Waiahuakua Waterfall

As I said, I’ll be relying on contributions a bit more now, and this is a good one with some images of Kaua’i you don’t see everyday.

A while ago, a reader contacted me about doing some exploration along the Kalalau trail. Specifically, he wanted to see the terminal waterfall of the Waiahuakua stream, but from above. There are many waterfalls that kayakers along the coast get to see, but which are mostly invisible from the trail.

But the one at Waiahuakua is unique: it falls through the roof of a sea cave directly into the ocean. Here are my photos (rather blurry because I was using an old camera when kayaking):

This is what I wrote to him:

Here’s what I know: some people have done it, but there is definitely no path and it is very dangerous.

There was a story in the paper a few years ago about some adventurers who swam to Waiahuakua, climbed up the waterfall, up to the trail and planned to hike back. Problem is, one of them knocked rocks onto the other and made her fall and injuring her even more. Here’s the link.

Granted that happened in the waterfall, and I imagine you just want to hike down and peek in the hole from the top, but still, I can’t recommend it. Looking at the topo, the trail in the valley is 400′ above sea level. From the contours, the first 200′ downhill are gradual, but the last 200′ above the ocean are very steep. The rock walls are crumbly and streambed rocks can be unstable, so you could easily get yourself into a pickle.

A few months later, the undeterred explorer wrote back to say he made it back alive and got a few nice pictures, including this view I’d never seen before:

Source: used by permission

That’s the opening of the waterfall from above, you can see the stream disappearing into the hole. Major bonus points for the rainbow, too.

But the photo above shows you the kind of loose rock you should definitely avoid. This is probably where the rock was knocked off that injured the woman climbing the waterfall below.

As a counter-example, here is a pretty section of the lower stream where the rock conglomerate looks quite solid. But the problem with wild streams is that you can get trapped between two waterfalls, if you climb down something that proves to slippery or unstable to get back up…

Source: used by permission

And finally, our intrepid explorer snapped this nice panorama of the upper valley. This perspective is seldom seen from land because the trail through Waiahuakua is constantly under thick tree cover and never affords an open view.

Source: used by permission

Still, I have to add this reminder:

WARNING: hiking off-trail and climbing rocks are dangerous activities. Unmaintained use-trails have many hazards including but not limited to: eye-level sticks, slippery mud, drop-offs concealed by vegetation, and unstable footing. Streams can flood quickly, and never cross high water (above your thighs). People have been swept away. Never free-climb volcanic rock because it is can be extremely unstable. People have fallen to their deaths. Exercise caution and proceed at your own risk.

These are the kinds of risks that have kept me from going to certain places myself, this one in particular. So I really do not recommend trying such dangerous and exposed off-trail adventures. There are alternatives, as I originally wrote to this fortunate explorer:

If you’re looking for adventure off the Kalalau trail, I suggest Hanakapiai and Hanakoa waterfalls, as well as the two spur ridges on either side of Hanakoa [mentioned here and here]. That’s where you can get some different perpectives on the Na Pali coast. In Kalalau, you can also explore up the valley and all the side trails, plus there used to be a trail on the ridge just inland from the 3 waterfalls, called Davis Falls. I haven’t found that one yet, it was built by the boyscouts in the 80’s and wiped out by the hurricane [I found it and will have to post pics one of these days].

I Got Scooped

While I strive to be a source of information about the Kalalau trail, I wasn’t able to hike it this year and see the repairs that were reportedly done in the dangerous-looking sections. Another resident, Arius Hopman, hikes the trail more regularly and has finally taken photos, and Juan posted them on Island Breath. Arius is a landscape photographer with a beautiful gallery in Hanapepe (or a gallery made beautiful by his works I should say), his works are also on his website. I don’t know him, but I have seen him at his gallery on Friday Art Night.

While I’m not going to take back all my doubts about the solidity of the work, I do admit the trail looks better. For someone like me who has only been hiking on it for the past 5 years and got used to the roughness, the repaired parts look like a sidewalk now, for better or for worse. It should make it easier for people with a fear of heights to hike past without being paralyzed by the void.

One image shows a “trail puka” (hole, pronounced poo-ka), an “erosion hole in the trail from goats, runoff and hikers who get pushed off the trail by encroaching brush.” They are prevalent in the third mile leaving Hanakapi’ai and in the ninth mile, on some of the steep little valleys leading up to Red Hill. To me, these are the critical maintenance spots because they can easily cause ankle injuries or worse on a steep slope. Plus once the hole starts, erosion just keeps making it larger until it cuts the trail and a bypass is created, causing more erosion. These areas should be high priority for maintenance because the holes are difficult to repair, yet easily and cheaply prevented by cutting the brush.

Wailua Headwaters

I wish we knew what the Hawaiians called this place at the foot of Mount Waialeale and Kawaikini, now called the Blue Hole. That name was invented recently by haoles, but I don’t like it because it’s inaccurate and not lyrical. Nor is it the Waialeale Crater, as another purist points out, because it was not the site of an eruption, though it may be the gorge that has eroded out from under the crater.

To further complicate matters, people are starting to call the terminal cliff a “weeping wall,” which is just too lyrical.

Whatever it’s called, it’s a very unique place where a river springs forth at the bottom of a cliff 3000 feet (roughly 1000 m) straight down from the highest point on the island and carves a deep but short canyon out into the eastern lowlands. It’s also a very difficult hike combining 2 miles of slippery boulder hopping and 1 mile of difficult route finding. But it’s always an incredible trek, and I finally took a camera on this hike to share the experience. But first …

WARNING: crossing rivers, boulder-hopping, and swimming in waterfalls are dangerous activities. Rivers can flood quickly and may sweep you away easily or to trap you on the other side. Waterfalls sometimes carry rocks and branches with fatal consequences and the nearby cliffs are unstable. Hiking where there is no trail is also dangerous due to steep slopes and drop-offs. Exercise caution and proceed at your own risk.

For this hike, you’ll need tabis, felt-soled shoes sold at fishing supply stores. The best kind are the black and gray kind that look like little boots–the green sock-like ones are too flimsy. Other water shoes may work but will all slip to some extent on the wet and slimy rocks.

The forest road from the Wailua arboratum ends at the weir at the entrance to the gorge. From there, you just follow the river, alternatively hopping over boulders and walking in the water. Sometimes, there are little side trails in the forest, mostly on the right side as you make your way upstream.

As you progress, you get the feeling you’re entering a very special place, isolated from all the rest of Kauai.

While the forest road passed through groves of replanted foreign trees, a lot of the vegetation here is native, starting with the colorful ‘ohia lehua. I don’t know if it’s true that picking its flowers brings rain, but I do know I didn’t pick them and I didn’t have rain. After what seems like a long time, you reach the first waterfall on the river. Up until now, you’ve seen a few waterfalls on the side walls, but now you have to start climbing over and around them. And you’re only one third of the way there, the easy third.

But what a waterfall it is, with two streams falling into the same pool, and a third flowing in from a narrow gorge, off to the left not visible in the picture below. I call this the three-way convergence, but I’d be open to a better name. The right-most waterfall is fed by the falls you can see above it.

After climbing over the first waterfall, you follow the middle stream of the convergence, which is actually a sidestream to the main stream that carved the gorge. It has some nice little pools and falls of its own, as it collects various runoff coming down the wall to the right side. As you climb over these falls, you get a view of the main waterfall feeding this stream from the top. At around 300 feet, it is probably the most prominent waterfall in the whole gorge.

Now you leave the side-stream and begin the last third of the hike, climbing over several small ridges towards the back wall. From the first ridge, you get a great view of the inner gorge (above). Looking backwards (below) you can see a 4-tiered waterfall, the one that fed the rightmost falls at the 3-way convergence. This picture also shows one of the helicopters that came in to hover for a few seconds and fly back out.

Over another ridge and you can finally see the destination of this adventure, the springs at the back wall that are the headwaters of the Wailua river.

As we finally got close, we had a single ray of sunlight shine on the waterfall making it sparkle.

Of course, I had to go up and touch the back wall, as far as you can go upstream. It just boggles the mind to think that this is probably the oldest rock that you can touch in Hawaii (unless you have a permit to access the Northwestern Hawaiian islands). I like to stand there and imagine a timelapse movie of the rock’s existance: erupted and solidified when the island was half as old as the Big Island is now, covered over by thousands of layers, laying beneath a mountain until tremors and water carried away half the mountain to the lowlands. All that and the rock is only 4-6 million years old, the blink of an eye on the geological scale of the contients.

Also, you can now see the scale of these falls, which are about 40 feet high and 80 feet wide. Most of the water comes from springs above the nearest ledge, some from springs higher up, and a small trickle from all the way at the top of the mountains. Looking up, you can almost see the top, at least the top of the drainage coming from near the summit.

On the hike back, I was less distracted by the waterfalls and focused on the faint path that led over the ridges. It was easy to get lost in places, but the occasional trail blazer proved to be reliable.

Even so, the worn path is not easy, here going up a very steep incline with only a few hand and footholds. More dangerously, the path crossed above some small gorges on tiny ledges half hidden by vegetation.

Finally, if anyone knows of the Hawaiian name for the Wailua gorge and back wall, please share it because I would love that it be reinstated. “Headwaters” translates as Waipo’o, which is the name of the waterfall at the head of Waimea canyon, I doubt it’s just coincidence that both languages have the same imagery.

The fine print: The information and photos in this article are for illustrative purposes. For example, some photos are taken from side trails, so you can’t rely on them to find a route. If you do not have extensive off-trail and backcountry experience, please find a local guide or hike on a maintained trail.

Kalalau Articles

I’m running out of titles for Kalalau-related content. I could update the Kalalau Trip Reports with the following links, but these are more newsy than pure hiking stories.

• First, two old articles about volunteer repairs to the trail last summer and fall. These repairs took place after my previous hike and photos of trail conditions, and I haven’t hiked the trail since to see what changed.

  I’m ambivalent about these repairs. In my mind the trail was passable before, so the work is probably cosmetic to make it look safer. I don’t mean to belittle all the work done, but I do worry about the soundness of the amateur repairs. In other words, if the volunteer did widen the trail with masonry work, only time will tell if it holds up to repeated use. On the other hand, I know some people were intimidated by the trail conditions, and it’s unfortunate when that takes away from the experience. And some repairs by the state tend to be shoddy, and all trails are temporary in the grand scheme of things, so it is more likely a good thing to have the repairs done.

  Interestingly, the first article mentions the need for archeology studies prior to trail work by the state. I know that the state has strict rules and maybe the fact is that being a historical trail itself that crosses some archaeological sites triggers the studies for any work. But I also wonder if they might realign sections of the trail and therefore make sure they aren’t disturbing new sites. In any case, I’m curious to see the repaired trail sections and any plans for the new trail work.

• Then, not to scare anyone, here’s a recent first-hand account of a minor accident on the trail that could’ve been much worse. The author doesn’t say where the accident happened, but there aren’t many switchbacks with view of Kalalau near Hanakoa, so I assume it’s the small valley just at the exit of Hanakoa valley, before the balcony trail. The location is important to me, because I’d be interested in knowing if the eroded trail condtion contributed to the accident, and given that the trail in that area is in poor shape, I’d have to hypothesize it was at least a factor.

  Then, of course, I need to discuss how the hiker could’ve avoided the accident. Although she mentions hiking experience, it didn’t sound too extensive to me. If you go backpacking once a year, chances are you don’t go on difficult trails. Kalalau is a difficult trail, but it can still be done by breaking it over 2 days, especially now that Hanakoa is open for camping near the midpoint and before the eroded sections. She admits that continuing past Hanakoa was overexerting herself. The other lesson, I suppose, is to not be too distracted by the views, and always secure your pack and your own footing when you stop to take pictures, drink, etc.

  I do not fault the hiker for going alone, I think that is still a freedom that should not be discouraged, though you must be aware of the safety aspects in exchange. In the case of the Kalalau trail, this story shows that the risks of hiking alone are not that much greater, given the number of people who do stop to help. People gave assistance and got the word to her family, and rescue personnel hiked in to escort her out. It seems like the system, both formal and informal, for rescuing people works well. There was a similar story in 2006, where an informal chain of good samaritans carried out an injured swimmer by boat (the injuries were much worse, but the person was also doing some extreme off-trail rock-climbing).

• Last, and surprisingly least interesting, is a feature article in National Geographic about the Na Pali coast, including the Kalalau trail. I haven’t seen the print edition yet, but I find the text of the article to be disappointing, and the photos and maps don’t work for me in any browser. The one picture and the thumbnails of the others look impressive, so it seems more like a way of getting pretty pictures into the magazine than a real attempt at covering the issues. I do like their map however, National Geographic always has nice maps:
  
  Source: National Geographic

  Starting with the obvious comparison to Shangri-La and giving only brief and inaccurate explanations of geology and Hawaiian culture, the article mostly centers around the writer’s trek on the trail. And there, predictably, the difficulty is exaggerated, the valley resisdents are stereotyped, and the story of Koolau the leper is told once again. Then the writer goes on to say how the campground is trashed and the ambiance ruined by a boombox. Granted, the “vibe” of the place can change from year to year, and maybe the trash is far more noticeable than when I was there last, but it sounds like the author had unrealistic expectations.

  I am reminded of another misguided travel article about the trail, though not as amateurish because it is, after all, National Geographic. I guess I just have to ask: if a journalist interviews a few people and then writes an article about their vacation, do they get to write the whole thing off as expenses?

Kuilau Ridge Trail Update

After yesterday’s blog update, today I have news that the Kuilau trail has been “updated.” In my first post about the trail, I focused on the nice views near the picnic shelter at the end. I walked the trail a week ago and some maintenance has made it even better.

The most evident work that has been done is a thinning of trees by the side of the trail, opening up many more views than existed before. This is in the first half of the trail that used to be very shaded, so now it is a little more exposed to the afternoon sun. As much as I’m opposed to “improving” natural areas for aesthetic reasons, I have have to admit I was enjoying the many sights. In the photo below, you can see the trunks and branches that have been trimmed, making a nice view of the green valley and Makaleha mountains beyond.

One advantage to having more light on the trail is that it should dry out quicker and be less muddy. When I looked at the trail again, I noticed that it was very flat and even all the way up. While this trail was never very rutted, it had some places where it wasn’t very flat. Now it’s been graded and some gravel added to make it almost passable by a wheelchair (I did say “almost”).

Similar to what was done on the Moalepe trail further along, I think all this work was done because it is a popular horseback ride from the stables nearby. And since I find it hard to believe that the State did all this maintenance on a trail, I would guess that the stable owners contributed to the effort.

We’ve been having Kona weather recently, where the tradewinds are replaced with Kona winds (from the south or west). This gives different views of the mountains on the east side because now the clouds are being blown over from the other side. I got another picture of Pohakupele, although you can’t really see the distinctive rounded summit in the clouds. This is the peak to the right of the Blue Hole over which it is said the ancient Hawaiians hiked up to Wai’ale’ale. The clouds reveal the deep notch in the north-eastern ridge, and so they probably followed the south-eastern ridge, with appears directly in front of the mountain in this picture:

Because the Kona winds create and push the clouds up from the south, it is clearer over the south shore. In this view looking south, the low point is the Knudsen gap, near the tunnel of trees, and the first major peak to the right is Kahili Mountain.

It’s not that great a picture, and I didn’t really manage to improve it with Photoshop, but I want to include it because it made me realize what is so incredible about the views from the Kuilau ridge: you can probably see 20% of the surface of Kauai from here, and except for the powerline and a few distant antennas, there are no man-made structures visible.

After the good news, the bad news: there was a lot of broken car window glass at the parking lot right at the trailhead. Upon seeing that, we parked 150 feet (50m) further in the larger parking before the river crossing. There is no glass there.

I don’t know if this glass is the result of theft, drug-induced rage or teenage pranks, because this is a popular hangout, and there are jest as many rental cars in each parking. Still, do not leave anything valuable in your car whenever you park at any trailhead or beach, and do not leave anything visible other than worthless items such as towels. You should also hide your guidebook under your seat if you don’t hike with it.

Update: Just to end on a happier note, local reader Erik Burton sent me these photos of hoi, a native wild yam, that can be found along the Kuilau Ridge trail. I’ve seen them before, but never took pictures of them. Hoi (pronounced ho-ee) was a famine food, gathered only when necessary, probably because it is also known as the bitter yam.

The tubers come in all sizes, from golf-ball to large potoato. I think they grow aerially and so you often see them having fallen off the vine and rolled onto the trail. Erik says the vine grows from a large tuber underground, but I’ve never dug one up.

The vine is easily recognizable, with simple dark green, heart-shaped leaves.