I winced as the light came on.
“Did the alarm go off?”
“Molotov beat the alarm,” Chaz said, unplugging my phone from on the only outlet we’d found that worked. “I’m gonna charge this while I take a shower. Your phone takes the best pictures, so we’ll use mine as backup.”
I nodded, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
“Also, I made you coffee.”
“You,” I pointed, “you are a good and wise man.”
Chaz chuckled and came over to kiss me on the forehead. “And you’re a sweetheart, but don’t worry. I won’t tell the others.”
“A lifetime to build a reputation–seconds to destroy it.”
“I would never,” he laughed, swinging a towel over his shoulder.
Molotov called out to some other rooster in the distance.
I looked at the time and made my calculations. It was 5am in Hawaii. We had about two hours to organize our packs and grab provisions before our ride picked us up to take us to the trailhead.
I made the bed and laid everything out to take inventory.
We’d created a list of items to bring and then, realizing the hassle it would be to pack all of that and lug it halfway around the world, decided we’d be better off renting our gear from a local shop on the island.
It would still cost money, but at least that money went to a local business instead of yet another senseless airline fee.
Besides, neither of us had conquered a hike quite like this one. We figured the locals knew what they were doing.
I looked at our list and compared it to everything on the bed. “Ah, fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Chaz asked, walking toward the back patio with a joint in his hands.
“Do you know where I could have left my set of trekking poles?” It was one of the only pieces of gear I’d actually brought over from Florida.
“You had them at the downtown apartment. Think you might have left them there?”
“That can’t be right, I saw them in my bag.”
“Well, you did re-pack. Maybe you missed them the second time?”
“Damnit.”
“I mean, we did rent mine. I probably won’t need them, to be honest.”
“What are you, a mountain goat? Of course you need them.”
“Well, how about this: we’ll split them if it comes down to it. Or we can go back and forth.”
“I’m sorry. I swear I know I packed them.”
Chaz grinned and lit his Delta 9 joint. “It’s all gravy, baby.”
“Thank you,” I said, packing my bag. “I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick and then we should probably head out to that little grocery store for some breakfast.”
Twenty minutes later, we were all packed and standing in front of some of the freshest poke I’d seen in years.
“Let’s do sandwiches for lunch, like when we hike back home,” Chaz suggested.
“Think it’ll be too heavy? We do have the dehydrated stuff.”
“Nah, it shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll eat them for lunch today and then we’ll save the other stuff for the rest of the trip.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Man, they LOVE their Spam here,” Chaz observed, watching the woman behind the counter spoon fresh eggs into one bowl and a Spam-and-fried-rice combination into a bowl in the window.”
“You know, I’ve never actually had Spam.”
“You’ve NEVER had Spam?” Chaz looked at me, incredulous.
I shrugged. “My parents don’t eat red meat and the last time I was here I was a strict pescatarian.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I bet it’s amazing with those eggs. I think that’s what I’m gonna get. Just a fuckload of protein and those tempura shrimp.”
“That…sounds amazing right now.” My stomach was growling.
We bought our breakfast and some tiny airplane-sized bottles of locally made rum.
Back at the room, we scarfed our breakfast down. As it turns out, Spam, fried rice, and eggs is an amazing breakfast.
“So, how are you feeling about Crawler’s Ledge?” Chaz asked, eyeing me above his coffee.
“Oh, it sounds fucking horrifying…but I think I’ll be mad at myself if I don’t do it, yanno?”
Ever since my first time skydiving, I’ve had a mild fear of heights. I get a little vertigo on escalators or when I’m by the window or balcony of a super-tall skyscraper. The worst case of this happened last summer, when I was crossing some of the highest rope bridges in the world, located just above the canopies of the Amazon rainforest.
That sent me into a full-blown panic attack, complete with tunnel vision…but I still made it across. I guess my method is to just power through it. I certainly don’t seem to live my life with said phobia in mind.
So, my hope was that I could do the same thing with Crawler’s…though, unlike those bridges in the rainforest, there would be no ropes to cling to. Crawler’s wasn’t man-made and it wasn’t necessarily designed with safety in mind…it was just a cliff. One narrow, terrifying cliff.
Still, you can’t make it to the end of the hike without doing Crawler’s Ledge, and you can’t make it home without doing it again.
I think that’s the thing that freaked me out the most: making it once and then having no choice but to make it a second time. That, coupled with Alex’s warnings about trying to cross it when it’s even slightly damp, had me half-hoping his crazy pirate story was real.
“Well, maybe we’ll meet some pirates,” Chaz said, echoing my sentiment.
“Let’s make a deal: we’ll get to Crawler’s…and if either of us feels off about it, we’ll turn back. It’s not worth the risk otherwise.”
“I think that sounds reasonable. Our ride’s here.”
The woman who picked us up was kind of a godsend. Our original ride, which we’d scheduled the day before, fell through and you’re not allowed to park out at the trailhead unless you snag a parking permit ahead of time.
For all of our planning, that was the one blindspot we’d had.
We got on the phone with another lead, which gave us another lead, which sent us another phone number, and so on.
Eventually, Chaz was greeted with the sound of a very cheerful, upbeat woman. “That’s actually PERFECT. I’m in Princeville right now and my last ride out there just cancelled.”
She was there in minutes.
“Aloha!” She said, twisting around from the front seat of her Escalade.
“Aloha! Thank you SO much for picking us up at the last minute,” I said, climbing in.
“Seriously, the guy thought we might be out of luck,” Chaz added.
“Oh, yeah! No problem.” She peered past Chaz, into the front doors of the Wyndham. “Yeah, I don’t recognize him. He must be new.”
“So you know a lot of people out here?” I asked, sensing the local-girl energy.
“Yeah, I grew up out here. I’ve been here my whole life.”
“Have you ever done Kalalau?” I asked.
“I mean, I’ve done PARTS of it, but not like the whole thing. Like, I’ve gone out to the river and stuff, but that’s it”
“What about Crawler’s Ledge?” I asked.
She laughed as she turned down a neighborhood road. “Oh, I’m spoiled. I’ve SEEN Crawler’s Ledge…from like a boat heading out to the beach. But I’ve never done it, no.”
Chaz held my hand. “Is it as bad as they say?”
“Oh, that shit seems nuts. But you’ll be okay. People do it all the time, I just don’t have to because my friends and I just take boats out there. I know a lot of people who’ve done it, though.”
“Okay, so it’s not that crazy, then?”
“I mean…it’s Crawler’s. You picked a great day for it, though. It’s gonna be beautiful out.”
“Yeah, we were gonna go yesterday, but it was raining,” Chaz said.
“Yeah, yesterday was bad. The weather here has been nuts lately. And you don’t want to go too close to the water if it’s raining. Oh! And don’t turn your back on the water.”
“Why’s that? Because you could drown?” I guessed.
“Naw, I mean, yeah you could if it’s real bad, but it’s because it steals your stuff! One minute you’ve got all your shit on the beach, and then you turn around and a wave has stolen it. If the swell’s crazy, it’ll take your bikini right off!” She chuckled, as the Escalade bumped down a dirt road that wound against the coast.
“So the ocean’s a kleptomaniac?” I laughed.
“Yeah! The ocean’s a thief, man.”
“Thieving-ass ocean,” I grinned, looking out. I’d grown up on the water. I knew all-too-well the perils of boarding in a bikini.
“Okay, now keep in mind, once we go past this booth you’re probably gonna lose signal. You won’t have any on the trail at all, so do you need a ride back tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking late in the afternoon or evening, at least,” Chaz eyed me.
“Evening, probably. I don’t wanna rush through it, since we already lost a full day, yanno?”
“Probably smart. How’s 4pm?”
“Maybe a little later?” I asked.
“Does 7 work for you?”
“Yeah, 7 should be good. That should give us plenty of time.
The woman at the booth took down our names and approved our hiking and camping permits. “Should be a great day for it!” She said.
“Awesome,” I smiled, handing Chaz his permit. “That’s what everyone’s been saying.”
Our driver dropped us off in the parking lot. “See you guys tomorrow at 7. Have fun–you’ve got this!”
“Mahalo!” We both chimed, waving.
“I like her,” I said, watching her drive off.
“Me, too. We should definitely recommend her to everyone.” Chaz agreed. We’d found out she recently bought the business after working there for fifteen years.
“For sure. God, just look around!” I exclaimed, gesturing up to the mountains.
“Woah.” Chaz said, taking a drink of water. “This is amazing.”
“You ready?” I asked, reaching for his hand.
“Yeah, let’s crush this mountain.” He said, lifting his fist toward the cliffs.
And with that, we charged forward toward the Kalalau Trailhead.
…to be continued...
Kara Adamo is a globe-trotting ex-bartender, booze nerd, and booze writer. She is the author of Fancy Grape Juice: De-Snootifying the World’s Snootiest Beverage; Artimals: Coloring the Whimsical Wild; and Brews & Hues: A Coloring Book About Beer.
Adamo is a digital nomad, working as a UX writer and UX designer.
She is writing her fourth book, Layers of Cake.
Karita's Travels 