TO THE TOP OF HAWAII’S MATTERHORN
MidWeek’s intrepid reporter braves sheer faces and razor-thin trails to successfully reach the summits of the three peaks of Mount Olomana. The three peaks of Olomana are so daunting that they’re known around the island as The Matterhorn.
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been to the moon. I got a quick and definite “no” from the next few returnees as well. Finally, four fit young men in their 20s came bounding toward me and I repeated my query, “Did you do all three?”
“No way,” they scoffed. “The third peak is nuts!”
It didn’t take long for us to realize that even the first peak was nuts. Some who had brought up the front suddenly held back when we came to a vertical rock wall fitted with a thick knotted rope. Comments about turning back broke out. Saepae assured us we were almost at the top of the first peak and he gently encouraged us onward, helping us find our footing, one by one. After a few more rope climbs and some frighteningly thin paths lining deathly sheer cliffs, we arrived at the first peak.
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We soaked in the stunning views of Kaneohe Bay on one side and the majestic Ko’olau Range on the other before one couple headed home to pack for their flight to Korea the next morning (or so they claimed!). The other two couples were thoroughly satisfied (or scared) by the trip to K-1. The remaining four - Saepae, Tsukamoto, my mom (Lynn Weir) and I - took a moment to compose ourselves for the task ahead.
It was a quick and easy hike to the second peak, where we met Craig Stier, a military man recently stationed in Hawaii, who had served as a hiking guide on the Mainland for years.
“My wife read that this is an intermediate hike,” he said. “But there’s nothing intermediate about it. This is definitely for experienced hikers.”
Craig’s wife Melanie was only too happy to stay on K-2 while he ventured out with our group to tackle the infamous K-3.
The moment of truth was at hand. We stood looking at a rope that descended down from the second peak and my stomach lurched. Saepae, his sinewy body toned by years of steady hiking, deftly maneuvered over the cliff and down the rope. “Next!” he called out from below the ledge, where he was hidden from sight.
Before I had a chance to back out, I heaved myself over the edge and, dangling with a death grip on the rope, I struggled to find my footing.
“The trick is to put your weight on your feet,” offered Chris. “You don’t want to grip the rope so tight or you’ll tire yourself out.”
Already exhausted from the climb up the mountain, my knees were like rubber.
I couldn’t see anyone above me, nor could I see Saepae below. There was just me, hanging there on a rope, and a very long drop down. “Mom, you’re not going to want to do this,” I yelled, more to myself than to her, though she’s the one with a particular dislike for heights.
Then a terrible thought gripped me - how would we get back up?
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Saepae’s voice pushed the thought away and gave me strength as he called out instructions. “Most people would swing left, but you want to move to the right ... Reach your foot to that rock ...” Inching down the line, roots and rock crevices offered support. I could finally see Saepae and the wave of panic gave way to the thrill of the adventure. There were a few more steep rope climbs before reaching the bottom. The climb up the third peak was marked by narrow, gravelly slopes, crumbly rock and more ropes. Eventually, all five of us reached the top, but I was too exhausted to feel anything but dazed.
We relaxed while relishing Tsukamoto’s stories about hiking with Saepae on Molokai - anything to take my mind off the fact that I couldn’t just slide down the side of the mountain and that no helicopter would be my flight in shining armor and whisk me off the peak.
By the time we reached the ropes leading up to the second peak, we were old pros. Step by step we wended our way up, retracing our route all the way back to firm ground on the paved Luana Hills Road.
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Saepae’s speedy three-hour weekend jaunt had turned into a five-and-a-half hour strenuous feat for the rest of us. I have to admit that I was too drained to feel accomplished or energized. I was just relieved that it was over ... until I noticed an adventurous twinkle in Saepae’s eyes.
“You should come on the Molokai trip,” he said of the four-day, three-night expedition that only his company is extreme enough to offer (www.hawaiiadventurehiking.com). Tsukamoto, who breezed through Olomana, described the Molokai venture as one of her more challenging excursions. The hike can only be reached by boat and the ocean is so rough that it is only accessible in the summer. Even then, the boat can only go so far, so thrill seekers have to kayak in or sometimes jump into the ocean with dry bags and swim to shore. Once there, they are rewarded with unforgettable meals cooked by Saepae using vegetables from a nearby garden and fresh fish from mountain streams. They also have the rare privilege of viewing one of the world’s tallest waterfalls with a height of more than 2,000 feet.
Saepae notes, “People think they’re seeing beautiful views, but they don’t know what an amazing view is until they visit the north shore of Molokai.”
I feel Molokai beckoning.
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