It was hot as hell in the North Bay.
100+ heat that Californians happily beckon every year, only to regretfully detest when it arrives.
We had spent the entire night packing. Entiree night and most of the wee hours of the morning, to be more accurate. We were leaving on a jet plane – at 6AM. Still sweating at 2, we had widdled our gear down into what we hoped would be all of our essentials.
A little weary and mostly tired, we loaded the car at 4:45AM and blearily hurried to the Sonoma County Airport. A small airport, indeed, but a strict one and we needed to be on time. As we pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, flashes of light lit up the sky. Neither Hutch nor I said a thing, probably because we were in such a sleep-deprived state, we weren't sure what was real or what we may have been dreaming. After quite some time we voiced our awe of the lightning in unison. Little did we know those flashes of light were the very lightning storms to set California ablaze in some of the biggest wildfires of my lifetime.
Thoughts of an 8 hour layover in LA were dancing in our heads. Expectations weren't very high, but at least we could look forward to the company of a loyal friend – one so dedicated as to agree to pick us up at LAX for our 7:30 arrival that Saturday morning. The hours that lay ahead may as well be put in the books as one of the best lay-overs of all time. The pace for our journey was notoriously set by Meghan, my dear friend since the age of four. Cruisers, breakfast, people watching and a couple sixers of beer on the strand soon numbed our tired heads while the southern California sunshine prepped our wintered skin for white sand beaches.
With the afternoon creeping upon us, we found ourselves cooling in a bean-shaped pool with beer in hand(s). A very happy birthday celebration for Alana! When the time came to continue our adventures, we fled the perfect SoCal scene with cupcake-size jello shots and our wet swimsuits. Although the perfect setting for the typical, "Oh shit, we're gonna miss our flight," Meghan did not let us down. 40 minutes before departure, we slid into seats next to Hutch's family awaiting to board the plane for Kauai.
A fantastic layover may as well set one up for the prefect six hour flight. What better than a few drinks to help alleviate the cramped seats and close strangers. Unfortunately for Hutch and I, we were misfortuned. Sobered quickly by the high-pitched wails of a young 2 year old boy in the seat behind us, the pace of our journey took a tragic turn. Tiny heals pushed and kicked our seats, accompanied by piercing screams. We stared at each other in amazement. What kind of parent would choose to travel with this boy? Clearly he needed some sedative meds and his incomparable parents needed Super Nanny.
Arrival in Li hue couldn't have been more sweet. Island breezes sailed in the warm night air. A rental car pickup later, we opened the door to one of two three bedroom condos in Poipu Beach and the quaint town of Koloa. Set perfectly in between two lovely beaches, the condo was part of the south shore's recent resort explosion. It wont take long for developers to litter Kauai like they have done to Oahu – residents hold tight to the oasis that 
Kauai is, natives even tighter – while another humble place becomes corrupted with Time Warner money.
Kauai is, natives even tighter – while another humble place becomes corrupted with Time Warner money.We spent four days on the south shore exploring populated and deserted beaches, hiking the bluffs and Waimea Canyon, visiting resident-friends and enjoying time with Hutch's family. It was the prefect prelude to our adventure ahead.
The joy of not having an itinerary is that you take it moment by moment, day by day, indulging in the true definition of vacation (the act of leaving all that which occupies our time and mind). Ironically, our time spent on the south shore allowed us to get into the groove of being away and removed from life. A couple days into our trip, we had already seen some of Kauai's most beautiful beaches. Shipwreck Beach is home to the famed jumping spot of Anne Heche and Harrison Ford in Six Days Seven Nights. Hutch was brave enough to take it on. I assume the masses of people flooding Shipwreck and Poi'pu are too lazy to leave their resort fronts and make the 1.5 mile stroll along the bluffs to serenity. But we were thankful. A short hike down, Maha'ulepu Beach was practically empty and just what Hutch and I needed. We spent an entire day there soaking up the bliss (and burning our bodies)... it was wonderful. Although the south shore is windy and the water is rough, it is much more dry and consistently sunny than other parts of Kauai; we had some of our best beach days there.
Waimea Canyon is the largest canyon in all of the Pacific. Driving up Waimea Canyon Road to Kokee State Park is dotted with the most spectacular lookouts that are reminiscent of the Grand Cayon. Wild, exotic chickens run rampant on Kauai with no predators to regulate their population.
At the top, Kalalau lookout is a postcard view of the canyon and beach that Hutch and I had planned to hike the 11.5 miles down the Na'pali coast to. The lush garden of the Kalalau valley is fed by giant waterfalls that cascade down the fin-like mountains. The trails in Kokee State Park are diverse and run for miles. We chose a muddy route at the top. It was a bit challenging - crawling over rocks and down muddy slopes - Richard (Hutch's Dad) was a trooper at hurdling the slick rock - luckily none of us ate it.
The day before our departure from the family it rained and was gloomy. Hutch and I decided to rent a car and explore. We ventured up to the east shore and to Kapaa - great little town with fantastic fish tacos and supposedly a gre
at night scene. On the 
way back toward Poipu we stopped along side the road and picked up a fresh Ahi to grill and took a side trip to Kipu Falls for some rope swing action. We had picked up some more goodies that day, including the local trademark shoes - Tabis. With brillo pad-like bottoms, these babies clung to wet rocks, slick mud and loose dirt, no problem. We received a heads-up from local resident friends that these would be essential on the Na'Pali. After we put them on, it was obvious we both questioned an 11 mile hike in such nonsense, but we went with the experienced advice.
The next morning, we were up at 6AM packed and ready to hit the trail. Clad in humid-friendly hiking attire and safari hats, we grabbed some fresh Kauai bananas and set off.
A little over an hour up the coast to the north shore and Hanalei where the dragon by the sea hailed us, we oh-so-luckily squeezed into the last phsueto-parking spot at Ke'e Beach. Here, we would find the Kalalau trail head.
Wearily, we left the car in hopes that we wouldnt return to broken windows and stolen gear. Slipping on our Tabis, Hutch and I heaved on our backpacks, grabbed the last couple fresh bananas and charged the trailhead. For the next few days, we would be removed from everyday life and we couldnt have been more ready.
It didnt take long for a few sprinkles to fall upon us. This was in fact, the wettest part of the world. It was humid and we were sweating a couple hundred yards into the first climb. Our worries of bad weather were soon wiped away when the sky cleared and a rainbow appeared over the ocean. It was an omen for our voyage. The first two miles went quickly and the trail seemed manageable. When we reached the stream crossing at Hanakapi'ai, the water wound around endless piles of large pali (pieces of the cliffs), through caves hanging over the beach and into the ocean. The scene was spectacular, but spoiled by
the hundreds of tourists flooding in on the shortest Na'Pali experience. A 45 minute detour inland to Hanakapi'ai Valley, hikers are rewarded with a spectacular waterfall, but Hutch and I decided to keep our energy focused on the 8 miles we had ahead. A short break walking through the caves and wading in the fresh water relieved my already blistering feet. "Damn these Tabis!" Luckily, I had some bad ass band aids and anti-blister socks from REI. REI to the rescue!
It would be four miles until we reached the next rest spot - mile 6 and Hanakoa. This turned out to be the longest 4 mile hike of my life. Switchbacks weaved in and out of the cliffs in a constant up and down. The trail narrowed and at times was nonexistent. Loose rock, dirt, leaves and roots made attention to every step necessary. On the inside, the cliffs were shaded, but also shielded from the wind, which made the air suffocating. The foliage was more dense and therefore we felt protected from a fall, although in no way was the trail level. On the climb back out to the water, the breeze dried some of our sweat and cooled us off. The views were outstanding, but there was little to nowhere to stop and appreciate. The cliffs rose thousands of feet above us and dropped down the same. Any slip or wrong step was more than a fall. Slow, little steps were the only way to go. Wildlife dotted the cliffs and eventually we came across a mother Nene bird and her three small chicks ahead of us on the path. We followed them until finally they jumped into the brush. Toward the end of mile 5 we hiked up on two women resting and snacking on one of the only level resting spots along the trail. Two large rocks for sitting (or clinging) look down the coast and across air and water to the distant trail as it weaves in and out of the cliffs. The women were on their second venture hiking the Na'Pali. This time they planned to make the full trip to Kalalau.
It was here that we also met Bill. A self-appointed and funded volunteer of the one-man trail maintenance team, Bill has lived back on the coast for a year – hiking in and out to haul any food and supplies needed to work the most treacherous part of the Kalalua route. Dressed in tattered running shorts, calf-high boots,
and a tank top, he packed a military-style backpack worth of 80 lbs of supplies. His weathered skin, large walking stick and confidence made it evident that Bill knew his way around. He was a Shepard of some sorts, taking care of both the seasoned and naive travelers. Bill gave us a heads-up on the trail ahead, what to expect and to rest if we were to travel on to mile 8. He warned that the next few miles were the most dangerous and we would need to have focus.Mango and guava trees spotted the trail and the sent always resulted in being close to water. Just down the trail, we reached mile 6 - Hanakoa where we stopped briefly to filter water and refresh in the creek. Again, a detour here leads to a swim hole and waterfall, but we were on a mission. Although tired and our muscles weak, tales of the 8 mile paradise pushed us ahead.
The next two miles not only challenged us physically, but banded us together. Our adventure heightened when we began facing fears and relying on each other for support. The meditative act of walking slowly, one foot in front of the other coupled with balancing our bodies was mostly in silence. Hutch and I would point out obstacles in our path and keep an eye on one another. Our peaceful journey was often interrupted by the howl of helicopter blades slicing the sky. Single flle, the heli-tours would follow each other cutting in and out of the cliffs and hovering over iconic spots. Our enlightened experience was scarred by the loud reminders of those exploiting the native land and our attempt to travel away from modern time to connect to the past became agitated.
The wind picked up in the afternoon and white caps began to appear on the water. Our weaving minimized and the trail resorted to hugging the water. Dirt loosened and foliage disappeared. Mid-size avalanches of dirt and rock brought our eyes upward to the wild mountain goats that smothered the cliffs. The goats are rampant and eat away at the vegetation that supports the trail and loose rock. At one point, I slipped and fell – surprisingly the only fall for both of us. The pain was masked by fear, but I had a bruise on my arse for a week to remind me.
Slowly the trail narrowed and became rocky. We could feel the weight of the water and the wind as we rounded the corner to dead man's crawl. Hand over hand we clung to the rock and foot over foot made our way across the face. On the other side, there wasn't much relief. Dune-like cliffs of loose dirt rested on the steep slope. A phsueto trail was etched into the sand-like dirt. We began to see evidence of Bill's ambitious trail restoration. Split logs attempted to support the dodgy path. We treked on, our concentration conquering the challenges.
The sun began to make its way toward the horizon and Hutch and I continued to encourage each other. We rose out of the slide and back onto solid rock, stopping at a mid-sized overlook to bring our minds to a rest. The wind began to wail around us and our awareness of the present intensified. Shaky legs and all, we continued up and down, uncertain of how far we had yet to go. Eventually, we rounded a bend, only to unexpectedly and happily be greeted by Bill. He was shoeless and packless – our first sign that we had arrived at mile 8 and paradise.
"Grab your towel and Ill show you the best part of the trail." hailed Bill. Huge grins stretched across our faces as we sat down our gear and gathered our thoughts. We were the first hikers to arrive for the night at mile 8, and had the fotune of choosing the plot with the best sunset view. A rescue heli-pad marked the campsite and pertruded from the trail, offering the perfect panorama over the bluff and ideally, the ultimate yoga destination. We could see miles down the coast with the low sun lighting up the ridges of the Na'pali.
After a few moments in awe we went in Bill's direction only to catch him coming back up. "Just down there," he directed. It was heavenly – a man-size waterfall dumped down onto a small wading pool. It was the perfect thing for our beaten feet and our sore bodies...nature's reward for our difficult expedition.
We washed up, changed clothes for the night and set up camp. Slowly, a trickle of hikers began to inhabit the sites. By nightfall, there were 7 of us lounging by the fire. Another couple had cooked up jambalaya that Hutch and I gratefully added to our TJ's pre-cooked rice packets. Like the perfect host, Bill entertained and fathered our stay. "We have no lack of food, please is anyone still hungry?" Bill asked as he came out with a bag of marshmallows and hunting for green tree sticks for roasting. Mild conversation found us all acquainted with briefs of our experience thus far.
We were all beat. In unison, we realized it was time get sleep.In the morning, we rose with the light and spent time bathing in the beauty and the silence. It wasn't long before we packed up our things reluctantly. It was hard to imagine it would get much better than where we were at. Less than three miles to go, we were comforted by the fact that the hardest part was over. Aching feet and all, we were in bliss.
It wasnt long until we reached the sign welcoming us to Kalalau Valley. The wooden marker was etched in Hawaiian. The translation followed and in brief said, "This is sacred land. Give it your utmost care, respect and leave knowing you have preserved it for future generations."
Beyond the sign, the view of Kalalau Beach was breathtaking. It was the view we had been waiting for – hidden all along the trail, it finally revealed itself. Layers of color swept down to the water. Reds, browns, greens and grays channeled us to our destination. The final descent began and we entered a mars-like setting. Roots spawning from the valley garden of eden stretch
ed along the loose red dirt and eventually led to old taro terraces where natives grew crops. The terraces were man-build and stabilized with rock. They looked like bluffs bowing to the ocean. A final flat path wound through trees and across Kalalau stream. Finally, it hugged the white sand beach on our right and large groups of camp sites nestled under a canopy of trees on our left.
When we stepped up out of the trees, we came upon a group of drifters loosly hanging around. "WELCOME!" they exclaimed, "You two look like you know what you're doing." We caught their eyes on our Tabis. "Did you make it all the way in this morning?" one asked while others looked up with bright smiles. During brief conversation our eyes wandered to the site just past theirs, a small circular patch of sand just along the beach with a large tree shading the enclosed spot. We decided these friendly travelers were our destined companions and we snagged the spot. While we started setting up camp, we took in the scenery that surrounded. The wide beach stretched out in front of us and the face of the cliffs behind us. And so it was, although different, the journey had gotten better.
It started with "Would you like some coffee? And what followed was an experience of a lifetime. A friend had eluded to the feeling of Kalalau when he vaguely suggested we bring cheese and flour back to the spiritual pizza makers. Tossing his comment aside as a representation of his experience, I asked no further, passing it off as candid. That is until a friendly Joe, the obvious leader of our new motley crew, came into our camp with a Noni fruit and said, "Here, try this, it will revitalize you after your hard walk. You two are just in time. We are making Pizza today!"
Hutch and I couldn't believe our ears. It was a prophecy. The next two days we spent lounging with this most generous community, eating fresh fish and the most unbelievable meals. Never had I experienced a more giving group of people in one place. We were treated as royalty...our bellies never hungry and volunteers guiding us through the final days of our pilgrimage.
Two days of sharing and more exploring, we had officially dropped out of society. This was a dream. A 20ft waterfall at the end of the beach acted as a fresh water shower after many trips to dip in the warm ocean water. Travelers of all walks of life wander clothless around Kalalau. Kindred spirits set free.
Around the point, a long swim led the adventurists to a beach only accessible by swim. Famous for scenes in the 2005 remake of King Kong, Honopu Beach offered a seclusion from the daily surge of kayakers. Boats and even kayaks were restricted from docking on Honopu. Hesitant to swim, Hutch guided me to an unbelievable site. the beach was large and empty. Walls reached to the sky on every side, forming a semi-circle around the beach and towering hundreds of feet tall. To the right, an enormous arch led to yet another beach with a three-tier waterfall pounding to the rocky floor. We spent only a little over an hour there, but reached yet another climax to our trip.
At night, we were magically transported to another world when local Hawaiians and talented travelers serenaded our camp with devine voices, guitar and ukulele. Squatters emerged from the "Valley of the Hippies" to our camp along the beach to join our jovial community. Meals were communal and stories of life exchanged. Over a cup
of hot kava we marinated in the ambiance. There was no doubt that there is something inspirational about Kalalau.Peaceful sunsets and good company solidified our spiritual odyssey. When time began to windle to our final day, the group had persuaded us to take a boat back to Hanalei vs. packing the 11 miles back out. You can imagine how easily we were convinced. Bob ran a boat to Kalalau almost every day, dropping people in. His tour back up the coast was like memory lane as we were able to look up at iconic spots along the trail in with waves of emotions. The boat cut into caves and under waterfalls that showered into the sea. The 45 minute tour allowed us to view the coast from another perspective. We rode back with a valley old-timer, Tom and his young daughter. A renowned renegade of the valley, Tom revolutionized the experience of Kalalau. His entry into our journey created closure to our experience.
When we beached back at Hanalei and returned to Kee for our car, it was culture shock. Tourists invaded the land and choked the beauty of the coast. We spent some of the day relaxing at Tunnels and then began our decent back to Lihue and the airport. Dinner at a local taqueria and a walk along a resort beach ended our stay in Kauai. At bit anti-climatic, but Hutch and I weren't phased, we were still high from the enlightenment of the Kalalau trail and it lasted through our long trip home.
To view more images of our trip, visit these links:
LA and Poipu
Backpacking Na'Pali
Hutch's images: CLICK ON BOX BY THE ARROWS TO GO TO FULL PAGE AND SITE WILL LOAD
The Journey
Camp Kalalau
To view the trailer to Joe's documentary in which we were interviewed:
Drop In, Drop Out, 11 Miles to Paradise
