Crossing the Healing Island
Kauai, Hawaii, USA
By Tyler Wright
A week in Kauai. Nothing but beaches, exploration, solitude and socializing. It was to be a well earned vacation. I had not anticipated the hazardous, life risking, yet affirming, experience it turned out to be.
Kauai pamphlets boast it to be one of our planet’s most spectacular locales of unique flora and fauna. It houses the wettest spot on earth, and claims mountains of such striking stature that tourists spend hundreds of dollars for a helicopter’s view of the steep, succulent terrain. After two days of lazing by the hotel pool, a desire to see Kauai’s beauty with my own eyes was spawned. I spent the day walking in the hot sun and hitching rides from tourists and island locals. With Koke’e Lodge in sight, I collapsed and slept the night in an open field.
Although no road or trail connects Kauai’s north sides, I was determined to avoid any backtracking. I ate breakfast and bought a small lunch, thinking I would cross the uncharted land quickly in the afternoon. Wearing only a t-shirt, shorts, runners and packing only a knife, camera, towel, and journal, I thumbed rides to the end of the road. Peering over the edge of the viewpoint, I stood in awe. Before me stretched a long, steep valley with vibrant green walls and waterfalls cascading to the river’s floor then spilling out into the glass blue Pacific. I stood in silence with the other awe stricken tourists.
The Kalalau Valley is three miles long and four thousand feet deep. In many places, its walls are vertical. Seeing it was not enough for me. I wanted to live it, be apart of it, conquer it. A trail led me to the back of the top of the valley, as I sought a downward route. A rush of excitement and nervousness passed through me. My heart was pounding, and I could not stop smiling. I was afraid, but the view forced me to leap
Fear gripped me immediately. The dense brush snared me like a fly caught in a spider’s web. My feet slipped on the steep, unpredictable ground. Fallen and rotted trees, which littered the floor, crumbled with every step I took. I moved slowly as if time had stopped. Fifteen minutes would often pass before I made a move. I swayed between fear and awe. I thought, “Where am I? What am I doing?” as I dropped my body into the next cluster of plants.
The surrounding landscape changed with every step. Small waterfalls and twisted dead trees from the 1992 hurricane infested the upper valley. And the setting sun cast majestic shadows on the sharp, wavy ridges. A constant panic forced me to set small goals along the way. Each minor achievement released the joy of success, making me giggle and laugh. No one knew I was here, and one wrong move around a cliff could easily keep my body from discovery.
The thrill of the risk forced me to focus on the reward, not the struggle. Each step brought me closer to the gleaming blue ocean. An 800-foot cliff interrupted my homeward bound course. The growing darkness urged me to resolve my dilemma in the morning. I found a fallen log, cut up some ferns, and made a nest between the log and the slope.
Sleep was evasive. I was wedged between the joy of a half accomplished mission and the fear of never reaching a warm bed. With no food, unable to sleep, and the increasing cold under my wet towel I began to feel anxious, which escalated to terror when it began to rain. Then I remembered where I was. The most astounding scenery encircled my nest. Every shade of green covered the darkening slopes, and birds descended down into the brush-covered slopes and squawked in the loudest, strangest cries all night long. It was eerie to be a part of such a remote, untouched landscape.
The morning rain was accompanied by dense fog, which hindered my view of the valley, frustrating me to tears. I collected myself, remembering my determination to find salt water. Backtracking out of the steep ravine, I found a new direction. Here, I remember seeing golf ball sized spiders, with webs that spanned yards. I saw a goat. If he could walk so could I. My confidence disappeared after I slipped and slid for twenty feet. I was fully aware of my circumstances. I could never truly walk, descending the slopes. My hands and feet were always planted, which sent me into a trance. Fear and respect for the valley created precision in every forward move.
Hours later, I walked through prickly thimbleberry bushes at the back of the bottom of the valley. Jumping and climbing down rivers, for the rest of the day, I reached the shores of the Pacific. I was overwhelmed with peace and joy. But the adventure was not over.
An eleven-mile hike along the Napali Coast Trail was ahead of me. I was starving and exhausted from the physical and emotional journey. Almost miraculously, an Austrian couple sauntered towards me, and asked me to join them at a beach camp. Camp?
A beautiful beach lay close. Sharp, steep mountains encased it. A waterfall poured out fresh drinking water. I peeled off my clothes and ran into the ocean. The salt stung my multitude of cuts but the water soothed my body.
I offered the residents money for food, which sparked laughter in the crowd. I should have known that people, living on the beach, eating fruit off the trees, would shun such things as monetary exchange. They fed me an incredible vegan stew, put together with everyone’s contributions. I fell asleep beside the beach fire, to guitar songs played late into the night.
I did the dishes after breakfast and became a living legend to the locals. They had never heard of anyone surviving a Kalalau Valley descent. Songs were played in my name at the breakfast fire. They doctored my wounds with Aloe Vera and Lantana tea, so as to avoid common staff infection. The tea knocked me out for two hours. Upon awakening, I thanked my new friends and started the treacherous hike along the beautiful Napali Coast Trail.
The six-hour, blister-ridden hike was challenging. The trail dove into lush, cool valleys, with mango and passion fruit trees, and stretched over dry, hot mountains. It hugged cliffs overlooking the ocean, hundreds of feet below. I scored a ride from the trailhead to my hotel room door.
My remaining two days were spent recovering and writing feverishly in my journal. Was it worth the risk? Absolutely. In order to focus on every step my mind was cleared of all distractions. I’d only thought about the best things in my life: people of influence, great thoughts, and good memories. I was in the best psychological frame ever. Scaling the green and black walls of the Kalalau Valley taught me how to really free my mind and appreciate my own capabilities. If you decide to try it, please don’t say who sent you.
