Kawaikini (5,243′) – Highest Point of Kauai
Matthew Gilbertson | Feb 13, 2019
2 h mountain biking (12 mi), 8 h hiking (21.6 mi)
2.4″ of rain recorded by Wai’ale’ale rain gauge
I began driving from our hotel near the Lihue Airport at about 5 am and headed west on the main highway. Traffic had already begun to pick up by that time, but there were no significant delays, and I reached the parking lot at Koke’e Lodge at 6:30 am.
My plan was to park the rental car – a basic 2wd Hyundai Elantra – here, since it wouldn’t be able to handle the rough 6 mile drive along the Mohihi Road to the trailhead. From the trip reports of fellow peakbaggers, it was clear that this road required either a vehicle with 4wd and high clearance or else you’d have to road walk an extra 6 miles each way. To avoid paying the extra money for a 4wd vehicle and increase the fun, I opted to rent a mountain bike from Kauai Cycles in Kapa’a.
From here, the plan was to mountain bike to the trailhead, then hike the ~11mi to the summit. Meanwhile, Amanda would relax in the hotel back in Lihue, with a pre-natal massage and manicure. I was in for a massage of my own, at the hands of wet jungle vegetation and cold, wind-driven rain.
Under a surprisingly clear, dry sky illuminated by twilight, and with a comfortable temp of about 50F, I started biking around 6:35 am. After about 2 miles of biking, I reached the first significant obstacle: a fast-flowing stream crossing that was about 30′ wide and upper-shin deep, with a 1′ mini-waterfall just below. The Elantra certainly couldn’t have made it through this, and it looked pretty dicey for even a jeep.
At first, I tried pushing the bike beside me while I waded across, but it kept getting pulled downstream by the current, so I had to carry it across instead. Balancing was tricky, but I managed.
When I emerged on the other side, it began to rain, and I faced the first significant decision: rain jacket or no rain jacket. Sure, I figured, the jacket would keep me dry at the beginning, but due to exertion, I knew that it’d soon be saturated with sweat. So with or without the jacket, I’d be soaked either way. I kept it in my backpack and committed to a soaking. For now, I’d keep my rain jacket, extra dry clothes, and secret weapon stashed in my drybag.
Rain was basically inevitable because this area was one of the wettest in the world. The rain gauge on top of Mt Wai’ale’ale – the second highest point on the island and only a mile from Kawaikini – had recently set a new world record for most rain recorded in a 24h period in Sep 2018: over 48″ inches! Over the course of 2018, it recorded more than 510″!
That meant that for the ~10hr period I expected to be on the mountain, on average, 0.6″ of rain would fall. USGS data for the Wai’ale’ale rain gauge showed that it had picked up about 2″ of rain each of the two previous days, so I expected more of the same.
How does one layer appropriately for 10 hours of heavy exertion (I planned to trail run as much as possible) in cold, torrential rain? In my experience, no Goretex rain jacket can stay dry for that long – I expected only a couple of hours at best. Wearing something non-breathable like a dry suit top wasn’t an option either, because any insulation underneath would be soaked from sweat. What about a wetsuit? Wetsuits are designed to keep you warm while wet, so it seemed like exactly what I was looking for. Wearing my Goretex shell on the outside would block the wind. A few days earlier, I had picked up a thin neoprene top at a surf shop in Po’ipu. That would be my secret weapon. I packed it and all of my gear in a ~15L dry bag.
For now though, I continued in my polypro t-shirt and shorts, relatively comfortable, though already saturated.
Beyond the first stream crossing, the road quality degraded, with lots of fallen branches and loose rocks. A few miles later, I encountered another stream crossing – this one even deeper than the first. At about 4 miles in, a large fallen tree blocked the road, which would require a chainsaw to remove. It was becoming pretty clear that I’d be the only one on the trail today.
After an hour of mountain biking, I arrived at the sheltered picnic area at the trailhead and locked up my bike. Probably no reason to lock it up, I thought, but it’d be pretty heartbreaking if someone took it and I had to walk back to the car.
I began trail running at about 7:30 am and followed the GPS tracks of my predecessors using the Peakbagger app. After a mildly spicy creek crossing, the trail ascended steeply up a brushy hill. With numerous branches down, it was hard to follow at times, but metal trail signs every 0.25 miles (!) indicated I was on the right track.
After ~4 miles, I reached the Koiae stream crossing – noted by fellow peakbaggers to be potentially hazardous. It wasn’t trivial, but I managed to cross without the water getting past my knees.
I continued my slog, occasionally running where possible, with frequent GPS checks to ensure I was on the right track. Eventually, I reached the start of the animal control fenceline, which had been recently built to contain invasive species like deer and wild boar. Walking beside it provided a relatively easy thoroughfare through the jungle. After a 0.5 mile detour in the wrong direction, I soon settled into the groove and maintained a 3-4 mph pace running next to the fence. It was difficult to go any faster because I was running through deep mud, streams, up and down steep mini-hills, hopping over roots and fence bracing, squeezing between the fence and nearby trees, and occasionally I’d sink in up to my knees.
Soon, I reached Sincocks Bog – a swampy, treeless area that added a new element to the misery in the form of wind. With my clothes totally saturated, temps of ~45F, torrential rain, and winds of 20-30 mph, I was approaching a new PR on the spectrum of discomfort. Occasionally, the wind and rain would suddenly abate for a minute or two, and it seemed like the skies were going to clear, but for the most part, the trend was generally towards increased wind, rain, and misery.
By about 10:30 am, I reached the ridge connecting Wai’ale’ale and Kawaikini. I turned right and proceeded south along the ridge in the direction of Kawaikini. With no fence to follow, and with visibility only a few hundred feet, I was now reliant on following the GPS.
After slogging through the bog for another 45 minutes, I made it to the summit of Kawaikini at 11:17am. It was no place to dwell. I recorded a quick GoPro video and turned around after about 3 minutes on the top.
I made for a small grove of pseudo-sheltered trees and took my first break. I hastily scarfed down a sandwich and some cookies and peeled off my saturated t-shirt. It was time for the secret weapon: my wetsuit top. With wet skin, decreased dexterity, and a tight fit, I struggled to put it on. After I finally wrangled it over my body, I donned the rain jacket and started running again.
By the time I returned to the fenceline, amidst an utter deluge, my level of misery had rebounded by one or two points as my core temperature rose.
A half hour later, I noticed a strange object attached the fence that hadn’t been there when I had passed through before: my water bottle! The blue Nalgene had fallen out of my pack somewhere during the ascent, probably when a banged into one of the many trees, I figured. I hadn’t noticed it until I was near the summit, so I assumed it was long gone and I’d never see it again. Luckily, it was just my backup water bottle, and I was relying on my Camelback. Nevertheless, I was happy to see it. But, who had placed it there? How could there possibly be another person out and about in these conditions?
As I continued my slog, I pondered these questions. Thirty minutes later, I was startled to see another hiker approaching from the opposite direction. He was dressed in a blue rain jacket and rain pants. As soon as he noticed me, he was clearly equally astonished. He said his name was Chad and he worked for the Nature Conservancy (TNC), checking traps to see if they had captured any invasive species. He and a colleague had been helicoptered in a few days earlier to a nearby camp, and he was slated to get a ride out the next day if the weather was favorable.
I told him I was here to climb the highest mountain on the island. At first, he couldn’t quite see why that would be an objective worthy of such suffering, but I told him I had been looking for a challenge. He graciously offered me food and dry clothes, but I said that I was OK, and needed to keep moving. We parted ways and I continued my slog.
As the miles ticked down, I began to become increasingly concerned about the Koiae stream crossing. It had rained almost continuously since I had crossed earlier that morning, and new streamlets had begun to form in earnest on the trail.
As I descended to the crossing, I could hear the roar of the raging waters – clearly much louder than it had been earlier in the day. It still looked cross-able, though the submerged rocks I had stepped on during the first crossing were now completely covered and indiscernible. Before I entered the stream – ahem, river – I noticed a small, primitive cabin a short distance away. It was probably locked, I figured, but since the front window was missing, I could probably have entered if I really wanted to. I briefly considered resting inside, but daylight was running out and I needed to keep moving.
I stepped carefully through the turbid, muddy water, and braced myself against the exposed boulders. The water depth ranged from about 2-3 ft deep, and it involved a little swimming at the far end, but overall it wasn’t too bad. Eric and I had grown accustomed to spicy stream crossings during family backpacking trips to the Smoky Mountains when we were kids.
By the time I reached the other side, the rain momentarily stopped and the sun even made and brief appearance. I quickly scarfed down some granola bars, Doritos, and blueberry muffins and kept hiking.
An hour later, at about 3:30 pm, I was finally back at the bike. I still had 6 miles to go, but I felt like I was home free.
The wetsuit top had proven to be vital. Although I was completely saturated, despite my rain jacket, I had managed to stay reasonably warm. My biggest regret was that I had nothing warm for my legs – neoprene shorts or a full wetsuit without coverage below the knees would have been a good idea.
I unlocked the bike and quickly started pedaling, eager to get back before dark. New streams had formed in the road; since I was completely soaked, there was no need to avoid them. The two major steam crossings on the road were even deeper than they had been in the morning, owing to an entire day of heavy rain. They were both knee deep by this point – manageable on foot, but probably impassable for all but the most hardcore off-road vehicles. On the far side of the second crossing, I noticed some fresh tire tracks in the mud. Evidently, the drivers had prudently chosen to turn around.
Finally, at 4:30 pm, after a 10 hour outing, I made it back to the car at Koke’e Lodge. I changed into dry clothes, strapped the bike on the rack, and began the 1.5h drive back to Lihue.
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