Na Pali Story: Hippies

It's a well-known fact that people live in the Kalalau Valley. When I was doing research for our hike I came across plenty of stories about the folks who live in the valley and live off the land. I suppose I had sort of assumed they didn't want anything to do with us and we probably wouldn't interact with them much.

Not the case.

When my friend Sue and I finally made it to Kalalau beach we found our friends Kate and Karen talking to a skinny guy in a sarong. Chris. Chris had already offered Kate and Karen weed and given them a brief low-down on the beach (including the planned fire dance that night, which did not end up happening). Chris had lived in Kalalau for more than 23 years, on and off. He was incredibly friendly and hospitable.

He told us he's one of about 20 people that live in the valley or on the beach. He's one that has been there the longest. Although later we met Greg. He told us he'd lived there on and off for more than 40 years since he was 13. We all agreed later he didn't look any older than 50. Either Kalalau is good for youthfulness or Greg didn't keep track of the years very well.

The hippies all travel in and out of the valley to get basic supplies and food. They eat all of the local fruits and plants and have even planted things over the years, lots of tomatoes, but they still head into town for whatever isn't readily available in the valley. Most of the hippies do the 11 mile hike just like we did. Chris doesn't. He takes his kayak. It's only six miles along the coast and it takes him less than three hours. He paddles to Ke'e beach and then hitchhikes to Lihue where he stocks up at Costco. Yes, Costco. Right when I heard that I started to re-evaluate my perception of these hippies. They are not low and out. The don't even do without. They shop at Costco! Imagine this... Hippie Chris lives in an old tent, eats with an upturned bucket as his chair, doesn't really own anything except some castiron pots, oh, and his Costco membership!

Later as we went to check out the sights of the beach, we ran into Hippie Chris carrying fresh water back to his camp, naked. Which is not uncommon in Kalalau. We said hello and continued on.

We also met another hippie guy who offered us a Kalalau orange. He left the beach that night with an incredibly young looking girl, her year and half old daughter, another hippie who had been there only since October and claimed to be from "a little left of the center of the universe", and another person we never really met. We encountered them briefly the next day on the trail hiking out.

Later in the day Hippie Chris came to check on us and invite us to dinner. He was preparing spaghetti with fresh pasta sauce. We had brought ramen and instant rice but decided his pasta feast might be more enjoyable. He encouraged us to dress up for dinner and showed us how to make haku head leis with the local vines.




We showed up to dinner dressed in our finest (kidding) and met his other dinner guests: a couple from Alaska who had spent their summer on the Big Island and camped frequently, a guy from Southern California who had been at the beach for about a week or so, and a kid from Austin who had been at the beach for just a few days and at his sister's wedding in Kauai before that. We chatted about our lives, about Hawaii, video games and more. Hippie Chris served us appetizers of salami and cheese with his homemade bread he had made from scratch and cooked on the open fire in front of us. He played a short tune on his flute and then we dug into the entree of spaghetti and homemade marinara with onions, herbs, mushrooms, and pumpkins from the valley. I promise you, I don't eat this well when I go to Safeway and buy everything myself. It was amazing.




An hour or two later we said goodnight to Chris and thanked him greatly for his hospitality. He invited us over again for the next night but we explained we had to head out. Didn't bother him one bit, he said whoever took our places at the beach was welcome for dinner.

The next day we headed out early and had gone three miles when we met Greg. Sue and I were stopped at a waterfall collecting water for the next sweaty hours of our day. Greg came along in funny cloven-foot diving booties and with an empty backpack. He was headed into town to get some food. Sue offered him some trail mix and he asked if he could tell us a story. His story was a long poem he had written about a woman and a waterfall and something much deeper I didn't quite get. And then we parted ways because he was sure to beat us down the trail.

A few steps later we met the universe, orange, baby and young mother hippies. They had camped at mile eight and met up with a friend of ours we like to call Three Weeks. When we cruised by them the baby was playing with Three Weeks and unknown hippie was grinding coffee beans to start their morning brew. The told us they'd had a wonderful evening and had feasted on homemade carrot cake with chocolate icing! We said how nice and waved goodbye.

Four or five miles later we met that group again as I sat on the trail gnawing on a guava Sue had picked for me, and Sue was picking oranges and mysterious berries. Down came the hippies with their baby and their guitar in a padded case. They told us the berries were called thimble berries and pretty much rushed on by.

Another mile or two from there we were surprised to see Greg again. He'd met our friends Kate and Karen near the end of the trail and they'd paid him to hike back in, check on us, and carry our bags back out. He thought I was completely insane because I was near collapse but I wouldn't give him my bag. I am too stubborn. I figured I had less than two miles and if I'd already gone more than 20 with a heavy backpack, there's no way I'd change now. So he walked the remaining two miles with us talking fishing with Sue and stinking up the trail. Ooooh, he was smelly. Which was terrifying because I worried I might smell equally as bad.

Finally at the end of the trail we dumped our bags, jumped in the ocean and then I was certainly surprised to learn my friends had offered Greg a ride to the grocery store in Princeville. So there we went. Four tired girls and one smelly hippie all stuffed into an economy rental. Along the way Greg shared his philosophies on life, mostly in the form of poems. He told us he'd recently become enlightened and said it was like being awake or asleep, you just knew when you were. Oh-kay. He also chatted our ears off about the holy trinity, parallels in nature, and pretty much everything he thought about everything. A short drive felt very, very long with Greg in the car.

Truth be told, the hippies were a true highlight of the trip. I've lived in the Bay Are and went to college in Boulder so I thought I knew hippies. These hippies were different. No hemp necklaces here, no patchwork skirts, or drum circles. I suspect these Kalalau hippies are truly escaping from life. I think they probably can't live in town. But they also love the beach and the valley, and they truly love their lives.