Misadventures at Makapu’u

This story starts out biased, let me just warn you from the start. On my first trip to travel around part of the island I chose the shortest loop, which, in my opinion, is the most stunning. My principal form of transportation was, and remains, the bus. The sapphire and cerulean waters glimmered like a perfect island postcard (unlike my pictures today). Waves rhythmically thumped the white sand beaches with a warrior’s ferociousness. The bus bounced along from the Hanauma Bay parking lot past Sandy Beach toward Makapu’u.

As we crested the hill at Makapu’u, the sunlight teased out the full beauty of the ocean’s palette. The entire coast down through Waimanalo glistened lazuline and turquoise, fringed by the majestic ruffled, emerald Ko’olau Mountains. So why did such a beautiful seascape send an eerie shiver down my spine at that moment? I hadn’t yet heard of suicide from the cliffs, or any such foreboding stories. It looked perfect, and yet I had no desire to stay.

From that day it would be almost two years before I actually stopped at Makapu’u. Friends called a beach day early last July and before I knew it there we were pulling into the parking lot at Makapu’u Beach. There for less than five minutes, not even near the water, I tripped, not on one of the many protruding basalt rocks lining the path to the beach, but on the sand. Plain sand. Greeting the ground with a thud, I chuckled at my clumsiness and pealed my sprawling body from the path. At first glance, only my ego was bruised. A few steps later a sticky tickling kind of feeling began crawling down my right leg. A cleaning of the dirt and blood revealed a quarter-sized nick just under my knee. I’ve always been lacking in gracefulness, but only in Hawaii has proof of this been twice branded on my body.

Of course, I wouldn’t blame the place for my injury, but it might make it more understandable that I do not associate fond memories with that little beach. Until today I never ventured back. Yesterday my legs finally stopped quivering from the climb up Koko Head Crater earlier this week and my mantra became, “hiking, hiking, hiking, yay!” The plan was to try a new trail not too far away. The trek above the beach to the Makapu’u lighthouse won out. However, a grey cloud was spitting on my house and my chanting became less adamant.

With more favorable atmospheric conditions I set out today in the trusty old city bus. After puttering through Wakiki and whizzing down the highway we reached the eastern tip of the island a mere hour later. As we closed in on the parking lot for the trail I pulled on the cord to order a stop, but there was no yellow bus sign and the bus flew past my destination. Watching the road narrow and the shoulder shrink as we descended I realized there would be no room to climb back up without being grazed by oncoming traffic. It was already late in the day and I knew there wasn’t too much time to figure out what to do. I crossed the road toward the beach hoping to find a trail up from sea level, but I didn’t see one. When my phone rang with an important call I knew I would have to postpone the hike. Along the way home I noticed that the bus stop before the trail though down the road a bit was not as impossible to navigate. Perhaps the next time I venture toward Makapu’u I can finally enjoy my time there, or perhaps there's actually a reason not to go back.