. This crossing, as others who have done it will likely attest, is much more hazardous than the worst sections of Manamana or Kalena. And that's given dry conditions. In rainy weather, certain parts can become life-threatening, which was the reason for my eagerness to complete the crossing today before the weather turned bad, a very likely possibility based on the gray masses of clouds swirling around the summit of Kaala. 

Making our way carefully, we hiked across, up, over, around, and through rocks, trees, notches, and the like. At times, we did balancing acts on razor thin ridges. At times, we contoured to the left or right of the ridge crest to avoid cliffy sections or steep drops. At times, we slid down chutes in the rocks. At times we climbed up and over cracks and rocky ledges. It was challenging but we all made it across okay. 

When we reached the ironwood grove on the ridge, I announced that the worst was behind us. "The rest of the way to No-Name Peak will be like a sidewalk," I said. Well, it wasn't quite sidewalk-like and we still had to do some hand-over-hand climbing, prompting Roger at several points to ask, "So where's the sidewalk?" 

We completed the climb to No-Name Peak at 11:40 and decided to eat lunch and rest there instead of at Three Poles, our previously-stated goal for our noon meal. It was at No-Name Peak that we all decided to pass on a climb to Kaala today since doing so would involve a steep, slick ascent to a summit with no views (and views are something we look forward to). 

I should also mention that the hike was advertised in the club schedule as including a descent to somewhere on Oahu's North Shore, but I decided to nix that option to simplify pre-hike transportation logistics. 

We had an enjoyable lunch and afterward descended the brushy trail along the ridge to the junction with the Waianae Kai Trail. On the way, I briefly investigated the trail that descends into Makaha Valley (this trail is on the topo map). I hope to head down this at some future date to explore upper Makaha, a goldmine of native Hawaiian plants, according to Ken Suzuki, a man who knows his plants.

It was at the junction that we decided to forgo continuing to Three Poles and instead head down the makai-ward Waianae Kai Trail. By this time, a gentle drizzle had commenced. The descent went well, however, despite the wet conditions. 

Once we reached the bottom of our descent ridge, we opted to follow a rough trail in a narrow ravine until we reached a junction marked by a jack fruit tree. I had never taken this route before and enjoyed hiking along new territory. Initially, there were no ribbons in the ravine, but the further down we went, ribbons began appearing in greater frequency. 

Arriving at the jack fruit tree, we paused to examine it and to take a rest. Justin told us the fruits on the tree were still immature (the fruits at this stage resemble breadfruit), and that fully grown jack fruit are much larger than the ones we saw today.

For more about jack fruit, see 

http://www.cuddalore.com/panruti/jackfruit.htm

 

From the jack fruit tree, we were just a five-minute hike from the end of the Board of Water Supply Road. When we arrived at the road, we met a (bird) hunter there. He asked if we'd seen any game birds. Nope, but we heard chukars in the forest below while up on the ridge, we said. Where had we come from? he inquired. He looked slightly stunned when we pointed out our route. Plenty of goats up there, we said. Listening to our remark, he didn't seem vaguely interested in ungulates. 

Saying farewell to the hunter, we six headed down the road and in about twenty minutes we were back at our cars by the hunter check-in. Justin, as he regularly does, offered up posthike refreshments, which we enjoyed and thanked him for. After not too long, we boarded our vehicles and headed homeward. 

Other kine stuff:

--Richard snapped many photos with his digital camera. I hope he will post these on the web for us to see. He has a nice website with pics posted at

http://www.lookwhatshere.com/rfgws/index_feature_home.htm

 

--Some of the cheapest gas on Oahu can be had at a couple of gas stations in Nanakuli ($1.76 per gallon for reg unleaded). Not one to pass up a good deal, I topped off my tank on the way home. 

--Roger reported that he did a backpack trip on the KST a few weeks ago. He covered the section from Pupukea to Poamoho in a day! Because of bad weather, he aborted his plan to continue to Kipapa and points beyond and instead came out via Poamoho.

Piliwale Ridge --9/16/2000 --Jason Sunada

The following post was written by Jason Sunada on Thurs, 21 Sep 2000. The photo at left is the worst section of Piliwale Ridge.Here is Jason's post:

Last Friday afternoon (9/15/00) was so nice that I started thinking I should hike somewhere on Saturday before the HTM Clubhouse Appreciation Night pizza dinner. Briefly considered beating Dayle and Co. (didn't know he had e-mailed his intentions that afternoon) to Lulumahu Ridge and its K1 summit (the taller of the Konahuanui twin peaks and formerly known as K2). He had mentioned exploring this ridge after his upper Nuuanu to Pali Lookout bushwhack the previous week. But that would likely be too long and rugged. And the parking's not too safe. Then mulled over various stream/waterfall hikes. However, with my birthday approaching (it came and went) I wanted to try something more. Piliwale Ridge came to mind. I did it twice before in the mid to late 80's and in the early 90's (should have kept a hike log). A few years ago I joined Stuart Ball to check out this ridge to the old HTM Club lunch spot (the grassy shelf). The trail above the Maunawili Contour was very overgrown and scratchy. When we topped out on the grassy shelf I was feeling uneasy with the big drop offs and no plants nearby for security. Across the dip in the ridge (which I considered the most dangerous part) the rock looked more eroded [due to (recent?) use]. It "didn't look too good" but the cable was still there (seen the second but not the first time).

Saturday morning was too cloudy deep in the valley for a stream hike so I settled on Piliwale Ridge -- if not to complete it, at least to check it out. Nothing was prepped the night before so I lost time getting ready, debating whether to bring the Camelbak. On the drive over the sky transitioned from sunny in town to very cloudy on the windward side causing some concern. Noticed Tom Yoza's yellow Scout parked at the hairpin turn and wondered what he was up to: mountain biking, more trailclearing, searching for missing hikers again? Because of high potential for break-ins why would he want to park there?

Parked on Lopaka Way in a beautiful Maunawili neighborhood and started up the water tank road at 9:05 am. The trail above the water tank was clear and appeared well used. Reached the junction with the Maunawili Contour in less than 20 minutes. Checked that no one was around then continued up the ridge. Within seconds noticed sunglasses (dark blue frame) laying on the trail. Further ahead the trail was very clear with nothing scratchy and also appeared well used. The sun shined more often so I sometimes waited for clouds to cover it before breaking out in the open. Looked down at the hairpin turn for Tom's vehicle but couldn't see it. Either trees blocked it or he had finished his bike ride already and left. I later learned they (his bike gang?) rendezvoused there then drove near the middle part of the Maunawili Contour to clear the trail.

Got to the grassy shelf before the dip feeling fine. Wondered what lunatic would leap across to the rock below. Noticed the cable across the dip. The ridge looked "not too bad." Dropped down on the left to the dip then climbed up with the cable nearby in case I slipped. For some reason (no recent erosion, more grass/greenery?) I didn't realize this was the most dangerous part and continued on. While on a narrow area I noticed my left trailshoe laces undone. Dohhh. Made a mental note to double check laces before dicey spots. Saw another cable (part of two cables in series). Contoured left around it then got back on the ridgeline above it. Saturday night I mentioned two areas with cables (three cables total). Now I'm not sure. May have been three areas (four cables total). Definitely remember seeing a black one (first cable by dip?) and a gray one.

Anyway, above the cables I reached a wider rocky face where I couldn't go straight up. At first glance the right side looked too sheer so I spent 15 minutes contouring a couple steps left then trying unsuccessfully to step and grab my way up, pondering between attempts. Gave up, backtracked to the ridgeline and sat down, relieved but disappointed to be turning back. Ate three pretzels and some li hing guava, enjoyed the great view and wondered if I could come down safely (safety was on my mind throughout this hike). While taking my partially frozen iced tea from my bag something fell out. Looked down and saw my umbrella, fortunately just a few feet below on the ridgeline. Figured I'd pick it up on the way down after checking the other side of the rocky face. Found a path so I retrieved my umbrella then continued up. All along I kept wondering why the trail seemed so much harder than the time I previously checked it out with Stuart. Maybe I had already passed the bad spots. Topped out at the next point (or the following one) and could see I was home free. "Safer," wider ridge with plenty of plants to grab. Think was around 11:30 am. Still looked like a long way to go with the summit clouded in. The trail had been nice and dry but above about 2600 ft the ground became moister with some stepping and sliding. It again appeared well used with some significant clearings (Pat and Laredo's top down exploration?) making the going easier than previous times.

Recognized ohia, maile, i'e i'e, kahili ginger (!, many in bloom with yellow flowers), lapalapa, uli grass, other shorter/thinner blade grasses, uluhe, clidemia, another pest plant with prominently-veined leaves bigger and smoother than clidemia leaves. Also strawberry guava and fiddlewood on the lower ridge. Unfortunately, didn't spend any time looking off trail for lobelias, etc. (not that I would know). Reached the summit trail at 11:55 am (still clouded in). Plucked a little purple flower and stuck it in some moss at chest level to mark the junction and continued left trying not to step in the putrid, watery mud.

Summitted K1 at 12:05 pm at the grassy lunch spot of the June 25 trailclearing (I was in the group that didn't go down Manoa Middle). Recalled taking one hour from the grassy shelf the first time up and being real surprised because Ski Pole had said it takes 4 hours (maybe he was mistaken or setting ropes). Reset altimeter watch (was reading couple hundred feet low). Thought I heard faint voices so I walked toward the K2 side where the summit narrows again. Realized was the buzz of bees or something whizzing overhead from the windward side. On the way up I had been debating which way to go down (originally planned to be home by 2 pm). K2-Aihualama and get picked up at Paradise Park (2-1/2 hrs). K2-Nuuanu-Nuuanu Pali Drive-Pali Hwy-Pali Lookout-Old Pali-Road-Maunawili Contour-Lower Piliwale Ridge to water tank (5-1/2 to 6 hrs? Much less for Pat). Decided the same way down would be fastest. Also remembered previously having concerns returning the same way but being pleasantly surprised. Called home to leave a message that I got to the top and would return the same way but would need at least 2 hrs back to the car.

Started back at 12:10 pm. Reached the Piliwale junction in 5 minutes. Saw my feel good flower in the moss. Then realized any hiker would naturally continue down Piliwale Ridge because the trail to Pali Lookout was obscure. (I once mistakenly went part way down Piliwale Ridge in a whiteout when intending to check the ridge to the Lookout.) The clouds opened some and I could see buses and cars at the Lookout. Continued quickly down. Didn't tie ribbons coming up so I sometimes had to stop and search where I came up or just went down a different route (Pat and Laredo's?). Got tangled periodically in maile, i'e i'e runners, and a vine with large, light green leaves. Passed the various patches of Kahili Ginger where I stopped to take altimeter readings. They're growing between 300-500 feet below the summit of K1. Emptied my bladder (Camelbak, that is). Glad I brought it -- great on narrow ridges. With a slight left thigh muscle ache (due to dehydration?) and shoulder ache (slipped and held on) I stopped to drink, refill the Camelbak (only half-liter water and some iced tea left), and take two ibuprofen caplets. Also felt a little weak and ate half an energy bar, enjoying sweeping views with Olomana straight ahead. Continuing down, I saw an old, L-shaped backpack frame below the highest cable on the right. Thought of Greg Kingsley's famous orange backpack. Only the aluminum frame lay there. No pack, no straps, no waistbelt. Hadn't noticed it on the way up.

Continued down, unintentionally dislodging a couple rocks. Followed the ridgeline along the cable previously bypassed on the way up. Got down to the dip and back up to the grassy shelf. Relaxed and breathed a big sigh of relief! Continuing to the Maunawili Contour seemed to take a long time. The sunglasses were still there. Passed a jogger heading up the concrete water tank road. Didn't see him heading back down so I assumed he went up to the Maunawili Contour. Changed out of my dirty pants and gaiters and got back to my car at 2:10 pm (3 hrs up, 2 hrs down). A very satisfying day in the mountains.

[Note: Sorry for the poor trail details which I attribute to my impaired memory (just ain't there sometimes) and safety anxieties.]

[Warning Note: Mid-ridge is steep and dangerous with loose rocks and big drop offs. Do not rely on existing cables.

Konahuanui via Lulumahu -- 9/16/2000

This hike was done back in 2000, specifically 9/16/2000. It involves an ascent to the highest peak in the Koolau Range via a route not recently attempted by anyone we could discern.  Later, the HTMC used this route for a club hike.  After that, I am not sure if anyone else has been up to Konahuanui this way.  The photo at left is taken from the traditional route to Konahuanui.  The ridge in mid-photo is the ridge we climbed.  Anyway, here is the write-up.

Yesterday, five of us set out to try the ridge on the north side of Lulumahu Valley in upper Nuuanu. We knew the ridge extended up to Konahuanui 1 (elev. 3,150 ft) but my thought was that we wouldn't make a try for it yesterday, mostly because the ridge was an unknown commodity; thus it might have thick vegetation and difficult-to-surmount obstacles, etc. In fact, the original plan for the day was to hike on the other side of the valley up the waterfall route of Mo'ole Stream. Hearing a suggestion from Rich (Jacobson) to try Lulumahu Ridge and seeing what a gung-ho crew had assembled (Henry Davis, Wing Ng, and Steve Poor were also on hand), I figured, why not give it a shot. 

The start point was along Pali Highway by the hunters' check-in where Nuuanu Pali Drive rejoins the highway. I pulled up at a few minutes past eight and the other four, plus Tom Yoza, were waiting (Tom was headed to the Maunawili Demo Trail to do maintenance work and had stopped by to find out what we were going to do). After readying ourselves, our group of five headed into the woods via a trail on the makai side of an old road and gate that led into the former watershed of the Board of Water Supply.

The old road narrowed to a trail eventually. And that trail led to Lulumahu Stream and a trail that leads into Lulumahu Valley up to Lulumahu Falls. The ridge we climbed is on the left side of the valley. We found no discernible human-created trail up the ridge and initially just worked our way up through a forest of non-native vegetation (ink berry?) on pig trails or via the line of least resistance. Steve manned the ramrod and would occasionally yell out, "Perfect!" when he found an open area, a good pig trail, or just a good line to follow. The going in these early stages was muddy but not overly steep.

After maybe 30 minutes up the ridge, we climbed above treeline. Well below us to the left, we could see people fishing along the shore of the Nuuanu Reservoir. Steve continued to be the lead hiker, a fact I mention because when blazing a new ridge, the person in front plays a big role in establishing a swath and taking the brunt of the assault from the vegetation. Rich, at one point, asked if we'd be able to look down to our right to see Lulumahu Falls. "Maybe," I told him (we never did see the falls). 

After climbing steeply through uluhe, we reached a section of the ridge that leveled off and narrowed considerably. It was at this point that Steve yielded the front position and Henry took the lead. We carefully negotiated the narrow section and then were confronted with a steep, near vertical spot. We discussed whether a rope was needed there but found that we could climb it with the assist of some feebly-rooted small trees and then a solidly-anchored ohia. Henry, Rich, and I made it up the near-vertical spot; meanwhile, Steve decided he wanted to go no further and Wing was lower down the ridge and also would go no further than this spot. 

So this meant that it would be just three pressing on to find out what was ahead. After the steep section we'd just completed, the ridge was quite nice. The vegetation stayed relatively low and there were good views of upper Nuuanu to our left and upper Lulumahu and the Konahuanui trail ridge to our right. Turning to look makai, we had a nice sweep of Honolulu proper. 

Around 11:30, with some big pu'us to climb looming ahead, we sat down to eat lunch and think about what we'd do. Our original plan was to hike upridge and, at a point where the ridge dropped to a significant saddle, cross upper Lulumahu to the Konahuanui Trail, which we'd use as a return route. At the point we sat down to eat and rest, we'd already passed the saddle in our ridge (there is a large, lone ironwood on the descent of the saddle). From our lunch spot, we could see that the descent into Lulumahu would be daunting (steep with thick vegetation) and the climb up to the Konahuanui trail appeared just as daunting, even worse. What's more, right around that same time, the summit ridge had cleared itself of clouds and we could see that the top was makeable from where we had lunch. Reckoning that the crossover to the Konahuanui ridge trail via upper Lulumahu would kick our tails, we figured why not try for the summit and have our tails kicked in attempting that instead?

So the crossover via upper Lulumahu was scratched and a summit attempt it would be. Feeling more energetic after lunch, Rich, Henry, and I began the ascent for what we hoped would take us to the summit of Konahuanui. Henry continued as lead man and did a nice job finding the best line up the mountain. The ridge remained generally open and the vegetation low, a fact likely attributed to the wind that constantly flows down the mountainside from the top. At one point, we looked down on the Pali Lookout, a circumstance Rich found remarkable. 

All three of us were wearing altimeter watches and we did regular checks to determine how much more vertical gain remained to hit the target elevation of 3,150 feet. At about the 2700-2800 foot level, we arrived at a place I named Slip and Swear Hill. The reference stems from the form our actions took as we climbed: plenty of slipping & sliding on loosely compacted slopes and lots of cursing as we struggled to keep from losing vertical ground we expended much energy to gain. 

At one point, we were confronted with a near vertical section that we got around with a left to right contour. After the contour, more climbing, sliding and cursing finally brought us to the crest of Slip and Swear Hill, where we plopped down for a much needed break. I put ribbons on a lapalapa tree to mark the spot. 

From that vantage point, we could see the main summit ridge about 100 meters due east. Clouds had inundated the crest and our position by then. Thought disappointed about the lack of a view, we were happy that the toughest climb was behind us. All that remained was a fairly level 10-15 minute jaunt to the clearing that marks the summit of Konahuanui 1. With no views to enjoy and having rested just a few minutes prior, we did not stop at the clearing but instead began the southbound crossover to Konahuanui 2. 

We needed about half an hour for the muddy, slippery crossover. During those 30 minutes, we had a view of the windward side for maybe three when there was a break in the clouds. We took another break at the K2 clearing, and I drank the last of my water. I calculated that about two more hours of hiking remained to get back to my car, and that estimate turned out to be fairly accurate. Figuring that I could survive a couple hours of mostly downhill hiking without H20, I set off down the Konahuanui trail ahead of my two hiking partners, who I wouldn't see for the rest of the afternoon. 

The Konahuanui trail was minimally muddy but generally okay and I made it down to the Nuuanu Lookout without incident. At the lookout, I looked for signs of a trail that would take me down into the forest by the Nuuanu Reservoir. Seeing no clear signs, I decided to head down the Pauoa Flats Trail and then make the right turn on the Nuuanu Trail which would take me down to Nuuanu Pali Drive and my car. 

I saw no one on Pauoa Flats but did meet six hikers on the Nuuanu Trail (three were ascending and three descending). My descent of the Nuuanu Trail went well, and I took a couple minutes to wash the mud from my shoes, gaiters, and legs in Nuuanu Stream. 

The walk up to Pali Highway via Nuuanu Pali Drive took around ten minutes, and once back at my vehicle I jumped in and headed for home, glad for the good workout and the good results of the hike.

Wailupe Kului Ridge -- 6/12/2002

A Flag for Kaimi

I have four nieces and two nephews, the oldest being twenty and the youngest five. None have shown indications of becoming hikers, but there is plenty of time to develop that interest, if they so choose. What's clear to them is that their uncle has an affinity for the mountains, or, as one of them has put it, "for getting sweaty, stinky, and dirty."


Today, I hiked a loop in Wailupe Valley and the most significant thing about the outing was that I was able to fulfill a request made by the youngest of the bunch, my nephew, Nestor Kaimi Na'auao Fernandez, 6. Our family calls him Ka'imi, which translates to "The Discoverer." Well, the Discoverer is the only child of my sister Mona and her husband Nes, and during May the three of them flew in from San Francisco, where they live, for a two-week visit here.


I went hiking several times during their stay, and as I left home to drive to a trailhead, Kaimi invariably would ask what I was going to do and where I was going. Invariably, I'd answer, "hiking" and "to the top of a mountain," which netted an "Okay" and a wave from the young one.


The morning that Kaimi, my sister, and her husband were to head back to San Fran, my young nephew asked me to do something for him. "I want you to put a flag on top of the mountain," he said. I'm not sure where he got that idea, perhaps from a movie he saw or from an episode of National Geographic Explorer on TV. But I said I'd do it, and today I lived up to my promise.


I met some friends at the mauka terminus of Hao Street in Wailupe Valley at 9:00 a.m. and soon thereafter we began hiking along the trail at street's end. After ten minutes or so, we reached a junction by a boulder, "a very significant rock" said Wing Ng, one of the friends on hand. We followed a trail that headed to the right at the junction, and a few minutes later we were crossing a dry stream and had arrived at yet another junction. The friends continued straight ahead at the junction, heading for the crest of Kului Ridge via a route Wing calls 1-2-3 (why he calls it that, I don't know). I, with my flag-placing mission in mind, headed left alone to climb the HTMC route we call the Middle Ridge or Wailupe Middle.


The club has just cleared and hiked the Middle Ridge route in the past month, so it is wide open. Additionally, a period of relatively rainless weather in that period has made for a dry trail underfoot. The climb of the Middle Ridge is never overly steep, with no significant downs, and I was feeling in good shape, so I moved along steadily.


At the summit, I stopped to rest, drink some water, and eat a protein bar. The weather was clear and beautiful, and the views of Waimanalo and the ocean beyond it were clear and beautiful as well.


After ten minutes of resting, I arose and headed south toward Koko Head on the rough trail along the summit. Though overgrown, the trail, with one significant down and one significant up, was easy to follow, and, like the climb of Wailupe Middle, mudfree. In fifteen minutes, I found myself atop a pu'u that marks the summit of Kului Ridge and without delay I began down the ridge trail. After 50 to
60 meters, right as the ridge trail was about to descend quite steeply, I stopped, dropped my pack, and fished out the object of my mission. The object, of course, was the flag I'd promised to place at the top of the mountain. And that I did, affixing the pennant to a tree branch in plain view of any hiker passing by. I'll admit that the flag really isn't a flag and it isn't overly large. But it's a reasonable facsimile of a
flag, and those who want to see it will have to find their way to Kului Ridge to see what I mean.


Of course, the flag might be gone by then, having been blown away by the wind or removed by someone thinking it's an eyesore or piece of trash.


However, on this day, it's a flag, placed there at the request of a part-Hawaiian, part Filipino six-year-old, who may not even remember the request nor care that the request has now been fulfilled nor care that it was affixed atop a ridge in the Koolaus by his uncle, who for reasons of his own understanding, saluted it, smiled, and then continued on his way to trail's end, ready for another hike, with mission or without, whatever and whenever that might be.


Aloha,


--dkt

Ahiki Makai -- 8/19/2000

Date: Sun, 20 Aug 2000 18:29:18 -1000
From: Dayle K. Turner (turner@hawaii.edu)
Subject: Ahiki Makai

I enjoy exploring. Ditto for my hiking colleagues Wing Ng and Steve Poor. I'm not overly motivated and conscientious about proposing new exploratory adventures, but Steve is always brimming with ideas. Yesterday, he suggested we poke around the makai side of Mount Olomana to see if we could find a way up to Peak 2, also known as Ahiki (Peak 3 is Pakui). And lo and behold, we found a way although we stopped a couple hundred vertical feet of the goal when we dared not climb any further without aids. 

We met at 8:45 on old Kalanianaole Road, headed up the route we recently opened to Olomana Makai, and then veered left down a path we call "The Three Little Pigs Trail." No, the three pigs aren't Steve, Wing, and I. The name refers to a sign we found on the ridge. It says, as you've likely guessed, "Three Little Pigs." Who put it there and what three pigs are being referred to is a mystery. But it seems that the sign leaver also hacked out a trail up to the ridge from the Waimanalo side of the Olomana Makai Ridge. 

So we three followed this trail down and it led us to the bottom of a ravine. We crossed a small dry streambed, then climbed up a spur and then cross-sloped through a helluva gauntlet of bushes, vines, and bothersome flora. As you might expect, this interlude wasn't pleasant. 

  What was pleasant was that our cross-sloping ordeal led us to (surprise) a wide motorcycle trail at the edge of the spur. We followed the spur and trail mauka toward Ahiki (Peak 2), hoping it would go way, way up. It went up a good ways but then terminated at the 800-foot level (altimeter watch check) where the ridge began to narrow and steepen. 

So we pushed and chopped our way up the spur, taking the path of least effort. After about an hour, we eventually made our way to the base of a broad rock band just above the 1200 foot level (the summit of Ahiki is 1480). Steve and I ate lunch there (for me, my usual fare of Vienna sausage and peanuts). Meanwhile, Wing was further down the spur, continuing to climb. 

After lunch, Steve and I poked around 10 to 20 feet above our lunch spot and decided not to climb any further. The route might have been climbable but neither of us was motivated to give it go. Maybe another time. And maybe best done from the top down with some strong, long cables. Or maybe we'll leave well enough alone and call it unclimbable. Or more simply, what's the point? 

On our way down, we met Wing, his trusty lopper in hand. He continued on up to eat lunch and check out where we'd been. Steve and I continued down the spur, clearing away branches and brush as we did. After reaching the motorcycle trail, we headed down it, passing junked cars, trash, and the like. Steve cursed the inconsiderate louts who dumped stuff in the area. We eventually emerged on Old Kalanianaole Road on the makai side of which was a white fence with blue trim. The significant thing about this fence is that there is no house behind it. Maybe someday there'll be house, but as of Saturday, nada. 

To get back to where I'd parked my car, Steve and I walked back on the road for .6 miles (I drove back to the spot afterward and checked the distance with my odometer). On the way, we passed two horses in a corral. A fruit-bearing mango tree grew next to the corral and my question about whether horses eat mangos was answered when Steve picked up a fallen fruit from the ground, placed it on a fencepost, and we watched one of the horses stride over and eat it whole. Wow. 

After the .6 mile walk, we drove to a nearby 7-11 on Kailua Road for cold drinks and a snack and when we returned to check on Wing, we found him 100 yards away from his car. My motivation for returning to look for Wing was not only to make sure he was okay, but to find out if he'd found my hat which I'd lost somewhere along the way, most likely during the bash-and-crash cross-sloping segment. No dice. 

So that'll mean a return to the area for more exploring and also to search for my lost hat. I'll offer a reward of a can of Vienna sausage to anyone who finds my hat and returns it to me. It's a wide-brimmed boony type made of supplex material. Color is greenish-gray. Columbia brand. Mahalo.

Mano La Uka Ridge -- 4/22/2000

This hike took place on 4/22/2000.

Today, Steve Poor and I reached the floor of Halawa Valley from Aiea Ridge by way of a route we christened "The Ridge Upland of the Sharkfin," or, as indicated in the subject line of this post, Mano La Uka. Wing, the main proponent of negotiating this ridge from top to bottom (he's tried several times), couldn't join us because of the workload demands of law school, where he's scheduled to graduate next December.

So it was just Mr. Poor and I this morning. We started at the upper parking lot of Keaiwa State Park at just past 8, noting that ours were the first vehicles to arrive there today. It was slightly gusty and drizzly when we set off up the Loop trail, but the weather improved over the next couple hours to the point where the day turned out to be a fine one for hiking.

As we hiked leisurely up the Loop Trail, we chatted about a variety of topics, mostly hike-related, of course. One thing we determined is that next Saturday (4/29), we'll hike up Aiea Ridge and cross over on the summit to get to Halawa Ridge. This outing will be a preparatory hike for the 5/6 HTMC hike which I'll coordinate. Anyone interested in joining us can email me for details.

In about half an hour, we reached the junction on the Loop where the Ridge trail commences. At that point, a trail climbs off to the right to reach a little clearing. From that clearing, a fairly distinct trail heads down a spur toward Halawa Valley. Attempting to work his way to the bottom, Wing has gone down this ridge four times, the most recent on February 6 of this year.

The ridge is a beautiful one, with an array of native flora populating it. Among the natives we saw were alahe'e, ho'awa, moa, lama, koa, maile, ohia, and some good-sized sandalwood. Of course, if I were more flora-adept, I'm sure I could name many more. The ground underfoot was never muddy, and we were always under a canopy of vegetation, making for cool, pleasant hiking. About halfway down our ridge, we could see on the spur to our right a distinct outcropping that looked like the fin of a shark. Steve expressed interest in trying to climb up that ridge once we had found our way down the one we were on. Hearing that, I reminded him that finding our way down might not be easy and that we'd better wait until we'd succeeded before making plans.

In the interim, Steve insisted that we come up with a name for the ridge we were descending. His suggestion was "Alahe'e Ridge" since that particular plant seemed to flourish more than any other along the trail. I suggested "The Ridge Mauka of Sharkfin," to which Steve took a liking. Of course, we had to come up with a Hawaiian translation. We both had a grasp of enough Hawaiian vocabulary to know that "mano" = "shark" and "uka" = "upland of". We didn't know the translation for "fin," but I was able to look it up in a Hawaiian dictionary at home to determine that "fin" = "la" (with a macron [kahakou] over the 'a'), hence the translation "Mano La Uka." Hawaiian language experts, please feel free to correct me.

Just as Wing reported, the ridge gets messed up with hau at the 700-foot level. However, based on reconnaissance from daily commutes on H3 through Halawa while driving to and from work, I noted that a way to avoid the mass of hau might be to veer left through a swath of ti. So when we reached the hau mess that Wing began pounding through on 2/6, we opted to veer off the top of the spur to head left through ti.

As we did, we encountered some older orange ribbons, which boosted our optimism that we'd find a manageable route down. Steve, meanwhile, put up orange ribbons of our own, for future reference in case others plan to descend/ascend the route. The machete that had been tucked away in my pack was now unsheathed and whacking away at lantana, guava, and ti. We made steady progress on our leftward descent. The most difficult part of the descent, which turned out to be not that difficult at all, was sliding down a short, steep slope under a small tangle of hau.

That done, we contoured left across the slope to avoid a huge hau tangle. Continuing to contour cross-slope for maybe 30-40 meters, we reached a distinct pig trail heading downward. We followed the pua'a path, clearing overhanging branches as we proceeded. The old orange ribbons were non-existent at this point; however, we were confident of success nonetheless since we were already below the level of the H-3 viaduct and we appeared to have avoided the hau.

Continuing to push downslope through ti, guava, and lantana, Steve and I came upon some very fresh pig scat, with little flies buzzing about the pile. "How fresh do you think it is?" asked Steve. I said I wasn't sure, but I indicated I'd stop short of picking it up with my hands to assess its temperature and content, something a pig hunter told me he'd do.

Not far past the dung, we saw that we were adjacent to a bridge on the H3 access road. After hopping over a wire fence, we climbed up a grassy embankment and hopped onto the access road on the mauka end of Bridge 13 (apparently, all the bridges along the access road are numbered). Steve and I congratulated ourselves for completing the descent without mishap, and we talked about using Mano La Uka Ridge as part of a club hike in the future. We'll see what the club's schedule committee thinks of the idea.

Instead of heading back up the ridge, we walked makai on the access road, intending to use the spur up to Aiea Ridge that Jay Feldman, Bill Gorst, Wing, and I had come down in January from the lower part of the Aiea Loop. On the way down the access road, we skirted around a locked gate and almost immediately came upon a Hawaiian cultural site in the forest on the left. Steve and I spent some time exploring the site, making sure not to disturb anything. The area has rock walls and terraces, and we speculated that this was the women's heiau that was much talked about when the H3 controversy was at its peak.

Finished with our exploration, we continued down the access road until reaching the ribboned point where we left the road to begin the climb up to Aiea Ridge. All the ribbons from the last time I was there were still up, and the trail up the spur is still easily passable and is ready for the 5/6 hike. Taking our time, Steve and I needed about 30 minutes to reach the Loop Trail from Halawa Valley. Once on the loop, we followed it back to the park grounds and then to our cars.

Waikane Ka'aumakua -- 3/18/2001

Paying us will probably be the worst thing for the HTMC TM crew. If we ever were paid, then the amount of work we'd do, plus the quality of that work, would drop off drastically. I say this because as volunteers, with the only compensation being a couple of cold soft drinks and a piece of cheese cake (and occasionally hot dogs or meatballs) we do a helluva lot of work on Sundays. And if do say so myself, pretty damn bang-up work, too. Put a crew of paid workers up in the mountains to do what we do, and, yes, they'd get the job done. But likely in 3 to 4x the amount of time. And better? Probably not. But I'm biased.

Today, we worked on the Waikane Trail, which has traditionally been tough to clear because of numerous fallen trees, fast regrowth of trailside flora, and ongoing trail slippage. In short, we have to bust tail to clear this trail. But we inevitably do a good job. And today we did a helluva job. We started at 8, commencing with a hard hour of hiking just to get to the point where we began working. The last group was out at 5:30. That's 9.5 hours, with not much dillydallying.

While we traditionally use just machetes, sickles, and loppers to do battle, today the heavy artillery also came out, namely chain saws (3), hedge trimmers (2), picks, and shovels (several). The end result was a trail that in many sections is now as clear and well-graded as the Aiea Loop or the Maunawili Demo. Coordinated by Pat, the hike (members only) on April 1 will start at Kam Hwy and Waikane Valley Road. There's an hour walk on the dirt road in the valley to a water flume of the Waiahole Ditch (a good place to rinse/cool off on the way back). Next is a ~30 minute segment on the ditch trail to the Waikane saddle and the start of the Waikane Trail. Then add an hour to hour and a half climb to the junction with the KST (some magnificent sections of trail carved into the steep, vertical pali). Finally, finish with a 20-30 minute jaunt on the KST and a final scramble to Pu'u Kaaumakua, the piko of the Koolaus, where on a clear day you can see forever. I hope 100 people turn out for Pat's hike.

More than a dozen of us reached Kaaumakua today on one of the clearest days I've experienced in the mountains. Looking north, visible was the KST pointing toward Poamoho. Two large, recent landslides have raked over the summit trail just south of Pu'u Pauao. We're eager to find out what damage, if any, to trail occurred. To the south, about a mile and a half away as the apapane bird flies, was the summit of Kipapa Ridge. To leeward were the large, remote drainages of upper Waiawa where, in the land where no man roams, pigs rule. To windward, we looked down on the pointed pinnacle of Pu'u Ohulehule and its nearby cousin, Mo'o Kapu o Haloa, home of Kanehoalani.

The way up was the way down but the outbound leg went quicker than inbound, thanks to a beautifully cleared trail. While hiking down the mountain and admiring the work we'd done, I thought that if I were paid to do this, I'd stop trail clearing, for the work would then be a job. And I have one of those already. Sundays and trail clearing are a means to escape the world of my job, at least for the 6 to 8 hours I'm out in the hills. Somehow, getting paid would kill the escape.