The Colorful Coast: Backpacking Kauai's Kalalau Trail
Dates Hiked: 1/24/20 - 1/26/20
Last month Alex and I finally backpacked a trail we have long been dreaming of: the Kalalau Trail. We got our first taste of the Kalalau Trail when we visited Kauai back in 2015. We had only been backpacking once at that point and the idea of hiking a route that regularly pops up on “the most dangerous trails” lists didn’t seem like the smartest idea, so we only hiked the first two miles to Hanakapi’ai Beach. This is as far as hikers can continue on the Kalalau Trail without a permit. The hike may have been short, but what it lacked in length it made up for in scenery. It was spectacular. Each bend seemed to give us a new and even prettier view of the famous tooth-like ridges of the Nāpali Coast. We vowed to return one day when we had more backpacking experience.
In 2018 we felt ready. We reserved ourselves permits for mid-May and began counting down the days. A few weeks before our highly anticipated trip, Kauai experienced tragic flooding. They called it a “100 year storm” and roads and houses were destroyed, it was a heartbreaking event for the small island. The trail was inaccessible and so remained closed for over a year as the road was reconstructed. In June 2019 the trail re-opened. We once again began looking for an opportunity to head back to Kauai.
We already had plans to visit my parents on Maui in January, so we decided to allot a few days to hop over to Kauai and finally hike the Kalalau Trail.
As our trip approached I began to check the weather (if you’ve read any of my other blog posts you’ve probably discovered I’m a bit neurotic about checking the weather!) About a week before our hiking date the forecast called for rain, rain, and more rain. Trip reports on AllTrails noted that the trail had closed and a few hikers even ended up stranded and needed to be rescued by the Coast Guard. While many people note that the hike’s extreme exposure is its scariest part, weather is also a big threat. Kauai is one of the rainiest place on earth—accumulating 400 inches annually on Mount Waialeale—and that rain can quickly transform the small creeks that flow across the trail into engorged rivers. These rivers have swept hikers to their deaths and obviously are not something to take lightly. Alex and I had no qualms about calling off the hike if heavy rains were in the forecast. Thankfully, as our trip approached the clouds parted, the creeks retreated, and the trail remained open. We would get to hike the trail after all.
The Kalalau Trail is 22 miles round-trip with 3,000’ of elevation gain and loss both ways. In addition to the potentially dangerous stream crossings, there are a few stretches of trail where falling is not an option—the most notorious of those sections is “Crawler’s Ledge”. It earned its moniker due to the fact it is an extremely narrow, rocky trail, with a towering wall on one side and a precipitous drop that leads straight into thunderous waves on the other. Many hikers resort to inching across on all fours.
The first two miles of the trail were crowded—quite possibly one of the most crowded trails I’ve been on—but it’s easy to see why. Those two miles have some of the best, though not quite the best, views of the entire trail. We made it to Hanakapi’ai Beach and had our permit checked by a ranger who informed us of all of the current conditions and graciously answered my many questions. After our permit check the crowds disappeared. We were hiking in an area that felt remote and secluded compared to the previous hubbub, and suddenly almost all of the human-created noise faded into the forest. It was replaced by a symphony of crashing waves, singing birds, bubbling streams, and the occasional drone of a flightseeing helicopter. I know the helicopters offer a profoundly beautiful eagle’ eye view of the coast (in fact, I’ve witnessed it myself!) but they are a bit of a nuisance. The incessant chka-chka-chka seems incongruous with the rest of the experience, but it’s an unavoidable aspect of the trail.
The trail winds its way up and down the rugged coast. While it may be easy to assume that a coastal trail will be a consistent, level grade, this trail gains 600’ only to immediately lose it again on a knee-jarring grade. The trail also meanders in and out of the forest, offering sprawling views of the coast, only to swallow you back up in a verdant forest. We continued on like this for miles, jaw-dropping views mixed with quiet moments in the trees.
At mile seven we reached the point of the trail I had been dreading: Crawler’s Ledge. Just the thought of this section made my stomach tighten and my hands sweat. Fortunately, we arrived in sunny conditions. The trail—if you can call it that—was dry, so slipping on a slick rock wasn’t as much of a concern. Alex didn’t hesitate. He quickly made his way to the ledge, rounded the corner, and was out of sight. I slowly followed his path. Carefully testing each foot hold before placing my weight down and always keeping one hand on the wall. Somewhere below me the waves were colliding with the land, but they sounded so far away. I was lost in my own thoughts, in my concentration. Finally, I looked up and saw Alex. I had made it past Crawler’s Ledge, relief flooded through me as we continued on, happy in the knowledge that the most notorious section of the trail behind us.
The infamous Crawler’s Ledge
Another aspect of this trail that makes things a little tricky is that you can’t see the incoming weather until it is almost directly above you. We spent a majority of the time hiking in sunshine, stopping often to hydrate and wipe sweat off our brows. But, at mile 8 thick clouds materialized above the cliffs, and they brought rain. At first it was light and we were hiking in a lovely little sun-shower. The sky off the coast remained clear blue, but then it started to fall harder. We picked up the pace, sliding down slick red clay as we made our way onto the final stretch. We hoped the clouds would break enough to spare us until we had camp set up.
We made it to Kalalau Beach in a misty rain, but the beach’s beauty was still obvious: nearly a mile of golden sand, endless views of the rugged shoreline, a waterfall flowing onto the beach, and waves crashing with a ferocity I’ve never witnessed. There were a few tents tucked away in the treed terraces above the beach. This would be home for the next two nights. We headed into the trees and found a nice flat sandy spot. We turned in early for the night and slept soundly to the chorus of crashing waves and intermittent rain storms.
The next morning we awoke with the sun. We looked out of the tent and saw pink clouds hovering above the horizon. I made coffee and oatmeal and we enjoyed our breakfast from the comfort of our sleeping bags while we watched the sky brighten. We weren’t in a hurry—our second day was going to be spent lounging on the beach, reading, napping, and watching the waves.
We spent the day on what felt like a private beach. There were relatively few groups camping so everyone spread out and kept to themselves. I read my book, looking up from the pages every once in awhile to take in the stunning scene around me. We also snacked on passion fruit we found on the ground near camp. The fruit wasn’t quite ripe but it still tasted delicious.
In the summer the waves shrink and it’s possible to swim in the clear waters just off shore, and to walk into hidden coves down the beach, but the winter swells on the North Shore of Kauai are too strong to allow for even wading. So we kept our distance from the water and watched the ferocity of the ocean spill onto the beach in thunderous roars.
By the time sunset rolled around a few more groups had arrived and we all gathered on the beach to watch the sunset together. The sky behind the coast glowed orange and yellow, and then transitioned into shades of pink and purple that reflected off the water and sand. Eventually darkness swallowed the land and we slunk off to camp for our second and final night. We had a long hike out the next day so we set our alarms for dawn to get an early start. Again, I easily slept through the night, lulled by the waves.
Our alarms sounded in the darkness and we began packing up by the light of our headlamps. We cooked oatmeal for breakfast for the second morning in a row and ate as we worked, which turned out to be a terrible idea. After I bundled my sleeping bag and sleeping pad I went to take a bite of oatmeal only to find a tiny mouse trying to wriggle its way into my bowl. I screamed, shooed it away, and discovered yet another mouse hiding in the shadows. These mice bothered us all morning, darting back and forth into the shadows, trying to evade our headlamps’ spotlight and always trying to get into our belongings. Finally, the sun rose and the mice retreated into the rocks and we finished packing in peace.
We hit the trail just as the clouds on the horizon turned pink. The trail was still a muddy mess in spots—the recent rainstorm that occurred on the day of our arrival not dried off yet—but the views were spectacular. As we climbed, the ridges glowed golden behind us in the first light of day. The light combined with the hypnotic crash of the waves far below made for an incredible start to the day’s hike.
We hiked much more quickly on the way out, we were more confident in our ability to hike on the exposed terrain and we stopped for fewer photo ops. We made it to Crawler’s Ledge in what felt like no time. Knowing what to expect, I was slightly less nervous on the trip back but still felt my hands growing slick with sweat as I slowly crept over the rocks. The waves seemed to have grown even more tumultuous than they were on our trip in, appearing as a roiling cauldron of foam beneath my feet.
Past Crawler’s Ledge we cruised in and out of the forest and up and around ridges and, just like that, we found ourselves back at Hanakapi’ai Beach, greeted by a crowd of people. The rest of the trail was full of starting and stopping as we passed people and waited for approaching hikers to pass. The final two miles seemed to drag by, my feet ached and I was covered in mud and dirt, which was a stark contrast to all the day hikers in their still bright white sneakers and freshly washed hair. Finally, the trail curved and we saw Ke’e Beach. We had made it back to the trailhead! We ran to the showers and rinsed ourselves off as best we could before heading to the shuttle stop and waiting for our 2:30PM shuttle.
We are so grateful that we got lucky with the weather, especially for a winter trip. Yes, there was a little rain and a lot of mud, but we were also graced with sweeping views of the famous Nāpali Coast, colorful sunsets, lush forests, and a pristine beach. This hike was well worth the long wait!
