Hiking the Kalalau Trail Along the Nāpali Coast, Kauai

Map of Trail

January 2020: The Nāpali Coast is arguably one of the most beautiful places in the world, and the Kalalau Trail, which hugs the towering, fluted sea cliffs of the Nāpali wilderness, may be one of America’s best hiking trails. It is a very challenging hike, with a round-trip distance of 22 miles, traversing five valleys and an elevation gain of 10,000 feet.

Why is it so great?
– A 22-mile round-trip hike through lush, towering volcanic sea cliffs that rise thousands of feet.
– The trail is the only access to the area; there are no roads.
– Visitor numbers are kept low due to a permit system, the extreme difficulty of the hike, and the rough ocean conditions that make it hard for visitors to land on the beaches.
– The area is home to endemic trees, plants, and birdlife.
– Hikers can enjoy stunning waterfalls, pristine beaches, and secluded coves with hardly anyone around.
– The park is designated as a wilderness area, with no bridges and many river crossings. Hikers must navigate narrow trails that precariously cling to cliffs with dramatic drops of hundreds of feet.
– There are opportunities for camping on remote beaches.
– The valley is sacred and steeped in Hawaiian history and folklore.
– At the end of the trail, in the Kalalau Valley, there is a community of free-spirited individuals.

I have wanted to complete this trail for decades. I first attempted it almost ten years ago but was forced to turn back at the Hanakapiai River due to flash floods. Instead of hiking the trail, I helped rescue other hikers crossing the raging river and watched as some had to be evacuated by helicopter from the other side. It was winter—the riskiest time of year due to increased storm activity—when I first attempted the trail. I vowed never to try again during the winter months. Fast forward ten years, and I returned with three friends in the winter to try the trail again.

We secured our overnight camping and parking permits well in advance, as they tend to sell out quickly, leaving last-minute planners disappointed. Securing a permit, however, is only part of the challenge; the weather plays a significant role in the success of reaching Kalalau Beach. Rain in the mountains can lead to flash floods at the trail’s numerous river crossings, resulting in trail closures. I had already experienced this on a previous attempt. In preparation, my friends and I monitored the daily weather forecasts, becoming adept at interpreting meteorological data. Our trip was scheduled for winter, when storms are frequent and can close the trail for extended periods. Indeed, just before our trip, the trail had been closed for weeks due to a major storm. Despite the ominous forecast of rain for our hike, we remained optimistic and prepared by packing ample rain gear and hiking poles for better stability.

My friends and I at the trailhead

We ensured that only clean clothes were left in the car, so we wouldn’t need to carry them during the hike and would have fresh attire to change into afterwards. We embarked on the hike an hour before sunrise to get an early start and aimed to reach Kalalau Valley before nightfall.

The initial segment of the trail, a two-mile stretch from Ke’e Beach to Hanakapiai River, is the best maintained. It is also the only section that does not require a permit, making it the busiest. However, setting out early in the morning means encountering few people, aside from some early birds on their way to the Kalalau Trail.

Trail from Ke’e Beach to Hanakapiai River

The Hanakapiai crossing is seriously dangerous. When mountain rains cause the water level to rise, the river transforms from calm to deadly. At high levels, the river becomes impassable, with rapids that can slam you into rocks or sweep you out to sea, where deadly rip currents and high surf await.

Tragically, each year, some people drown attempting to cross. On my last trail attempt, the Hanakapiai River was furiously flowing and too perilous to traverse. Many hikers were stranded on the opposite bank; while a few managed to cross, most required helicopter evacuation.

Despite predictions of rain, the skies remained clear. However, I reserved judgment on the river’s safety until I could see it for myself, in case rain had fallen in the highlands.

Presently, the park has no bridges. For decades, there’s been debate over constructing a bridge to reduce the cost of rescuing hikers caught in flash floods. The expense would be substantial, and the logistics of construction, daunting. Moreover, any bridge might simply be destroyed by a future flash flood. The prevailing view is to preserve the park’s natural state and not build a bridge, as its rugged, challenging nature is a key attraction. The absence of bridges also naturally limits park attendance, acting as a deterrent to unprepared hikers.

Crossing the Hanakapiai River when it is low

A memorial of someone that drowned from the strong undertow of the river crossing

The crew on the trail

Volcanic Cliffs

Beyond the Hanakapiai crossing, the 4-mile trail transforms into a wilder terrain. It’s no longer well-groomed, becoming increasingly steep and muddy. As you venture deeper, the scenery grows more spectacular, making it a challenge to focus on the path and not be captivated by the valley’s beauty. You can also find remnants of taro terraces, a testament to the Hawaiian ancestors who once inhabited these valleys.

We ran out of time to hike to Hanakoa Falls. Had the weather been better, we might have attempted it, but with the most perilous section of the hike ahead along the steep, unstable sea cliffs and the looming threat of rain, we were eager to traverse the cliffs before the downpour.

My Buddy Miguel and I

Concerns about rain were high during our traverse of Crawler’s Ledge, an infamous trail with many daunting photos online. The path was formidable yet not slick, thanks to the solid volcanic rock and abundant handholds. At the end of Crawler’s Ledge, climbers face a 20-foot cliff that requires navigating several handholds.

However, Crawler’s Ledge paled in comparison to the subsequent portions of the trail. The cliffs ahead were equally steep, the path just as narrow, but composed of red clay that was muddy and treacherous. A single misstep or slip could result in a fatal plunge of hundreds of feet. Sadly, there have been a few who have succumbed to such a fate.

Oscar struggling on the Crawlers ledge

Amazing Lush Native Vegetation Endemic to the Isolated Valleys

Tim admiring the view

The five-mile stretch was the toughest segment of the trail, with the real challenge starting at Crawlers Ledge, escalating due to the steep and slick terrain.

Throughout the day, we encountered only a handful of people on the trail. For the most part, we were alone, save for the sporadic tourist helicopter buzzing overhead. Fortunately, the overcast weather limited the number of helicopter tours. A benefit of winter hiking is the reduced traffic from both helicopters and fellow hikers, although this does mean contending with inclement weather.

Descent into kalalau Valley

The vista of Kalalau Valley is breathtaking, but the slippery red clay on the descent is quite the opposite. It’s in these moments that hiking poles prove their worth. Upon reaching the valley, our search for the campsite path became a challenge, leading us to inadvertently divide into two groups. Each group navigated through the jungle, bushwhacking their way until they stumbled upon the correct trail, eventually reuniting at the campground.

Hike through vegetation in Kalalau Valley

The trail halted suddenly at a cliff wall bordering the beach. In the inland area, one may set up a tent. The absence of designated campsites means you can camp on any flat area. Our tents were set up close to the waterfall, providing us with convenient access to water.

Where we camped near the waterfall

Filtering drinking water

Grave or memorial of someone who died at the Kalalau Beach from falling off of a cliff

We trekked for a full 11 hours in one day, camped, and planned to hike the same 11 miles back the next day. In the morning, our bodies were still rebelling against the previous day’s hike and whiskey. Fortunately, the weather seemed sunny and beautiful, promising an easier return hike. However, the weather quickly turned. Within an hour, we were engulfed by dark storm clouds, and a downpour with gusty winds began. The combination of wind and heavy rain was treacherous, especially before reaching the sea cliffs. The next four miles lay across completely exposed cliffs, with no shelter from the Alaskan winds, which we estimated at 30 miles per hour. The rain was also freezing. We proceeded slowly and cautiously, sometimes crawling on our knees across the slippery clay cliffs, particularly when the gusts intensified over the muddiest and most exposed parts of the trail. Occasionally, we faced pelting rain that painfully struck our faces. Moreover, the salt from the ocean, carried by the wind up the cliffs, stung our eyes. It was a grueling return hike, culminating in being stranded at the Hanakapiai River. We suspected the river would be too high to cross. We managed to cross other rivers along the way, but upon reaching the Hanakapiai River, it was too late. The river was cresting and crossing was too perilous. We spent another night under the shelters in our tents. Thankfully, the rain subsided overnight, and the river’s water level dropped enough for a safe crossing in the morning.

Calm before the storm

Calm before the storm

The storm rolling in

Brunt of the storm

We set up a makeshift shelter by the Hanakapiai River to camp, as the river’s high level made it impossible to cross. During the unexpected delay, we shared our food with fellow campers who had not brought enough provisions.