Two for the Price of One-the Kalalau Trail Part Two

Now here is the exciting part of the story:  As we were looking down into the Hanakapi'ai Valley on our way out on Tuesday, shortly after noon, we saw brown dirt being spewed into the ocean from the Hanakapi'ai Stream.  Not good.  We headed down to the stream and saw about 50ish people hanging out on the bank of the stream.  (Keep in mind we have seen very few people the last few days.  Not a lot people attempt the Kalalau trail.)
We had crossed this stream the day before, stepping from rock to rock and didn't even get our feet wet:

Hanakapi'ai Stream on Day one of our hike

The stream flows right into the ocean.

Keep in mind, it had been pouring rain for the past 3 1/2 hours.

The river was muddy, swift and rising.  Boulders we had stood on the day before had disappeared.  I wish we had more photos of the flash flood, but honestly, we were not thinking about taking photos.

We sat or stood next to the rive for the next 5-6 hours watching it rise about 12-16 inches.  A woman we had met earlier in the day had crossed ten minutes before we got there.  She got stuck.  Someone pulled her to the other side.  Her aunt was stranded with us, on the other side.  (She had the tent, but her aunt had the car keys.  Unfortunate.)

We knew going into the hike that flash flooding is always a possibility.  This river in particular is where people die, usually by drowning.  I was worried about knowing when to cross, when it would be safe, about people at home who were expecting to hear from us and would be worried.  (no cell service, of course.)  It was very frustrating to be exhausted, covered in blisters, soaking wet and starving and be only 2 miles from our hike (20 miles into our 22 mile journey) and be forced to stop.  But, there was nothing we could do.
We stood and watched the river for the next 5 hours and saw it rise about 16 inches.  We saw someone attempt to gauge how deep the water was and when they climbed in, right next to shore, it was at his waist.  After about 5 hours, the water began to slowly go down.  We had spent the last hours talking to the people around us and getting to know them.  There were several couples visiting from Europe, two couples on their honeymoons, a lawyer and an ER doc, an EMT and a firefighter and a family with two teenagers.  There was also a group of construction workers who were camping there for a week to build a new outhouse.  (One of the men told me that it took 25 helicopter trips to bring in all the supplies for the outhouses!)  We all spent a lot of time discussing how, when and if we should cross.  I spoke with one woman from Germany who was terrified of crossing the river, but even more terrified of the possibility of sleeping out in the open.  As the water started very slowly going down, people started talking about crossing.  We watched a man and his teenage son go for it.  They definitely struggled through waist-deep, still swift moving water.  Others began considering crossing.  The construction workers kept saying that they could not stop anyone from crossing, but they had seen many people get hurt in the river and they would advise against it.
Most of the people stranded with us were day hikers.  Many were just in bathing suits, dripping wet and freezing cold.  None had food and only a few had flashlights.  We were one of the lucky two couples who had hiked out of Kalalau and had tents.  As the evening progressed, it became apparent that staying the night was probably going to happen.  As darkness was falling, three separate groups decided to cross.

Groups of 5-8 people would link arms and cross in about thigh-high water.  The construction workers would crawl out on the the biggest boulders they could safely access with life preservers, just in case.  About half the group ended up going.  They all made it safely across the river, but it was a long, slow struggle.  Now that it was dark, they all had a 2 mile hike to the trail head, WITH NO FLASHLIGHTS, over very rocky, rough terrain.  The rest of us decided to wait it out.  We built a big fire and tried to dry out our wet stuff as much as we could.  The construction workers passed out extra rain ponchos and solar blankets.  They also had tarps, so some people went to work building shelters and insulating them with palm leaves.  It kind of felt like we were on Survivor.  One woman who had hiked out of Kalalau just after us, had some pasta she had not cooked while camping.  She cooked it up and flavored it with a little powdered parmesan cheese and everyone got a little handful of angel hair pasta.  A little while later, the construction workers came down to where we were all standing by the fire (their camp was a little higher up the mountain) with a pot of soup and some rice they had made.  They handed out some plastic cups and we drank that soup right up.  I remember onions, lots of cabbage, chicken and some bones and it was seriously delicious!  Everyone headed to bed right after that as it was pitch black.  We hopped in our tent and tried to sleep, but we were both soaked, all of our gear was soaked, including extra clothes and our sleeping bags.  It was a long, cold, wet and miserable night.  Matt had always wanted to stay two nights, so we ended up getting one night free on the trail without getting an extra permit :)

As soon as it was light enough to see, everyone was packing up and cleaning up.  We thanked the construction workers for their help, and headed across the much lower river.  When I crossed the water hit me around mid-calf, Matt thought it was closer to knee-high, not worried about particulars, we were just glad to get out of there!!

We hiked the two miles out, dreaming of breakfast.  When we left the trail head, we saw this sign:

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It was an adventure to remember!!