Na Pali Hike

Several months ago when Sam and I were planning our Hawaiian vacation I selflessly suggested we consider hiking Na Pali, an idea he immediately jumped on because he has wanted to hike it ever since we first visited Kauai and went on a catamaran tour. As much as I dislike hiking, I am generally up for a challenge and realize if I don't do these things with Sam, he won't ever get to do them, so we made our plans. Then I spent the months leading up to the hike becoming more and more terrified as I read discussion boards and google image searched the Kalalau Trail going so far as crying envisioning my children as orphans after their parents fell of a cliff.

Our feelings starting this hike 

Finally the day arrived and despite my prayers, the weather was perfect and we embarked on our journey. Our plan was 11 miles in, camp at Kalalau Beach, 11 miles out, with a stipulation that if I ever deemed something too risky {for the sake of our children} we would turn back.

The terrain was tough. In many places very steep and narrow but nothing completely terrifying until just before the 7 mile point. At this point we had been hiking nearly continuously for 4 hours and were exhausted. We reached a series of dusty, steep switchbacks that you had to work pretty hard not to slide down and off the edge of a cliff. The trail opened up to a view of the valley and the next peak which included another set of narrow dusty switchbacks leading up to a portion that is referred to as Crawler's Ledge which is basically a completely exposed rock face that you free-climb across hundreds of feet over waves crashing off the rocks below. I lost it. Sat down on the dusty trail and sobbed. My legs were shaking with fear and exhaustion. My heart was pounding and though I never took a step that made me fear for my life, as I promised myself as a parent I absolutely would not do, discouragement was mounting inside me that for as fas at the eye could see things did not get better, only worse. Sam offered to turn back and I just set silently sobbing and praying, "God, I don't want to do this, but Sam really does, help me to make the right choice, the wise choice, not to quit from exhaustion, but not to step into anything irresponsibly risky as a parent." And this is what I clearly felt in response, "Can you take one more safe step?" Yes. "Don't let the trail ahead scare you, just take the next safe step. If you get to a point where there isn't a next safe step, then turn back, but not now because now you can take one more step." So I got up and took another step and another {probably much to Sam's surprise}, and lo and behold 3 hours later we collapsed on beautiful Kalalau Beach which is only accessible by this 11 mile trek. I am not going to glorify the experience because I truly hated every minute and never in a million years would I do it again, but I made it. And the next day, despite much complaining during the last two miles which I thought surely my feet could not endure a single step more of abuse, we made it back out. Facing Crawler's Ledge and the dusty switchbacks the second day I was much calmer and even able to appreciate the feat we were accomplishing because one of my better qualities is that when there is no other option, I am fairly good at sucking it up.

The view from my meltdown location {taken on the way back because on the way there I was in no mood for pictures!}

We made it to our campsite at Kalalau Beach!

Sunset from our camp

At some point on the return hike, just past the arduous Crawler's Ledge an older Hawaiian man, who must have been at least part mountain goat based on the way I'd seen him hopping along the cliffs like it ain't no thang, must have noticed the weariness on my face and offered encouragement. "The worst part is over and the rest of the trail never gets any longer or any shorter but you guys will be okay, I can tell you are pono, which is Hawaiian for righteous, you guys have a good vibe." I forced a smile and thanks and kept on walking wondering what the Hawaiian word for "wimpy and grumpy" was because that seemed to me a more accurate assessment of my "vibe." When we got back to civilization, and cell phone service, I googled "pono" and found this description,

"Pono, the word itself, means 'right,' and describes that exquisite sense of rightness that comes from being at one with everything. It is based on the ancient Hawaiian belief in spirit greatness and self power, in the unconditional love and compassion for, and the spirit connections between, all things."
~Connie Rios "Ka Hana Pono" 2000

I almost died laughing. I'm not sure where he got the idea that I was "pono" from. It certainly wasn't from my response earlier in the day when in passing he asked how we were doing and I skipped all niceties and answered point blank, "miserable." Maybe it was from the oneness with nature my previously white tank top was displaying at that point in the day after crawling over miles of Hawaiian dirt?

Aside from my second {horrible} birth experience, this hike was without a doubt the toughest thing I have ever done physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm so grateful for my wonderful, supportive, encouraging climbing partner, my husband, because I truly couldn't have {and wouldn't have in the first place...} been able to do it without him. Not once did he tell me "it's okay," a pet peeve we both learned I have during that 2nd premature child-birthing experience, but he offered a hand and a steadfast belief that I could do it.

I wouldn't go so far as to say I am grateful for the experience, but I am grateful for the life lesson I took away from it. So often I want a sneak peak at God's plan for my life when in reality if He showed me I would probably be paralyzed with fear and discouragement like I was on that hike. All I need to focus on is taking the next step on the path He has set before me and though at times it may be scary and may lead to even scarier places still, I can trust in His guidance and take that step with confidence.

Na Pali. Climbed in and out and around and over about a million of these things. 

Kalalau Valley behind us. Smiling because we thought we were almost finished... we weren't!