Hui Waʻa Kaukahi

Nui a lehulehu na mokupuni, ʻaʻole lawa ka manawa

So many islands, so little time!

Author: Amy Fujimoto

  • Planes, Kayaks and Automobiles

    Planes, Kayaks and Automobiles

    Story and photos by Amy Fujimoto

    January 25, 2026

    We met early at the Sand Island Boat Launch Facility — Bill (our paddle leader), myself, Debi, Miki, and Stan — and immediately began the logistical dance that comes with a one-way paddle. Bill and I drove our cars to the landing point at Puʻuloa Beach Park at the end of Fort Weaver Road, while Stan kindly chauffeured us back to Sand Island. By the time we returned, Debi and Miki were ready to paddle. Sandy joined us for the start, paddling with us through Keʻehi Lagoon and part of the runway before turning back, so most of the day’s adventure belonged to the five of us.

    Selfie of a woman with five kayaks on the beach behind her
    Author’s selfie at launch

    It turned out to be a great paddle. The water was incredibly flat and glassy, even once we were out in the open ocean. Bill commented that this was the flattest he’d ever seen, which was especially good news for Miki and me since we were in for an eight-mile day.

    The clear water made the paddle even more special. We could see tiny reef fish weaving through the coral below us, and several turtles surfaced nearby for quick breaths before slipping back under. One unforgettable moment came when we spotted what we thought was either rubbish or floating, lifeless turtle — only to discover it was actually a Hawaiian monk seal enjoying a lazy rest. It eventually woke up, swam a couple of curious circles around Bill’s kayak, and then disappeared quietly into the depths.

    Kayakers with HAL jet gaining altitude
    Calm clear water

    One of the most unique parts of this route is that you paddle along the entire length of the runway. Planes were constantly gliding in over our heads to land or roaring off beside us, all in perfect, orderly rhythm. Up close, the long wall beside the runway slowly changes from rock to massive dolos blocks, which is surprisingly interesting to see from the water.

    Two kayakers in front of the reef runway dolo blocks
    The dolo blocks weren’t needed on this calm day
    Two kayakers paddling past dolo blocks fronting the airport reef runway
    Dolo block abstract artwork

    Once we passed the runway and neared the Pearl Harbor access channel, the waves and wind picked up a little, but it was still very manageable. We stayed well clear of Pearl Harbor and the firing range — definitely not a place you want to wander into — and before long we were lined up with Puʻuloa Beach Park. From there it was a straight shot in, with the occasional wave giving us a gentle push toward shore.

    Getting back on our land legs turned out to be the hardest part of the day. We were all a bit wobbly, and the deep sand didn’t make things any easier. Dragging our kayaks up the steep beach took some effort, but we were able to rinse the sand off our kayaks and wheel them back to the cars in good time.

    The highlight on land was watching Bill work his magic loading four kayaks onto the top of his car. It earned him a well-deserved round of applause — and a commemorative photo — before we all headed our separate ways.

    Man tying down one of many straps around a roof topped kayak
    Bill advertises Go Bananas straps
    Two women steady a fourth kayak on a roof rack
    Kayak #4 going on Bill’s car

    It was a very successful paddle and a truly unique one. I’d highly recommend this route when it comes around again, especially if we’re lucky enough to get water as calm and beautiful as we had on this day.

  • Camping at Mālaekahana

    Camping at Mālaekahana

    Story by Amy Fujimoto

    Photos as credited

    January 16-19, 2026

    By the time I finally rolled into Mālaekahana on the afternoon of January 17th, camp was already in full swing. The weather was a cool 75 degrees, strong winds, and an overcast sky that kept the sun’s harsh rays off us. It looked like rain might make an appearance, but luckily it never did—no soggy tents, no scrambling for tarps, just dry, comfortable camping the whole time.

    Hui Waʻa was set up in Campsite B, which turned out to be a great choice. The area is nicely protected with plenty of tree coverage, the ground is mostly flat (a true gift when you’re sleeping in a tent), and every campsite has its own picnic table. Simple comforts, but they make a big difference.

    Man standing next to a tandem kayak with a tent and canopy setup behind them
    James and Kelly’s campsite – photo by Kelly

    The camping grounds themselves are really well maintained. Clean bathrooms—with full rolls of toilet paper!—and staff who came by a couple times a day to empty the trash cans. While it’s a bit of a trek from the car to the campsite and then down to the beach, as long as you’ve got wheels for your kayak, it’s totally manageable. Consider it part of the adventure.

    One of the big hopes for the weekend was a paddle out to Goat Island, but Mother Nature had other plans. The wind was strong, and by Sunday morning the ocean was mostly white water—looking more like White Plains Beach on a very angry day. Bill, who had heroically brought three kayaks with him, made the call to cancel the trip early Sunday morning. Probably a wise choice, even if Goat Island looked beautiful from a distance with all those waves rolling through.

    Three kayaks around a campsite picnic table
    Bill’s lonely kayaks got the weekend off – photo by Amy
    A wide band of offshore whitewater with the Pulemoku islet on the horizon
    Surf’s up! No paddling today. – photo by Amy

    The true highlight of the weekend, though, was on Saturday night.

    Eight of us gathered around a campfire in the dark, the kind of moment that makes camping feel special. Kelly and James played excellent hosts with their awesome little camp stove, keeping us warm as we talked story. Mia (Rob’s daughter) made the best decision by far and brought marshmallows and chocolate, which meant s’mores were officially on the menu. Tim and Bill entertained us with kayaking stories, and the newer folks—my mom, Hilary, and myself—were more than happy to listen, ask questions, and soak it all in.

    Eight people seated around a small campfire
    Campfire stories and s’mores – photo by Hilary

    That night we slept surprisingly well. The temperature dropped into the upper 50s, which meant the tent stayed cool and breezy—almost perfect.

    Almost.

    At approximately 4 a.m., the roosters of Mālaekahana decided it was time to announce the sunrise to the entire island. Loudly. Repeatedly. From everywhere all at once.

    Helpful tip for next year’s campers: choose a campsite far away from the chickens.
    Less helpful reality: you can hear them from everywhere.
    Actual best advice: bring earplugs. Or learn to appreciate farm-style alarm clocks.

    Even without the Goat Island paddle, it was a fantastic camping trip. I got to reconnect with familiar faces, meet new ones, and enjoy all the little moments that make these weekends so special. Huge thanks to everyone who made it such a fun time—I’m already looking forward to the next one this year. Hope to see you there!