Mokuleia Ridge via Kealia

Mokuleia Ridge via Kealia

Posted to OHE on 7 Jan 2000 by Tom Cress

I headed out at 5 a.m. after a long night of no sleep. Actually, I went rollerblading from about 10 p.m. to midnight to try and wear myself out. No luck there. I had Mt. Kaʻala on the brain.

Mt. Kaʻala is Oʻahu’s tallest peak. At 4,025 feet, it dominates the Waiʻanae Range. It’s easy to spot when driving to the North Shore—it’s the one with the radar antennas very near the summit, which is actually an FAA installation. Just look for the tallest mountain; you can’t go wrong. I’d been itching to climb it for a while, but I wasn’t too thrilled about using the traditional summit trails.

When I was camping at Peacock Flats almost two months ago, I stumbled upon Mokulēʻia Trail, which leads to the narrow Makua Valley ridge. Officially, according to the “tourist hike” maps, the Mokulēʻia Trail ends at a small eroded hill with fantastic views of Makua Valley. A sign marks the end of the trail, but according to topographic maps, the trail continues along the narrow ridge all the way to the Mt. Kaʻala access road.

This trail is unique compared to any other I’ve seen. It has a well-built fence about three or four feet high that follows the ridge. It was placed there to keep wild boars out of Makua Valley, which the military uses for live-fire exercises. Don’t go down there!

I put two and two together and decided this would be an awesome way to reach the summit. Usually you need a permit to enter the Pāhole Natural Area Reserve if you want to access the trail by vehicle. I didn’t feel like waiting until 9 or 10 a.m. to bug the DLNR guys for a piece of paper saying I could be up there with my truck. Besides, waiting that long would have severely cut into my hiking time. So I needed a way to reach the Mokulēʻia trailhead without a vehicle.

Kealia Trail (trailhead at Dillingham Air Field) provides a nice entrance to the area. Kealia starts at sea level and ascends to the spine of the Waiʻanae Range. I’d done Kealia about a week earlier. You quickly gain elevation (about 1,900 feet), and it’s not too difficult thanks to many switchbacks. There are even a few rock cliffs to play around on if you’re into that.

The trail is intended as a loop ending with a spectacular view of Makua Valley (see Stuart Ball’s Hikers Guide to Oʻahu, page 213—great book, highly recommended). Kealia is seven miles round trip and makes a great day hike, minus the long walk up the steep firebreak road. But it’s worth it.

From there, I planned to pick up Kuaokala Trail, which Ball describes as a continuation of Kealia. This would cut out a boring stretch of road walking that leads to Mokulēʻia Trail. When I say “road,” I don’t mean paved—this is serious four-wheel-drive territory with steep drop-offs and no guardrails. Entirely red clay and dirt. I’d never take a car up there. Kuaokala provides the last stretch to the Makua Ridge, right where I needed to be.

So the plan was set: ascend via Kealia, pick up Kuaokala, then continue to Mokulēʻia. I left just after 5 a.m. and arrived at Dillingham a little after 6. That’s when I realized I had the gate hours backwards. The sign read: “Open to the public 7 a.m., closed at 6 p.m.” I had to wait almost an hour.

I pulled onto the beach, dropped the tailgate, listened to the waves, and nearly fell asleep. Ten minutes before seven, the familiar white truck rolled up and opened the gates. I parked near the control tower, did one final gear check, and headed for the trailhead.

After five minutes of walking along a dirt road, I started up Kealia. The sun had just come out, and it wasn’t hot yet. It took about 30–40 minutes to reach the top. I even took a shortcut to bypass the final switchbacks—steep, but fun. At the ridge edge there’s a shelter where you can rest. I kept going.

The firebreak road to the Kuaokala junction is long and steep, with native plants and a few scenic overlooks. About an hour later, I reached the Kuaokala Trail sign—mahalo to the Nā Ala Hele crew for excellent trail marking. The initial portion is wide enough for a vehicle.

Soon I was on Makua Ridge. Clouds began clinging to the ridge—not rain, but heavy fog. I followed ribbon-marked paths until intersecting the road again. At a split, I chose right instead of left (which leads to Peacock Flats), thinking it would save time.

That road turned out to be the old Nike Missile Site access road. Buildings were still intact—messy leftovers from military use. Some state workers were up there, so I didn’t linger. A paved road still accesses the site, so I followed asphalt for a while, saving nearly a mile of dirt-road walking.

Before long I reached Peacock Flats and followed the dirt road to Mokulēʻia Trail. I took my first real break in nearly seven miles—about two minutes. It was around 10:30 a.m. My newly broken-in Timberlands were doing great.

I reached the fork marked by a Hawaiian orange tree and small shelter. Left drops into the valley; straight ahead leads to Makua Ridge. I climbed to the ridge and turned left toward Mt. Kaʻala.

The ridge immediately got serious—steep, narrow, and unforgiving. The fence offered something to grab, but it wouldn’t save you from a bad fall. After the first climb, I reached the official end-of-trail marker at about 2,500 feet. Clouds erased all views, but that hadn’t been my goal.

This ridge is a roller coaster—steep, overgrown, and unnerving. In places, there’s less than a foot between the fence and a thousand-foot drop. After about half a mile, I encountered something unbelievable: a nearly vertical descent reinforced by a fence unrolled flat on the ground and staked in place. The mesh formed perfect handholds and footholds—like a ladder.

Adrenaline was maxed out. I slipped and fell about five feet, twisting onto my back and braking with my boots. I picked up a puncture wound on my left hand and a lasting fear of falling. At the bottom, I rested for five minutes.

Time was running out, and I didn’t want to bivy up there. I decided I’d continue and descend via the Mt. Kaʻala access road to Waialua. That bought me some time.

The trail widened slightly, then narrowed again along Makaha Valley. Winds picked up. Rain came in sideways. At nearly 3,000 feet, this became the most dangerous hike of my life. Another steep drop appeared—this one unfenced. I had rope, but not enough confidence.

I made the call to turn around. I wasn’t discouraged—I’d traversed a significant stretch of the Waiʻanae Range. This had turned into a 16+ mile round trip to a rainy, viewless peak that I couldn’t pass safely.

The return was brutal. I ran where I could. I ran out of water. Rain soaked me. I bypassed the Mokulēʻia–Peacock Flats junction by mistake and had to backtrack an extra mile. Eventually I stuck to the firebreak road, knees wrecked, cold, wet, and exhausted. <