Long Trip Home...

We weren't exactly headed home, but back to normal island life at least.  The "long" part, though - that's accurate.  After waking up before our alarm (You read that right; Drew set an alarm on his phone when we were in the middle of nowhere.) on Tuesday morning we packed up the tent quick, snacked on some trail mix and took one last look at our semi-private beach.  The sun was barely up, but we knew we wanted to get a move on before it started baking us on the sunny sections of the trail.

We barreled up the steep incline out of camp and passed the wooden Kalalau sign.  We covered ourselves in dry red dust (unintentionally) and thanked our lucky stars for three days of continual sun and absolutely no rain.  We hiked, stopped, hiked, stopped, and hiked some more.  And then we came to a mile marker.  Out of nowhere.  I just happened to see it carved into a rock.  It said "9".  I briefly wondered why I hadn't seen it, or any others like it, on the way out to the beach.  I then quickly concluded that my brain had subconsciously shielded me from the painfully slow progress we'd been making that day.  I'm entirely sure that on the way to the beach I'd thought we were at least a mile ahead of where we actually were at every point.  A rude awakening it would have been to see those mile markers then.  On the way home, though, they seemed okay.  I watched for them with renewed energy and ticked off "8", "7" and "6" through the cliffs, the red clay and the valley.

At some point along the way we stopped to allow a few people to pass and to re-apply sunscreen.  While stopped, with a clear view of the ocean below, we heard a thump.  More like a "smack"!  With our eyes on the water we finally spotted him - a whale!  I'd seen a whale jump when I'd been at the beach the day before, but Drew hadn't seen him.  Now, finally, Drew was having his whale moment.  The whale jumped again and cleared the water, landing with a loud "smack" and sending up plumes of water.  We stayed seated, wondering if the show might continue.  And it did.  We were treated not only to the jump, but a round of at least 15 (truth) tail smacks.  You could hear it all the way up the cliff wall, and since we were on a valley wall with rock fins reaching out to the water on either side of  us, the sound actually echoed its way to us. Smack....smack.....smack!  We could even make out his tail.  It was really an incredible moment and we hated to leave just in case he kept going.  Eventually we peeled our eyes away and started walking.  Since I'd nearly walked off the cliff 48 hours earlier, I left the "walk and watch" duties to Drew.

After hiking a little ways and leap frogging a few other hiking couples, we found our eyes opened wide again (Anne Lane, here you go!).  I happened to be hiking in front of Drew.  I was walking aroud a corner, headed slightly uphill, when from around the other side appeared a female hiker.  Naked.  With a backpack.  Beautiful naked woman with a backpack blasting Jack Johnson.  I smiled, nodded and said "Good morning!" (what else do you say?) and then whipped my head around behind me so as not to miss Drew's reaction.  I knew it would be priceless.  He hadn't seen her yet.  I grinned and waited for it.  And then it came - red cheeked and wide-eyed for maybe half an instant.  He recovered quickly and said something, probably "Good morning" like me - because again, what else is there?  Once she had passed us Drew looked at me and simply said, "Was she wearing any shoes?  'Cause if so I should have said nice shoes."  Lord.  Really?  Shoes?   Needless to say neither of us had looked, there.

And though we were tired, the miles continued to roll by without major incident.  We hit the downhill into Hanakapaia Valley and Beach around 1pm and enjoyed a little break by the cairns.  We watched the wild cats, listened to conversations, and answered questions about why were were so sweaty and why our packs were so big.  After 15 minutes or so we decided to head on, across the stream and into what seemed like an infinite uphill.

We'd pretty much finished taking pictures at this point - I was tired, sweaty, and just wanted to be back at the trailhead.  We went uphill steeply along with all those people who had spent the day at Hanakapaia Beach.  We all trudged in unison - kids, elderly couples, parents and crying babies.  We stopped in these two miles more than we'd stopped the whole rest of the way.  We talked to strangers, ran out of water, tried not to get mad at each other every time we came around the corner to another fin of rock ("It has to be the next one, I mean, honsetly.").  At some point the roller coaster ended and it was all downhill.  So steeply downhill and rocky that it hurt.  But then we saw the trailhead sign.  I reached up on my tip toes to kiss Drew, and we made our way across the parking lot to the pay phone to call the cab with the quarters the first driver had given us 48 hours before (no cell service).  Dirty, accomplished, and exhausted - we waited for our ride.  Already, I was falling back in love with it...

Kalalau Beach

Once we landed on Kalalau Beach we snagged the closest camping spot (under a grove of gnarly trees) and set up camp.  Well, no.  The boots came off first.  I set up camp barefoot.  I'm sure no one is surprised.  :)

We were losing light since it was about 5:30 in the evening so we decided to just take it easy and relax on the beach and wait for sunset (beautiful).  We had decided to stick around the following day and then to do the 11 miles back all the following day as opposed to splitting up the trip back.  After all, there was no more hiking after that - just relaxing.  After sunset we went back to the tent, browsed through pictures on the camera, and read a little bit since I don't feel the need to cut out necessities - books - like some ultralight hikers.  The sound of the waves felt as if it was on top of us as we tried to fall asleep. I  woke up at one point convinced the shoreline had moved to just outside our tent.

The next morning we woke up early and groaned collectively at our sore muscles.  We decided that the farthest we would travel the next day was the end of the beach - the Kalalau Falls/Valley were out of our reach.  I suppose that's a reason to go back someday.  Except I'll be kayaking that one with a full complement of cooking supplies.

We stationed ourselves on the beach for the morning - camera, books, and removable cast all in tow.  Drew dug a trench, because men just have to dig.  Imagine us on an adjustable bed with the headrest and footrest raised.  Which bodes well for those who lay on their back (Drew) and not for those who lay on their stomach (Brandy).  We read for a while like that and listened as the few others in the campground woke up and meandered down towards the water.  I pondered the fact that I felt like I was in Jurassic Park the way the fins of rock came right down to the beach. About an hour later I happened to be looking out at the water and saw a stream of spray - a whale blowing water!  :)  They were really close to shore, and stayed there for a bit throwing flippers and clearing their blowholes.  Later that day I would see one, way off to the right of the beach, clear the water in a jump and come crashing down in the waves.

After a while of beaching we went back to camp, ate, and then wandered down towards the other end of the beach.  At one point on the narrow trail we came upon a woman (fully clothed) hightailing it in our direction.  We tried to step out of her way, and instead of whizzing by she handed us a cinnamon roll.  Hot cinnamon roll.  She said something to the effect of, "Fresh from the oven - share!  Bye!" and picked up speed again headed towards the beach.  Drew and I sort of looked at each other, briefly contemplated wether to eat it or not, and then dug in.  And it was amazing...and we incurred no side effects.  :)  I can only imagine they had come directly from a little stone oven she'd built at her site to produce homemade baked goods. 

We found out on our way back to the other end of the beach that it had been a pizza extravaganza the night before produced by the same stone oven.  And wouldn't you know, I looked down at the trail and discovered a cherry tomato.  The more I looked, the more I saw.  I guess this is how they were creating their famous barter-worthy pizza sauce.

We stayed up for another beautiful sunset, made a water run in the waning light and ran across a whole herd of wild goats (they were amazing, and so loud, reaffirmed the whole Jurassic Park feeling, and didn't remotely care that we were there), and then made our way back to the tent.  Knowing it would be an early morning, we tried to get what sleep we could to the sound of the surf lapping at our tent (okay, not really, but it sounded like it).

Kalalau Trail Day 1, cont. :)

I was only able to fit the first two miles into my last post.  Whhiiiiich, means I'm wordy.  Sorry about that.  I'll try to wrap up Day 1 on the trail with this post.  :)

We relaxed at the beach on the rocks at Hanakapiai and watched others build cairns and get spooked by the wild cats (they looked like house cats and appeared to be well fed), and slather on sunscreen a few hours too late.  (That's one thing I did well on this trip - apply sunscreen).  After a few minutes and a few short conversations with people about where we were headed and how far it was we packed up and found the next part of the trail back behind a grove of trees.  And headed up.  And up.  And up.  Past a girl coming down in just her bikini, flip flops and a heavy pack.  And still up.  I didn't realize how much "down" we'd just done to get to Hanakapiai Beach until I had to climb it again on the other side of the valley.  That would be the story of our next 9 miles, honestly.  Roller coaster, my butt.  Now I remember why I don't really like roller coasters.  I make it sound like I hated it, and at times I did, but as with all great trails I fell right back in love with it once we were done for the day.  So let's get there...

There was simply a lot of hiking going on.  I can't even lie.  I am normally a 9 miler, and something about double digit day hikes always gets me (Don't worry Jason, I'll be cool with the 10 for Mt. Saint Helen's).  In between the ups and downs, the ocean views and the palm and flowers are the things that will define our hike.  The milestones (funny story for the Day 3 post - I missed almost every single mile post on the way out on the hike, and found almost all of them on the way back on Day 3.  Weird, but I have a theory...) and memories for me are:

Walking Off The Trail 
I literally walked off the trail three times over the next 9 miles.  Keep in mind that this trail was about 18 inches wide in most places, and almost always flanked on one side by a steep downhill tumble.  My right foot just apparently wanted to be placed a little too far right.  I don't even know how it kept happening. I would step left and then step right and do a nice one legged lunge as my right foot just slipped down the incline.  I always recovered well considering I had a pack on my back, but I guess that wasn't the point.  :)

The first time, Drew was right behind me.  I think he almost lost his lunch, and then he sort of yelled (more out of fear than anything else).  I think it was something like, "%$^*&, be careful!  I really don't feel like losing my wife today!"  Or maybe that was after the second time I did it.  The third time, I think he was around the corner already ahead of me and didn't see.  Probably a good thing. 

Hanakoa Valley
Our halfway point in the hike, Hanakoa Valley, was really beautiful.  We didn't get to hike back to the falls that give the valley it's name, but I can just imagine it.  We were having really wonderful weather (April is known to be the end of the rainy season and we were prepared for downpour) so the bugs were elsewhere, the shade was much needed, and I think my eyes got their fill of green to get me through a few Denver winters.

Mile 7
We continued through Hanakoa Valley, though we saw a number of people camping and lounging.  We wanted to end our day all the way out at Kalalau Beach.  We did talk to several hikers who split up the trail each way, and even considered doing so on the way back to the trailhead (depending on how we felt when we woke up the next morning at Kalalau).  A mile later we came to the dreaded Mile 7, where not much stands between you and a long drop to the ocean.  We'd been told that this was "not the place to be clumsy" and I can see why.  A trail sign noted "Hazardous Cliffs" and while it was definitely skinny, I think the most hazardous part was the gravelly trail.  It made it hard to get purchase when the trail tilted down off the side of the cliff.  I will forever thank the weather for giving us sun, though, as it would have been 10x worse in a typical rainy season drizzle/downpour.

Drew started down first, and turned a corner around a boulder.  I heard him talking with a fellow hiker headed the other way and then in a split second I was down on my knees on the trail, hanging on to a tree root growing out of the wall on my right.  Key word here being "on the trail."  I fell on the trail this time, and was hugging a tree root.  Geeze.  I shook my head, refused to look down at my knee since I already knew it was shredded, and picked myself up just in time to greet the oncoming hiker Drew had been talking to.  He took one look at me, smiled, and just said "You're doing awesome."  Maybe I looked like I needed a little confidence heading into the real cliffs a hundred yards ahead.

The Putting Green
At some point on the trail, maybe Mile 8, we were cresting a little uphill and Drew was trying to encourage me (uphill = my kryptonite).  I said something snarky like "I am by no means doing awesome so that "atta-girl" is way off the mark!" when a way-too-cheery hiker bopping along to his radio topped the uphill from the other side.  He definitely heard my remark (I think he was laughing at me) and told us that when we hit the top of the incline we'd see "The Putting Green" in the distance - a little patch of green field right before the drop onto Kalalau Beach.  And when we got to the top, it was right there.  And "right there" was still so far away.  We would chase that view for the next 3 miles before finally getting to the putting green, what we were told later was an ancient Hawaiian ritual ground.  I don't have pictures of the putting green, but Drew's got some GoPro action as soon as I can figure out how to upload it to the blog...

The Kalalau Trail - Day 1

After a night at the Aston Islander we headed, a little reluctant to leave and definitely a little nervous, to the northern side of the island.  We dropped our car and luggage off for storage at Kayak Kauai and called a cab to take us to the trailhead.  We snacked on trail mix and tried to make small talk with the Kayak Kauai guy.  We were filled in on all the little tricks of the trail, including what to barter with, and for.  With = Chocolate.  For = Pizza Sauce.  Really?  Now what am I going to do with pizza sauce on the trail? 

So if you haven't heard much about the Kalalau Trail (most haven't) it's known for attracting free spirits.  And not the "Drew and Brandy" kind of free-spirit (we're rather tame, I think).  I'm talking "I might wear clothes, if I want to" and "I might just live off the land, if I want to" kind of folks.  So while anyone planning to hike past the two mile point technically needs a permit (we're rule followers, do you even need to ask if we had one?) let's just agree that a lot of people seem to just gloss over those formalities and lean more towards living on the trail for week or months at a time, permit-less.  We were prepared, and even if our Kayak Kauai guy looked at us with some skepticism, we retained an outward appearance of confidence. 

Once our taxi had deposited us at the trailhead, we gathered all the gumption known to man (we'd soon find it was barely enough) and headed out.  Months previous, I had researched the trail.  And then I got scared.  So I just adopted a "It'll be like a roller coaster" mentality.  Apparently roller coasters equate to "even with all the up, I'll have the down to recover" in my mind.  Wrong. So wrong.  I'd "ostrichsized" it as my coworker likes to say - buried my head in the sand.  Not that I hadn't trained.  I'd worked my butt off for several months.  But if we're being honest with each other, it was the kind of training that makes you look good for swim suit season (which is important, in Hawaii).  I'd avoided the longer runs, and the uphill ones - those meant for stamina, and endurance.  The kind that keep you from yelling at the trail several months later.

We churned straight uphill through mile 1 and most of mile 2 and looking back, I should be quite impressed.  What it really was, though, was quite insane.  Surrounded by people who are only headed to the tourist attraction two miles in to the hike (where they would lounge for a bit and then turn around), I felt the need to keep up.  Even though I had 9 more miles after, and 25 more pounds on my back.  But we killed it, really.  Once we started heading down into the little valley and towards Hanakapiai Beach, the most dangerous beach on the island (the sign says 82 drownings since they started keeping track), it was still mid-morning.  We'd gotten a later start than we wanted to, but were making up time with our pace.  We also were starting to get those "Oooohhh, how far are you going?" and "Why do you want to do that?" comments.  And just like in Yosemite, I ambled down the last part of the trail in step with a family and to a litany of kid questions about my pack, my food, where I sleep, how I brush my teeth, and how I don't fall.  Which are really my favorite questions of them all since they're such a mystery to me, too.  :)

Honolulu, Waikiki, and Lihue

We took off from Denver around 5am, which meant we were already feeling that "sort of hung over" feeling that comes with an early morning wake up call, but without the fun night of drinks before hand. I had been given a copy of the first Harry Potter book for an early birthday present by a coworker who couldn't believe I'd never jumped on the bandwagon. I knocked that out between Denver and Phoenix. Two hours into the Phoenix to Honolulu jaunt I'd finished another book. I'm a speed demon like that. And then I fell asleep in that wonderful position I wiggle into while on a plane, head first on the beverage tray so that I'm literally folded in half - because it always feels so awesome afterwards (not).

Thanks to time changes, we landed in Honolulu around 3pm with plenty of time to catch a bus, drop off our bags at our hotel, and head to the beach. Knowing that we were leaving in the morning for our next island we decided to see what we could - walked the beach all the way down the Waikiki area, found fresh seafood for dinner, and even got suckered into buying a lei. I broke my feet in for sandal season (who am I kidding, I've been wearing flip flops since February).  We came back to the room around 8, watched the fireworks over the water (via a reflection from the neighboring hotel's windows since we didn't have a straight line of sight to the beach) and called it a night. In reality it was about 2am Denver time, so we were exhausted.

We woke up easily the next morning thanks to still being on Denver time, and headed right back to the airport for our inter-island flight to Lihue, Kauai.  Next time I think we'll just fly directly to Lihue (or maybe Maui) from the continental US.  I mean, Waikiki was fun, but it was too touristy for us.  Unless we're meeting friends there in the future (ahem, Brent and Kelsey we've gotta make this happen!) I think we skip the extra step.

Kauai, now, is a different story.  It's chickens, and farming, and wide open views, and not a high-rise in site.  Pure, old, Hawaii.  Sugarcane and coffee, herbs and spices growing roadside.  And by road, I mean the only real road on the island.  :)  Our inter-island flight only took about 30 minutes, and after landing we casually walked through the itty-bitty airport to our rental car spot (where they gave Drew a red Mustang...)  Apparently that screams "tourist" just a little less loudly than, you guessed it, a Jeep Wrangler. 
 
We made our way to the Aston Islander on the Beach for our one-night-stay before heading out on the trail.  We chatted up the very talkative staff member at the desk, stocked up on trail supplies at the local Walmart (yes, sigh, they had a Walmart), grabbed lunch at a little fish market next door (so good, we'd come back later in our trip for seconds) and then put on our suits.  We chalked the rest of the day up to the beach, knowing that the next day brought with it a serious adventure on the trail.  I wish I could say I had birthday cake that night - but I settled for a fish burger, fries, and an ice cream cone.  And by all that I mean I really didn't have to "settle", since it was amazing.