How fast can you run the Kalalau Trail?
A question I didn’t expect to have the answer to
The morning after our starry night in Polihale brought with it a necessary day of rest. After two days of rigorous hikes and camping-sleep, we needed to charge up for the challenge that lay ahead the following day. It felt fitting to walk along Polihale’s sprawling, empty beach, which traced the base of the monstrous cliffs of the Napali Coast, knowing we would be hiking some of that daunting coastline the very next day on the Kalalau Trail.
Every guidebook, every website, every blog, every friend who has been to Hawaii and enjoys hiking fervently recommended the Kalalau Trail. But at first we didn’t think it would be possible to make it happen given the strict and detailed permit policies on the island and the last minute nature of our trip. Permits to hike the entirety of the 22-mile out-and-back Kalalau trail require camping permits for Haena state park, and people book them months in advance. We were much too late for this option. The next option was hiking the first 2 miles of the trail to Hanakāpīʻai Beach, where we would have the option to continue another 2 miles for a more rugged, rigorous hike to Hanakāpīʻai Falls before turning back. However, we still needed a reservation to enter Haena park for this portion, and car parking permits were sold out. Nick, ever the problem-solver, luckily snagged us four spots on a shuttle which would pick us up the next morning at 9am in Hanalei and bring us through the entrance of Haena Park. The shuttle ticket gave us access to the first 2 miles of the Kalalau trail plus the next 2 to the falls, and back. Round trip, the hike is 8 miles, but we were cautioned by locals and guides to give ourselves more than an hour per mile given the terrain. The last shuttle would pick us up back at the start at 5:30pm.
Our rest day took us from Polihale Beach, back out the way we came on the insanely bumpy road. Nick drove us all around the permiter of the island, retracing our route from the earlier days, passing through Kapa’a for some iced coffees, and proceeding north to Anini Beach.
The North is known to be the rainiest part of the island, and sure enough, a storm passed through the second we got to the campsite. We set up our tents to the sight of a rainbow appearing over the shore, and made sure our rain guards were on tight. After a power meal of Ramen in Hanalei, we packed our bags and lunches for an early start the next day morning and snuggled up. It was night three without a shower with soap, a mattress, or a bathroom in the middle of the night, and I was surprised that I felt a little disappointed that it was our final night of camping. Listening to the waves crash against the shore and the rain hit our tent throughout the night, I felt like I had everything I needed inside these four fabric walls.
Nick and I, both typically useless before 8am in New York, bounded out of our sleeping bags at 6:30am sharp and got to work disassembling our site. I was now a capable helping hand breaking down the tent, making it quick work. We stopped for a solid breakfast and coffee and were first in line for the 20 minute shuttle ride to Haena Beach. I was wearing layers from the chill of the morning and a rain jacket, prepared for inevitable mud and rain on the trail. The ride to Haena Park was in itself a wonder. Kauai’s Northern roads wound through patches of mist and sunshine, forest and beached. I likened it to Rainbow Road from Mario Kart.
The shuttle dropped us at Ke’e Beach at the entrance of Haena State Park. It was 9:30am, and with bug spray sprayed, sunscreen slathered, and hiking sticks located at the trailhead, we were off. The base of the trailhead was like stepping into a rainforest. We followed steep but eroded steps up a steady incline into the trail. My legs were stiff and sore and a voice of creeping fear got louder and louder: Could this be the hike that is too hard for me? All Trails cautions that the Kalalau Trail and even this portion of it is “For experienced hikers only”. While I had literally tripled my lifetime hike count on this trip, an experienced hiker, I was not. I felt like I had lead in my shoes as I followed Nick’s footsteps.
My legs ached and my heart-rate rose. I was sweaty already. Other doubtful, negative thoughts bubbled up… Did I even like hiking? Did I only like hiking because Nick liked hiking and I liked Nick? Was this even fun? I walked and walked in quiet, my thoughts spiraling. But I reminded myself that while I was not an experienced hiker, I was strong. I had trained for two major Irish Dance competitions in the past year, making a bit of a competitive comeback at age 28. I could do hard things.
I looked out to my right, and a wall of tropical trees and flowers opened up to reveal a the shimmering, turquoise ocean splashing onto the cliffs. Whales spouted in the distance.
It took my breath away, and the sights only got more and more beautiful with every corner we turned revealing a new vantage point. The colors are what I remember most. The red of the trail, the lime green and dark green of the trees, the bright yellow flowers, the turquoise ocean, the white clouds against an ever-changing sky of sun and storms. It rained a misty spray every few minutes. In the humidity and the exertion of the trail, I stripped off my rain jacket and long sleeve shirt and enjoyed the refreshing rainfall which would end as quickly as it started.
Everything was so bright and technicolor it was blissfully disorienting. You know how runners talk about runner’s high like it’s the best thing ever? I believe hiker’s high is very much a thing too, and we were in it.
We took our time on the first two miles which lead us across a river, over some swamp land, and to the shore of Hanakapi’ai Beach. It is the first major destination on the Kalalau Trail, and the point where many hikers take in beautiful sights while perched on one of the many rocks that speckle the shore before turning around. It’s so picturesque, that at first it’s hard to imagine that it is the deadliest beach on the island, but watching the power of the waves thrashing against the rocky coast and the mountainous cliffs, it creates a wondrous and very real caution for those on the shore. We ate our PB&J’s and trail mix on the rocks. Nick and I took our socks and shoes off and let them dry. I found a spot behind a giant boulder and got an up-close view of the mixture of sand and soil as I conquered my fear of peeing outside on a trail. “I did it!” I exclaimed victorious and grinning. Nick applauded.
It was past time to move on. We were only half way to the falls and it was already 1:00pm. If we were to make it out and back in time to catch the 5:30pm shuttle, we would need to make better time than we had been making. Take fewer pictures, fewer water breaks, and clip our pace significantly. Which sounded doable, but then we started the next leg of the journey and the terrain slowed us way down. As the least experience hiker of the group, it slowed me down the most. I trudged through mud and slipped on a rock and had some trouble with various water crossings. My feet felt heavy and awkward. We marched uphill through a bamboo forest and the path was not as well kept as the first two miles. Every step was more challenging than the last and my negative thoughts threatened a return. What time is it? I kept asking Nick. I wanted to enjoy this, and be able to take our time, but the time crunch was stressing me out and making me feel like I was holding everyone else back. Nick reassured me that we had plenty of time, and that even if we missed the 5:30pm shuttle, we would be able to make our way back to our car in Hanalei. There was plenty of daylight on our side.
The trail got harder and harder to decipher from the ever-changing terrain around us. We were quiet on this last mile and a half, as I secretly doubted that we were on a trail at all. Would a trail really lead us to scramble up hillsides of rocks at a perilous diagonal angle? (Yes.) And multiple water crossings were at a new level of technicality and risk than I had ever experienced. The water was rushing fast, and one false step on a slippery rock, I feared would send me down the river, or at least leave a nasty bump on my body and pride. But I kept following, kept going, and soon, in the distance, was the biggest waterfall I had ever seen. It drew us in and motivated us forward.
It was approaching 3:00, and we had resigned ourselves to missing the shuttle. There were very few hikers passing us by anymore. We were on our own. Or so we thought. Look! Nick whispered, and to my left I saw a few baby mountain goats grazing. The temperature plummeted as we got to the mighty Hanakapi’ai Falls. There was no way to capture how vast and powerful it was in a picture but we tried. I felt like crying from the extreme exertion of the last five hours but laughter is what came out. We had really accomplished something together.
The thing about hiking an out and back trail is that when you get to the view or the waterfall or the summit, you are really only halfway through the hike itself. And it isn’t necessarily easier on the way back. But we weren’t thinking about that yet. We stripped down, changed into our bathing suits and took a dip in a freezing cold water hole from runoff from the falls. We had a snack. We dried our socks and our shoes. And around 4:00 pm, we started heading back, vowing to pick up the pace. Then there was cry, and we found that Kyna, just ahead of us, had slipped on a rock and smacked her tailbone on a sharp rock, just as I had feared was possible earlier. She was in very real pain, and having trouble walking at a normal pace. Knowing the rigor of the road ahead, the idea of missing that shuttle and not being sure of exactly how we would get back to our car suddenly seemed like a really bad idea.
Nick and I thought fast, and said with some false confidence that we would go ahead, get the shuttle, get the car, and come back and pick them up at the trail head. We didn’t have phone service, but we promised to stick to the plan, and if we missed the shuttle, would hitchhike back to the car. Either way, we would make sure we were there to get Mitch and Kyna, so that they could take it slow and not worry about getting home safely.
Nick and I started off at a brisk clip that was almost a run. “Do you really think we can make it?” I said. “Probably not. But there’s a chance.” Nick is an honest guy.
We had four miles of serious terrain to scale in under 90 minutes. A feat for even the most experienced hiker. Something kicked in, perhaps my intense dance training, but it was like a fire was lit under my butt, and I was now leading the way. I was a different hiker, moving as quick as my feet could carry me. Navigating swiftly through the water-crossings. Stomping through the mud instead of avoiding it. Sweat was dripping down my face, neck and chest, but my muscles felt light, and my feet more nimble in my runners. We managed the first mile in 20 minutes. The second mile in about the same. It was 4:45 and we were already passing Hanakapi’a iBeach. Halfway.
My perception of the first two miles of the Kalalau Trail on the way in, was NOT that it was largely downhill after the initial incline, but the way back was a rude awakening that it, in fact, was. Nick and I climbed and climbed, and our pace faltered a bit on that third mile. I twisted my left ankle on a rock. Nick urged me to stop and take a break, but it was now 5:00. We were only a little more than a mile from the trailhead. We could do this. We were loopy and too tired to pun, but each quarter mile marker we passed was a celebration.
Soon, we were on the decline down to the trailhead. I could now fully feel my exhausted feet and legs. It was 5:25. We jogged on the flat stretch of road to the shuttle, and arrived with the doors still open but preparing to depart. The shuttle driver and a full bus of families and hikers took in the sight of us: A flushed, sweaty, smelly, slightly panicked couple. We stammered out a breathless explanation to the bus driver that our friend had gotten injured on the way back and that they were about an hour behind us. “Oh, don’t worry about it- I do another sweep around at 6:30pm and 7 to pick up any stragglers! Let me get their names.” Nick and I laughed in relief and at the irony of it all. We must have looked even more insane to the bus of passengers now, and collapsed into our seats on the bus as we drove back to Hanalei and a double rainbow appeared out our window.
That night, the four of us ate a giant victory dinner of Mahi Mahi tacos and nachos at a local restaurant. Kyna was feeling a little better but certainly sore. Our air bnb welcomed us with the discovery of a washer, drier, shower, a hot tub, and a big warm bed. We had taken on eight miles of the Kalalau Trail, and trailran four of them in one day. I drifted off to sleep around 9pm, dreaming in new colors about new things I could do.
