The guide app, All Trails, rates the hike as “difficult”. This was, for my wife and myself, our third attempt in 20 years to reach a spectacular waterfall on the Kalaulau Trail. However, the guide I believe is referring to the last 9 miles of the 11- mile Na Pali coast trail which requires skill, endurance and an overnight camping pass. The hike to the beach and then, to the falls a mile inland, is a doable 6 miles round trip – in good weather.
With the reservations booked a few months prior, this particular week in January, 2024 turned out to be the wettest and chilliest thus far in Kauai. And while helicopter and coastal boat tours might reschedule in a gale, hiking reservations do not on account of weather. To reach the trailhead, the park rangers run a shuttle bus from a parking area to Ke’e Beach. They did caution us that the last bus returns at 5:40PM, or we risk walking six miles back to the parking area. We were not planning to be gone that long.
Seeing the Hanakapi’a waterfall up close became a bucket-list item for us after our previous attempts. Our first trip 23 years ago was a non-starter after a half-mile as we needed better shoes. On our last trek, in May eleven years ago, rain began falling as we could just see the falls through trees. Local hikers then cautioned us to leave immediately as rain creates a flash flood in the narrow creek separating the trailhead from the falls trail, as well as the remaining two-thirds of the Kalaulau trail. A healthy dose of “not wanting to drown” was prudent advice (historically, there have been fatalities).
Checking out with park rangers at the shuttle pickup, we began the hike on a boardwalk crossing over a taro field, all of which my wife and I did not recall from a decade earlier. Starting up the trail, clouds and mist over the ocean warned us. It was very soon going to get wet. The question we should have considered was for how long?
Fifteen minutes later, the gale moved onshore. I lead the way as we avoided rivulets flowing down and across the trail. We noted one young woman who passed us wore white fluffy boots. Another female hiker was using an umbrella. Once we were all soaked, with rain and mud filling our trail shoes we all just wanted to get to the beach two miles down the trail. Considering how we looked after an hour, I imagine it did not go well for “fluffy” or ”brella”.
Among our companions, one is an avid backpacker, hike and runner. Her husband is devoted to accompanying her on these efforts. Another is a photographer challenging his limits with new things. I think he got few candid shots as we were mostly watching our feet. My spouse and I were content that we were generally leading instead of simply keeping up. With a sore foot that kept her from hiking with us, the photographer’s spouse was probably happiest of all – relaxing in the condo and staying dry.
With each small group of young people who passed us, going or returning, equipped with in raingear and hiking sticks, I was inwardly thinking, what the heck are we doing here?
“The next time we do this …” I told my friend trying to encourage him.
“We won’t”, he retorted, both of us chuckling. None of us had brought raingear nor hiking poles. One took neither snacks nor water.
We passed a single trail marker and (emergency) helicopter landing area at 1.5 miles. Reaching the Hanakapi’a creek a half mile farther downhill, just getting to within sight of the beach, we would have to cross the creek to venture there or another mile inland (one way) to the Hanakapi’a waterfall. And on the other side, the trail branches to continue the more arduous 9 miles of the Kalaulau trail. Several warning signs announce the dangers of swimming at the beach but not that the creek floods during rain. In the downpour, our group opted to take pictures at the creek and go back. Enough was enough.
We learned from a couple catching up to us on the return trek that the rising water very soon afterward prevented a few hikers from getting back across. Prudence dictated they would have to wait for the water to go down. The rain continued for the entire return leg. Four hours of hiking over and back, just as we were telling ourselves the trailhead must be beyond the next turn, we heard a familiar noise. A rooster crowing! We were never so glad to hear that bird, A few dozen yards and we exited the trailhead. I let the rangers know about the hikers on the far side of the creek. Several chickens were keeping dry under a small gazebo. Though these chickens are literally everywhere on the island, it then occurred to me that none had wandered up the trail. In a gale, people were not likely to discard crumbs for them to follow.
Chickens here are opportunists but perhaps not hiking fools.
It's a Dog's Life 