Photos: DeeAnn Thompson & Mike Jones
October 24, 2009
As a traveler, faced with many choices about what to do, DeeAnn and I nearly always opt for the beach. We’re both oceanfront addicts, total beach bums. But we have been known to venture inland, especially if the views of the ocean are stunning. You get the theme.
It was for that reason that DeeAnn and I jumped at the suggestion to ascend O‘ahu’s Koko Head. It also helped that the idea came from a trusted source: the daughter and son-in-law of a long-time friend who live on-island. And the views of the ocean promised to be stunning.
It started with dinner at a local’s favorite, the Side Street Inn. We had our first opportunity to get acquainted there. Cattie, DeeAnn and I share professional interests, and Ira and I started talking about the water right away. Ira surfs, but he also has an impressive background paddling outrigger canoes (OC1, OC3 and OC6). For one thing, he’s paddled the Moloka‘i crossing many times. I was all ears.
So, we got asked if we had ever climbed Koko Head. No. How about tomorrow morning? Yeah, we’re down for that. We got a full and honest description of what we were agreeing to: a long, steep climb up railroad ties not in the best shape, sometimes treacherous. Not a cakewalk. No hesitation from our end, so, what time? The temperature will be more tolerable if we meet in Waikiki at 5:30 am, according to Cattie. Ira countered, “So, around 7:30, then?” Ira likes his sleep, just like us.
5:30 won out, and Ira was right on time picking us up.
The rails rising up Koko Head’s face are an artifact of World War II. The line was built to fortify its peak, thought to be a strategic target. Now it has been left in disrepair, though some of the ties are being maintained to reduce (somewhat) the risk for climbers.
Looking down at our feet, one tie bears the count: only 1048 to the top. Looking up, it’s obvious this gets progressively steeper. We put our quads straight to work. Best not to think about these things too much.
This is not your climb up the steps of your favorite skyscraper’s emergency stairwell. The ties are irregularly spaced, some are worn or rotted, there are some deep holes between ties, and many of the steps are thigh-high. And there’s a trestle, where there’s nothing below or between the ties.
To encourage the climber, each one hundred steps is marked on the rail (100, 200, 300, etc.). So, for example, you will know when you have gone 400 steps and you aren’t even halfway -- and then notice it’s still a lot steeper up ahead.
Koko Head has its regulars. This was obvious from the practiced confidence of some of the climbers. And they were helpful, especially in pointing out that there’s a way to avoid the trestle (and “don’t look down” isn’t even an option), a path around that isn’t too obvious to novices (us).
I had no idea it was going to hit my quads so hard, and I had very recently trained up to run 20 miles. In fact, I was scheduled to run that distance the very next day. (Not. I did 19 two days later and I wasn’t about to push.)
Resting became regular by necessity, but that meant looking around. The view was inspiring us and spurred us on.
It rained a little and that kept us guessing whether the climb might become treacherous, especially the descent. Thankfully, it was light rain and there was no thunder. It kept us cooler. It made the views more mysterious. It felt more Hawaiian.
At the top are remnants of bunkers, hardened shelters with vents, lookouts, gun mounts, cranes, and more. It is at once a dominating and vulnerable place. These war remnants carry forward that time’s sense of urgency, uncertainty, grit. It elicits respect. It added to the experience of visiting the Arizona Memorial, something we did in the 65th anniversary year.
Taggers and other artists have repurposed some of the concrete structures:
Then there were the views from 1,200 feet:
The cauldron of the extinct volcano upon which we stood ...
Makapu‘u point ...
Hanauma Bay...
Waikiki ...
And there’s also a paddler’s connection to this vantage point: a full view of the Moloka‘i crossing. The finish is not far away. You can sometimes see Moloka‘i. That day, it was mostly obscured in haze and mist, but we caught a glimpse (but not in the picture below!).
Confronted with the vastness of the channel, I felt smaller; yet I also felt a sense of what it must be like to conquer that expanse. Paddlers do rise to that challenge and the thought of their accomplishment is empowering.
But our next challenge was the descent back to our car.
It looks worse than it is, but that got our quads and hamstrings, too.
Thanks, Cattie and Ira. It was worth every step. We’ll go back there together soon.
© 2009 Michael J. Jones. All rights reserved in all media.
