Makiki-Tantalus Loop

One of my favorite workout hikes is the Makiki-Tantalus Loop which is actually a circuit of several trails including Moleka, Makiki Valley, Kanealole, Nahuina, Maunalaha, Kalawahine, and Manoa Cliffs.  Sound confusing?  Well it is, that is until you have gone out and done it.  After that, no problem.

The hike starts at the Nature Center in Makiki where there is a bathroom and water.  Parking is down the road from the Nature Center in a gravel lot on the left. 

Since this is a loop, it can be done in the clockwise direction (starting with the Kanealole Trail) or counterclockwise (starting with the Maunalaha Trail).  The latter option gets the pulse climbing more quickly because of the climbing commences right away and with greater steepness.  Most times, I prefer to get the hard stuff out of the way right off the bat.

The Maunalaha Trail climbs up a dry, rocky, tree-covered ridge (see photo at right) to arrive a big junction with a sign and a bench.   To do the big loop (about 7 miles), proceed up to the right on the Makiki Valley Trail and not long after that, head left on the Moleka Trail.  There are not many views along this part of the hike.  The views will come later.

Eventually, the Moleka Trail ends at a crossing of Round Top Drive.  Directly across Round Top is the start of the Manoa Cliffs Trail.  The cliffy part of the trail doesn't start right away but in about 5 to 10 minutes it will.

Much of the cliff trail isn't really cliffy but there will be some nice views down into Manoa Valley along the way.  The trail in this direction climbs gradually to make its way around Tantalus mountain.  along the way at a sometimes windy lookout, there is a rest bench.  I use this bench as a benchmark for my conditioning.  If I can reach the bench from the Nature Center (via Maunalaha) in an hour, I'm moving at a good pace for me.  The downhill part of the Manoa Cliff trail begins at a metal gate, which marks the entrance of an inclosed area to protect native plants.

Upon exiting the inclosed area, head left on the continuation of the Cliffs Trail.  Do note that straight ahead after exiting the inclosure is the Pauoa Flats Trail, which leads to the Nuuanu Lookout, Konahuanui, and the Aihualama Trail down into Manoa Valley.  But since we're doing the loop, we'll scratch that part, but if you feel so inclined, go for it. Just remember your landmarks.

The cliffs trail switches back several times to descend to the Kalawahine Trail.  At that junction, head left and follow Kalawahine as it contours on the Ewa-facing side of Tantalus.  The Kalawahine Trail ends at Tantalus Drive.  To continue the loop, proceed straight ahead on Tantalus Drive for about 60-70 meters.  On the left will be the Nahuina Trail which is accessed by hopping over a metal guardrail along Tantalus Drive.

Nahuina descends in switchbacks to a junction with the Makiki Valley Trail.  At that junction, head left to continue the descent to the valley bottom.  In a few minutes, the MVT will reach yet again another junction (this hike is big on junctions!).   At that point, head right down the Kanealole Trail which ends at the Nature Center.

On good days (for me), I've done this loop in two hours.  I will admit that I jog part of the flat and downhill sections of most of the route. 

For a shorter (1-hour) option, the Makiki Valley Loop is a good choice.  The variation on the route I described would be to head leftward instead of straight and up at the big junction to continue on the Makiki Valley Trail.  Then at the junction with the Kanealole Trail, head down to return to the Nature Center.

Lanihuli Trail Access

Just got word last week that access to the Lanihuli trail is (temporarily?) available.  Here is the skinny from someone who lives near the access point:

At the top of Alewa Drive, there's a separate gate on the Kamehameha School property side adjacent to the Board of Water Supply gate. For unknown reasons, the gate has been unlocked for a couple of weeks -much easier access than jumping the fence there or down at the end of Kalikimaka Street. Could change any day but for anyone interested, easy access right now.

Lanihuli has been accessed by other start-points other than the end of Alewa Drive including

• an extension of the Kamanaiki trail
• Nuuanu via Moole Valley
• Kalihi Valley via Decorte Park Ridge
• Pu'u Pueo Park on Alewa Drive

The Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club also conducts hikes (members only) to Lanihuli, the most recent outing there being on May 24, 2009.

Photo credit:  Steve Rohrmayr (aka Waianae Steve)

Konahuanui via Lulumahu -- 9/16/2000

This hike was done back in 2000, specifically 9/16/2000. It involves an ascent to the highest peak in the Koolau Range via a route not recently attempted by anyone we could discern.  Later, the HTMC used this route for a club hike.  After that, I am not sure if anyone else has been up to Konahuanui this way.  The photo at left is taken from the traditional route to Konahuanui.  The ridge in mid-photo is the ridge we climbed.  Anyway, here is the write-up.

Yesterday, five of us set out to try the ridge on the north side of Lulumahu Valley in upper Nuuanu. We knew the ridge extended up to Konahuanui 1 (elev. 3,150 ft) but my thought was that we wouldn't make a try for it yesterday, mostly because the ridge was an unknown commodity; thus it might have thick vegetation and difficult-to-surmount obstacles, etc. In fact, the original plan for the day was to hike on the other side of the valley up the waterfall route of Mo'ole Stream. Hearing a suggestion from Rich (Jacobson) to try Lulumahu Ridge and seeing what a gung-ho crew had assembled (Henry Davis, Wing Ng, and Steve Poor were also on hand), I figured, why not give it a shot. 

The start point was along Pali Highway by the hunters' check-in where Nuuanu Pali Drive rejoins the highway. I pulled up at a few minutes past eight and the other four, plus Tom Yoza, were waiting (Tom was headed to the Maunawili Demo Trail to do maintenance work and had stopped by to find out what we were going to do). After readying ourselves, our group of five headed into the woods via a trail on the makai side of an old road and gate that led into the former watershed of the Board of Water Supply.

The old road narrowed to a trail eventually. And that trail led to Lulumahu Stream and a trail that leads into Lulumahu Valley up to Lulumahu Falls. The ridge we climbed is on the left side of the valley. We found no discernible human-created trail up the ridge and initially just worked our way up through a forest of non-native vegetation (ink berry?) on pig trails or via the line of least resistance. Steve manned the ramrod and would occasionally yell out, "Perfect!" when he found an open area, a good pig trail, or just a good line to follow. The going in these early stages was muddy but not overly steep.

After maybe 30 minutes up the ridge, we climbed above treeline. Well below us to the left, we could see people fishing along the shore of the Nuuanu Reservoir. Steve continued to be the lead hiker, a fact I mention because when blazing a new ridge, the person in front plays a big role in establishing a swath and taking the brunt of the assault from the vegetation. Rich, at one point, asked if we'd be able to look down to our right to see Lulumahu Falls. "Maybe," I told him (we never did see the falls). 

After climbing steeply through uluhe, we reached a section of the ridge that leveled off and narrowed considerably. It was at this point that Steve yielded the front position and Henry took the lead. We carefully negotiated the narrow section and then were confronted with a steep, near vertical spot. We discussed whether a rope was needed there but found that we could climb it with the assist of some feebly-rooted small trees and then a solidly-anchored ohia. Henry, Rich, and I made it up the near-vertical spot; meanwhile, Steve decided he wanted to go no further and Wing was lower down the ridge and also would go no further than this spot. 

So this meant that it would be just three pressing on to find out what was ahead. After the steep section we'd just completed, the ridge was quite nice. The vegetation stayed relatively low and there were good views of upper Nuuanu to our left and upper Lulumahu and the Konahuanui trail ridge to our right. Turning to look makai, we had a nice sweep of Honolulu proper. 

Around 11:30, with some big pu'us to climb looming ahead, we sat down to eat lunch and think about what we'd do. Our original plan was to hike upridge and, at a point where the ridge dropped to a significant saddle, cross upper Lulumahu to the Konahuanui Trail, which we'd use as a return route. At the point we sat down to eat and rest, we'd already passed the saddle in our ridge (there is a large, lone ironwood on the descent of the saddle). From our lunch spot, we could see that the descent into Lulumahu would be daunting (steep with thick vegetation) and the climb up to the Konahuanui trail appeared just as daunting, even worse. What's more, right around that same time, the summit ridge had cleared itself of clouds and we could see that the top was makeable from where we had lunch. Reckoning that the crossover to the Konahuanui ridge trail via upper Lulumahu would kick our tails, we figured why not try for the summit and have our tails kicked in attempting that instead?

So the crossover via upper Lulumahu was scratched and a summit attempt it would be. Feeling more energetic after lunch, Rich, Henry, and I began the ascent for what we hoped would take us to the summit of Konahuanui. Henry continued as lead man and did a nice job finding the best line up the mountain. The ridge remained generally open and the vegetation low, a fact likely attributed to the wind that constantly flows down the mountainside from the top. At one point, we looked down on the Pali Lookout, a circumstance Rich found remarkable. 

All three of us were wearing altimeter watches and we did regular checks to determine how much more vertical gain remained to hit the target elevation of 3,150 feet. At about the 2700-2800 foot level, we arrived at a place I named Slip and Swear Hill. The reference stems from the form our actions took as we climbed: plenty of slipping & sliding on loosely compacted slopes and lots of cursing as we struggled to keep from losing vertical ground we expended much energy to gain. 

At one point, we were confronted with a near vertical section that we got around with a left to right contour. After the contour, more climbing, sliding and cursing finally brought us to the crest of Slip and Swear Hill, where we plopped down for a much needed break. I put ribbons on a lapalapa tree to mark the spot. 

From that vantage point, we could see the main summit ridge about 100 meters due east. Clouds had inundated the crest and our position by then. Thought disappointed about the lack of a view, we were happy that the toughest climb was behind us. All that remained was a fairly level 10-15 minute jaunt to the clearing that marks the summit of Konahuanui 1. With no views to enjoy and having rested just a few minutes prior, we did not stop at the clearing but instead began the southbound crossover to Konahuanui 2. 

We needed about half an hour for the muddy, slippery crossover. During those 30 minutes, we had a view of the windward side for maybe three when there was a break in the clouds. We took another break at the K2 clearing, and I drank the last of my water. I calculated that about two more hours of hiking remained to get back to my car, and that estimate turned out to be fairly accurate. Figuring that I could survive a couple hours of mostly downhill hiking without H20, I set off down the Konahuanui trail ahead of my two hiking partners, who I wouldn't see for the rest of the afternoon. 

The Konahuanui trail was minimally muddy but generally okay and I made it down to the Nuuanu Lookout without incident. At the lookout, I looked for signs of a trail that would take me down into the forest by the Nuuanu Reservoir. Seeing no clear signs, I decided to head down the Pauoa Flats Trail and then make the right turn on the Nuuanu Trail which would take me down to Nuuanu Pali Drive and my car. 

I saw no one on Pauoa Flats but did meet six hikers on the Nuuanu Trail (three were ascending and three descending). My descent of the Nuuanu Trail went well, and I took a couple minutes to wash the mud from my shoes, gaiters, and legs in Nuuanu Stream. 

The walk up to Pali Highway via Nuuanu Pali Drive took around ten minutes, and once back at my vehicle I jumped in and headed for home, glad for the good workout and the good results of the hike.

Wailupe Kului Ridge -- 6/12/2002

A Flag for Kaimi

I have four nieces and two nephews, the oldest being twenty and the youngest five. None have shown indications of becoming hikers, but there is plenty of time to develop that interest, if they so choose. What's clear to them is that their uncle has an affinity for the mountains, or, as one of them has put it, "for getting sweaty, stinky, and dirty."


Today, I hiked a loop in Wailupe Valley and the most significant thing about the outing was that I was able to fulfill a request made by the youngest of the bunch, my nephew, Nestor Kaimi Na'auao Fernandez, 6. Our family calls him Ka'imi, which translates to "The Discoverer." Well, the Discoverer is the only child of my sister Mona and her husband Nes, and during May the three of them flew in from San Francisco, where they live, for a two-week visit here.


I went hiking several times during their stay, and as I left home to drive to a trailhead, Kaimi invariably would ask what I was going to do and where I was going. Invariably, I'd answer, "hiking" and "to the top of a mountain," which netted an "Okay" and a wave from the young one.


The morning that Kaimi, my sister, and her husband were to head back to San Fran, my young nephew asked me to do something for him. "I want you to put a flag on top of the mountain," he said. I'm not sure where he got that idea, perhaps from a movie he saw or from an episode of National Geographic Explorer on TV. But I said I'd do it, and today I lived up to my promise.


I met some friends at the mauka terminus of Hao Street in Wailupe Valley at 9:00 a.m. and soon thereafter we began hiking along the trail at street's end. After ten minutes or so, we reached a junction by a boulder, "a very significant rock" said Wing Ng, one of the friends on hand. We followed a trail that headed to the right at the junction, and a few minutes later we were crossing a dry stream and had arrived at yet another junction. The friends continued straight ahead at the junction, heading for the crest of Kului Ridge via a route Wing calls 1-2-3 (why he calls it that, I don't know). I, with my flag-placing mission in mind, headed left alone to climb the HTMC route we call the Middle Ridge or Wailupe Middle.


The club has just cleared and hiked the Middle Ridge route in the past month, so it is wide open. Additionally, a period of relatively rainless weather in that period has made for a dry trail underfoot. The climb of the Middle Ridge is never overly steep, with no significant downs, and I was feeling in good shape, so I moved along steadily.


At the summit, I stopped to rest, drink some water, and eat a protein bar. The weather was clear and beautiful, and the views of Waimanalo and the ocean beyond it were clear and beautiful as well.


After ten minutes of resting, I arose and headed south toward Koko Head on the rough trail along the summit. Though overgrown, the trail, with one significant down and one significant up, was easy to follow, and, like the climb of Wailupe Middle, mudfree. In fifteen minutes, I found myself atop a pu'u that marks the summit of Kului Ridge and without delay I began down the ridge trail. After 50 to
60 meters, right as the ridge trail was about to descend quite steeply, I stopped, dropped my pack, and fished out the object of my mission. The object, of course, was the flag I'd promised to place at the top of the mountain. And that I did, affixing the pennant to a tree branch in plain view of any hiker passing by. I'll admit that the flag really isn't a flag and it isn't overly large. But it's a reasonable facsimile of a
flag, and those who want to see it will have to find their way to Kului Ridge to see what I mean.


Of course, the flag might be gone by then, having been blown away by the wind or removed by someone thinking it's an eyesore or piece of trash.


However, on this day, it's a flag, placed there at the request of a part-Hawaiian, part Filipino six-year-old, who may not even remember the request nor care that the request has now been fulfilled nor care that it was affixed atop a ridge in the Koolaus by his uncle, who for reasons of his own understanding, saluted it, smiled, and then continued on his way to trail's end, ready for another hike, with mission or without, whatever and whenever that might be.


Aloha,


--dkt

Mano La Uka Ridge -- 4/22/2000

This hike took place on 4/22/2000.

Today, Steve Poor and I reached the floor of Halawa Valley from Aiea Ridge by way of a route we christened "The Ridge Upland of the Sharkfin," or, as indicated in the subject line of this post, Mano La Uka. Wing, the main proponent of negotiating this ridge from top to bottom (he's tried several times), couldn't join us because of the workload demands of law school, where he's scheduled to graduate next December.

So it was just Mr. Poor and I this morning. We started at the upper parking lot of Keaiwa State Park at just past 8, noting that ours were the first vehicles to arrive there today. It was slightly gusty and drizzly when we set off up the Loop trail, but the weather improved over the next couple hours to the point where the day turned out to be a fine one for hiking.

As we hiked leisurely up the Loop Trail, we chatted about a variety of topics, mostly hike-related, of course. One thing we determined is that next Saturday (4/29), we'll hike up Aiea Ridge and cross over on the summit to get to Halawa Ridge. This outing will be a preparatory hike for the 5/6 HTMC hike which I'll coordinate. Anyone interested in joining us can email me for details.

In about half an hour, we reached the junction on the Loop where the Ridge trail commences. At that point, a trail climbs off to the right to reach a little clearing. From that clearing, a fairly distinct trail heads down a spur toward Halawa Valley. Attempting to work his way to the bottom, Wing has gone down this ridge four times, the most recent on February 6 of this year.

The ridge is a beautiful one, with an array of native flora populating it. Among the natives we saw were alahe'e, ho'awa, moa, lama, koa, maile, ohia, and some good-sized sandalwood. Of course, if I were more flora-adept, I'm sure I could name many more. The ground underfoot was never muddy, and we were always under a canopy of vegetation, making for cool, pleasant hiking. About halfway down our ridge, we could see on the spur to our right a distinct outcropping that looked like the fin of a shark. Steve expressed interest in trying to climb up that ridge once we had found our way down the one we were on. Hearing that, I reminded him that finding our way down might not be easy and that we'd better wait until we'd succeeded before making plans.

In the interim, Steve insisted that we come up with a name for the ridge we were descending. His suggestion was "Alahe'e Ridge" since that particular plant seemed to flourish more than any other along the trail. I suggested "The Ridge Mauka of Sharkfin," to which Steve took a liking. Of course, we had to come up with a Hawaiian translation. We both had a grasp of enough Hawaiian vocabulary to know that "mano" = "shark" and "uka" = "upland of". We didn't know the translation for "fin," but I was able to look it up in a Hawaiian dictionary at home to determine that "fin" = "la" (with a macron [kahakou] over the 'a'), hence the translation "Mano La Uka." Hawaiian language experts, please feel free to correct me.

Just as Wing reported, the ridge gets messed up with hau at the 700-foot level. However, based on reconnaissance from daily commutes on H3 through Halawa while driving to and from work, I noted that a way to avoid the mass of hau might be to veer left through a swath of ti. So when we reached the hau mess that Wing began pounding through on 2/6, we opted to veer off the top of the spur to head left through ti.

As we did, we encountered some older orange ribbons, which boosted our optimism that we'd find a manageable route down. Steve, meanwhile, put up orange ribbons of our own, for future reference in case others plan to descend/ascend the route. The machete that had been tucked away in my pack was now unsheathed and whacking away at lantana, guava, and ti. We made steady progress on our leftward descent. The most difficult part of the descent, which turned out to be not that difficult at all, was sliding down a short, steep slope under a small tangle of hau.

That done, we contoured left across the slope to avoid a huge hau tangle. Continuing to contour cross-slope for maybe 30-40 meters, we reached a distinct pig trail heading downward. We followed the pua'a path, clearing overhanging branches as we proceeded. The old orange ribbons were non-existent at this point; however, we were confident of success nonetheless since we were already below the level of the H-3 viaduct and we appeared to have avoided the hau.

Continuing to push downslope through ti, guava, and lantana, Steve and I came upon some very fresh pig scat, with little flies buzzing about the pile. "How fresh do you think it is?" asked Steve. I said I wasn't sure, but I indicated I'd stop short of picking it up with my hands to assess its temperature and content, something a pig hunter told me he'd do.

Not far past the dung, we saw that we were adjacent to a bridge on the H3 access road. After hopping over a wire fence, we climbed up a grassy embankment and hopped onto the access road on the mauka end of Bridge 13 (apparently, all the bridges along the access road are numbered). Steve and I congratulated ourselves for completing the descent without mishap, and we talked about using Mano La Uka Ridge as part of a club hike in the future. We'll see what the club's schedule committee thinks of the idea.

Instead of heading back up the ridge, we walked makai on the access road, intending to use the spur up to Aiea Ridge that Jay Feldman, Bill Gorst, Wing, and I had come down in January from the lower part of the Aiea Loop. On the way down the access road, we skirted around a locked gate and almost immediately came upon a Hawaiian cultural site in the forest on the left. Steve and I spent some time exploring the site, making sure not to disturb anything. The area has rock walls and terraces, and we speculated that this was the women's heiau that was much talked about when the H3 controversy was at its peak.

Finished with our exploration, we continued down the access road until reaching the ribboned point where we left the road to begin the climb up to Aiea Ridge. All the ribbons from the last time I was there were still up, and the trail up the spur is still easily passable and is ready for the 5/6 hike. Taking our time, Steve and I needed about 30 minutes to reach the Loop Trail from Halawa Valley. Once on the loop, we followed it back to the park grounds and then to our cars.

Mo'ole Lanihuli Kekoalele Big Loop

Note: This hike was done on 3/7/2001

Today, Rich Jacobson, Peter Kempf, Jason Sunada, Ed Gilman, and I covered the route to be hiked for this Saturday's HTMC outing which I'll coordinate. I hiked part of the route this past Saturday but felt a need to cover the whole thing prior to make sure ribbons were up at key points along the way. And it was good that we hiked the whole deal because there were places folks might go astray without today's ribbons and trail bashing. Amen.

We left a car (Ed's) at the park on Puiwa Road which is just mauka of Queen Emma Summer Palace and then drove up to our hike's starting point at the upper end of Nuuanu Pali Drive. We started hiking at 8:30 and were joined by a Waianae bow hunter, who was unfamiliar with the area and wanted to tag along. On the way to the ditch tunnel into Mo'ole Valley, Jason said he and the hunter spotted three baby pigs. This apparently was a good sign for the hunter, who did not follow us through the tunnel, ankle-deep in water for most of its ~100 meters.

Once in Mo'ole, we headed upstream, following the route used in past forays there. Because of rain the night before, we faced more slippery conditions than I had had on Saturday. At a place where there was a rockslide, we put up an orange rope for security.

We made it past the seven falls of the valley without incident and then commenced the steep climb on the left to Alewa Ridge. Halfway up the spur from the valley, we stopped to check out the view of Honolulu urbandom, framed by the spreading funnel of the walls of Mo'ole. While we were on the ascent, Peter's cell phone chimed, and he stopped for a minute to chat with whoever had called. After the call was completed, I jokingly needled him for the idle chitchat that distracted us from the business at hand. With the views and phone calls taken in, we crested out on Alewa Ridge at 10:30, two hours after setting out.

From the ridgetop junction, four of us made the muddy ~20-minute climb to Pu'u Lanihuli. I noted heavy pig damage to the trail about half the way to the top. The pigs, it seems, do not fancy climbing all the way to Lanihuli. I'm not sure why since no physical obstacles prevent them from doing so. Maybe they're not into the views.

With the summit acquired, we ate lunch there (peanuts and vienna sausage for me), ogling occasional vistas of the windward side when clouds allowed them. Just like Saturday, I spotted my house in Kaneohe, which garnered only lukewarm interest by my colleagues. Jason and I talked about an upcoming HTMC TM outing of Kawaewae Ridge (aka Dusty's Ridge), one of the many features we could see from our summit vantage point.

When a drizzle shower arrived, we quickly packed up and headed down the slippery trail. In 20 minutes we had rejoined our non-summiting colleague and then commenced down Alewa Ridge. En route to the top of the Kapalama Loop, we passed several noteworthy places, including a junction where Rich and Henry had climbed up from Mo'ole on a past hike, a narrow dike section (I call this "Straddle Ridge"), a lunchspot used on HTMC hikes of the Kapalama Loop, and the junction with Brandon Stone's spur trail down to Mo'ole.

At the top of Kapalama Loop (an old wooden sign is affixed there), we veered left to head down its Nuuanu side. We passed a bamboo grove on the right, contoured up and around a small pu'u, traversed a fairly level section through uluhe, then climbed to the top of Napu'umaia, a large hill. Near the highest point of Napu'umaia, we veered left on an overgrown trail to descend Kekoalele Ridge, which bottoms out adjacent to the Oahu Country Club. To channel hikers from Saturday's group down Kekoalele, Jason and I stacked a blockade of dead uluhe across the loop
trail. I also affixed several ribbons there.

The initial descent of Kekoalele was messy (with a capital M), and we had to wade around in uluhe at times to find the correct line. At one point, Ed said, "I feel like I'm about to plunge into a deep hole." A couple minutes later--bingo--a-plunging Ed went, landing him in a hole obscured by thick uluhe (fortunately he was unhurt). After navigating and marking a line through the Mess, we veered right and down into a dark guava hollow then climbed gradually to go left around an eroded dike. After that, most of the "trail" down the ridge was generally obvious, with occasional old ribbons still hanging to help. I hung more ribbons, mostly for assurance value and also to direct folks to the best lines. About an hour down the
ridge, Jason and I stopped at a section of rocky dikes with a nice view of the neighborhood where Ralph Valentino (HTMC good-guy) lives.

Like the top, the bottom of the ridge was a bloody mess. Since the last time I'd been there (a year ago?), someone had cut down large trees with a chainsaw. The fallen timber wasn't moved and effectively obscured what was already a fairly obscure trail. With ample searching, hacking, and ribbon tying, we forged a hikeable route through the obscurity to emerge next to the maintenance area of the Oahu Country Club. Mission accomplished.

We were back at Ed's car at the park on Puiwa Road by 2:45 and by 3:00 I was in my Cherokee on the way home to Kaneohe. Much thanks to Jason, Ed, Rich, and Peter for hiking with me today. While we didn't do much clearing, the stamping down of the trail we did will be helpful to club hikers on Saturday.

Mo'ole Valley Loop

I did this in March 2001 in preparation for an HTMC hike I was to lead in the coming month

I parked by the hunter check-in where Nuuanu Pali Drive meets Pali Highway.
I shouldered my pack, grabbed my hiking stick, and dashed across Pali
Highway to the start of the trail (hole in the fence).

A few steps into the forest, I noticed 8 to 10 young black pigs rooting
near a hau thicket about 20 yards away. I stood silently, watching them
for a minute, and then the wind shifted, and, boom, one of them caught my
scent (ripe from the earlier hike, no doubt). That started na pua'a on a
fleeing bolt through the forest away from me--a pig stampede, as it
were. After the keiki pua'a dispersed into their muddy realm, I scanned
the area for mama pua'a, who might likely be pissed off that I had
frightened her youngens. Seeing nada mama, I continued on.

Moving quickly as I am wont to do, I noticed ribbons on the ground. So
instead of tying new ones, I picked up the ripped down ones and re-tied
them to mark the way, which is jumbled and confusing. Luckily, I've hiked
in this area several times, so I knew the general direction to head if I
lost the trail. After a few minutes, the path descended a slope to cross
a tiny stream (Makuku) then climbed a narrow gully to emerge on a trail
along the Makuku Ditch. I continued to pick up and re-tie discarded
ribbons and noticed that someone had come through and sawed fallen trees
since my last hike in the area.

The trail followed the ditch for maybe a half-mile and ended at a
tunnel. The ditch fronting the tunnel often is muddy (usually very
muddy), but today it was bone dry. I poked my head into the tunnel and
saw that the ground in it too was as dry as my skin on a windy day. Going
thru the 100-yard tunnel is the quickest way to reach Hillebrand Glen (aka
Mo'ole Valley), but I was without flashlight and not in the mood to duck
thru the 6-foot-high tunnel in darkness. So I made the short climb up and
over the ridge the tunnel cuts thru and descended via a contour trail to
the tunnel's farside in the Glen.

From there, I followed a rough trail that headed up a trickling Mo'ole
Stream. In a minute or two, I came upon a small waterfall and climbed up
a slope on the right to get by it. I continued upstream for a bit more
and then again climbed up on the right to begin a bypass of a much larger
waterfall ahead. There are many ribbons from past visits on the contour
bypass, so the way is easy to follow. At one point, I stopped to do some
grading on a section that had been swept away by a rockslide.

Eventually, the high waterfall was passed and I descended back to the
stream, noting multiple pig scat and areas pigs have damaged. I continued
upstream, hiking mostly on the banks and crossing the stream
occasionally. I then came upon another waterfall that I bypassed on the
left. Upstream progression continued and I climbed to the right of yet
another waterfall with the help of a long rope. Later, I bypassed another
very high waterfall via a steep climb on the right. On a past hike, we
put a cable in one section of the bypass.

After descending back to the stream and heading up it a bit, I arrived at
the point on the left where I could climb a steep trail up to Alewa
Ridge. Pat and I pounded our way up this route a couple of years ago and
though hikers have gone up this since then, the numbers have been
relatively low. Add the passing of time and a good deal of rain, and what
you have is a ridge that needs to be pounded open again. I did what I
could on the way up, knowing there was only so much a single machete can
do.

I reached the crest of severely windswept Alewa Ridge and paused a minute
to drink some water (I had eaten lunch on the drive over from Pearl City
so I wasn't hungry--hunger would come later). I then dropped my pack and
then headed to the summit of Lanihuli via an overgrown trail. I crested
out in 20 minutes on a cloudfree summit. The wind was still blasting, and
I was without jacket, so I quickly scanned civilization below to find my
house in Kaneohe, and having found it, or what my mind told me was it, I
departed and began descending.

In twenty minutes, I had returned to where I'd left my pack. I gave
thought to returning the way I'd came, but opted to continue makai on
Alewa Ridge and descend back to lower Moole via Brandon Stone's spur ridge
trail. That meant traversing the once-vaunted straddle ridge (now it
doesn't seem bad at all), passing the junction with Kamanaiki Ridge (I'd
hiked up to this junction with Wing a few years ago), and then the
arriving at the junction with Brandon's trail. This was also overgrown
but became more manageable lower down. Once at the base of the spur
ridge, I was able to weave my way through a jumble of pig and hunter
trails to arrive back at the tunnel at the end of Makuku Ditch. From
there, it was a routine hike back to Pali Highway and my car at the end of
Nuuanu Pali Drive. After a shower at home, I was ravenous, and I prepared
myself a sumptuous meal, the kind that would make Wing pine for his
favorite beef broccoli noodles.

Godek-Jaskulski Loop -- 1/7/2001

To OHE this past April, Stuart Ball posted a tribute to the late Chuck
Godek. In his write-up, Stuart mentioned a "hair-raising loop" using the
left (north) ridge of Moanalua Valley. The loop was pioneered by Godek
and his hiking contemporary Erwin "Ski Poles" Jaskulski. Intrigued about
the route, I made a mental note to give it a go at some point. Today, a
handful of us--after a bunch of sweating, scrambling, clawing, slipping,
and swearing-- completed the challenging circuit.

My companions today, for better or worse, were Dusty Klein, Jay
Feldman, Ed Gilman, Jim Wilburn, and Jason Sunada. Four of the five who'd
join me showed up at Moanalua Valley Park at 8 a.m. for HTMC trail
maintenance of the Moanalua Valley Trail and had no idea what the day
really had in store for them. The day before, Jason and I had talked
about the possibility of trying the loop. After checking out the route on
a topo map, I was encouraged that it was makeable in a reasonable amount
of time and suffering. So when I showed up at the park this a.m., I told
Jason of my plan. He was in. Dusty, Jay, Ed, and young Jim also
expressed interest, so our small hui was set.

The six of us pushed ahead of the main pack of a couple dozen HTM trail
clearers during the 45-minute walk up the valley dirt road. After a short
regrouping at the junction where the valley trail begins, our sixsome set
off for the unknown. Just past the gaging station, we crossed the stream
and almost immediately veered left through a small hau tangle to climb up
the start of a little spur ridge.

We followed old ribbons that led us into a ravine between two significant
spurs. We knew we'd eventually have to climb one of the two spurs, but
which one? Continuing up the ravine, we found that the ribbons petered
out. Based on what I remembered from the topo map, I suggested we try to
gain the crest of the spur on the right. And we were able to do that
after some steep climbing, scrambling, and pushing and clawing through
uluhe.

Once atop the spur, we saw signs, mostly old cuts of branches, that this
was the correct route to the top. Mabel, Ralph, Deetsie, and John had
explored this ridge back in April and they'd done a bit of the clearing
work we saw today. Today, Mabel, Deetsie, Charlotte (and
others?) followed us up the spur to do more clearing work to help keep the
trail open.

Nearby pig rootings and a metal pipe in the ground at a forested clearing
atop the ridge marked the topping out point of the spur. After an hour of
climbing, we had acquired the crest of the north ridge of Moanalua Valley
aka Red Hill ridge. We took a few minutes to rest there and
then commenced pushing our way up the ridge toward the summit.

Earlier, I'd suggested that the best way to proceed when bashing up a
trail-less ridge was to have each of us rotate systematically into the
lead position since the first man had to expend the most energy, bear
the brunt of the assault from the ferns and assorted vegetation, and, if
unrelieved, collapse from exhaustion. I estimated that five to ten
minutes at the front would suffice and then the leader would stop to let
the others pass, with hiker 2 assuming the lead position, akin to what
bicycle racers do in the Tour de France when drafting. The process would
repeat itself every five to ten minutes.

Well, the "system" didn't work out exactly the way I suggested, but five
of our group of six did man the front slot at various points. Being tired
and abused by flora (among other things) sometimes brings out the asshole
in me, and there were times today, especially when I took
long pulls at the front, when I became snippy and a basically a
dictatorial ass, resorting to sarcasm, taunts, and bad jokes to persuade
some of my colleagues to shoulder more of the burden. Sorry, guys, for
not being diplomatic.

The climb to the summit was a typical Koolau-type rollercoaster. A
few times we saw pig damage and followed rough pig trails, but most of
the time the ridge was trackless. The worst sections were ones with
overhead uluhe, not many but enough to make me cranky. We never had to
climb super steep slopes but one of the steeper ones had an old rope (left
by Chuck or Ski Poles?) that surprised us since we saw no other signs (old
ribbons, trash, or cut branches) that anyone has hiked this ridge in
recent years.

I believed we could summit by 12:00, but at 11:45, with a mid-sized
and a large puu ahead of us to scale, it became clear a noon kaukau
session overlooking Haiku Valley wasn't on our dance card. So we stopped
at a shady place on the ridge to eat lunch. The thinking was the
rest and refueling would give us the energy we'd need to push through to
the top. Jason and I debated how long we'd need to summit from our lunch
spot. I said 30 minutes while Jason said an hour. The 30 vs 60 estimate
became a running joke/taunt between us during and after lunch.

It turns out we needed more than 30 minutes to negotiate the mid-sized and
then the large puu. But our work was far from done. We then had to veer
off to the right to descend into a significant saddle (never a happy
time when making for a summit) and then endure a final uluhe-bashing climb
to gain the summit ridge and our long-awaited view of Haiku Valley
(another metal pipe marks the summit junction with the ridge we
climbed). Time needed from lunchspot: 75 minutes. Total
time needed to reach the summit metal pipe from the downridge metal pipe
clearing: 2.5 hours. 2.5 pipe to pipe.

I should mention that it was a great day for hanging out at the beach
(sunny with very few clouds) but not the best for hiking in the mountains
I prefer high overcast). It became especially warm in the late morning
and early afternoon. And warm means sweating, general discomfort, and a
need for greater water consumption.

There was some discussion about hiking north along the summit crest to
exit via the Halawa trail. But we decided to proceed southbound to hike
out the Moanalua trail (which the crew had cleared today) to complete the
Godek/Jaskulski loop. Actually, the decision for the latter was agreed
upon mostly because it would take less time and energy (in theory).

From the metal pipe at the summit, we followed the ridgeline south,
passing three (or two?) badly eroded leeward sections where Henry Davis
had left ropes. The drops to windward were extremely precipitous. After
the narrow, level eroded section, we then had to down-climb steeply, and
butt-sliding became a popular ridge-descending technique. This steep
section wasn't as bad as I anticipated but care had to be taken to
avoid falls to windward or leeward.

Enroute, we made radio contact with Tom Yoza, who was clearing along the
ridge from the Moanalua saddle lunchspot northward over toward where we
were. I, for one, was glad for Tom's work, which made the going easier
for us after a long, tough day.

Much thanks go to other folks on the TM outing who left water and a can
of Dr Pepper for us. The extra fluids were helpful since most of us had
run low or bottomed out our supplies (I began the day with four liters and
finished all but half a liter before I reached the saddle lunchspot).

From the saddle, we hiked the well-cleared valley trail to the dirt
road (great work in the hau sections) and were back at the park in about
two hours. We were glad participants in the posthike/clearing gathering at
the neighborhood park. Parched and tired, I must have downed a half dozen
diet Pepsis.

We also heard from Pat Rorie via walkie-talkie that he and Roger Breton
were coming down from the summit saddle to the park after crossing
along the summit from points north. Pat and/or his buddy
Kapa Reero will hopefully post something about that undertaking.

Hope everyone had a pleasant weekend, hiking or otherwise.

Moanalua to Halawa -- 1/21/2001

What a difference a swath makes. That's a thought that popped into my
head a bunch of times today while I hiked. Joining me was fellow
swath-buckler Ed Gilman, who needs no introduction since he's been
mentioned on the list quite a bit.

The swath we were glad to have in front of us was on the west (aka
north) ridge of Moanalua Valley. A small group of us did this ridge a
couple weeks ago, and in my write-up of that hike I belabored the point
that we had a pretty tough go of it because no trail existed up there.

But there is a trail on Moanalua west now as a result of the push-through
we did two weeks ago and some chopping Ed and I did today. Mabel tells me
she will lobby the HTMC schedule committee to include a hike on this
route, so club members stay tuned. And for non-club members, new hikes
like this might be incentive for joining the ranks of the HTMC. We're a
pretty good bunch of folks.

My motivation for doing what we did today was two-fold. First, the club's
trail maintenance crew would be working on Halawa Ridge--the
sequel. Since I had taken part in the original flick last Sunday, I
wasn't brimming with enthusiasm for Part Deux today. Second, I wanted to
hike a section of the crest between Moanalua and Halawa, the
penultimate hikeable segment of the Koolau summit I have yet to traverse
(Aiea to Waimalu will complete it).

It would be good if I had some company, so I through out a line to OHE on
Friday night to see if I'd get any bites. While there were some nibbles,
only Ed swallowed the hook. The plan was to meet this morning at 7:30 at
the Halawa trailhead on Iwaena Street, and Ed was there to meet me at that
time.

We had planned to use either Ed's or my vehicle to drive over to Moanalua
Valley, but we didn't have to since Deetsie Chave, an early arriver for
Halawa trail clearing, offered us a ride. Thanks, Deetsie.

We were dropped off at the Moanalua community park at about ten to eight,
and as Ed and I tied our boots and checked our packs, we saw an off-duty
soldier with a big ruck sack checking his gear in front of the park's
restroom. From his sweaty, disheveled disposition, he appeared to have
spent the night camping somewhere up mauka. Either that or he'd hiked up
the valley and returned. Give him credit.

Ed and I began hiking up the valley road a couple minutes before eight,
and we moved along at a steady pace, talking story to help pass the 45
minutes we needed to reach the place where we'd leave the road to start
the valley trail. Ed's an interesting and pleasant gentleman, and I found
out, via questions I asked, about his background in photography, his
fondness for sailing, his reasons for moving to Hawaii (he's originally
from the east coast), and other things. We had a pleasant chat.

The chatting diminished in the next 45 minutes, which is what we needed to
reach the crest of Moanalua west ridge. We had an easier time today thanks
to the trail work of Mabel, Deetsie, and Charlotte a couple of Sundays
ago. Like I said at the beginning, what a difference a swath makes.

At 9:30, Ed and I began heading mauka on Moanalua west after making
walkie-talkie contact with the HTM crew coming up Halawa. I talked with
Tom Yoza, who was in the eucalyptus section at the time. I radioed Tom
several other times that morning, usually to report our status.

And our status was always quite good, mostly because of the swath created
by our gang of six two weeks ago. Feeling energetic, Ed and I fished out
machetes from our packs and did some cutting as we made our way
up the ridge. Guava branches and i'e i'e tangles were chopped. Ditto for
uluhe. Hopefully, the swath will hold until the next time we go up the
ridge, perhaps with the TM crew.

At 10:30, we had completed the ascent of the steepest part of the ridge (a
rope is situated there) and we stopped to rest at the pu'u where we'd
eaten lunch two weeks ago. We were over an hour ahead of the pace from
that ordeal. The faster (and easier) progress was very encouraging.

Mushing on along the swath stamped down a fortnight ago, we dropped into
an intermediate saddle, ascended to a large pu'u (false summit), dipped
down into a significant saddle, and completed the final curving climb to
the Koolau summit. We arrived at 11:15, two hours ahead of the top-out
time two weeks ago.

We rested for five minutes at the summit clearing (there's a metal pipe in
the ground there) and soaked up the clear views down in Haiku Valley and
beyond to Kaneohe and Kaneohe Bay. A light, cool wind lifted up and over
the crest, and I found this very pleasant.

I radioed Tom to let him know we'd reached the top and that we were
commencing the crossover to the Halawa summit. A pretty decent trail
exists on the crest and I spotted several areas rooted out by
summit-loving pigs. There was one substantial nob to climb enroute to
Halawa, with severe dropoffs to windward much of the way. The footing was
quite reliable and there was virtually no mud. We needed about 30 minutes
to reach the Halawa terminus.

I again radioed Tom to let him know we had finished the crossover and that
we'd be eating lunch. Tom reported that the group he was with was nearing
the Halawa crossover and that others had pushed ahead and were heading for
the summit.

Around noon, Nathan was the first member of the crew to arrive at the
summit. He joined Ed and me for lunch. After our repast, we spent a
couple minutes clearing the summit area lunchspot for club hikers,
and as we did, Inger and her friend arrived.

We left them to have the summit clearing to themselves, and Ed, Nathan,
and I began heading down Halawa. "It's possible to be back at Iwaena in
two hours," I announced to my colleagues, who chuckled and nodded to humor
me. Picturing a 2:15 arrival at my car, I set off at a konk-head pace
(and, yup, I did konk my head when I misjudged a duck under a branch). As
we wound our way down the switchbacks, we enjoyed the good hedge trimmer
work done by Pat two weeks ago.

The planned two-hour outbound leg of Halawa never materialized. I
ended up hiking out with Mabel who told me she had hot dogs for the post-outing feast, and as an
avowed meat-lover, I was eager to scarf some 'dogs. I also realized I'd
have no hot dogs until Mabel arrived back at Iwaena, so there was no
reason to blitz down the trail.

I have to give Mabel her due. Now in her early 70s, she can still hoof
it at a good pace. She'll probably still be hiking in her 80s. I forget
what time we arrived back at Iwaena--it might have been 3:30. What really
mattered was that Mabel was there with her butane stove, pot, and boiled
hot dogs. I ate my share, plus the share of any/all vegetarians in
attendance (and even a couple who were not (wave to Jay and Jim). In
exchange, I offered any takers my share of cupcakes, cookies, chips, and
other miscellaneous available carby-fare.