Pupukea to Kulana’ahane & Makapu’u

This is a story of one hike that split into two hikes. Ethan picked up Chris, Daryl and myself and drove to the end of the island to begin our journey across the mountain. The Ko’olau Mountain Range.

Day 1 – Saturday, May 27. We got off to a late start at a little past 8am, as three of us were sober and one was slightly hung over. The mountains are calling and we are coming. Photo by Kristina Eizenhofer.

Chris recycling a hiking stick from the forest grounds that would stay with him until the end. The very end.

Mother Nature is slowly taking her real estate back. Photo by Daryl Cacatian

Ethan passing the picnic shelter.

We soon left the road strewn with fallen rocks and trees for a trail strewn with overgrowth, roots, rocks and mud.

Preparing to plunge into the trail system carved out of the mountains by the Army and Civilian Conservation Corps back in the early 1900s. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Walking through waist high uluhe ferns on the trail. Welcome to the jungle, probably the most overgrown section of the KST.

Taking a short break amidst the whistling leaves of grass.

We soon dropped off the ridge to contour on the Windward side.

Hey, there’s a Tupperware party going on back here. Anybody?

Enjoying a brief respite on the ridge from the claustrophobic and cloying vegetation, which snatched my water bottle and in return, gave up my sunglasses from an earlier hike.

It was around noon when we reached the halfway point to Laie. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Breaking out into the more exposed section of the ridge and some sorely needed fresh air.

Covered with condensation and perspiration, we arrived at the gloved junction and dropped down to contour to the Leeward side. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Making our way up to the foxhole that marks the 2,240′ summit, only to discover that we had familiar company sitting at the top.

Somebody was drinking beer at the top. Somebody didn’t need another beer. Group photo left to right: Ethan, Daryl, Arnold, myself and Chris.

We left Arnold at the summit …

… and soon bumped into the ubiquitous fence line and another familiar face – Rob Johnson.

Daryl extricating himself from the ankle deep mud. A taste of what was to come.

The cabin in the distance.

Crossing our mud soaked toes that the cabin would be open.

We got to the cabin around 4pm to find out that Rob’s group had already opened the cabin. The largest cabin on the KST was made smaller by nine hikers setting up home for the night. We took turns filling our water and rinsing the mud from our blackened shoes and feet.

Some of us made our way up to the helipad to catch the evening entertainment that buzzed us on their way to Sacred Falls. Then we trickled back down to the cabin to cook our rice and chicken and beans and rice. Rice dominated the dinner table. Somebody was going to cut their toothbrush in half to save grams of weight, when somebody else pointed out that they still had to carry it back out. Light bulb time.

Enjoying the golden hour as we settled in on our first night on the mountains. Earplugs muffled the noise pollution floating around the cabin while air mattresses eased our tired bodies.

Day 2 – Sunday, May 28. Daryl enjoying the glowing sunrise from the helipad, while the rest of us made our bunks and breakfast. Photo by Chris Bautista.

When you got to go, you got to go. Never mind the smell. Pass the toilet paper. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Rob’s group heading out to rappel Koloa Falls.

We left the cabin around 8am to start slogging our way through the muddiest section of the KST. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Leaving the fence line and gates behind us as we contoured on the Leeward side of the trail.

Punching through a stream of pungent mud that passed for a trail. No Spartan Mud Race this year.

Crossing an open field to regain the ridge.

Look long and hard at this bottle. Let’s not have another deja vu moment.

Approaching the fenced Papali summit.

Rain showers met us at the summit around 10am. No sign of the “King’s Slipper” from an earlier hike. Group photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Rounding the fenced corner to find …

… our lechon lunch? Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

The fence line and gates served as a surrogate firebreak through the uluhell of ferns.

The rain went away shortly after we got to the signed junction around 11am. Time to put away our rain gear. Only to take it out later again. Life in the mountains. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Misery aka knee deep mud loves company.

Leaving the mud trail behind us.

The views were fleeting due to the drifting clouds, but what views they were when we had them.

Chris dropping into the fenced gully, whose streambed was remarkably dry given the wet weather we were experiencing.

Hanging on the fence line, our constant companion in the mountains, as we contoured on the Windward side with muted valley views.

Passing through stacks of fences and pallets that provided temporary shelter from the sweeping rain showers that came and went.

We arrived at the iconic boot junction around noon. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Looking out towards the Leeward side as we left the fence line for the ridge line.

Walking on the Windward side of the ridge as we got treated to stunning views of the valleys. Never gets old.

Checking the weather forecast. Sunny with splendid views. Guy Hagi was alive and well in the mountains.

The group queuing around the gate to get off the ridge.

Greeting hikers since 1978. Built to honor an avid hiker who particularly loved this spot and whose life was tragically cut short by a car crash.

Sweeping views of Punalu’u and Kahana Valleys.

Panoramic view of the recently installed boardwalk and Kahana Valley.

Switch backing our way to the cabin.

Panoramic view of the West side with the cabin, marsh and the WST in the backdrop.

We got to the vacant cabin around 230pm with a lot of time on our hands. Ethan called first dibs on a slowly leaking air mattress that somebody had left behind. We washed off the mud from our shoes, socks and feet.

Cabin life. Reading the gems of Darth Vader poems that were trying to pull us to the dark side. We filled up our water and fired up our stoves to cook our dinners. Hot food does a body good.

Chris trying to be one with nature or nature was calling.

Day 3 – Monday Memorial Day, May 29. Sunrise from the cabin.

Chris slippered to the summit to catch a solitary sunrise washing over him, while the rest of us ate our breakfast.

We put on our still wet, but clean shoes and left the last four walled shelter we would see in the mountains.

Daryl enjoying the scenic views of Kahana Valley while munching on the abundant thimble berries that populated the trail.

The long and overgrown Windward ridge that goes down into Kahana Valley.

Watching our steps as we made our way down through the false holes and eroded sections of the trail.

One can’t but be awed and impressed hiking through the most scenic stretch of the KST.

The morning sun was hitting us particularly hard as we made contact with the fence again.

Ethan harvesting fan umbrellas for the crew. Chris’s sickle did come in handy. Ethan would never mock his gardening tool again.

Leaving the fence for the trail.

We got to the junction with the Leeward trail that leads down to Wahiawa around 9am. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

When you fall off the ridge, get right back on, with a helping hand.

The heat was somewhat diffused by overcast clouds, so we disposed of our fan umbrellas.

It passed the sniff test. Now for the taste test? It wasn’t even 10am and it was too early to be drinking suspect beverages.

The mass of hikers follow lives of bustling trails, while the minority of hikers enjoy lives of quiet trails. Besides bumping into Arnold and Rob’s group back at Laie, we would not see another soul until Kulana’ahane Summit.

Chris rounding the bend in the trail. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Walking across a relatively fresh landslide that had wiped out part of the constantly evolving trail system. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Contouring on the Leeward side, that for the most part protected us from the elements.

Back on the exposed windswept and cloud covered ridge line.

One does not always follow the fence on the KST, there are certain junctions that must be navigated or one will end up lost and burning precious time getting back on the right trail.

The largest known specimen of Lehua Papa provided scant cover from the rain showers sweeping the mountains.

Following the fenced ridge line, where we soon dropped down and detoured into the tree of life pass.

Looking at the powerful example of wind at work in the mountains. A horizontally growing sugi pine tree. The views weren’t that bad either. Until the clouds rolled in. Story of our lives in the mountains.

Leaving the sprawling fence line behind us at 1230pm. It’s just a matter of time before the necessary eyesore continues its march on the KST, which also seems to be pushing the pigs ahead of the fence.

Passing through the notch in the mountains.

Contrary to popular belief, there are several groves of these Japanese Sugi Pine Trees sprinkled throughout the mountains. Besides the ones at your local nursery.

We skirted the pine trees and crossed the trickling stream to make our way up the hill.

Can we just crash and camp here? It was only 1:30pm, so we decided to change the schedule and push on. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Leaving the contours and switchbacks behind us. It was just straight up punishing hills and ridges ahead of us.

Passing the overgrown Windward ridge from hell that none of us would repeat again under any conditions.

The scale of the mountainous terrain was more than equal to the physical exertion needed to traverse the hilly ridges.

Where is my GoPro? Chris and Daryl backtracked to retrieve Daryl’s GoPro that he had left on an earlier spot on the ridge.

Threading our way down into the heavily vegetated gap.

Minding the buzzing bees in the notch.

Pushing up the short but steep climb out of the notch.

Enjoying the stunning scenery wrapped around us at a little past 4pm.

Looking back at the rollercoaster of a ridge ride. More to come. Keep your feet on the trail and your hands in front of you.

Enjoying the short stretch of flat and wide open ridge line. Mountain and ocean views included.

Concentrating on wading through the waist high overgrowth on the trail as we had no views to distract us.

Dropping down to our campsite around 6pm. Ethan had surged ahead to Manana for the night. We noticed a lot of pig rooting activity in the area and checked our water supply and decided not to replenish our water, despite having steripens in stock.

Goodnight from Camp Corner. Pounding rain kept the grounds wet and air mattresses kept our bodies insulated from the damp grounds.

Day 4 – Tuesday, May 30. It was wash day in the mountains. The smell of rain hung in the mountains.

Leaving the soggy camp grounds in our squishy shoes a little past 8am.

We got disoriented in the clouds and “explored” in the dew dropped tree lined ridge until we found the trail.

Approaching the socked in summit of Manana to meet up with Ethan.

We arrived at the 2,660′ summit around 9am to recover the water bottles that Chris had stashed earlier. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Dropping down from the rain kissed summit, we walked through the bowl shaped grassy meadows before getting back on the ridge line. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Working our way back to the ridge line.

The elevating mountainous views kept us grounded on the trail.

Passing the constantly eroding and evolving ridge line.

Dropping down into the trail terminus around 1130am, experienced cloud blocked views of Waihee Valley, so we pushed on after taking a quick breather. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

The crew silhouetted against the clouds going down the ridge line.

Dropping off the ridge and into the mystical meadows a little past 1pm.

Chris fishing for water that was sprinkled with floating bugs. Double filtered. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Group photo at the edge of the mythical meadows.

Ethan heading up to the summit.

Leaving the meadow oasis in the middle of the mountain range was harder for some than others. Who can blame them? Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Why eat gummy worms, when you can have the real thing?

Back to our regular programming. The rollercoaster ridge.

The sound of huffing and puffing was alive and well in the mountains.

The clouds came back to keep us company.

It was amazing to hear the cacophony of civilization drifting up to the mountains.

The best views for us after the grueling climbs was the power lines appearing from the clouds. Another couple humps and we could call it a day.

I felt every inch of the elevation gains and losses as we made it to the 2,805′ summit around 6pm. The hardest and hilliest section of the KST were behind us.

Can you pass the butane please? I need to cook my Rice and Chicken. Photo by Ethan Clavecillas.

Day 5 – Wednesday, May 31. Hiking stick doubling as a stretching stick for Chris.

The gusting winds snatched my boonie hat and sunglasses from my head and sailed them into the great beyond. Daryl lent me his fitted cap to keep my big head warm in the chilly winds.

Passing the plant protected enclosure on the way to Hell.

It was hump day in the mountains.

Rounding the corner to find welcoming Windward views.

We dropped off the cloud soaked ridge and made our way towards the rusting stairs of Hell.

Panoramic view from Stairway to Hell.

Our stay in Hell was brief, as it was not as hot as we expected. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Following the flag towards Moanalua Saddle.

Leaving Hell behind us as we made our way up the dilapidated and rusting stairs.

Daryl making his way down the ridge with the backdrop of H3 behind him.

The weathered marker has seen better days.

Taking a shoefie at the summit around 1215. No stashed water from the search years ago was left, but the webbing that Ethan had stashed was still here.

Making our way down the crumbly and eroded section.

Stumbling down the saddle, or at least that’s what somebody told me.

The mountain tops trying to pierce the cloud ceiling.

The clouds lifted to reveal the CCL building that has been drawing hikers to her since the mid-1950s.

We hit the summit a little past 2pm. I was spent and exhausted from not enough food and water from the past two days. My stomach had shut down. A couple we met at the summit, graciously offered their egg sandwich, which I couldn’t stomach so it was time to end the hike. Parting group photo by Chris Bautista.

Looking back at the guys contouring and climbing the Dirt Triangle.

Mahalo to Ethan for accompanying me down the valley to make sure that I made it down safe and sound. End of the road for us, sorry about that prime rib dinner and cutting the hike short. Thanks to Ben Hinders for picking us up on short notice. More importantly, thanks to my wife who let me take off to the mountains for this hike. I think she was more disappointed that I didn’t finish than I was! I still enjoyed my five days in the mountains with good company and great times. The company always matters more to me than the hikes.

Meanwhile, back in the mountains … Daryl making his way up the last chossy section. Photo by Chris Bautista

Chris climbing up the overgrown back stairs to the CCL building.

Enjoying a brief break with the stashed water and food. Photo by Chris Bautista

Daryl climbing the steep hill to heaven.

Nobody was around the WW2 building. They had the heavenly view all to themselves.

Coming down from the Moanalua Middle Ridge Junction, they made their way down to stop briefly at the defunct radar station for a better view. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Home for the night. Face time gave way to battery time.

Day 6 – Thursday, June 1. Daryl greeting the morning sun. Photo by Chris Bautista.

It was a beautiful but windy day to saddle up again.

Contouring on the Leeward side of the crumbly ridge. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Chris untangling the webbing from the vegetation. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Daryl about to do the dirty rope slide down. Photo by Chris Bautista

Scooting down past the broken wave. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Daryl climbing his way down the first rock triangle. Photo by Chris Bautisa.

Chris standing above the second rock triangle. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Standing on the narrow dike before the last main obstacle on the Bowman side. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Daryl cresting the top of Witch’s Hat. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Don’t kick over any rocks, lest a creepy crawler goes up your leg. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Vienna Sausage break. Just missing the saimin.

Daryl walking on the narrow ridge fringed by abundant vegetation. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Looking ahead to the crown jewels of Kalihi Saddle.

Daryl making his way up. Photo by Chris Bautista.

The classic photo spot. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Daryl making the steady climb up the flank of the grassy ridge. Photo by Chris Bautista.

It was blowing hard on the saddle today. Just ask Chris’s hair.

To paraphrase Sir Edmund Hillary, “It is not the saddles we conquer but ourselves.” Photo by Chris Bautista.

Almost there.

Taking a short break. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Daryl making good use of all his gym time pulling himself up with the new webbing. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Playing Donkey Kong in the mountains. Well played. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Dropping in elevation, they shed the clouds and gained the views back.

Daryl contouring and climbing his way around the incisor rock. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Arnold, Ethan and Krissy climbed up to the puka to meet the guys. Photo by Arnold Yago.

Chris and Daryl dropping back down to civilization and more importantly, hot food. Photo by Arnold Yago.

Chris and Daryl hitting the pavement around 5pm after a six day hiatus in the mountains. Photo by Dale Yoshizu.

Shout out to Agnes Bryant, Amber John, Arnold Yago, Becca Frager and Justin Brackett, Christine DC, Cynthia De Lafuente Wolarey, Dale Yoshizu, Darlina and Junanita Cacatian, Derek Potter, Ethan Clavecillas and Kristina Eizenhoefer, Harold Viloan, Kathlea Kay Evans, Lee Shreve, Mia Garrison, Nandor Szotak, Scott and Dalia Bowling, and Shirley Hamamura who turned out to show their support for Chris and Daryl and more importantly for bringing assorted foods and drinks.

Talking story at the campsite that Derek Potter had found that was relatively protected from the wind and prying eyes. Photo by Arnold Yago.

Day 7 – Friday, June 2. Early hikers roll up their camp early. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Daryl climbing down the second notch. Photo by Chris Bautista.

The wind was blowing hard in the morning and they had discovered the webbing had shifted to the far right. Chris shed his pack and climbed to retrieve the webbing for Daryl. After multiple attempts, the webbing was passed to Daryl and the hike continued. Photo by Chris Bautista.

All the technical were sections behind them as they continued their climb to the highest peak on the Ko’olaus. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

A hippy hiker was their only company along with the cloudy views. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Chris at the top of the crater trail. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Enjoying a short break before the big climb up to Lanipo. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Looking back is always easier than moving forward, but not as rewarding.

Passing the powerlines. Almost pau for the day.

They hit the summit around 5pm and promptly gorged on dinner for four. Buffet in the mountains.

Day 8 – Saturday, June 3. Chris greeting their last and rainy day on the mountains. Photo by Daryl Cacatian.

Around Wailupe, Chris fell off the ridge and was caught by a tree on the Leeward side. Don’t fall at all, but if one must, veer towards the Leeward side which is generally more forgiving in terms of trees and grade.

Enjoying the Waimanalo views at the 2,520′ top. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Passing through a sliver of a trail.

Sliding down the eroded section of the trail towards Kuli’ou’ou, where they met a couple of hikers at the Bear Claw summit.

The usually crowded summit was eerily empty. Chris decided to dry his tent further down at Hahaione summit.

Daryl at the abandoned lookout. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Looking out towards Rabbit Island surrounded by the blue-green ocean. It was almost more tempting than the mountains.

No photo shoots to delay their progress.

Crashing Camp Awesome to enjoy the first beers of the day, courtesy of the Caveman aka Marcus Griego.

Enjoying the view before setting off on the exposed and rocky section. Photo by Chris Bautista.

Dropping down the rocky ridge to find …

… Arnold and Mark waiting for them with a couple more beers. Alcohol and hiking go hand in hand, or was that foot to mouth? Photo by Arnold Yago.

Nearing the end of a week long journey. Photo by Arnold Yago.

A big thanks to Agnes Bryant, Arnold Yago, Christine DC, Derek Potter, Ethan Clavecillas and Kristina Eizenhoefer, Kath Pablo, Lee Shreve, Mae Christine Dizon, Mark Carinoso, Mia Garrison, Rocky Serrano, and Scott Bowling for coming out to see Chris and Daryl crossing the finish line and bringing assorted foods and drinks.

Celebratory congratulations to Chris Bautista, Daryl Cacatian and the walking stick for hiking the entire Ko’olau Mountains in eight days! Others have done this trek with and without company, with and without assistance; regardless of how it was done, an awesome accomplishment to all that have done it and will do it. Great job guys!!!!

Note: I have been made aware the some hikers have been using my blog as a hiking guide and getting lost on the trails. Please note that this blog was made to document the hike for the crew(s) that did it. That is why some of my comments will seem to have no relevance or meaning to anybody outside of the crew(s) that hiked that trail. My blog was never meant as a hiking guide, so please do not treat it as such. If you find inspiration and entertainment from these hikes, that is more than enough. If you plan on replicating these hikes, do so in the knowledge that you should do your own research accordingly as trail conditions, access, legalities and so forth are constantly in flux. What was current today is most likely yesterdays news. Please be prepared to accept any risks and responsibilities on your own as you should know your own limitations, experience and abilities before you even set foot on a trail, as even the “simplest” or “easiest” of trails can present potential pitfalls for even the most “experienced” hikers.

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