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The Hawaiian Trail & Mountain Club Newsletter January - March 2003 |
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The Hawaiian Trail & Mountain Club Newsletter January - March 2003 |
A reminder : Don't forget that the dues have increase and to send in your 2003 dues to PO Box 2238, Honolulu, HI 96804. Single member - $20.00; Family member - $30.00Membership committee
HTMC FINDS BODY OF MISSING HIKER Editor
Once again, an HTMC search party has found a missing hiker after police and fire rescue teams had been unable to do so.
Although the search did not end as successfully as when the club found two missing Danish women in Kahana Valley two years ago, finding the body of the victim allowed closure to his family, who would otherwise have been tormented with doubts about his fate.
Firefighters and police searched the area for three days, but were unable to find Robert C. Rubin, who had been reported missing by his family on October 24, after he failed to appear at a pre-arranged meeting place in the Tantalus area. Members of HTMC, organized by Mabel Kekina, took over the search at 8 a.m. Sunday, and at 3 p.m. Mike Algiers discovered the body of a man on an offshoot trail about a mile and a half in from the Pauoa Flats trailhead.
The body, later identified as Rubin, was lying under a thick canopy of trees and in heavy brush. Other members of the HTMC search party cleared some of the overgrowth so the area was visible from the air, and called in a fire department helicopter, which removed the body.
Fire Department Kenison Tejada thanked the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club for its assistance. "Those guys are pretty amazing," he later told a newspaper reporter. "They are a great help - a great resource for police and the fire department."
Congratulations to all who participated for another great job!
Three first-hand accounts of the search are given below.
SEARCH EFFORTS Steve Rohmayr
Today the trail maintenance for Manana was called off to help look for a missing person in the Makiki-Tantalus area. At 8 a.m. we gathered at the usual spot on Tantalus Drive and Mable broke us up into groups, each to search a different area. Because of this I can only report on my groups activities. We were led by Tom Yoza and started walking along the Kalawahine Trail as did everyone else.
We got to an old trail used by the club that went down into Pauoa Valley. It is not marked, and if you don't know it's there you probably would walk right past it. There is a large downed branch that once blocked the trail that is now laying flat on the ground. As we (Brandon, Grant, Ralph, Gordon, and myself) descended the ridge, we were looking for signs that someone had used the trail. In the beginning it looked like someone or something had been on the trail and after carefully examining the side trails (ie; pig trails) we decided that only us and pigs had been on the trail in a long time. Near the bottom we found a blue T shirt draped over a guava branch and also an old Timex watch that was not working. It, too, was draped over a branch. At the bottom of the gulch all we found were macadamia nuts and lots of pig diggings and tracks.
We crossed the stream and continued up a trail on the other side of the stream. The trail was nice and clear and well marked with ribbons of pink and red. We almost ran into John's team which had descended into the same gulch but on a different trail. They were a few minutes ahead of us and turned off to check out a dry waterfall and a trail leading away from it. Tom's group continued on the main trail and soon we were on the Kalawahine Trail again. There we meet two nice ladies who offered and we accepted three cooked sweet potatos. They continued on toward the lookout and we tried to decide what to do. Brandon had something to do later so he took off back to the trail head. Soon Brenda came from the Pauoa Flats area and joined us. We decided to look along the Manoa Cliffs Trail.
So up we went, keeping our eyes peeled for signs. We found none, and at the junction of the Manoa Cliffs Trail and the Pauoa Flats Trail we heard that Carol was having trouble finding the Kalawahine Trail after searching below the trail. Gordon and Brenda went down the Pauoa Flats trail to help her. The rest of us continued up the Manoa Cliffs Trail. At the junction with the Pu`u Ohia Trail, Ralph and Grant split from us, taking the Pu`u Ohia Trail while Tom and I continued onthe MCT. We saw no signs of any one wandering off the trail, but did meet a lot of hikers coming up the MCT as we went down. The views of Manoa Valley were beautiful. I wish I had taken my camera. We could see all the ridges that el Wingo has been exploring for the past few weeks. Now that he has "named"the ridges I really wish I had the camera. We reached Tantalus Drive at 12:40 where we ate a late lunch. At 1 p.m. we took off down the Moleka Trail and later connected with the Makiki Valley Trail which connected to the Nahuina Trail which led us back to Tantalus Drive just a hundred yards above the parking place where we left our cars at 8 a.m. this morning. Waiting for us were most of the searchers. It was about 2:20 when we arrived. I believe it was about 3:30 when only Mike and Kenji were still out that Mike called on the radio to say he spotted a body down a steep cliff. Mabel called the detective working the case. He called the fire department and they sent out a rescue team, and with the help of Mike and Kenji on the ground and a helicopter, the body was recovered before dark.
MIKE IS THE MAN! Thomas Yoza
Several other searchers came to the same spot that Mike did and looked over the cliff. Seeing nothing unusual directly below the edge, they moved on. There was an empty Dasani water bottle at the top of the cliff so Mike decided to venture down and check things out. The precipice is about 100 feet vertically, and extends in a bowl shape for several hundred yards in either direction. Over on the left, near the Aihualama trail, is a small ridge with bamboo trees for handholds that can be descended safely, then you can move laterally at the base of the cliff.
The body was approximately 40 feet away from the base and laying on it's back, with one leg slightly askew. Later, Jason and I were the only other hikers to climb down to the body, and we each thought that it wasn't possible for someone to fall off that cliff and land where he did.
The tree canopy was pretty thick in that area and Mabel requested that we chop some trees down. On it's first pass the helicopter couldn't spot Jason and me under all that vegetation and so it left. I began sawing away at the trees while Jason was trying to get their attention with a LED flashlight and waving a red jacket. After I butchered a number of non-native trees in the area, they spotted us and sent down a fire rescue man. We could hear the chopper's blade hitting some tree branches in the process. All the while, Mike, Jay, and Kenji were watching from the cliff above. They had to make several trips to get more rescue people down to the scene, but Jason and I took off after the first fireman said we could go. All in all, a very good day's work, and Mike is da Man!
[Finally, here is a report by Mike Algiers, whose unwillingness to give up without one last effort resulted in finding the missing hiker.]
On Sunday 27 October, Mabel Kekina's trail clearing crew set aside their tools and their normal trail maintenance duties, and became a thirty-member search team. The mission was to assist in locating a missing hiker in the Tantalus area. The hiker had been missing since Thursday, and previous searches by the police and family members had been unproductive, so they had called upon Mabel for help. She, in turn, called upon her trail clearers.
To ensure efficiency and maximum coverage of the search area, the thirty members were divided into smaller teams, and each team was assigned a specific area to cover. Although each of the teams searched enthusiastically and thoroughly, by 3 PM they had all come up empty, and they began heading back to their cars at the trailhead. My team, led by Ken Suzuki, was no exception, and was headed back as well. I too was about to call it a day, but wanted to check one final spot before giving up--the steep cliffs on the east side of Pauoa Flats (Manoa Valley side).
I looked over the edge of these cliffs at several spots, but was unable to see much of the area at the bottom, so I climbed down for a better look. The cliffs are vertical and nearly unscalable, so I took the precaution of traversing far to the side, where they were less steep, and I was able to descend safely. I then worked my way back along the base of the cliff. I had reached the the furthest end without discovering anything more exciting than old bottles and debris, when I was startled to see someone lying amongst the rocks. At first it was hard to believe that it wasn't just someone taking a rest, whom I shouldn't disturb. But as I approached more closely, it was obvious that this was our missing hiker, and that he wasn't merely resting, but that he had come to a tragic and final end.
I sat there with him for a short while, looking for signs of life, but there were none. I activated my walkie-talkie in an attempt to contact Mabel and the rest of the crew, but no life in my radio either. I was out of range and shielded by the cliff behind me. So,I said a few parting words to the hiker, (Richard), wishing him peace and rest, marked the spot with trail ribbon, and began a climb back to the top of the cliff. At the top. I was still unable to make radio contact, so I began retracing my way back along the Kalawahine trail, attempting radio contact constantly.
I had gone about a quarter of the way back before I got a reply from Ken Suzuki, who was atop the ridge to my left, followed shortly thereafter by contact with other club members back at the trailhead. I informed them of my discovery, and asked for assistance. Then, knowing that reinforcement were on the way, I returned to Pauoa Flats to await them. Ken, being the closest, was the first to arrive. We conferred, and thought that the rescue helicopter would need an open space to land or lower help, so the two of us proceeded to the Nu`uanu Lookout, which seemed like the logical spot to await them. We were soon joined there by Jay Feldman. Ken, using his cell phone, made contact with Fire-Rescue, while unbeknownst to us, Mabel was also in contact with them, and she was directing them straight to the cliff area. By this time, Thomas Yoza and Jason Sunada had reached Pauoa Flats, and descended the cliff to the hikers's resting spot, just as the helicopter arrived on scene. Hearing the helicopter circling over them, they began signaling vigorously to attract the attention of the pilot and crew. Meanwhile, Ken, Jay and I realized that the helicopter was hovering over the cliffs, rather than coming to our location, so we re-traced our way back to the top of the cliff, and joined in the attempt to signal them, which was finally successful. At this point Thomas and Jason began sawing down trees to open a window in the overstory, to aid the rescue team, and the firemen soon rappelled directly down to them (very impressive). These rappellers were very appreciative of the tree-clearing efforts.
With the arrival of these official rescurers to take charge, retrieve the body, and wrap things up, those of us from the HTMC left it in their hands, and we departed, to hike back out along the trail to the parking lot. At the trailhead we were met by comrades, Police investigators, coroner's deputies and a TV news crew!
Although we were tired, and saddened by the loss of life, we were gratified to have been of assistance in this search, and to have brought comfort to the relatives and friends of the missing victim. We also learned some valuable lessons, foremost of which were the importance of search coordination, and the importance of radio communucations to stay in touch with one another. We hope not to be called upon to perform this sort of grim service again any time soon, but if we are, we now have confidence that HTMC can be a valuable and effective resource in such situations.
DUES ARE DUE!!!!!!
All members are reminded that dues for 2003 are now due and payable. If you have not done so, please send in your dues promptly.
HTMC RUNNER SETS TWO WORLD RECORDS
Richard McMahonHow many of you are aware that our club has a member who is 100 years old? Not only that, but Erwin Jaskulski, an amazingly spry senior citizen, holds three world records in the 100- and 200-meter dashes in the category for ages 95 to 99.
But Erwin Jaskulski is the not the type to rest on his gold medals. On November 16th, 2002, he set a new world record in the 100-meter dash--43 seconds--which beat the previous record by six full seconds. He then set a second world record by running the 200-meter dash in 2 minutes and 7.85 seconds. Mark Zeug, president of the Hawai`i Senior Olympics, announced that this was the first time a 100-year old person had ever run a 200-meter dash in competition.
And these are not Erwin's only claims to fame. He is probably the unacknowledged originator of the practice of using using two skipole-type sticks while hiking, anticipating the popular fashion by at least 40 years. His regular appearances on club hikes in the sixties and seventies earned him the nickname of "Ski Poles," and made him a legend in the hiking community.
What's next for this 100-year old record setter? According to a friend, he is in training for the 400-meter dash. Since no one his age has ever entered the event, all he needs to do to win is to walk around the track. But, based on his past record, Erwin Jaskulski will want to do more than that.
Go get 'em Ski Poles!
OLYMPUS FROM THE WINDWARD SIDE
Dayle TurnerWing Ng told me about HTMC members of yore who used to descend to the windward side from Mount Olympus as a daredevil initiation ritual. More recently, some daredevil wannabes have tried to climb to Olympus (aka Awa'awaloa) from Maunawili by two different routes, only to be stymied by steep, dangerous conditions.
On Saturday 10/26/02, Ed Gilman and I try a third route, and after a taxing, and at times nerve-testing seven-hour effort, we achieve the goal. We drive in my car to the Maunawili Falls starting point on Kelewina Street and shove off at just past 8 a.m. under partly cloudy skies. With just a tad of dampness underfoot, Ed and I hike up past the junction with the falls trail, and onward up the connector trail that eventually merges with the Demonstration Trail. At that point, we head left (east) on the demo trail to get to the base of our target ridge. We see the object of our attention at various points on the way. It looks challenging, even menacing, but we will give it a shot.
We arrive at the start of our target ridge after a 1.5 hour hike from Kelewina Street. We don't mark the spot; we just plow up, mostly through fiddlewood and uluhe. We both are wearing long pants. In hindsight, I wish I had worn a long-sleeved shirt, for my forearms and elbows end up scratched up quite extensively from hours of fending off and pushing aside thick vegetation. We keep climbing and I notice, to my disappointment, that my altimeter watch is giving bogus elevation readings. That is, it says we are at 100 feet when the map says we should be 1000 feet higher. Chagrined, I hope it corrects itself and later, thankfully, it does. As we climb, we have a great vantage point to look to our right to see the ridge we tried on our last attempt and in particular the rock face that turned us back. The face looks crazy. Insane. Why did we even attempt that? I snap a couple pics of it. Today's ridge is much saner, at least until we reach the 1600-foot level. At that point, my altimeter watch kicks in and starts giving more believable readings. Glad for that. Not glad that we have reached a vertical wall that will not allow us to continue straight up climbing due to impossible steepness. Ed suggests a rightward slab, and we move along cautiously, progressing slowly, machetes swinging, a thick patch of clidemia and vegetation shielding us from a steep dropoff below it.
After about 100 feet, our slabbing becomes more precarious when the patch of protective vegetation thins. Ed is in the lead during the slab, and after weighing the situation (vertical exposure below with not much of hand- and foot-holds to work with) and a nasty possible consequence (falling a long way), he decides to retreat. I support his decision without question. We backtrack, regroup, then try a straight up ascent, only to be stifled by the steepness and lack of good holds. We retreat again, bummed. At that point, heading back down and calling it a day is a possibility. However, we talk about setting up a belay on Ed and having him try the rightward slabbing move one more time, this time with protection. Ed says okay to this and we proceed with the set-up.
The belay, anchored to a sturdy ohia, is established and with it, Ed moves across the exposed position with confidence, making it look easy. Okay, my turn. Ed ties off his end of the 50 to 60 foot strap, and with my end tied off, there is now an aid in place for me to make my way across. I make my move and as I near the far end, a foothold I am on gives way, and I go sliding down the exposed section but am saved, thankfully, by the strap and the grace of God. God is with me, as is the strap, and I hold on, say a quick prayer, and am able to swing myself up to the strong roots and branches of an ohia. From there I am able to climb to safety. Whew. Close call. Amen.
Having completed the slab, we now have positioned ourselves in a good place to continue climbing. We have a distinct ridge to work with again, albeit a thickly overgrown one, predominantly with i'e i'e. On this day, I do not curse the vegetation. Why? It helps to protect us. Without it, we are stripped of the cover we need from steep drop-offs. Without it, we have no hand- and footholds to pull ourselves up. Without it, we would not have completed the climb. As we do all day, Ed and I rotate into the lead position to conserve energy and sanity. Whoever is in front has to expend more firepower to fight through tangles of i'e i'e and clidemia and other kinds of thick flora. This isn't to say the second guy has an easy time. Far from it. It's just that the front guy has to battle harder because there is no swath to work with. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. So swapping the lead is the way to go. As always, Ed does his share with nary a complaint. Hats off to him. An excellent hiking colleague. The going is painfully slow, so much so that after the slab & belay point, we only gain a couple hundred vertical feet over the course of 1.5 hours. As 1:00 pm nears, we are still battling vegetation, but thankfully, the angle of ascent lessens and we hunker down at a fairly level spot on the ridge for lunch. My altimeter watch says we are at 1800 feet, still about 600 vertical feet from the summit crest. As we eat lunch, it's easy to see that we both are angsted. We don't talk much and I don't feel like eating much, the latter being very unusual for me. I suppose we are not our chipper selves because we know we still have the unknown ahead of us. We can see that more severely steep climbing lies ahead, and there is the chance we will be stopped by the steepness and will have to retreat. The map shows this is possible. So does the view ahead. We are nervous. Again, I say a prayer.
After lunch, after about ten minutes of climbing, we finally break free of the vegetation to gain a vantage point with an unobstructed view of the final ascent to the summit. It looks daunting: a huge wall, with no apparent ridge, that is steep 80% of the way and super-steep in the final 20%. Can we climb this? Should we even try? Or should we just toss in the towel and head back down? We know that sometimes what appears horrid turns out to be not so bad once we are up close and face to face with it, so we mush ahead, hopeful that what we see from a distance will turn out to be not bad at all once we are on it.
Luck and God are with us today. The steep wall we face is indeed steep, but the climbing is doable because the vegetation--clidemia by and large--is so thick. The dense thicket we climb up through is like a womb to protect us, not only from the drops but also from views of the drops. Enveloped in the clidemia, we plow upward like babes in the arms of our mothers and make good progress. As we climb ever upward, we can see that we will eventually have to slab to the left or right because straight up climbing will become impossibly steep.
Within 100 feet of the top, we choose a leftward slab because a shelf is visible there. This shelf pans out well for us, and we follow a good line that moves us leftward and gradually upward toward our goal, the summit. As we are slabbing, we catch a view of the ridge top, a tantalizing twenty feet above us. Overjoyed, we climb toward it, passing a couple of healthy lobelia growing on the steep mountainside. I think of Ken Suzuki and make a mental note to make mention of this sighting. We get close to the ridge top only to be thwarted by near vertical steepness and a lack of reliable holds in the final ten feet. It seems that the thick vegetation we have relied on all the way has turned fickle right at the top. Ed tries to climb the final couple meters but within an excruciating few feet of the top, he decides not to chance it due to very bad foot- and handholds. I see Ed voice frustration for the first time ever. We retreat and regroup.
We sit for a while to gather ourselves and ponder our next move. I have fleeting thoughts that we will be denied so close to the top and will have to head back down. Ed, meanwhile, suggests continuing to slab to the left to try to hit the ridge at a lower point. I agree hesitantly, because continued slabbing to the left means increased exposure to dropoffs.
Ed leads and contours gingerly on a thin shelf with not much stable nor strong vegetation to work with. Based on a suggestion by Ed, I slab on a line about ten feet lower. After some nervous moments (mostly for me), Ed completes a nifty move to get to a secure position; then he climbs up a small chute to gain the summit!! A minute later, I complete my slab then wiggle and claw my way up the chute and I too am at the top. It is just past 3:00. The climb, which a map review says is less than half a mile, has taken us 5.5 hours!
We shake hands and congratulate each other for completing the climb and for not injuring ourselves (or worse) while doing so. So ends a tough grinder of a hike with two dangerous spots. Glad to have completed this. I had a good partner in Ed.
KO`OLAU SUMMIT TRAIL HISTORY - PART 9
[This article is a continuation of Stuart Ball's series on the history of the Ko`olau Summit Trail.]
Summit Trail Hiking (1946-59)
After the war, the Division of Forestry, now under William Crosby, quickly reopened the O`ahu trail network to hikers and hunters. Forestry placed new signs at trailheads and major junctions, and also produced a trail map. Shown on the map was trail number nine, Pupukea-Summit. On 3 March 1947 the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club (HTMC) returned to the Pupukea section of the Summit Trail for the first time since the war. To get to the trailhead, the group drove on a dirt road built by the Army to replace a portion of the old Pupukea-Kahuku Trail. The road ended just short of Black Junction, where the hikers picked up the Summit Trail and explored along it until turnaround time.
On 11 June 1949 General Wells died from a heart ailment at a Navy hospital in Long Beach, California. Wells was one of the country's best-known and most popular Army officers before the war. With Territorial Forester Judd, Wells had founded the Piko Club and proposed the Ko`olau Summit Trail as a CCC project. On his retirement in 1934 he had remained in Hawai`i and became Secretary and Treasurer of the Hawaiian Sugar Planters Association for the next ten years.Harry Whitten, a reporter for the Honolulu Star-Bulletin, led a HTMC Pupukea Summit hike on 2 March 1952. In his weekly column, Trailways, Whitten mentioned the Boy Scout Camp at the end of the homestead road and Black Junction, with its cluster of signs giving the mileage to La`ie, Kawailoa, and points south. He also noted that the Summit Trail now takes two days to hike instead of one. On Kamehameha Day weekend (June 10-11) 1951, nine club members had hiked the Summit and Kipapa Trails, a distance of 26 miles, in two days. Past the Waikane Trail junction, the group surprised a herd of 15 wild pigs, which dashed madly along the trail until they could find a spot wide enough to get off. Whitten wrote that all the hikers had an enjoyable time without too much rain, but that "some were rather weary by the time they came out of the mountains."
The next HTMC summit overnighter took place on Labor Day weekend 1952. The group climbed the La`ie Trail and spent two nights at the cabin near the Kawailoa Trail junction. On the layover day the hikers explored along the summit to the Castle Trail junction. On the way down La`ie, the group stopped for a swim at the pool along Kahawainui Stream. HTMC again scheduled the entire Summit Trail as a 2-day backpack on July 4th weekend 1955. Eleven stalwarts made the trip including Richard H.(Dick) Davis, the leader, David Sanford, Robert (Bob) Wenkam, and Beryl Sawyer. After dropping off a car at Kipapa, the group all piled into Davis' car and drove to the Pupukea trailhead near the end of the dirt Army road. The group finally started hiking at 11 am and quickly reached Black Junction where a sign listed the length of the Summit Trail as 18 miles. Nearby stood a refurbished Army cabin.
From Black Junction the group headed out along the Summit Trail to the Morgan (Malaekahana) Trail junction. The skies were sunny, and the trail was wide open, having recently been cleared by the Army. Just before the La`ie junction the clouds settled, obscuring all views. After passing Kawailoa cabin in the mist, the hikers negotiated the rugged terrain in back of Ma`akua and Kaipapa`u Gulches to reach Castle Trail junction. Here Davis led his group a short distance down Castle to a dilapidated shelter near a stream. The small, 3-sided shelter was not ideal for such a large group. No one could stand upright without bumping his head. Despite the cramped conditions, the group managed to cook dinner on stoves burning sterno or heat tablets. All spent a wet, uncomfortable night as the roof leaked in several places.
Not surprisingly, the group got up at 5:30 am the next morning and were back on the trail before 7. Just past the Poamoho junction, the clouds lifted to reveal a spectacular view of the Summit Trail ahead and Punalu`u and Kahana Valleys below. After the Waikane junction, the trail became overgrown, and the clouds settled down once more. Just before reaching the Kipapa junction the group passed an Army cabin used as storage for coils of barbed wire. Nearby on the summit was a second cabin with a dirt floor and a water trough to collect rainwater from the roof. The group then descended the Kipapa Trail back into the sunshine. The hikers finally reached their car just after 6 pm. Sawyer later wrote, "We were weary and footsore, but it had been a memorable trip."
BACK-COUNTRY MOLOKA`I
Traversing the divide between Wailau and Halawa Valleys
John B. Hall[The following account describes a different approach to Wailau Valley than that provided by Patrick Rorie in our last newsletter. Ed.]
One of the earliest outer island trips I took with the Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club was a short jaunt to Moloka`i sometime in the early 1960`s. We flew to Moloka`i and were driven to Halawa Valley. There we donned our packs and hiked up the jeep road that runs north, parallel to the coast, climbs into the hills above Lamaloa Head and then winds for 4 or 5 miles through the hills above the north shore of the island until it ends in range land at the edge of scrubby native forest near a small peak called Pohakuloa. Here we camped in the cow pasture.
I had some difficulty in finding a place to sling my hammock, since the pasture was essentially treeless, but I finally found a small dry wash with the stumps of long dead trees at appropriate distances apart on either side, and hung my hammock across this. In all, it was not a very exciting overnighter, but what did attract my interest was the fact that this campsite seemed to offer an excellent jumping-off point for some cross-country exploration of one of the most remote, unvisited areas of Moloka`i. This pasture was near the headwaters of the streams that flow through Halawa Valley, and by circling the water-shed, we could hike along the divide between the head of Halawa and the side wall of Wailau Valley.
The high point on this divide is an unnamed peak at 3627 ft. elevation on the wall of Wailau. From here, we would be able to continue along the rim over Pu`u Ohelo and on to where the Wailau trail comes up across the ranchlands below and drops down the sheer back wall of Wailau Valley. Alternatively, it appeared that turning right at the 3627 ft. peak and following the rim of Wailau would bring us down the narrow, steep, but (on the map) passable-looking Kukuinui Ridge between Wailau Valley and the small side valley through which Kahawaiiki Stream flows, and allow us to access the floor of Wailau Valley almost at the valley mouth. Much to my regret, I never got around to exploring this route.
A few years later, in July of 1976, I finally organized a trip to visit this backcountry. I was able to interest two companions in this trip. The first was Bill Scatchard who hiked with HTMC for a few years in the 1960`s and 1970`s, and who, with John Robinson, was to join me on my first trip down the Southwest Rift of Mauna Loa, as well as on some lesser adventures. The other chap was a young graduate student in biochemistry at UH Manoa, whose name, I think, was Rolland, though I am not sure, as he left the Department after a year or less, so I did not know him for long. He claimed to have had a lot of backpacking experience, although when he showed up for the trip with a Boy Scout knapsack instead of a regular backpack, I began to doubt this.
I had been into Wailau at least once in the meantime, so I was familiar with the trail that drops down the back wall of this valley. We flew to Moloka`i, and somehow made our way to Halawa Valley, where we camped for the night. There was a young haole fellow hanging out in the neighborhood who apparently lived near by and seemed to feel he knew the country pretty well. He asked what we were planning, but on being told said, "Oh you can`t do that! That`s impossible. No one`s ever done that." I had been told such things before, but never let it discourage me. He also said that the two husky young Hawaiian fellows who were living in a small trailer at the side of the mouth of Halawa Stream, were caretakers for the ranch that owned the property we would cross, and he thought they probably would tell us we couldn`t go up there if we asked. We hadn`t gone to all the trouble to plan the tripand travel to Moloka`i to be thwarted at this point, however, so to avoid any problems, we decided not to ask. Instead, we got up hours before dawn the next day, ate a hasty breakfast, packed up quietly, and headed up the jeep road, hoping to get off the working ranch property and into the bush before anyone came to tell us we shouldn`t be there.There were no cattle in sight, but we did not escape entirely unnoticed. A small black and white dog, hardly more than a puppy, had apparently been abandoned at Halawa, and he attached himself to our party. I don`t know if one of my friends fed him the evening before, or if he was just desperate for company, but nothing we could do would discourage him from following us. As usual, in an exploratory backpack of this kind, we were traveling as light as possible, and were not carrying any extra food; certainly not enough extra to feed a dog for a week. But he had no collar and we could hardly tie up an animal in the wilderness, even in Halawa Valley, not knowing if anyone would release him once we were gone.
We hiked up the jeep road in the early dawn light without incident. When we reached the pasturelands, our companion dashed off barking, and chased one of the axis deer that infest the island into the bush. It was still early in the day when we reached the end of the ranch lands and pushed into the native bush. I had laid out a few compass bearings on the map, but as long as we stayed on the divide and avoided dropping down into one of the gulches, we should be on course. We made slow progress through dense, but not very high brush through the day. I don`t recall using a machete, but I am sure we must have been carrying such implements for an exploratory, off-trail trip of this kind. The clouds hung low on the mountains above us, obscuring the view of our objective.
In the late afternoon, I became convinced that we were veering off course for the route up peak 3627, and wanted to cross some of the small gullies to our right to proceed in the right direction. Bill and Roland disagreed, and when I got out my compass, I discovered that my sense of direction was really awry, and I had wanted to go off at an angle of almost 90 degrees to the right of the correct course! It was getting late, so after continuing up the ridge a little farther, we looked about for a campsite. My companions cleared a patch out of the brush for their tent, and I dropped down into the sturdier trees on the side of the ridge to find a spot for my hammock.
The next day we reached the summit of peak 3627 without incident. We were then in the clouds, and it drizzled off and on throughout the day. Most of the route between this peak and Pu`u Ohelo was relatively level plateau country, with the rim of Wailau Valley dropping off steeply to our right. It was boggy and open, but relatively easy walking, if rather wet and sloppy. We had walked for a ways across this terrain, when we heard a great commotion as the young dog began yapping frantically somewhere out of sight in the dense mist. A moment later, with stately tread, a large, majestic sow minced ponderously out of the fog. She was the size of a bathtub, as broad as she was tall, with a regal air and imperturbable presence. She deigned to bestow a haughty glance on our humble persons, but seeing in us nothing of consequence to her scheme of things, continued with her solemn promenade and soon vanished once more into the mist. Meanwhile, the little dog danced in excited circles around her, yelping madly, a performance to which she paid no more attention than a limousine would accord to an importunate gnat. And so ended our brief audience with the Queen of the Moloka`i Bogs!
There were pools of water scattered across this country, some up to 5 or 6 feet across, but only a few inches deep. In one of these I noticed a strange plant that I had never seen before, and have not seen since. It was shaped like a miniature, frilly green umbrella, about an inch or inch and a half high, and looked very like the textbook pictures of Acetabularia, a giant unicellular alga that was very popular with experimental biologists 60 years ago for studies on nuclear-cytoplasmic relationships. Unfortunately, I had no way to preserve it, and so brought no samples home. Since then, I`ve often carried a few vials of alcohol with me on such explorations, but have rarely found anything I wanted to collect.
We hiked on to the summit of Pu`u Ohelo and decided to continue on to the junction with the Wailau trail before camping for the night. We followed what we thought was the rim of Wailau Valley, but it seemed to be bending too far east and turning into a ridge, although in the mist it was hard to be sure. We finally backtracked to the summit of Pu`u Ohelo and camped for the night. I found a sheltered nook among some trees for my hammock, and the other two set up their tent. It continued to drizzle. In the morning we decided that perhaps we had not gone far enough, so we once more tried to skirt the edge of Wailau to trace it around to the back wall of the valley. We descended the slope even further than we had gone the night before, and eventually got below the clouds, to where we could see that we were definitely hiking down an easterly ridge that ran parallel to other ridges and was heading toward the sea on the southeast coast of Moloka`i. Feeling baffled, we retraced our steps, watching closely for any sign of a route off the mountain that would keep us on the rim of Wailau.
Shortly before we reached the site of our camp, I noticed a heavily used pig trail dropping steeply down the cliff. It looked like it was descending the sidewall of Wailau Valley, but I knew of no passable route to the valley floor in this area, and believed that the pigs probably stayed on the rim also, so we decided to follow this path. It was a steep, difficult scramble for a hundred feet or more, but if the pigs could do it, we knew that we could follow, even with our packs. After a bit, the grade began to ease somewhat. As we proceeded, the weather improved and the clouds lifted briefly, enough to show us that we were, in fact, following the rim of the valley. By noon we were at the junction with the trail that dropped steeply into the back of Wailau Valley itself.
At this point, Rolland announced that he was going to leave us. Apparently, his boots did not fit properly and had been giving him a great deal of pain. We were sorry to loose him, and apprehensive about letting someone hike out of the backcountry alone. However, Bill and I had planned to spend the better part of a week in Wailau Valley, and really didn`t want to cut the trip short after only 3 days. In addition, Rolland would be in ranch country within a mile or so, so the risks appeared to be minimal. Fortunately, he got back to town without any problems. After lunch, Bill and I began the scramble down the nearly vertical trail. By midafternoon we reached Waiakeakua Stream at the foot of the wall, and set up camp for the night. I laid out my food bags while preparing supper, and while putting them away afterward, I noticed that a bag of gorp, containing raisons, nuts, and a little cheese, was missing. Apparently, our canine companion, who must havebeen very hungry by now, had made off with it. It didn`t seem like much, but I had planned my menu for this trip so closely that I really missed it. This was one of the few trips I have taken in which I was constantly hungry for most of the last few days. I was very careful with my food stash after this!
In the morning we hiked on down to the valley mouth and set up camp in a pleasant grove of guavas. I have made several trips to Wailau, at least two with Kazuo Yamaguchi, I believe, in addition to this one, and the incidents of different trips tend to mingle in my mind. I recall that one time Yamaguchi and I arrived in the valley just at the end of one of Lorin Gill`s Sierra Club Service Projects. About 30 Sierra Club people had come in, hard on the heels of a group from a school in Waimea on the Big Island, if I recall correctly. Unfortunately, the school group had a member who was harboring a case of Shigella, an intestinal bacterium that causes rather severe dysentery. The rains were heavy and the river over-flowed while both groups were there, which meant that the bacteria were washed out of the poorly-sited latrine area used by the school group and were spread through the water supply. Practically all members of both parties became sick. The school group had been evacuated some days before we arrived, but the Sierra Club people were present and thoroughly miserable. Fortunately, we were able to avoid contracting the disease.
It rained the first night that Bill and I camped at the valley mouth. Bill had bedded down on a lovely patch of soft grass among the trees, and I was awakened during the night by a sudden outburst of profanity and commotion. We were apparently in a low spot and several inches of water were flowing briskly through Bill`s bed. My hammock was well above the water, of course, but I had to get up and make sure that none of my gear was floating away. The next morning we moved to higher ground.
We spent several days in Wailau. One day I climbed the ridge that parallels the beach above the small, relatively level, hala-covered peninsula called Waiehu. A hippie couple had constructed a neat bamboo and tarp hut on the ridge, near its foot, in a lovely location with views of both the ocean and up the valley. Near the top I had a difficult scramble up a steep, grass-covered slope that brought me to the lower corner of the isolated, triangular, Olokui plateau, probably one of the most undisturbed areas in the islands, surrounded as it is by the steep cliffs that form the sides of Pelekunu and Wailau Valleys, and possibly not even inhabited by pigs or goats, though I am not certain ofthis. If so, it should be of great botanical interest, and I believe that Dr. St. John did do some collecting there. I always meant to return to explore it some day. I had approached it rather casually this time, not planning to go to the top at all, and had brought no supplies, perhaps not even a water bottle. Much to my regret, I never did get back to it, however.
There were other people living in the valley also, which is quite large, probably nearly the size of Manoa Valley when all its reaches are considered. One chap, who seemed to be by himself, was quite friendly. He solved one problem for us by agreeing to adopt the young dog that was still following us. I was visiting him alone one morning while waiting for Bill to finish getting ready for a day hike up the Kahawaiiki Stream, which drained the major amphitheater-like side valley at the mouth of Wailau. The hippies had given him a sponge cake, and he offered me a hearty slice. I noticed it had flecks of green in it, and assumed that they had spiced it with some kind of herb. It was quite delicious, and as mentioned previously, this was a hungry trip for me, so when he offered me a second piece, I was happy to accept. I thought he had a rather sly look about him, but could not imagine what it was he found amusing.
I soon began to realize that the green flecks were bits of pakalolo that had been baked into the cake I had received a fairly potent dose! This is the only time I have ever indulged in an illicit drug to the extent that I actually got high from it. Unfortunately, I was not able to relax and enjoy the sensation, since Bill appeared, and I was forced to devote all my attention to my feet as we rock-hopped up the stream and explored Kahawaiiki Valley. By the time we reached aplace where I could relax, the effect had worn off.
At this time, the streams in Wailau were teeming with hihiwai, the freshwater mollusk that is sometimes called fresh-water opihi. There were half a dozen on every rock, and we could have collected a quart very easily from almost any square yard of streambed. The Naki family, who own property in the Valley, I believe, came in every summer to fish, and later they harvested the hihiwai to the point where few were to be seen in the streams when I went in on later trips. In later years, Yamaguchi and Herman Medeiros carried out another trip that I had long planned, but never did do--the hike up Pelekunu Valley to the low point of the saddle on Pohakaunoho Ridge, which connects Pu`u Olokui to the Kamakou summit of Moloka`i, and then down Pulena Stream, a tributary of Wailau. Dick Davis had done this years before, with Joyce Davis and some other people, I believe. He saw the Malahini Cave (as spelled on my map--probably meant to be Malihini) while it was still intact, I think, but it was destroyed in a landslide soon afterward. Yamaguchi said that the descent of Pulena Stream was an extremely arduous one. The brush above the stream was too thick to penetrate and the terrain extremely rough, with sheer-walled side gulches dropping down to the stream making it impossible to hike parallel to it. They had to follow the stream itself, rock-hopping where possible, but often having to bag their packs to float them across deep pools while swimming behind them, and scrambling down treacherous falls. I wish I had been with them, but I think I was overseas on one of my sabbatical trips when they did it.
After 5 or 6 nights in Wailau Valley, Bill and I hiked back up to the rear and over the pali to home.
MICONIA REMOVAL Steve Brown
Join members of HTMC, the Sierra Club, and others, to help rid Oahu of this invasive threat to our environment. Bring insect repellant & rain gear. Work area is off-trail and brushy; long pants/shirt & clear lens eye protection is needed. Bring a machete IF you are handy with one. Call the leader for more info.
Saturday, January 11 - Leader: Amy Tsuneyoshi, 487-7552
Saturday, February 8 - Leader: Kapua Kawelo, 656-7641 (w)
Saturday, March 8 - Leader: Amy Tsuneyoshi, 487-7552
Saturday, April 12 - Leacer: Hoala Fraiolla, 239-9877
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