At a little past 1:00 p.m. today, Ed Gilman, Scott Villiger, and I
exchanged handshakes atop the Ko'olau summit at a spot between Mariner's
Ridge and Hahaione/Mauna o Ahi Ridge, having just completed a climb from
the windward side by way of a route few if any have tried. The ascent was
not as daunting as some others we've done before, but there was still the
excitement of the unknown and the exhilaration of a first-time
accomplishment. I had excellent climbing colleagues in Ed and Scott.
Ed, Scott, and I, along with Wing, met at the HTMC clubhouse at 9. We did
a couple minutes of visual reconnaissance from the clubhouse, pinpointing
our intended climbing route: a spur we referred to as "gentle ridge"
because from vantage points in Waimanalo it indeed appeared gentle (but we
were to find out otherwise later). From the clubhouse, we jumped into Wing's car for the short ride to the Tom-Tom trailhead in the Hawaiian homestead subdivision mauka of Waimanalo Beach Park.
A couple minutes up Tom-Tom, in a copse of ironwoods, we headed right
(west) following a path we called the "idiot's trail," a name that came
upon it based on a comment by Wing that the way was adequately marked with
ribbons (by Wing, of course) so that "any idiot could follow it." And so
we hiked along, following the "idiot's trail." This trail is still rough
with some efficiency issues still to be dealt with (read: the buggah still
has to be straightened out) but it delivered us to the start of a jeep
road in the forest, along which our forward progress was made quicker and
easier.
We followed this jeep road, which paralleled and/or followed a pair of
power line swaths through the forest. We continued following the road
until it began descending makai toward the farm/pasture lands of Waimanalo
mauka. Not wanting to head makai, we backtracked on the road to follow another
old road that headed toward the bulk of the mountainside, our intended agenda.
This road terminated at one of the power line swaths. From there, we
followed a trail along the swath (presumably made by the workers who
maintain the swath) heading in the direction of Bear claw Ridge. As we
hiked along the swath trail, we kept eyeing the mountainside to our left,
hoping for views/clues that would lead us to our target: gentle ridge.
When we reached power pole #24, armed with some mauka visual clues, we
decided we had contoured far enough along the swath and now it was the
time to head inland with the hopes we'd hit the route of our aspirations.
As luck would have it, we did. After hanging the obligatory double ribbons
on a tree near the base of the ridge, we headed upward, with our hopes as
well as our apprehension high. The climbing was initially steady but then
became progressively steeper along a high slope covered with lau'ae and
vines. Our steep climbing suddenly brought us face to face with a huge, jagged
rock wall that was deemed too dangerous to attempt. Scott
suggested slabbing around the rockface to the right and then trying to
find a way up to the ridgetop further in the righthand gulch. At that
point, I took out a topo map (don't leave home w/o one on first ascents)
for review. Based on the spacing of the contour lines on the map, if we
were where we thought we were, then the slab option might net a positive
outcome. So a-slabbing we went.
Ed took the lead on the slab and found us a good line along the slope that
had us about 100 feet above the gulch bottom down to our right. We
slabbed for about 100 meters until we came upon a side spur that bisected
the gulch. Near the bisection point, we came to a streambed/waterfall
chute that we were able to ascend in or along, with the assist of an ample
supply of Christmas berry trees. With Ed and Scott out in front, I
affixed pink ribbons periodically to mark the way in case we had to
retreat.
After fifteen minutes of climbing, we eventually reached the terminal
point of the streambed/waterfall chute with the walls steepening to near
verticality on the right. However, a protected (by trees and bushes)
albeit steep line was available on the left, so we headed up that way,
getting a helluva of full-body workout climbing and scrambling and
contorting our bodies as we made our way from tree to tree, with handholds
occasionally being only tufts of grass and suspect rocks.
Just past noon, we reacquired the ridge we had been climbing, having
successfully completed the slabbing maneuver and waterfall chute/streambed
ascent. The point we had reached was at the base of a large pyramidal
rock section on the ridgeline. Climbing straight up the ridge on the
rocks (crumbly and rotten) appeared dangerous if not impossible; however,
we saw that we could drop into the gulch to the east of us and either
climb the gulch to the summit or cross the gulch to the ridge on its far
side to climb that.
But first there was lunch. It was a memorable lunch spot, we three
perched on a ridge high up in the mountains, with the farmlands of
Waimanalo below us and a huge pyramidal rock behind us. Facing makai,
there was a steep gulch to our left and a gentler, meadow-like gulch to
our right. As we ate, Scott noticed someone moving in the powerline swath
through the forest below. It had to be Wing, and sure enough, it was. We
whooped out to him and he waved back to us (though he later said he could
not see us). Come to find out, Wing had decided not to follow us on our
slabbing expedition, but he went on an eventful exploratory on his own, as
he likes to do.
One topic of our lunchtime discussion was the ascent route we'd use to
acquire the summit. One option was to drop into the gentle gulch and then
follow it to the top. I suggested that this option, though safe, was an
undignified way to summit a mountain. As such, I suggested that we cross
the gentle gulch, gain the ridge on its far side and then climb it to the
top. The ridge, though it had a few rocky sections, appeared safe enough,
so the dignified way it would be.
After affixing two long pink ribbons around rocks at our lunchspot, we
commenced the crossing of "gentle gulch," which wasn't as gentle as we
anticipated. Moreover, the climb to gain the ridge on its far side was
trickier and more of a challenge than we expected, but as Ed said, "It
worked!" It worked, indeed, for the three of us were able to cross the
gulch and gain the farside ridge with a bit of sweat and scrambling and
clawing.
Once across, the final climb to the mountaintop went quickly. We made our
way up a predominantly open ridgeline, testing the rocks (plenty bad
stuff) as we climbed. There was some vegetation, mostly Christmas berry,
to get around, but this was just a minor inconvenience.
We topped out just past 1:00, with smiles aplenty and the traditional
handshake exchange to mark the completion of a successful climb.
To leeward, we looked right down the middle of Hahaione Valley, and Scott
even suggested that the ridge we climbed would be more appropriately named
"Hahaione Windward." He does have a point. We spent some time at the
summit arrival point, gazing down the 'Nalo side at the ridge we had
climbed. It looked crazy but we knew that in reality, to quote the
standard HTMC party line, it wasn't that bad. Scott, always the family
man, also fielded one of the several cell phone calls he received during
the hike. A foreshadowing of my future? Heh.
From our top-out point, we headed east on the crest, which had suddenly
become inundated with clouds. When we reached the Mariner's Ridge summit,
we came upon two hikers who asked where we had come from. When we
explained what we had done, one of them remarked, "Wow, sounds like a
tough hike."
From Mariner's, there was about 30 to 40 minutes of hiking to get to the
summit of the Tom-Tom trail As we moved along, we stopped occasionally
to scan the ridges below us (for future attempts?) and to gaze at the
profiles of the ridges we had passed. Interesting to see the varying
perspectives.
The Tom-Tom descent was generally uneventful until we spotted Wing's car
still parked where he had left it in the morning. Where the heck was he?
we all wondered, not knowing he had been on his exploratory.
While we walked back through the Hawaiian Homestead, a couple of young
people asked if we had been hiking "up there," pointing to the mountains.
When Scott explained what we had been up to, they seemed impressed, as if
such an undertaking was something they had never thought of before.
Ed wondered how folks could live so close to the mountains and not have a
desire to climb them to see what was there and what they were like. In
reality, there probably are thousands of people who never go into the
mountains even though the mountains are literally in their backyards.
I probably would have been one of the thousands. Fortunately, I found the
Hawaiian Trail and Mountain Club and dozens of HTMC members who have
taught me much, given me encouragement, and showed me what hiking in
Oahu's mountains is all about.
Mahalo nui to the people of HTMC. And mahalo nui to Ed, Scott, and Wing
for a memorable hike today.
--dkt
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