02 May Vacation on Kaua’i Day 3 – Backpacking Kalalau Day 1

Saturday April 10

We both woke up before the 5:45 alarm, buzzing with energy: the day had arrived and we were FINALLY GOING TO KALALAU. The sunrise over the ocean at Hā’ena Beach was calming as we got dressed and rearranged the car after sleeping in it for the first time.

By 6:30 we were headed up the road to the park. A fantastic Hawaiian woman with a lei crown in her hair greeted us and took down our permit and overnight parking information. She told us how excited she was for us and blessed our journey. Already we knew this was gonna be a great trip.

We ate some quick breakfast in the parking lot as the final items were packed and loaded. Camera, the last of the boiled eggs from the cooler, the car keys… and we were finally on our way to the trailhead, about .25 mile away at Ke’e beach. We walked this portion with a fellow backpacker named Danny and made introductions and small talk on the way. After a stop at the bathroom near the trailhead, we got our photo taken quickly at the entrance sign, and we were off at 8am.

The first two miles of the trail were familiar from our hike to Hanakapi’ai falls in February. Still, after the steep initial climb, the views the second time around looking back to Ke’e Beach and ahead to the Nā’pali Coast were just as incredible as we remembered.

We made it to Hanakapi’ai beach in an hour, and felt impressed with our time carrying 35 lb packs. It was around this time that our goals for the day’s distance began to shift. At no point had we ever thought we’d aim to do all 11 miles in one day, since there was a campground 6 miles in. But earlier that morning, I’d heard Aaron casually mention to our new backpacking friend Danny, that “maybe we’d do it all in one push.” So after the first two miles went so well, with our packs feeling good and the perfect, blue sky weather, the idea of finishing all of the journey in one day felt doable.

We had a 15 min break at Hanakapi’ai for changing footwear (keens are necessary for crossing the river there) and to eat a snack. We pushed on and up, climbing out of the valley, back up to 750’ along the coastal edge. The trail was super muddy, slowing our pace, but after several switchbacks climbing up the sidewalls of the Hanakapi’ai valley, eventually the muddy trail opened up to some perfect ocean views as we rounded another ridge into yet another valley. This time we didn’t descend very far, and as we hiked the inner side of the valley, the trail wound just below a 100 ft sheer cliff wall, dripping with fresh water off the black and mossy rock. This would be the variation on the trail throughout the hike: Ascend up the far side of a valley, round an oceanside ridge or cliff hundreds of feet high, then descend into the next valley and cross at least 1 stream or river. Repeat, repeat, repeat…

 

Even though the trail’s basic profile was predictable, each bend seemed to bring a new spectacular view of either the mountains behind us, the new, steeper mountains in front of us, and the brilliant blue ocean down to the turquoise shallows meeting the sharp drop off hundreds of feet below. And a the vegetation was wildly varied! From the initial jungle, tropical-plant thickness of the first two miles, where giant photos vines cover the tree trunks and the trail is lined with ti’ plants.. to forests of “swamp mahogany” eucalyptus trees with fern carpets on the steep slopes. Each river valley was as mystical — many of them full of lime green moss covered boulders as they cascaded downward.

Eventually, another two hours had passed and we hadn’t made it to the six mile mark / possible campground, Hanakoa. So, hungry and needing a break, we stopped for a water filtering & refill while we ate lunch at a large tumbling river. We downed half a freezer ziplock bag full of couscous salad while I cooled my hiking feet in the cold river. After a leisurely hour, we set off again, and reached Hanakoa after another half hour on the trail. We blazed through the rest point without question of whether we were still debating the topic of camping there for the night. The campground wasn’t at the beach like we expected, but further up the valley, tucked into the thick mosquito-rich forest. The tent pads were close together and limited, maybe able to house about 5-6 tents, or more if they were small single / two man tents. There were already some campers set up there, and we felt good about carrying on under a clear blue sky with at least 4-5 hours remaining of daylight. It was just after Hanakoa that Aaron bent over as he was crossing a stream, and his sunglasses fell right off his person and plunked into the river – rushing downstream before we could even think about grabbing them. OOPS! Thankfully Aaron still had his safari hat to protect his eyes from the sun.

 

The scenery and conditions of the trail up to that point had been both beautiful and as expected, with lots of narrow trail sections along a several-hundred-foot-drop, but mostly with thick vegetation or trees softening the dizzying heights. One section of the trail had us passing between giant furcraea so large we felt like we were on another planet! Furcraea are related to agave and look similar, and are often planted on hillsides to help with erosion control.

After the 7 mile mark, the conditions changed drastically. As we climbed out of the thick inner valley forest of Hanakoa, we found ourselves at the top of an open, sparsely-grassed dirt hillside, looking over our pencil-thin path zigzagging down its impossibly steep slope. Small herds of goats bleated and our jaws dropped as we took in the scene and slowly, carefully made our way down the trail.

The excitement continued as we eyed the trail snaking around a rocky, barren ledge and out of view – famously named Crawler’s Ledge. We made our way carefully – and without crawling – around this next outcropping without issue and felt more confident, the months of warnings about this dangerous trail far from mind.

We were captivated by the drama of the trail and pressed happily on around higher, more exposed, narrower ledges. While there a couple places (spots smaller than 18″) where the trail had washed out and that you had to carefully avoid, but no where on the hike in did either of us feel nervous or panicky about the state of our forward march into the afternoon sun. Cliff after cliff, valley and coast, valley and coast.

We kept trading places with our trail buddy, Danny, and after the 3rd time running into him, shortly after we had all finished Crawler’s Ledge – he beamed at us and said “You guys are like a good omen!” We laughed and admitted we’d been taking photos of each other on the distant trail sections and happily agreed to swap after the trip was over.

The sun sank lower and our enthusiasm for the “journey” portion of the trip was waning along with our energy, now reaching about 9 hours on the trail. But the mountains that kept coming closer and more fully into view were so enticing… looking more and more like the iconic jagged peaks we’d seen in so many photos.

Finally, we reached a coastal lookout with a giant Kalalau Valley sign, announcing our arrival into the region. We were giddy with recognition of the most massive valley we’d seen yet, and felt relief of having “reached” our destination with still daylight to spare.

However, like so many trails, the mileage and description weren’t exactly matching with our experience. That first sign for the valley, was of course at the eastern edge, and our descent into and across the valley, to the permitted camping area on Kalalau beach, was another 1-1.5 miles and another hour of tedious, fatigued-muscle steep-stepping, including crossing Kalalau River which was deep and required a final footwear change. Exhausted, hiking in darkening woods, the campground was STILL another .5 mile down the trail.

With about 30 min until sunset to spare, we saw the first of many permit-camping areas, and had a clear view of the beach ahead, dotted with about 30 people watching the sunset. We past the double vault-toilet building, and chose a camping area just past that, far enough to avoid the smell, but still close enough for a quick walk in the dark to be easy and not as disorienting. The first several camping areas were separated from the rocky ocean shore by the trail, nestled under short, thick canopied trees with a soft dirt ground. Lava-rock beach boulders were strategically positioned into campfire rings, tables and chairs forming pre-made natural campsites. We picked one out among the dozens of empty spaces — quickly realizing everyone there was likely camped closer to the beach. We dropped our packs, set up our tent quickly, then grabbed our 10L dromedary bag to fill at the beach waterfall. We walked to the waterfall on the beach as the sun set, and made it back to camp just in time to still see our tent without headlamps, which we hadn’t thought to bring with.

The rest of the night sped by as we finished our camp set up, and made a fast and filling dinner: two ramen packets with some beef tender strips and a hardboiled egg. We felt immense relief and pride that we hiked the “11” miles and 3000 ft of elevation gain in one day, carrying full packs. (My phone gave a reading of 12.5 miles). We’d basically just earned an extra day, camped at the valley to do with as we pleased. We had probably the most enjoyable 10 hours hiking that could have possibly existed! We celebrated briefly as exhaustion took over quickly and we fell fast asleep to the sound of the pounding ocean just 35 yards away.