The trail is not particularly long (3.5 miles), but it descends 1600 feet from the trail head to trail’s end. We knew the hike back was going to be brutal. So we stocked our packs with plenty of water and snacks.
It was raining when we started, and it rained almost all the way down. Rain fell from the sky and the trees, and the trail got slicker and slicker as we slipped on the red lava dirt and clambered on the rocks and got wet from head to toe.
It turns out that the fair and industrious Trudy has a keep-on-truckin’ style of hiking that involves planting her heal on the smoothes, slickest, steepest, most wet patch of ground and moving all her weight to that leg. As a consequence, she wiped out several times, had many close calls and finally found a walking stick to help keep her vertical. (I can say this, of course, as I dutifully brought up the rear and had ample warning of the dangerous spots of the trail, being marked as they were by my fair and industrious wife.)
Anyway, once we were thoroughly soaked, the rain stopped at about mile three, just as all the books say it will. After a few more minutes, we came to a tree, a token barrier and a warning sign unambiguously identifying the end of the line just before what appeared to be the edge of the world.
And the sign was more than enough to convince me to stay back from the edge.
And so we sat down, ate our snacks and took pictures of more wild Kaua‘i chickens.
The spectacular Na Pali coast spread out before us just inches beyond where the trail stopped. The cliffs dropped 2000 feet to breaking surf so far away that we couldn’t hear a thing. Clouds and mist rolled from the mountains down the canyons and to the sea.
From time to time the solitude was broken by helicopters giving tourists a scenic tour around the island.
After about 20 minutes, a German couple came striding out of the forest. She had a backpack. He had a camera, and he was determined to step to the utter brink of the cliff and take photographs with his toes hanging over the edge and his eyes glued to his viewfinder.
This was my signal to leave. I didn’t want to be there when he fell. So we put away our snacks and drinks and zipped up our packs and began the 3.5 mile long, 1600 foot climb back.