The best adventures that you can have in Hawaii always involve bringing nothing and completely disregarding anything that says anything about "no trespassing". The commando hike started exactly like that. Plus a thunder storm.
The commando hike, similar to the romp, needs a leader who's done it before, and for this adventure, it was Chancee. We were instructed to wear swim suits that tied on, so we could tie our flip flops to our bodies when the time came. We hitched out there in groups, Claire-Pia-Everett and Chancee-Whitney-Drew. When team one arrived and stepped out of the pristine rental car that had so graciously picked us up, the weather just full on dumped on us. We took shelter in the bamboo forest that is adjacent to the start of the commando hike. The forest manages to be incredibly beautiful while also being haunting and eerie. Bamboo grows thick and close together, so upon entering the forest, you feel as if it's suddenly twilight. It's hard to see things move through the thick growths, and so you feel as if things are moving in the trees but you can't truly see them. Sounds get muffled and distorted; a river runs through the forest but you can't find it unless you can see it. The three of us walked deep into the forest, where the rain could barely even get through and the old growth trees creaked in the wind. I stood in between poles as thick as my arm, shivering in my suit as mosquitos picked at my exposed back. The forest shielded us from the rain, but it also blocked out any sounds from the road. We wouldn't know when the rest of our party arrived. So Everett went up to the road and Claire followed shortly after. I found myself alone in the trees. Everything creaked and spoke, and the whole forest blew together in the wind and I was alone but I felt surrounded. I let the eerie bubble effect take me completely...and then booked it to the road.
We met up with hitch team two and then had a decision to make. The commando hike was low on the extreme danger scale, lower than the romp and cliff jumping, but only when the weather was dry. Much of the hike involved walking up a steep river bed, and people die doing the hike when it rains heavily and a flash flood washes them down the hill and smashes their bodies against the rocky banks. We decided we weren't afraid of rain and did it anyway.
Chancee led us over a metal fence that was decorated with signage telling us to stay out, and into a large pasture. We walked quietly because cows are actually very angry animals who will charge and try and kill you. After a time, the path gave way to just grass and then the grass gave way to mud. Whitney took a few steps and then screamed. I always think "SNAKE!" when people scream in the country, but that doesn't apply in Hawaii because there are no snakes, none. Turns out she had just sunk knee deep into the mud. Two steps later, we all sank with her. It felt like baby Jabba was hugging my legs. Smelled like it too. I dug out my flip flops and we tramped on barefoot. It was flow progress. It was 100 yards of thick, sticky mud, with cow pop thrown into the mix. Each step was a leap of faith, because you didn't know how far your leg would sink, or what sharp thing was waiting for you at the bottom of the mud. I've embraced mud a lot since I've been here, but having putrid mud creeping up my thigh still gave me the heebie jeebies a little. At the end of our 100 yard battle, we found ourselves at the very steep bank of the river. Covered in mud, stuck with thorns and laughing, we slid down the hill into the river.
The majority of the commando hike is trekking up the river. We tied our shoes to our suits and started picking our way up. The river is slow and lazy and dotted with rocks, so you just hop your way from rock to rock. However, due to the recent/current storm that was raging, everything was the most slippery. Nearly broke my neck/knocked out my teeth a good number of times, all good though. After a good time working our way up the river, I heard voices echoing off the riverbed down stream from us. Commando company? Then we heard the calls. Bird calls and signal calls, so we called back. And then round the bend came what we eventually named, ‘The Clan’. It was a troupe of around 13 young men; all shirtless and in running shoes. The first one came up to us and said in a thick accent “commando traffic jam!”. Turns out they were a collection of Europeans who either worked or lived at hostel not far from our farm. We started moving up the river in a huge mass, The Clan slightly ahead of the farmily. We reached a place in the river where thick vines grew from bank to bank and walking through the water was impossible. So one by one we climbed up into the tangles and walked across a giant carpet of jungle vines that suspended us across the water. They grew close enough that it was just like a large woven bridge.
After a significant portion of the hike is spent rock hopping and vine walking, it real action packed. The river widened into a large pool that we swam across and then climbed the small waterfall on the other side. After a few more vine walks, we reached the larger waterfall. Still had to climb this one. The Clan went first and made it up. And then Chancee went. The climb was straight up the water but the rocked closed in and narrowed towards the top, so it was recommended you wedge yourself between them like a door frame and then pull yourself up. Chancee got this far and then slipped. One of The Clan was close and reached out, grabbed her hand and hauled her up over the top. I vowed to do better. I got in the fall, the water making it hard to see and making me very cold. Got wedged in and then started to pull myself up. At this point I had a whole waterfall in my eyes and was just groping blindly on the rocks for hand holds. I got one hand in, and the other hand was groping blindly until it was grasped firmly by a large Irish man who hauled my ass up on the rock. Thanks mate.
We waded up river a bit further until we reached the mouth of a cave. It wasn’t like the huge ocean caves we had seen. It was small and tight, the river running through it and the walls close and the ceiling short. At this point, I began a silent panic. One of my greatest fears is being in water in the pitch black. But this was the commando hike, it runs in a loop, so I wasn’t going back, and the cave was what was forward. We swam the first part, which was still well lit by the mouth, and then climbed up another waterfall into the small, tunnel part. Because our combined parties formed such a large group, all the daylight was blocked out of the narrow tunnel. On member of the Clan had a light he had used to guide us up the fall, but just as he turned to come into the little tunnel, it went out. Dead, right then. I could feel the walls on either side of me and see the water ahead. It was pools of water separated by little rock formation. I stepped into each pool, not knowing if it was so deep that I would sink or so shallow that I would hit myself on the rocks. The short swim or wade across the little pools to next oasis of dry rock was like a lifetime. I kept looking up hoping to see daylight, that the tiny tunnel packed full of bodies and rocks and slime and dark water was nearly over. It felt like an eternity, having to force myself to let my body enter each dark pool of water, every fiber of my being screaming at me to stay out and get out of the dark. And the finally, light. I scrambled out of there, through the rocky entrance and practically threw myself onto the path and then remembered to breathe. Does that count as conquering a fear…?
The rest was simple and beautiful. The river had spread out and the banks were less steep, and we walked up the rocks until we reached a beautiful pool that was fed by the biggest waterfall yet. The Clan kept going up so that they could jump off the top, but the farmily was content to shed shoes and shorts and swim. The rain had stopped and after a brief swim and a few low jumps, we collected our things and started the walk back. This walk follows a trail that transitions into a dirt road that eventually leads to the highway. We were tired and cold, but adventures always leave me feeling fulfilled, like I achieved something worth achieving.
Back on the road, a truck full of coconuts picked us up and we rode home in the rain, with coconuts in weird places, cold, wet, tired and grateful.
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