Pushing-off from Kokololio Park in Hau’ula we made our way along Kamehameha Highway and turned up a dirt road to the trailhead.  After briefly climbing up a ridge we veered-off the ridge line and descended into Koloa Gulch.

Thea Ferentinos, our leader for the hike, tied ribbons on strawberry guava trees to mark the trail that drops down into Koloa Gulch where native kupukupu ferns and introduced lauae ferns thrive.

Using loppers, saws and other tools, we cut christmas berry branches that dropped down to block the trail where sword ferns thrived in the understory.

Due to rainfall in the mountainous interior of the island, there was considerable stream flow when we reached the bottom of Koloa Gulch.  After crossing the stream — the first of several dozen — I admired the honohono grass that carpeted the trail, shampoo ginger along the margins, and yellow ginger that grew overhead.

One of my favorite things to visit in Koloa Gulch is a tree covered with moss and lauae ferns.  I was thrilled to see the fronds back lit from above and lingered for quite some time admiring and photographing the sight.

Much of the work for the day involved cutting blown down trees.  Mike and John made quick work sawing through invasive christmas berry trees that blocked the trail.

Hopping from boulder to boulder, we crossed the stream dozens of times during our hike to the end of the gulch.  While most of the boulders were round and smooth, rocks that fell more recently were more angular and had sharper edges.

Groves of hala trees with slender trunks thrive in the gulch.  These trees are quite different from hala trees on the Big Island, which have considerably thicker trunks.

Many miniature waterfalls make their way between the boulders and splash down the stream bed amidst charming native ferns.

While making our way upstream we came across several kalo plants growing right in the stream, a sign that Hawaiians might have once lived in Koloa Gulch.

Many of the pools were home to Tahitian prawns which were introduced to Hawaii in 1956.  These prawns can reach nearly 10 inches long and have long thin pincers.

While the vast majority of plants in the gulch are introduce species, the deeper we got into the gulch the more native plants we saw.

Haiwale (Cyrtandra sp.) — thrives along the banks of the stream far up the gulch.  Several plants were in bloom with small white flowers hidden within its foliage.

We were pleased when we reached our destination for the day — the pool at the end of the gulch!   Just beyond the pool and small 6-foot waterfall is a much larger waterfall around the bend just out of sight.  Several of us followed our hike leader — Thea — who climbed the rock face using a rope to reach the next level.

The 40 foot waterfall had lots of water as it plunged into a pool at its base.  Thea swam in the pool as Chris and I photographed the alluring sight.  After splashing in the water, eating lunch, and enjoying each others company, we pushed off from the pool to return the way we had come.

While making our way back downstream, I reflected on the great time we had admiring the ferns along the trail, hopping from boulder to boulder, and cooling off in the pools and waterfalls at the end of the gulch.  It is little wonder that Koloa Gulch is one of my favorite stream hikes on the island.

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SOURCES

Native Hawaiian Plants, University of Hawaii, Department of Botany

When I learned that a fence was built in April 2010 to protect the restoration site from pigs who roto-til the soil and uproot the native plants, I had to revisit the site to see the fence for the first time and to see how restoration efforts are proceeding.

Starting from Pu’u Pueo Park on Alewa Heights Road, we hiked up the by-pass trail that contours along the edge of Nu’uanu Valley and connects with the Kapalama Loop Trail. The trail makes its way up and down a number of pu’us (hills) covered with ironwood trees and cook island pines, with views of Nu’uanu Valley, Honolulu, and the southern coast of O’ahu.

When we climbed to the top of a hill overlooking downtown Honolulu, we admired the views while Art Nakayama, Jay Feldman, and Ralph Valentino devised the trail clearing plan and divvied up the work for the day.

The upper portions of the loop are dominated by ohia trees (Metrosideros polymorpha), koa trees (Acacia koa) and uluhe ferns (Dicranopteris linearis).  As we made our way up the loop, August Smith, Pete Clines, and I admired the work of Kenji Suzuki who single-handedly weed-whacked the entire Nu’uanu-facing side of the Kapalama Loop the previous week.  Many thanks to Kenji for his tireless efforts to open up the trail.

Once we reached the top of the Kapalama Loop, we stopped to admire a big old gnarled koa tree (Acacia koa) which I speculate is centuries old.  This age-old tree survived multiple tropical storms and hurricanes — one of which probably toppled it over giving it a more stable stance.  These big old trees have so much character — they have been scared by the elements and have withstood the test of time.

Some of the more conscientious trail clearers like Ellyn Tong removed invasive he’e or trumpet trees (Scheflera) that grew on koa trees giving them a chance to become giants in the forest.  Invasive plants are fasting growing, out-compete native species for sunlight and space, and are a destructive force in the native forest.

Beyond the Kapalama Loop the trail becomes increasingly more rugged and wild.  I was pleased when we reached a narrow section of the ridge that drops down to a saddle because 4 of the 5 species of ‘ohi’a lehua can be found on this narrow part of the ridge.

The most widespread of the ohia lehua species is Metrosideros polymorpha — whose species name “polymorpha” means “many forms” — an appropriate description for the myriad of forms and variations the plant assumes.  While their pom-pom like flowers look very much the same regardless of species the foliage of ‘ohi’a differs dramatically between species.

The petioles (leaf stems) of polymorpha are so short they are almost non-existent.  The alternating pairs of leaves increase in size the further back from the tip, creating a beautiful geometric pattern — a rosette — which is often used in leis.

The leaves of ahihi — Metrosideros tremuloides — on the other hand are long and pointed.  Ahihi has long petioles that prevent the formation of leaf rosettes and supple slender branches that make the plant droop over and assume a semi-weeping form.  Nuuanu Valley, and Lanihuli in particular, was renown for its ahihi in old Hawaii and there is a famous Hawaiian melody — “Pua Ahihi” — which celebrates the ahihi at Lanihuli.

Lehua papa — Metrosideros rugosa — has rosettes like polymorpha but its leaves are thick, stiff, deeply furrowed, and curved over along the edge — an adaptation to the strong winds at the Koolau Summit where the plant thrives.  The leaves are also covered with short hairs on the underside.

Perhaps the most unusual of the ohia lehua species is Metrosideros macropus which has curious curly growths in its foliage that start out as bud sheaths and continue to grow on the plant well after their function has been served.

After obsessing over the 4 species of ohia lehua, I took out my machete and started our appointed task for the day — to clear the last 1/4th of the trail that leads to the summit of Lanihuli.  As we hacked at uluhe ferns that clogged the trail to the summit, I could not help but recall  an article in the June 1915 issue of Mid-Pacific Magazine — “Lost on Lanihuli” — which recounted the plight of HTMC members who were stranded on Lanihuli overnight.  Click here to download a pdf of the article.

The article tells of Professor J.S. Donaghho, who climbed to Lanihuli along the treacherous knife-edge cliffs from the Nuuanu-side of Lanihuli — a feat just repeated (no pun intended) by Pete Clines in April 2010 — although Pete started from the Nuuanu Pali — an even more difficult route. Professor Donaghho was the club’s map maker who documented many trails and routes over Honolulu taken by the club shortly after its founding in 1910.  The map also documents the route up Mo’ole Gulch (Hillebrand’s Glen) taken by the ill-fated group back in 1914 which was re-found by Dayle Turner in 1999.

Professor Donaghho, served on the board of HTMC as Treasurer and was map maker for the club.  He was one of the club’s most capable and fearless climbers — scaling/ descending all the routes documented in the map he made for HTMC in 1914 — a feat few have ever achieved.

When we reached the top of Lanihuli, we admired panoramic views of Kaneohe and the Koolaupoko Coast.  We could see the curve of H-3 along the foot of the Koolau Mountains as it makes its way to Mokapu Penninsula, where the Marine Corps Air Station is located.

The summit of Lanihuli undulates up and down for nearly a tenth of a mile.  After lunch we continued on to the west side of the summit that overlooks the Wilson Tunnel to look for rare native plants and scout the route documented in Donaghho’s map.

With a cluster of rare Lobelia gaudichaudii at his feet, Pete points towards a route up to Lanihuli from Kalihi Valley documented by Professor Donaghho.

Unfortunately, the plants were not in flower so I was unable to tell whether this is the subspecies koolauensis – which is endangered — or the subspecies gaudichaudii – which is just really rare.  Endemic only to the island of Oahu, these plants live only on the windward edge of the Koolau Summit Ridge where the vegetation is windswept and low to the ground.

We also saw laukahi kuahiwi (Plantago princeps), a rare native plant on the federal list of endangered species tucked within the foliage of other plants on  the windswept slopes.  Some of the plants even had flower stalks that had tiny flowers on them.

While searching through the vegetation on the west end of Lanihuli, the clouds blew away allowing the sunlight to illuminate the windward coast.  We lingered for quite some time admiring the views and photographing the landscape in awesome lighting conditions.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and the time came for us to turn around and make our way back the way we had come.  August lead the way as we headed down the ridge to Alewa Heights.

While dropping down from Lanihuli, I turned around and zoomed in to peer over a low-point above the Wilson Tunnel to see Kaneohe on other side.  The “shark fin” — one of several peaks along the crest — provided a cool foreground element with Kane’ohe Bay in the background where you can see “The Black Pearl” – the ship in “Pirates of the Carribean” that Disney is currently filming in the bay.

While making our way back down through forests of native ohia and koa trees, we admired the work of the other the trail clearers who opened up the trail.  With the trail open to the summit, now is the time to climb to the top of Lanihuli!

After ducking under a large ‘ohi’a lehua tree in full bloom and making our way back to our cars, I reflected on the great time we had seeing 4 out of the 5 species of ‘ohi’a lehua, climbing to the summit of Lanihuli, seeing rare native plants, and scouting old routes taken by club nearly 100 years ago.  What a great hike!

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SOURCES

Hawaii’s Endangered and Threatened Species, Bishop Museum

HTMC’s original map made by J,S, Donaghho has been lost. But an original is at the Hawaii State Archives. Steve Rohrmayr made a copy of the map before it disappeared and photographed for this post.

Lost on Lanihuli, Article by R.H. Lambert, Mid-Pacific Magazine, Jun 1915 from University of Hawaii Hamilton Library – Hawaii Collection

Native Hawaiian Plants, University of Hawaii, Department of Botany

It was a dark and cloudy morning when we rendezvoused at the top of Roundtop Drive and pushed-off from the Kalawahine Trail.  After contouring through a series of gullies above Makiki Valley for no more than 15 minutes, we reached the native snail habitat.  I could not resist dropping-back from the group to look for snails in the vegetation.

Known as pupu kuahiwi in Hawaiian (Auricullela diaphana), these small reddish-brown tree snails are just over a quarter inch long and live on ginger and other introduced vegetation in the gully.  While these endemic tree snails are not on the federal list of endangered species, they are not common — this is the only place I have seen this species of snail.

The vast majority of the snails were sleeping on the backside of ginger leaves along the trail.  But since I was intent on photographing an active snail I scoured the vegetation to look for one crawling about. After finally finding and photographing a snail slithering across the leaves I hurriedly made my way up the trail to catch-up with the rest of the group.

When I reached the Pauoa Flats Trail, where the roots of trees snake over the broad tree-lined trail, I caught up with the tail-end of the group just before we arrived at the Nu’uanu Valley Lookout.

Since I was well behind the lead group, I did not linger at the lookout and made my way up the remnants of the Castle Trail which contours along the edge of Nu’uanu Valley.

The Castle Trail was financed by William R. Castle and built by HTMC in 1911.  W.R. Castle was HTMC’s first President, and was from the prominent Castle family that founded Castle and Cooke.  The son of missionaries to Hawaii, W.R. Castle was Attorney General under the King Kalakaua in 1876, President of Honolulu Gas Company, and was director/trustee for a number of corporations.  In 1893, W.R. Castle was part of the Committee of Safety which deposed Queen Liliuokalani and overthrew the Hawaiian Monarchy.

On the map below, the crest of the Koolau Summit Ridge is marked by the red dashed line. Our route to the twin peaks of Konahuanui would take us up Castle Trail (highlighted in orange) on the lower sections of Kaumuhonu Ridge.  But the portion of the Castle trail that veers off the ridge line and contours along the flanks of Konahuanui at about the 2,200 foot level and leads to Mount Olympus has been swallowed-up by the vegetation and no longer exists.  As a result, our route continues up Kaumuhonu Ridge (highlighted in yellow) where we would reach Konahuanui 2 (K2) and then to the highest peak on the Koolau — Konahuanui 1 (K1).

In 1916, the area above Honolulu was declared a watershed and the trail was declared off-limits by the Territory of Hawaii. Despite considerable opposition by HTMC and other groups, the area was closed-off and the Castle Trail was reclaimed by the vegetation.

Low hanging clouds hung over much of the interior of the island as we made our way along one of the best surviving sections of the Castle Trail that contours along the edge of Nu’uanu Valley.  I was pleased to see red lehua flowers overlooking the Nuuanu Reservoir with Lanuhuli in the background.

While gaining the top of the ridge, we stumbled across wild Phillipine orchids (Spathoglottis plicata) about an inch across, which I could not resist to photograph.

Clouds shrouded the mountain tops as we climbed Kaumuhonu Ridge that leads to the twin peaks of Konahuanui.  Since it rained at the summit the night before and early in the morning, the trail got increasingly muddy the higher we climbed.

Two forms of naupaka kuahiwi — mountain naupaka — which are known for their distinctive half flowers — thrive along the trail to Konahuanui.  While the flowers are by no means incomplete, their petals are only on one side giving them the appearance of being just half a flower.  I enjoyed the fragrance of white naupaka (Scaevola gaudichaudiana) and the even stronger scented purple naupaka (Scaevola mollis) as we climbed up the trail.

Clouds began to descend from the summit as we made our way up the muddy trail.  Because of the recent rain, the eroded parts of the trail were more muddy and slippery than usual making for a more difficult ascent.  While making my way up Kaumuhonu Ridge, I could sometimes just barely discern where the Castle Trail used to contour along the southern facing flanks of the Koolau, but the trail is completely overgrown.

The eroded section on Kaumuhonu Ridge was exceedingly slippery but fortunately someone installed a strap which greatly aided in our ascent.  The slopes were so muddy that many of our legs were covered in mud by the time we reached K2.

Grace Gabriel and Jennie Chadbourne stand under a lapalapa tree (Cheirodendron platyphyllum) on the leeward-facing side of K2, which stands 3,100 feet above sea level.  Lapalapa trees are endemic to Hawaii and thrive in wet water-logged conditions found on the Ko’olau Summit Ridge.

The foliage of lapalapa is distinctive — the leaves are a vibrant green color and are divided into 3 leaflets where each leaflet is wider than it is long. Lapalapa is closely related to ‘olapa (Cheirodendron trigynum) which is divided into 5 leaflets where is each leaflet is longer than it is wide.  Some sources indicate that the names lapalapa and’olapa can be used interchangeably between these two species.  Lapalapa and ‘olapa are one of my favorite native trees — I never tired of photographing them.

The stems of ‘olapa and lapalapa leaves are long and supple making the leaves flutter in the slightest breeze.  Hula dancers are called “‘olapa” after the graceful swaying of  the leaves in the wind.  As the wind speed increases, their leaves go into a frenzy making a distinctive rustling sound as they hit each other.

Due to the rain, the crossover along the Koolau Summit Ridge from K2 to K1 was much muddier than usual.  “Shlorp!” “Vloop!” “Shluck!” — the sound of hikers making their way through mud wallows — emanated from 8 inch deep mud holes as we made our way to the highest peak on the Ko’olau Mountains.

Clouds shrouded the summit ridge as Gavin Terukina and I made our way up and down several humps on the way to K1 where twisted ohia trees and natives ferns such as hapu’u, ama’u, and ‘uluhe thrive.

When we got to Konahuanui 1 at 3,150 feet elevation — the highest point on the Koolau Mountains — I was pleased to see my old friends — the grove of lapalapa trees I love to visit.  The trees are not particularly large — no more than 6 – 8 feet high — but have a distinctive growth of moss of their trunks and branches.

Moss greatly increases the surface area of the tree allowing more moisture from passing clouds to condense.  The moisture slowly drips down the branches and trunk, and follows the roots down into the earth where the water starts its journey to join the ground water deep in the aquifer – the source of drinking water for O’ahu.  On Konahuanui, the groundwater is the source for Lulumahu Falls and Manoa Falls which have water year-round.

While I obsessed over the lapalapa trees at the summit, the rest of the gang relaxed, ate lunch and posed for this group shot.  On the front row from left to right is Jennie Chadbourne, Karen Liliker, and Grace Gabriel; and in back row from left to right is Peg Foster and Kirby Young.

After leaving K1 and making our way back to K2, Peg Foster and Brian Fagan asked me what this large plant was that had a large shock of leaves emanating from the top. While I was unable to identify the plant I knew it was not a native tree.  Sad to say, but many invasive plants — clidemia, palm grass, and kahili ginger have gained a foothold on the summits of K1 and K2.  I hope this new alien plant does not spread like these other highly invasive plants.

Clouds descended from K2 as we made our way back down the steep mountain-side.  The eroded sections of the muddy slope were so slippery that many of us resorted to sliding down on all fours like a crab to get back down.

After slipping under the clouds, returning down the remnants of the Castle Trail,and making our way back to the trail head, I reflected on the great time we had on the highest peaks of the Ko’olau Mountains, sloshing through the mud, and admiring magnificent groves of lapalapa trees.  What a great hike!

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SOURCES

Hawaiian Forester and Agriculturist, Volumes 8-10, Board of Commissioners of Agriculture and Forestry, Territory of Hawaii, 1911

The indigenous trees of the Hawaiian Islands, By Joseph Francis Charles Rock

Native Hawaiian Plants, University of Hawaii, Department of Botany

‘Olpala and Lapalapa, The Leis of Hawaii, Marie McDonald

Wild Orchids of the World

William R. Castle, Wikipedia

While thumbing through the January 1911 issue of Mid-Pacific Magazine, published by Alexander Hume Ford who founded HTMC in 1910, I stumbled on an article about the founding of the club.  One of the interesting things in the article was a trail forged by the club in 1910 called “The Seven Waterfalls of Palolo” which I recognized as the hike we now call “Ka’au Crater”.  Click here to download a pdf of the 1911 article.

Son of a wealthy plantation owner in South Carolina prior to the Civil War, Alexander Hume Ford was a playwright and journalist before his arrival in Hawaii. Ford founded HTMC to preserve old Hawaiian trails at a time when they were being lost and fading from memory.  He also founded the Outrigger Canoe Club to revive the ancient Hawaiian water sports of surfing and canoe paddling.

Clouds hung over the back of Palolo Valley as we pushed-off from the end of Waiomao Road.  Since it rained the night before and early in the morning, the trail was muddy and the vegetation was wet as we dropped down into the stream and made our way up the trail.  When I reached the Board of Water Supply pipe that parallels much of the early part of the trail, I ran into a Famous Woman Hiker (FWH), who wishes to remain anonymous, weed whacking clidemia and other weeds from the trail.  Since the plan was for the mechanized crew to clear the lower parts of the trail, I pushed on ahead to handle the parts of the trail higher up.

The pipe snakes its way in and out along the trail for nearly 2 miles until it reaches a bulkhead that taps the ground water next to the First Waterfall.  Rainfall on the Ko’olau Mountains seeps into the earth and is trapped within an aquifer tapped by this pipe for drinking water.

The First Waterfall is perhaps the most dramatic because of its idyllic setting.  Hikers must drop down 20 feet from the trail into the stream-bed to reach the small pool at the base of the 40 foot waterfall where bamboo, ferns, and mosses thrive.  The water is stained the color of tea because much of the water is from the marsh at Ka’au Crater where decaying vegetation releases tannin.  After enjoying the picturesque setting we climbed to the top of the waterfall and continued upstream for a few hundred yards before we reached the next waterfall.

The Second Waterfall is also about 40 feet high but is situated in a considerably more open area where mango and other introduced trees thrive.  After admiring the falls we took the trail on the right side to climb to the top of the waterfall where we continued on for another few hundred yards where we reached the foot of the next series of waterfalls.

The next 5 waterfalls cascade one after the other down a low point in the side of Ka`au Crater and drain the marsh in the bowl-like crater. Although they are really a long series of cascading waterfalls, there are small pools between them that demarcate where one waterfall ends and the next begins.

My hiking buddies on this leg of the trek — Steve Davis (in red), Fish Arabia (in white) and Karen Liliker (in blue) helped judge the boundary between waterfalls as we climbed up the series of cascades into Kaau Crater.

After considerable debate, Karen and Fish give their opinion that the small pool at the foot of this waterfall marks where the forth waterfall ends and the fifth waterfall begins.

Since we were running out of numbers with considerably more distance to go, I was reluctant to count this as at the sixth waterfall.  But the ever vigilant Karen kept me honest that although the pool was tiny, it was a pool nonetheless.

When we reached another even smaller pool which marked the start of the last waterfall I was concerned because we had run out of numbers.  But as it turned out there were no more pools — the seventh waterfall is by far the longest of the waterfalls and continued up the crack in the side of the crater without break.

Pleased to have accounted for all seven waterfalls, we embarked on the next phase of the hike and our appointed task for the day — to clear the trail that circumnavigates the rim of Ka’au Crater.  So we turned right on the crater rim and climbed up in the counter-clockwise direction all the while cutting back uluhe ferns (Dicranopteris linearis) and other vegetation that clogged the trail.

While clearing the vegetation from the trail along the east rim of the crater, the clouds began to lift and concentrate themselves at the top of the summit ridge.

When we reached almost three-quarters of the way up the rim to the Koolau Summit, the clouds  dissipated and the rays of the sun illuminated the marsh in Ka`au Crater.  The bowl like structure is less than half-a-mile across and is the source of the groundwater and the waterfalls.  Rainfall over the Koolau Summit collects in the crater and seeps into the earth recharging the aquifer tapped by the Board of Water Supply.  Water that overflows the low point in the crater rim feeds the Seven Waterfalls of Palolo.

When we reached the high point on the crater rim we were thrilled to reach the Koolau Summit!  As we ate lunch and admired the view, I recalled an old 1911 newspaper article about a hair-rasing descent from the Koolau Summit at Ka’au Crater into Maunawili by Governor Walter Frear (Hawaii’s governor at the time), Alexander Hume Ford, and 10 other HTMC members down an old Hawaiian route.

While browsing through the Hawaii State Archives, I stumbled on an old map made by J.S. Donaghho, Mapmaker for HTMC and Professor of Mathematics at the University of Hawaii.  To my astonishment the map documented a loop around the rim of Ka’au Crater with 2 steep routes over the Ko’olau into Maunawili — one of which must have been the old Hawaiian route used by Gov. Frear and A. H. Ford in 1911.

The dashed red line has been added to the above map to show the crest of the Koolau Summit Ridge — Maunawili is above the red line and Palolo is below the red line.  The black dashed line is the trail around the rim of Ka’au Crater still in use today and the black ”+” line is what Donaghho says is “feasible but dangerous”.  Mind boggling!

While making our along the Koolau Summit Ridge with Kaau Crater to the south and Maunawili to the north, I peered over the edge to see if I could make out the route used by Gov. Frear and Ford in 1911 and marvelled at their moutaineering prowess.  The cliffs are mind blowingly steep and I saw no obvious route down into Maunawili — at least none I would be willing to take!

Snapping back to reality when we reached the top of the west side of the crater, I admired views of Mauna Leahi (Diamond Head) on the southern shores of O`ahu before starting the real work for the day.  The west side of the crater is usually the most overgrown and requires a lot of work.  Fortunately we had a decent sized crew of 6 to handle this part of the trail and we wasted no time re-opening the swath.

The biggest part of the job entailed cutting back uluhe ferns but we came across several trees that had fallen across the trail.  John and Perry removed these blow-downs with their hand-saws and we made good time clearing the crater rim.  We were pleased when we ran into another crew working in the oppostite clockwise direction on the crater rim — our task to clear the rim was done!

After completing our circuit of the crater rim, we met up with Gordon Muschek and the mechanized crew that concentrated on clearing the ridge portion of the trail.  The weed whacking crew made quick work opening up the ridge — making the ridge trail almost like a walk in the park.

While dropping down the ridge and making my way back down Waiamao Stream, I reflected on the forging of this trail in 1910 and the on-going efforts to keep it open for the past 100 years.  The trail maintenance crew of HTMC is the unsung hero of the hiking community.  Were it not for the crew, many trails on the island would be overwhelmed by fast growing vegetation and blown down trees in a matter of several years.  A big mahalo to the trail maintenance crew for laboring week after week to keep the trails open!

WARNING:  The descent from the Koolau Summit Ridge at Ka’au Crater into Maunawili is extremely dangerous and should only be attempted by trained experienced climbers with the proper climbing equipment.  The route traverses sheer cliffs approaching 90 degrees and any slip is likely to result in serious injury if not death.  It would be a good idea to have an advance medical directive and last will and testament in place before attempting this descent.

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SOURCES

Native Hawaiian Plants, University of Hawaii, Department of Botany

The Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club, Article by Guy Tuttle, Mid-Pacific Magazine, Jan 1911 from University of Hawaii Hamilton Library – Hawaii Collection

Newspaper Clipping of Kaau-Maunawili Descent from HTMC Archives

J.S. Donaghho Map from Hawaii State Archives.  HTMC’s original map has been lost. Many thanks for Steve Rohrmayr for making a copy of the map before it disappeared and photographing it for this article.

Not to be confused with the highest point on the Pu’u Manamana Trail — known as Turnover at 2,027 feet elevation — as decribed in Stuart Ball’s “The Hiker’s Guide to O’ahu”, True Manamana is located further inland on the ridge.  The actual name of True Manamana on topographical maps is “Puu Manamana”.  The Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club (HTMC) calls the peak “True Manamana” in order to differentiate it from the Pu’u Manamana Trail which does not reach True Manamana.  While the Pu’u Manamana Trail is rated an expert trail and is generally regarded as the most dangerous published trail on the island — 2 hikers have fallen to their deaths — the route to True Manamana is an order of magnitude more difficult and treacherous.

The 1,650 foot distinctively-shaped peak held much significance to the early Hawaiians.  “Pu’u” means “peak” and ”Manamana” means ”extreme supernatural or divine power”, so much so that even though the peak is not the highest point on the ridge, it gives its name to the entire ridge.  Manamana ridge descends from the Ko’olau Summit Ridge and passes through Ohulehule before separating the valleys of Ka’a'awa and Kahana.

The summit of True Manamana has been a quest for some of the best climbers on the island — Chuck Godek, Al Miller, and Charlotte Yamane — for decades but no one has been able to reach the summit until now.  The climb is extremely dangerous, traversing crumbly knife edged cliffs that plunge hundreds of feet on either side. Because of the hazards, HTMC discourages anyone from attempting this climb.  So only the strongest climbers fool-hardy enough to personally undertake the risk on their own time, have made the attempt.

Earlier this year while hiking in Ka’a'awa Valley, Pete Clines told me about his first attempt to climb True Manamana.  Back in 2005, he and a friend started at 9:45 am and plowed through uluhe ferns for hours before getting to the 1,900 foot lookout point just after noon to start the real adventure.  But because one can only proceed slowly along the knife-edged cliffs, they ran out of daylight and and had to bail down a side-ridge into Ka’a'awa Valley.  In order to prepare for this attempt in 2010, Pete assembled a trail clearing crew the week before on June 27 — comprised of Chris Cheng, August Smith, and Tricia Higa.  The crew cleared a path through the uluhe ferns so what previously took 2 hours to plow through could now be reached in 30 minutes.

Since the team needed as much time as possible to complete the climb, Laredo Muredo (aka Rainbow man), Chris Cheng, Pete Clines (from left to right) and I met at Swanzy Beach Park at 6:30 am.  We then drove to Kahana Valley State Park where we pushed-off at 6:50 am to ascend the Puu Manamana Trail from the cemetery route on Trout Farm Road.

Clouds obscured much of the coast in the early morning, and we could see a succession of rain squalls blowing in from the ocean as we climbed up the trail where trumpet or he`e trees (Scheflera) dominate the ridge.  But despite the clouds, we were optimistic that the weather would clear and continued up the ridge.

Mist from low hanging clouds condensed on the vegetation and spider webs as we climbed to the summit of Manamana Ridge — Turnover — at 2,027 feet elevation.

Reaching Turnover just before 9 am, we rested briefly before pushing-off on the freshly cut trail created the week before.  Thanks to the hard work of August and Tricia, we easily made our way to the 1,900 foot lookout point.

The 1,900 foot lookout point overlooks a big saddle that drops down nearly 600 feet before climbing back up to True Manamana at about 1,650 feet elevation.  As the crow flies, the distance between the lookout and True Manamana is only half-a-mile, but the crumbly knife-edge ridge is treacherous as it snakes back and forth with steep several hundred foot drop-offs that slows forward progress to a crawl.  The photo above was taken on a clear day back in 1990 when one of the club’s strongest climbers — Chuck Godek — attempted to reach True Manamana.  Except for the Kipapa-Manana secton of the Koolau summit ridge, Godek hiked the entire length of the Koolau Mountains – including the most treacherous parts – the Pali, Lanihuli, and Moanalua — which require ropes, pitons, and guts.

When we reached the 1,900 foot lookout point at 9:30 am, wind blew the clouds away on the windward side of the ridge but were protected on the leeward-side by the ridge.  The plan was for me to remain at the 1,900 foot lookout for the rest of the day — which ended up being for the next 7 hours — where I could watch and photograph the team as they made their way to True Manamana.  Beyond True Manamana, the ridge continues on to Puu Ohulehule — which is shrouded in clouds above – before the ridge connects to the Ko’olau Summit.

Not long after pushing-off, clouds blew in and swallowed-up the ridge right after I snapped this photo of Chris and Laredo.  It then dumped its moisture on us.  Unfortunately, our optimism that the weather would clear was wrong.  But fortunately, the rain lasted only briefly and the wind was light.  I put on a wind-breaker and configured my poncho into a bivy sack of sorts to protect my camera gear and conserve body heat.   While hunkered down in my poncho-bivy, Pete called on his cell phone to tell me Chris was turning back.  Chris is wary of heights and was intimidated by the steep drop-offs.  Al Miller once described certain sections of the crumbly knife-edged ridge as “suicidal”.  Chris wisely listened to his internal “danger meter” and returned to keep me company at the 1,900 foot lookout for the rest of the day.

Clouds blocked our view for more than 80% of the time, but the wind would periodically blow the clouds away on the windward side of Manamana Ridge providing dramatic views of True Manamana in the clouds and the surrounding landscape.

When the clouds lifted, Chris and I scanned the ridge line looking for Pete and Laredo.  I was able to zoom in along several sections of the knife-edged ridge to take this photo of Pete and Laredo.  Unfortunately, thick clouds returned, blocked all views, and rained again — a pattern that repeated throughout the day.  Since Chris recently returned from Senegal in West Africa from an 18 month stint with the Peace Corps there was no shortage of interesting things to talk about to pass the time.

Back in 1993, Al Miller and Charlotte Yamane made 3 attempts to reach the top of True Manamana — once from the Manamana ridgeline and twice from Ka’a'awa Valley.  Miller was one of the best climbers on the island and was known as the daredevil in the club.  He climbed to the crest of Mo’o Kapu O Haloa, crossed over from Kamaileunu to Mount Ka’ala, and climbed up to the Ko’olau Summit Ridge from nearly every windward ridge — many of which most would consider suicidal.  In the photo above, Miller can be seen through a puka (hole) in the ridge during his attempt to climb to True Manamana.

While low-hanging clouds blocked my view, Pete and Laredo made their way past the same puka in the ridge where Miller was photographed in 1993. The cable held in Miller’s hand in the photo is still in place.

Charlotte Yamane, who stands under 5 ft tall and weighs under 100 pounds was Dayle Turner’s hiking idol.  Dayle once described Charlotte as “pound for pound the the strongest climber on the island”.  Charlotte was Miller’s climbing partner and accompanied him on many of his most difficult climbs.  In the photo above Charlotte rests under a prominent knob on Manamana ridge.

While napping in my poncho-bivy, Chris woke me up when the clouds parted and we could see Pete and Laredo within striking distance of the summit!  But not long after I took the photo above the clouds returned.  Within another 20 minutes, we hear a whoop way off in the distance – Pete must have reached the top!  Pete called us and confirmed he indeed made it to the summit!  Not long after we heard a second whoop — Laredo made it to the summit too!  Since I wanted to photograph them at the summit, we decided they should wait until the clouds cleared.  So they hunkered down at the summit, had lunch, and waited for the clouds to clear.

Unfortunately, the clouds never cleared to give me a clear shot of Pete and Laredo after more than an hour of waiting.   But photographic evidence of their achievement can be seen in this photo taken by Pete of Laredo from the summit of True Manamana where the “2 apes talking” rock formation can be seen further back along the ridge.

Just as postulated by Murphy’s Law, the clouds lifted soon after Pete and Laredo departed from the summit.  So while I wasn’t able to photograph them on the top of True Manamana I was able to get this shot of them descending the summit.  Soon after the clouds blew in again and completely shrouded the view.

With low hanging clouds blocking my view of the climbers, Pete took this photo of Laredo crawling on all fours on a knife-edged ridge as he made his way back.

Just as Pete returned to the 1900 foot lookout, the clouds lifted once again.  It was great to see Pete and to hear his whoops as he climbed back up to where we were perched for the last 7 hours.

When Laredo reached us as well, the clouds almost entirely lifted off the ridge — the clearest it had been all day — and I was able to take this shot of the first men to conquer True Manamana!   We asked them many questions and listened to how they inched their way — sometimes crawling across the crumbly rock on all fours — to descend and climb steep cliffs with the aid of ropes.  Especially harrowing to hear was when Pete traversed a narrow ledge where he slipped and fell off the side of the cliff.  Fortunately, vines and other vegetation caught and slowed his fall, and Laredo helped him climb back up to the ridgeline.

Just as we were pushing-off from the 1900 foot lookout at 4:30 pm, the clouds lifted allowing golden rays of sunlight to strike Moo Kapu O Haloa and Kanehoalani giving us a stunning view of Ka’a'awa Valley.  As we made our way to Turnover and then back down the Pu’u Manamana Trail we learned that the route to True Manamana has no major big obstacles, but instead has many short abrupt climbs and drops over steep crumbly rock along the entire half-mile distance — much of it over knife-edged cliffs — making the way extremely difficult to negotiate for all but the most capable and fearless climbers.  Congratulations to Pete Clines and Laredo Muredo for being the first to summit True Manamana!

WARNING:  The climb to True Manamana is extremely dangerous and should only be attempted by trained experienced climbers with the proper climbing equipment.  The route traverses steep crumbly knife-edged cliffs that are unforgiving and any slip is likely to result in serious injury if not death.  It would be a good idea to have an advance medical directive and last will and testament in place before attempting this climb.

During the night and early morning, a light rain descended on our campsite several times.  When we awoke and ate breakfast, the remnants of misty showers shrouded the very back of the valley.

Grace, Eva, and Pete enjoy a hot cup of coffee at our campsite next to the stream.  We sat on several logs and tree stumps carved into chairs with backrests.

After breaking down camp and packing my gear, I reclined and relaxed for one last time to admire magnificent Waimanu Valley as I waited for the others to get ready.  When the clouds lifted from the back of the valley we could see that the waterfalls against the very back of the valley were even bigger today!  Last night’s rain added greatly to the volume water.

Clouds blocked the sun light when we pushed off from camp and crossed the stream.  We noticed that the water flow was considerably greater due to the rain the night before but we were all able to cross the stream without incident and began the big climb back out.

Since August and I were intent on photographing the valley in the early morning sun, we eagerly made our way up the switchbacks.  As we climbed up the trail, August picked a few large mamaki leaves (Pipturus sp.) nearly 10 inches long which he intended to dry and brew into tea when we returned home.

While making our way up the switchbacks the clouds began to clear and the sun began to illuminate the landscape.  I was thrilled to see spectacular views of the sea cliffs at the front of the valley framed by indigenous hala trees (Pandanus tectorius).

The switchbacks also provided a great vantage point to see the many waterfalls in Waimanu Valley — especially the ones against the far wall of the valley that were much more prominent due to the previous night’s rain.

The clouds began to dissipate and the sun broke through bathing the kukui trees (Aleurites moluccan) and ti plants (Cordyline fruticosa) in a spectacular golden light.

While climbing up the switchbacks a native damselfly (Megalagrion sp.) caught my attention!  These damselflies are about 2 inches long and are endemic to Hawaii.  I saw a number of them hoovering and darting about as we climbed up the trail.

The clouds completely lifted by the time we reached the top of the 1,200 foot switchbacks, and we were treated to clear blues skies!  After catching one last look at  magnificent Waimanu Valley, we turned the corner and contoured our way along the Muliwai Trail back towards Waipio Valley.

Our loads were much lighter on the return leg our our backpacking trip since we consumed nearly all our food and got rid of unnecessary items before we left.

When we reached the shelter, we stopped for a bit to relax before continuing on.  The shelter makes a great camping spot for anyone caught in bad weather between Waipio and Waimanu.

We contoured our way through dozens of gullies along the way losing and gaining several hundred feet of elevation each time.

When we reached a quaint little stream, I admired the profuse growth of ferns along the edge as I refilled my drinking water for the return trip.

The nice thing about the Muliwai Trail is that large trees shade the entire way making the trek cool and pleasant.

When we reached the quaint waterfall and pool, we cooled-off in the cold refreshing water and refilled out water bottles for the final leg of our trek.

The pool was so pleasant that we ate lunch and relaxed for quite some time before resuming our way along the trail.

After passing the last of 4 helipads, we finally reached Waipio Valley and caught the tail end of light rain showers that shrouded the valley in a gentle mist.

Within a matter of 5 minutes as we descended the series of switchbacks on the Z-Trail, the mists receded to the back of the valley and the sun broke through — illuminating the landscape in sunlight once again.  Far on the other side of the valley we could see the road we could have to climb up.

After dropping down the switchbacks to reach the bottom of the valley, we made our way along the large expanse of black sand under the shade of iron wood trees.

August and I learned first hand why its better to cross the stream closer to the ocean where the stream is shallower and the force of the water spread out over a larger area.  The stream flow at the narrow spot we selected was considerably stronger and much more difficult to cross.

After making our way along the coast we turned towards the back of the valley and then turned up the steep road to climb back up to our vehicles at the art gallery.  We then drove to Laupahoehoe Park to shower and prepare for the return home.

After eating dinner in Hilo and heading to the airport, we flew back to Honolulu to resume our normal lives.  As we headed back home, I reflected on the great time we had backpacking to Waimanu Valley, admiring the beauty of the Hamakua-Kohala Coast, and having a great time with the “Mix Plate” gang.  What a great trip!

This is the last of 3 articles about my backpacking trip to Waimanu Valley.  The previous 2nd post is here.

HEALTH WARNING:  The day after we returned from Waimanu Valley, Eva noticed what started out as a small pimple on her leg become increasingly painful, swollen, and inflamed over the course of 7 days — causing her to see a doctor.  The doctor said Eva had a staph infection, cut open the sore to drain the fluids, and prescribed such a strong dose of antibiotics that the pharmacist felt compelled to confirm the dosage with the doctor. The doctor told Eva that had the infection gotten any worse it could possibly lead to amputation.  Fortunately, the infection responded well to the strong dose of antibiotics and Eva’s leg is healing nicely.  If anyone gets an infection from Waimanu or anywhere else for that matter, get it treated right away.

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SOURCES

Hawaiian Damselflies and Dragonflies, Bishop Museum

Native Hawaiian Plants, Department of Botany, University of Hawaii

Waimanu Valley, The Backpackers Guide to Hawaii, Stuart Ball

When we awoke in the morning, the first rays of the sun illuminated the sea cliffs overlooking the Kohala-Hamakua Coast.  We relaxed on the shore where some enterprising campers had constructed reclining “lazy boy” seats from rocks and boulders on the black sand beach.

When we looked towards the back of the valley we were surprised to see additional waterfalls we had not seen the day before.  While it only rained lightly and intermittently on our campsite on the coast at night, it apparently rained much harder in the surrounding mountains creating additional waterfalls.

After having breakfast and preparing ourselves for the day, we spoke to the campers in the neighboring campsite as we pushed-off for the base of Wai`ilikahi Falls about halfway back the valley.

One of the amusing things we learned from the neighboring campsite is that they gave our group a nickname — “Mix Plate” — for the great diversity in our group — women and men, American, European, Asian, and Rastafarian — which is really just a reflection of the diversity in the Hawaiian Trail & Mountain Club.

We also learned from the neighboring campsite that the gunshots we heard the night before were from their hunting adventures.  They shot a pig after dusk, but were unable to retrieve the animal when it fled into the shadows.

After wishing our neighbors a good day, we pushed-off for the far end of the beach where we turned mauka just before the tall sea cliffs and headed towards the back of the valley.

When we neared a pair of giant mango trees, we stumbled on a dead pig right next to the trail!  After seeing a gun shot wound we knew it was the pig shot by our neighbors the night before.

Large kukui trees and lauae ferns dominated much of the far side valley where literally thousands of kukui nuts litter the forest floor.

Walking on round kukui nuts is like walking on marbles — they made the footing unsure and we slipped and slided over the trail as we made our way to the back of the valley.

From time to time, the forest canopy would partially open up giving me a chance to zoom in on the last plunge pool high above from which Wai`ilikahi Falls makes its final fall to the valley floor.

When we finally reached the pool at the base of the final 300 foot drop of Waiilikahi falls, we were awed at the impressive sight!  From our vantage point at the base, we could only see the the final plunge although the combined fall is well over 1,000 feet.  The sheer volume of the falling water generated its own wind which swept over the surrounding area at the base of the falls.

August and I climbed a small ridge along side the pool in order to get a better vantage point to view the base of the falls.  The slope was covered with charming sword ferns and awapuhi — the shampoo ginger introduced by the Polynesians.

Several other campers were at the falls at the same time — some of whom climbed up the waterfall to jump into the water.  Others were snorkeling in the pool to catch prawns.

Photo courtesy of Grace Gabriel

Using a net to scoop up the prawns at the bottom of the pool, the other campers caught about two dozen Tahitian prawns (Macrobrachium lar) — a non-native species with long thin pincers that were introduced in 1956.

After diving in the pool and swimming to the base of the waterfall, Pete pulled himself out of the pool to scale the rock wall demonstrating his climbing prowess.

Exploiting a barely noticeable crack for handholds and footholds, Pete climbed almost 30 feet up the vertical rock wall and then dived into the pool several times.

After swimming, diving and relaxing by the pool for quite some time, dark clouds began to gather — a cue we took as time to leave and return back to camp.

While hiking back to our campsite.  I could not resist taking one last shot of the falls through the dark forest canopy as we made our way back out.

But before returning to camp, our one chore for the day was to visit a small stream fed by Keawewai Springs, on the west side of the valley where we filtered drinking water for the day.  Several of us veered-off the trail to forage for mountain apples (ohia ai) before making our way back to camp.

While I bathed in the stream and then snoozed under the trees, the gang borrowed a two-man kayak from the neighboring campsite.  In the photo above, Miyo and August paddle upstream to explore the waterway as it meanders through the grassy wetland.

Our campsite whirled with activity as the day drew to an end and we made dinner for the evening.  Those of us who gathered mountain apples (ohia ai) during the day — such as Eva above – munched on juicy fresh fruits, while the rest of us had to make due with dehydrated prunes.  As darkness began to descend, we prepared for our last night at Waimanu and started a roaring campfire where we told amusing stories about each other — the more unbecoming and embarrassing the better.

Stay tuned for the last installment of our backpacking trip where we make our way back out from Waimanu to Waipio and make our way back home.  The first installment is here and the third post is here.

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SOURCES

Native Hawaiian Plants, Department of Botany, University of Hawaii

Tahitian Prawn, Waipi‘o Valley Stream Restoration Study, Bishop Museum

Waimanu Valley, The Backpackers Guide to Hawaii, Stuart Ball

Waimanu Valley is located on an isolated stretch of the Hamakua-Kohala Coast where the landscape alternates between deep valleys with spectacular black sand beaches and thousand foot sea cliffs with charming gulches, streams, and waterfalls.  Our plan for the 3-day trek — which gains and loses 3,600 feet of elevation – was to backpack 9-miles from Waipio Valley to Waimanu Valley on day 1, spend 2 nights in Waimanu Valley, and then backpack 9-miles out on the 3rd day.

Since the car rental company upgraded one of our vehicles to a 4WD Jeep SUV, August Smith and I drove down the steep road to drop-off the  backpacks at the bottom while the rest of the gang — from left to right: Nikolaj Nordkvist, Pete Clines, Kevin English, Eva Kennedy, Grace Gabriel, and Miyo Kimura — took this group shot at the Waipio Valley lookout before dropping-down to the valley floor below.

After driving back up from the valley floor to the lookout, Pete and I drove our vehicles to the art gallery about half-a-mile back on Kukuihaele Road to park for $15 per night per vehicle.  We then hastened back to the lookout where we dropped down into Waipio Valley to join the others at the stream.  As we descended the steep road into historic Waipio Valley we could clearly see the Z-Trail – the switchbacks on the far side of the valley — the most demanding part of the 9-mile trek for the day.  The yellow arrows on the photo above parallel the switchbacks as they gain about 1,200 feet of elevation.

Crossing Wailoa Stream can be harrowing when swollen with rain.  While the stream flow was not excessive and we were able to cross with minimal difficulty, we could feel the power of the rushing water as we made our way over rocks in the stream bed to the other side.   Prodigious rainfall and fertile soil make Waipio Valley a productive site for kalo (taro) cultivation — the valley supported the largest population of Hawaiians prior to Western contact.

After hiking along the expanse of black sand for which Waipio Valley is renown, we made our way to the far side of the valley to the base of the 1,200 foot sea cliffs and began our travail up the Z-Trail.  The art of backpacking entails finding the proper trade-off between comfort at the campsite and ease on the trail.  With the sun beating down and little breeze to cool us off, several of us questioned whether we really needed everything we packed as we huffed and puffed our way up the switchbacks.

When we reached the top of the switchbacks, we stopped to admire the deep blue ocean, black sand beach, and lush green Waipio Valley before continuing on the next phase of our trek — the Muliwai Trail.  The Muliwai trail contours in and out of a dozen or so gullies carved by small streams — losing and gaining several hundred feet of elevation each time.  The trail is nicely shaded by groves of ironwood, eucalytus, rubber, and other introduced trees.

After passing the first helipad — which was so overgrown that no helicopter could possibly land — we were pleased to reach a quaint little waterfall and pool.  The pool was surprisingly deep for its small size and the water was refreshingly cold.  Grace and several others jumped in the pool to cool-off while Nikolaj and the rest of the gang relaxed along the edge.

Enjoying ourselves at the pool for quite some time, we reluctantly pushed-off from the waterfall to resume our trek on the Muliwai Trail.  As we made our down the trail we passed many ferns and mosses in the understory of large trees overhead.

While contouring up and down through several gullies and passing two more helipads, I saw a number of well-constructed bird nests — many of which were camouflaged with moss on the outside to better blend-in with the surroundings.

There is no shortage of drinking water along the Muliwai Trail — running steams flow in many of the gullies along the way.  Those of us who have an aversion to the taste of treated water filtered the stream water while those who were too lazy to go through the filtering process treated the water with iodine or chlorine tablets.

Many of the trees along the trail are huge and stood over a hundred feet up in the air.  While the vast majority of the trees were introduced, I saw a number of native trees and plants such a ohia lehua, lama, and kopiko.

We were pleased when we reached the shelter because we knew we were getting close our destination for the day.  We rested briefly under the shelter and then continued on to Waimanu Valley which is just 2-1/2 miles further along the trail.

After contouring through the last few gullies and passing the 4th and final helipad we were thrilled when we rounded the corner and caught sight of our destination — Waimanu Valley!  The valley looks very much like Waipio Valley — and is like a smaller version — it has the same tall sea cliffs, black sand beaches, and impressive waterfalls and streams!

One of the most spectacular sights in Waimanu Valley is impressive Waiilikahi Falls which cascades a thousand feet through a series of pools before making its final plunge to the valley floor below.  I was captivated by this view of the waterfall as the afternoon sun illuminated kukui (Aleurites moluccans) and hala (Pandanus tectorius) trees growing along the trail.

Grassy wetlands dominate the front of Waimanu Vlley where the stream snakes its way to the shoreline and empties into the ocean.

When we reached the stream and crossed where a rope has been installed, we were thrilled to reach our destination — the campsites at Waimanu!  By the time we arrived, many other backpackers and kayakers had already staked out their campsites.  So we quickly unpacked and set-up our tents.

Our campsite under  large ironwood trees along the stream was one of the best spots in the valley.  We were treated to an unobstructed view of the lush green valley where we could admire Waiilikahi Falls.

After bathing and acquainting ourselves with our surroundings, the sun began to set and our campsite bustled with activity as we made dinner and prepared for the evening.  When darkness descended we took turns sharing amusing stories — the more inappropriate the better — before turning in for the night.

The next installment where we hike to the base of Waiilikahi falls is here.

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SOURCES

Hawaiian Damselflies and Dragonflies, Bishop Museum

Native Hawaiian Plants, Department of Botany, University of Hawaii

Waimanu Valley, The Backpackers Guide to Hawaii, Stuart Ball

Starting almost at sea level, the Dupont Trail is a tough climb that gains nearly 4,000 feet over 5 miles — making it the trail with the largest elevation gain on the island.  Since the 10 mile round trip starts on private land, special permission is needed to access the trailhead.

While rain pelted much of central Oahu as we drove to Waialua, the northern end of the island was surprisingly clear when we started our hike.  After signing in we started the hike by squeezing through the bars in several gates and hiking up a series of dirt roads through pasture land.

When we reached the upper boundary of the ranch we stepped over the fence and started up the trail.  It did not take long before we reached a number of dryland indigenous plants like aalii (Dodonaea viscosa) and pukiawe (Leptecophylla tameiameiae).

Pukiawe berries are small — about an eighth of an inch round that are somewhat flattened.  Most of them are pinkish red in color.  Because of their attractive color, the berries were often used in traditional leis.

Some of the pukiawe berries on the Dupont Trail are white in color.  The Hawaiians used pukiawe leaves for medicinal purposes — the leaves were ground with salt, mixed with water, and inhaled through the nose to treat congestion.

Many berries we saw were red and white.  The Hawaiians believed pukiawe reduced the mana (power) of ali`i, so ali`i would smoke themselves over burning pukiawe when they wanted to mingle with commoners.

The heart pounding climb up the Dupont Trail took us up barren eroded slopes that narrowed precipitously — not a good place to loose ones footing.  Complicating matters were a loose substrate that made the footing unsure.  As we made our way over several tricky spots clouds began to blow in from the east.

Several dips in the ridge require hikers to drop down about 30-40 feet and then climb back up.  As we scampered down the rocks and then quickly regained the elevation we had lost, clouds began to descend from the summit.

Within a matter of an hour, what started out as a clear day became cloudy and overcast.  It did not take long for the lead group to reach the clouds as they climbed ever higher up the ridge.

After gaining considerable elevation, the ridge became wetter and the vegetation became much more native.  I enjoyed seeing the branches and roots of ohia trees covered with moss.

When we climbed up to several telecom structures on the ridge, the clouds became especially thick.  I was pleased when we finally reached the railing and steps which meant the heart pounding ascent was coming to and end — we were almost at the top.

One of the interesting creatures we saw near the top was a small endemic native snail (Succinea catinella rotundata) no more than three-quarters of an inch long crawling on the backside of leaves.  Known by the endearing nickname — snot in a hat — these snails are quite common on the summit of Mount Kaala.

When we reached the top of Kaala, gusts of wind blew over the summit and thick clouds limited visibility to less than 100 feet.  Since it was wet and cold, we continued onto the boardwalk through the bog to keep moving and generate body heat.  As we made our way along the planks of the boardwalk I admired the hapuu ferns and native plants that thrive at the summit of Kaala.

The boardwalk through the bog is always a delight to visist.  We saw many endemic kanawao which is the native hydrangea (Broussaisia arguta).  The interesting thing about kanawao is that it has two kinds of plants — female and male.  The photo above is a female plant — where only the female parts of the flowers are functional.

Intermixed in the vegetation were male kanawao plants — where only the male parts of the flower are functional.

One of the special things to see at Mount Kaala in May and June are the flowers of endemic koli`i (Trematolobelia macrostachys) which produces sprays of flowers that radiate from the central stalk.  Jane Ebert poses next to a large koli`i specimen in full bloom under a  charming lapalapa tree in the bog.

The flowers of koli`i are about 2 inches long and have 3 irregularly shaped petals that curl backwards.  The flowers open from the back-end of the stalk and work their ways to the tip opening up one-by-one.   While koli`i is not on the list of endangered species it is not common and can only be found on the highest peaks of the Hawaiian islands.

Since it was cold and windy at the summit, we quickly wolfed down our lunches and began the return trip back.  As descended the way we had come we saw a number of wawai`iole, the native club moss along the trail.

The upper sections of the Dupont Trail were muddy and the aerial roots of ohia trees provided much welcomed handholds as we slid down the trail.

After descending under the clouds and making our way down the ridge, I reflected on the great cardiovascular workout we had climbing to the top of Mount Kaala and the native plants and animals we saw found no where else in the world.  What a great place to visit!

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SOURCES

Native Hawaiian Plants, Department of Botany, University of Hawaii

Pukiawe, Hawaiian Ethnobotanical Online Database, Bishop Museum