Kaʻena Point Leeward Coast

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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 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!