Wow! These kayakers clearly know how to party on both water and land. There was no potluck sign-up sheet (that I was aware of), no continuous long email strings, no mild chaos… and yet somehow an epic, delicious, and wildly diverse spread of pupu and dinner dishes appeared. Suspiciously impressive!
Plaque made by ElliottColorful assortment of potluck foodDinner time! – photo by TerryEnjoying great kaukau and company
2nd thought:
Wait.. am I really standing inside the almost 100-year-old HTMC house? After 10 years and counting of hiking the various trails across the Hawaiian islands with many Meetup Hiking groups – but never worthy enough with HTMC – I felt like I’d accidentally wandered into the Royal Palace of Hiking.
The lighted HTMC ClubhouseAnother newbie, Jeanine, and the authorBill, Debi and Stephen enjoy the festivitiesBeth gets Stan to smile!
3rd thought:
There are a lot of very happy people here who will cheerfully comply with being coerced into singing, hula-ing, doing something with only hands, and surviving a solid 5 minutes (10 if you include rehearsal and “one more run-through”) of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” local style. And the gift exchange, where you steal presents while warmly wishing the victim “Merry Christmas”, was surprisingly wholesome. It almost softened the blow of ending up with the exact gift I brought … and had been hoping to permanently evict from my house.
Sing-a-long carolingThe Twelve Days of Christmas Hula
Joking aside, I was very impressed with the festive party that I heard was organized by Eileen and Nikko and truly enamored by the musical talents of Macky, Nikko, Norm and Mary Ann. Mahalo Hui Waʻa Kaukahi ohana for the warm welcome – clearly I’ve found my people!
[Editor’s Addendum: The club recognized Joe Hu for the countless years of leadership that he has provided to the club. Chalsa gave him a nice tribute and presented him with a plaque made by Elliott.]
Joe and his award with Dorothy and Chalsa – photo by Terry
Our paddle off Keʻehi Lagoon began with light rain yielding a double anuenue 🌈🌈as we readied our kayaks. Winds were light, no headwinds, also a good sign as the channel can be gusty. Ideal conditions for our flotilla of 16 boats to explore the islets with Sailor Steve leading the way and Stan serving as sweep. The club is well familiar with the area as it’s been the Earth Day clean up project to remove trash from the larger islet north of Mokauea, the Hawaiian fishing islet. Over the years, every third Sunday in April, we’d haul off debris that got trapped in the mangrove and kiawe brambles. This work detail was not for the faint of heart thin skinned as the kiawe thorns were thick and pierce through shoes. Since the airport has taken the lead to clean the invasives as a way to deter birds from the flight path these islets appear to be reclaimed by the tide and rising sea level.
2014 clean up haul – photo by Terry
In May of this year Honolulu City Council passed a resolution to urge the Hawaiian State Board of Geographic Names to officially restore the name of Sand Island to it’s Hawaiian origin Mauliola, meaning “breath of life” or “power of healing”. While not digressing too much on the history of the area it is important to note the tenacity of the Hawaiian fishermen families on Mokauea. They are preserving the island fish pond, that is the last in the area that had at one time 20. King Kamehameha lll designated it a protected royal fishing area in 1830, these handful of homes off the grid maintain a way of life in the face of planes overhead.
The author on her first paddle back from Seattle – photo by Terry
The paddle went around the islets and to the end of the runway. We stopped for a break to snack and stretch watching the rain moving across the coast. The tide was receding so we had a shallow paddle (rudders up) on some of the way back. Some chose to walk their boats. It was a good one that the wind did not pick up as this paddle back in headwind can be tiring. For our first paddle back in Hawaii after several months away it was an easy re-entry. Good to see familiar faces and meet new ones. Good to see Mokauea is maintaining its traditions while smaller islets remain clear of invasives. Doubly so! 🌈🌈
Taking a break with Leahi in the background – photo by Debi
Kayaking from Mokulēʻia to Keawaʻula Bay around Kaʻena Point treats paddlers to vistas of a windswept mountain ridge, seabirds soaring above a protected coastal plain, waves crashing against a rocky shore and if you’re lucky sightings of large honu, a cruising pod of naiʻa, a curious ‘īlioholoikauaua (“Dog that runs in rough water”, Hawaiian monk seal) or, if you’re really lucky, a splashing koholā. As awesome as this sounds, paddling this route involves planning a long, arduous carpool and careful monitoring of wind and wave forecasts to avoid dangerous conditions. Stan, a diligent paddle leader, pondered these factors for a week and decided to play it safe and switched to a round trip from Mākua to the point and back, no carpool required.
This switch prompted several more carpool adverse paddlers to sign up, including myself. A half-dozen kayakers showed up. Even though I live the closest I was the last to show up as everyone else got there early and were almost ready to launch. I scrambled to get ready as the others studied the small shore break. The conditions looked great so everyone was eager to go.
Stan held a brief Captain’s meeting. Steve heard an ulua calling his name so he charged out…right into a small set. He gave a great demonstration on how to wait out a set while keeping control of your kayak. This was Amy’s first shore break launch and she timed her launch much better.
After seeing everyone safely off Stan takes his turn
I followed Stan out and after clearing the swells I looked up to see several dorsal fins silently arcing out of the water. I was surrounded by a large naiʻa pod! I radioed the group, who were already paddling west, about the dolphins, but I didn’t know they had been watching them from shore and had seen enough by the time I launched. So, I sat idle, by myself, enjoying the acrobatic show of the playful keiki until the pod moved on. (Watch the video on YouTube if you’re not getting good resolution)
We made good time paddling out to the point with calm water and light variable wind. I opted to stay close to shore with Stan to get a good look at the rugged shoreline. The gentle swell allowed us to get up close. At several places I thought I saw arches that I didn’t remember from hiking the coast. As I paddled past I was disappointed that they were just illusions of light and shadows that made them appear as arches from a certain angle. When I reached the big arch that everyone sees from the hiking trail I was skeptical that it was the same one. Looking at my photo afterward I was happy to see that it wasn’t an illusion.
Space Force radomes, your tax dollars at workReal rock arch, not an illusion
I spotted a white plastic jug bobbing on the surface and went to collect it as any good ocean steward would. I couldn’t simply pluck it from the water, however, as it was securely anchored in place with over a 100-pound test monofilament line. I gave it a few good tugs hoping to break the line close to its anchor, but it’s hard to generate enough force when you’re just floating in a kayak. I cut the jug free, retrieving it plus a couple hundred yards of braided fishing line. It must have been in the water for a while judging by the amount of flotsam tangled up in it.
Plastic jug and derelict fishing line
I wish the state would ban this type of fishing as having this much submerged line is a danger to marine life and boaters that can get it tangled in their propellers. Earlier this year a young monk seal died after becoming entangled in a similar jug rig. This is the second time that I’ve pulled up a mess like this. The first time, I helped Sandy who ran into the fishing line with her paddle. That time, a large honu popped up behind Sandy as we were retrieving the line as if to say mahalo. This time, three large honus surfaced after I finished. (I didn’t get a photo, you’ll just have to take my word for it.) Whenever you’re paddling, if you see a jug floating on the water take the time to pick it up and if it has fishing line attached to it check to see it a fisherman is still attached to the other end. If not, retrieve as much of the line as you safely can. A honu may thank you too.
As many times that I’ve paddled and hiked this coast it was my first time truly appreciating the scale of the old Oʻahu Railway foundation. Stan said that those foundation rocks were all manually placed. Impressive, they survived over 100 years of erosion from storms and pounding surf.
Just a portion of the railway track foundationStan inspecting the shore at the point
I rendezvoused with Amy, Kelvin and Stan at the point. We took a break to soak up the breathtaking scenery and surmised that we could probably paddle to Mokuleʻia with the conditions that day. I herded them together for a group photo.
Stan, Amy and Kelvin with Steve in the backgroundAmy resting off the pointKelvin resting at the point under a half moon
As we began the return journey, we realized that the current has carried us a long way from the point. We felt it too, as it was slow going to get back to the point. I looked at my GPS track after the paddle and we had drifted almost a mile beyond the point! Maybe not the best place to take a long break unless your destination is Kauai.
We drifted almost a mile off the pointThe view heading backAmy at Kaʻena Point
We managed to get spread out far apart on the return leg. Our unintended separation demonstrated the value of everyone having working VHF radios as we were able to keep track of each other and ensure that the less experienced kayakers returned safely. Congratulations to Amy for completing her first long distance paddle and to Kelvin who made it back unassisted even though he was running on empty! Mahalo to Stan for making the switch to a round trip so that more of us could experience this incredible journey!
Several paddlers had perfect weather for their trek to Turtletown on the last day of the fishing tournament campout. Some were campers and others came in for the day. Jled, our resident teenager, joined the fray to ace his very first solo paddle. Leader Eileen Helmstetter was upbeat and prepared. There is no finer sight than kayaks of many colors against the backdrop of beautiful Kaneohe bay!
Colorful kayakers fronting the Koʻolau range – photo by Katrena
A few kayakers opted to snorkel around the chosen patch reef while the rest watched the boats and kept an eye out for more turtles. Eileen dived deep to capture a peek at a turtle wedged in a crevice. The remaining swimmers were rewarded with views of other interesting reef life.
Kelvin cruising past Mokoliʻi – photo by Eileen
Carolyn got the coveted prize of turtle themed swag donated by Eileen for sighting the most (9) turtles along the way. All in all it was a ‘3 hour tour’ with a happy memories of great fun on the water.
Carolyn shows off her cool prize – photo by Carolyn
Story and photos (except as noted) by Susan Wilcox
August 24, 2025
What paddler hasn’t gazed longingly at the many small islands surrounding the major islands and thought, “I’d love to paddle there — that route needs a kayak on it!”?
The smart paddler, however, knows not to make this trip without some local knowledge of the reef, the winds, the breaks and the currents. It’s what you don’t know that can get you into trouble. So, when the club announced a paddle to Kapapa Island, a bird sanctuary 2.5 miles offshore via Kāneʻohe Bay, I was all in!
Full parking lotMarie and our beached kayaks
Twelve of us gathered at the Canoe Hale at Heʻeia Kea Boat Harbor on Sunday, August 24. As Eileen, one of the leaders for this paddle, described the route and conditions, I gulped a little. I expected there to be some wind (when is there not?), but waves were clearly breaking at the island. Eileen said the swell was maybe 2 feet and I pictured a wall that could be three feet, not big by Hawaiian standards, but my Venus 11 had not yet been surf-tested in any kind of break. Knowing how powerful Hawaiian waves can be, how would I do in that?
Tim and Sandy
We headed toward the island under a partly cloudy sky with 12-15 knot winds, gusts higher, and a rising tide. The route took us over the sandbar (Ahu o Laka), which is always a pleasure, and the water was high enough so that most of us were able to paddle over it, although a few hopped out to walk their kayaks across it.
I’m not a fan of paddling where I can’t see the bottom, because it seems like I am working hard and getting nowhere. Much of this paddle, however, was over reef, and I have an ongoing enjoyment of dipping my paddle in the water, pushing forward, and seeing the coral and reef life pass beneath me. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Beth checks out the shallows on the north
The wind picked up as we approached the island. My focus was on staying on course (no rudder) and musing about how I hate wind, when suddenly I felt a sting on my right arm and then my left. My paddle had picked up a Portuguese Man of War and it had wrapped a tentacle around my right arm and then been tossed onto the left. I swished the paddle through the water to get it off, but a tentacle was stuck to the Velcro of my glove. I managed to pick it off and rid myself of the pest, but “Auwe!” Those stings hurt! (Side note: the irony here is that a month earlier, I had declined to go into the water at the Crash and Burn clinic because signs were posted that Portuguese Man of War were in the water. I had been stung before and wanted no part of it. Now I had surf and the sting! The ocean will have its way with you.)
The sting was a welcome (?) distraction as I approached the surf. Eileen, knowing I was nervous, gave clear instructions plus the reassurance that no matter what it looked like (which was not as bad as I had feared) the waves were low energy. I wisely put my trust in her and the other club members and followed instructions. It was fun! Plus, I discovered that my kayak does just fine in surf, if I don’t do anything stupid.
West end of the island
We landed on a beach made up of shells and broken coral. Kapapa is a 9.5 acre islet just outside the reef in Kāneʻohe Bay. It is what geologists call “calcareous,” composed of reef and shells, rising to 14 feet above sea level. Stan calls it “magical” and he’s not wrong.
Its primary reputation is as a nesting site for seabirds, mainly shearwaters and petrel. It was first protected in 1917 and was designated as a seabird sanctuary by DLNR in 2010. The island also has historical and cultural significance, as many artifacts have been found, including evidence of a heiau, canoe house and fishing shrine. It is listed in the U.S. National Register of Historic Places.
North view from the island
It would be tempting to look for artifacts, but there are rules, clearly stated on a prominent sign, designed to keep humans from disturbing the seabirds. Still, it’s a good place to relax and enjoy a whole different view of the windward coast.
Rules, rules, rules – photo by Terry
Some in our group found shade to eat lunch. Some of us walked around the perimeter a bit and some did both. I was surprised at the lack of birds, but apparently this was to be expected as it wasn’t nesting season. Sharp-eyed Marie found two shearwaters cozying up under a tree.
Marie and Alan take a break in the shadeEmpty shearwater burrowsResting ‘Ua‘u kani (wedge-tailed shearwater) – photo by Marie
Then it was time to return. More instructions for how to get around the breaking waves (easy peasy), and then, with the wind at our backs and a couple of honu waving us through, the paddle back to Heʻeia was quick and easy.
Next island: Manana in September. I will definitely be there. Come join us!
