Day 4: Diamondhead and Kokohead (Near-death experience #1 of 2)

I had meant to start my day really early so as to hopefully catch sunrise from the top of Diamondhead, which was pretty close to the hostel. Unfortunately, because my phone was on airplane mode the whole time, I had to manually adjust the time, and I accidentally set it to PM when it should have been AM. So when 5:30 AM rolled around, nothing happened.

Another reason I wanted to get an early start was so that I could be back from Diamondhead early enough to return my car to the rental agency on time.

Unfortunately, on top of not waking up early enough, I also had the predicament of having booked my hostel through to the 19^th instead of the 20^th. The previous night, the evening staff told me to ask at the front in the morning and hope for a vacancy, so that all I'd have to do is switch rooms. When I asked, I was told that though there was a vacancy, I had to wait until 10 AM before they could move me in.

Now I was up late and I had a deadline. Thankfully, from what I heard, Diamondhead was a pretty tame hike and could be done relatively quickly. The hike was in fact a breeze; I’d been through line-ups at Canada’s Wonderland that were more laborious than that. It still made for a scenic hike, though. I was in and out of the hostel in 2 hours and still made it to the rental agency in time for drop-off.

I returned the car full of sand from the various beaches Lex, Honey, and I had explored. I would’ve had the decency to clean it before dropping it off, but I figured it was payback for the car having eaten the stellar CD my buddy, Drew, had burned for me. I didn’t even get to listen to a single track!

From there, I was once again a lowly public transit user and had to quickly learn how to navigate the bus routes in order to get to my next destination: Kokohead Trail.

Thankfully, Hawaii is full of amazingly friendly people, and so when I asked the bus driver for directions to Kokohead Trail, she told me to sit down and that she’d let me know once we arrived at the stop where I needed to transfer to the 1L bus. But there was none of that attitude or impatience I’ve so often seen in our bus drivers back home; it was so refreshing. 

Honestly, I don’t think I ever ran into a single customer service individual or even a local who didn’t greet me or answer a question with the most genuine of smiles. Everybody here is so damn happy! Care to guess why?

Once I transferred to the 1L, I was once again greeted with kindness and courtesy, and the bus driver explained that he’d let me know when to get off, but that he’d never actually hiked the trail himself, so he didn’t know how to get to the entrance.

A very long bus ride later, the mountain came into view, and I hopped off, ready to rely on the kindness of strangers. Within seconds, I crossed paths with a sweet looking lady who told me exactly how to get to the trail: Walk two blocks, head right, and just keep walking. Easy enough.

When I got to the start of the trail, this is what greeted me:

The mountain looked small enough from a distance, so I approached this hike with an unearned air of cockiness. I mean, after Gajisan, Hallasan, and a bunch of volcanoes in Nicaragua, this would be a breeze.

I started the hike at the same time as a couple. It was her first time up Kokohead and his fourth; however I quickly left them in the dust, as she needed frequent breaks. “Babe, this is still the flat part,” I heard him say.

Don’t get cocky, Uri. Don’t get cocky.

Too late.

After dominating Diamondhead in the morning and briskly strolling up Hallasan, I thought I was unstoppable. I turned around, and sure enough, the couple were just small figures down below.

Then, something happened about a third of the way up.

I came to a particular part of the trail that freaked me out. There was a bridge made up of just wooden beams going across for hikers to step on, meaning there were large gaps with absolutely nothing underneath. The slightest misstep could potentially be extremely disastrous.

This is a problem for two reasons: 1) The only time I’m afraid of heights is when I don’t feel secure; when there is nothing there to support you and keep you from falling. Scaffolding is a perfect example. I hate climbing scaffolding because there is no railing or anything to hold on to. 2) I have the grace, balance, and coordination of a baby giraffe learning to walk. I never quite mastered the whole left, right, left, right thing.  Skateboarding? Forget it. Skating? Ouch. 

I’d say I’ve fallen on almost half of the hikes I’ve undertaken. Granted, they were always on the way down, and partly due to the terrible gripless shoes I stubbornly refuse to throw away. (Guess which shoes I was wearing on this particular day…)

Nonetheless, as soon as I took the first step, every action movie I’d ever seen where the hero had to traverse a precariously narrow passage of some sort immediately crossed my mind. The first one was the most recent: blondie from the new Transformers movie having to make her way across the cables that stretched from the spaceship to the buildings.

And it didn’t get any easier from there. Right foot on the second beam; left foot on the second beam; right foot on the third beam; left foot on the third beam. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle as I try to balance myself on the beam and I look down at my certain death.

Halfway across the bridge, I stepped on to the same beam as a girl on her way down. We both stood there, waiting for the other person to make the first move. I began to wiggle again, and so I made the first move.

That was terrifying.

Soon enough, there were only two more beams; then one more; then solid ground!

I made it! I made it!

Now how the hell am I going to get down that thing? I’m dead.

Every fall, every tumble I’d ever taken flashed through my mind in a terrifying montage.

I put that out of my mind and continued on.

This brave soul is traversing the bridge on her way down.

The steps got significantly steeper. By the time I reached the two thirds mark, I was taking fairly regular breaks. The final third, though…man…I started to question my entire life. The breaks were coming every dozen or so steps, and I was breathing like a woman in the 13^th hour of labour. I was alternating between leading with my right leg and dragging my left to the next step, and then doing the reverse once my right leg got tired of carrying all the weight. 

After a quick break, though, I'd suddenly I feel invincible again; but that only lasted about a half a dozen steps each time before I started to slow down again. It was excruciating. Somehow, though, I looked up, guessed that there were about 25 steps left, and powered through the final 30. If there wasn’t a guy standing at the top of the steps, I probably would’ve let out the call of a dying orangutan.

“Just 30 more seconds to the top,” he said. “Stay up there as long as you want, relax, and take your time going down.”

“Tell me it’s worth it,” I pleaded.

“Absolutely.”

That was all I needed.

And y’know what? It totally was.

Thankfully, there was a girl taking in the view at the top, and after a while, we got to talking about the hike down. This girl is the reason I’m still alive today. She informed me that there’s actually a little detour one can take to circumnavigate the bridge. Thank the Lord!

Going down...

I was about to start my descent, when this burly man stumbled to the top of the stairs. I congratulated him, and his response was amazing. “This isn’t my first time. I lost 40 pounds on this mountain ten years ago, and I’m determined to do it again. My friends think I’m crazy, but this beats any gym membership.”

He then suggested a lighthouse trail that I should hike the next day, and we parted ways.

As I took the first step, I counted, “1.”

From there, every time I passed somebody who was on their way up and looked to be struggling, I encouraged them by saying, “You’re only 304 steps from the top.” This always got a laugh or a chuckle of some sort.

As I neared the bridge, I kept a careful eye out for the supposed detour. Sure enough, right at the start of the bridge, just off to the left, there was the slightest hint of a path. Thank you, random girl from Las Vegas! Thank you!

My reward for surviving.

The perfect end to an amazing day.