a tale of adventure & risk: climbing hihimanu (part I)

Fair warning: As I started writing this post, I realized there are so many aspects of this experience that I want to share, that I’ve decided to break it up into two parts. This is the back story leading up to our decision to go on this particular hike. Read Part II here (the actual hike).

picture taken from the summit of hihimanu

Risk. Taking chances. Pushing boundaries. Testing limits. We all do this to a varying degree—each of us more or less comfortable than others with different situations.

The timing of this particular challenge for me couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m launching my life coaching practice, getting ready to embark on a new adventure, and finishing up a research paper that focuses on risk.

looking at Hihimanu from from Hanalei Bay

the goal

A month or two after moving to Hawaii, I looked up from Hanalei Bay, pointed at the surrounding mountains, and wondered aloud if there was a trail to the summit. A local overheard us and mentioned that, indeed, there was one trail that would take you to the summit of Hihimanu, a peak 2,262 feet above sea level, nestled between Hanalei Valley and the larger mountain beyond it (Namolokama, at 4,423 feet, is one of the largest, free standing mountains in Hawaii). The local described the trail to Hihimanu as long, difficult and included a number of ropes to get to the summit.

My husband and I looked at each other and had the same thought: fun!

'Okolehao trailhead

So one day about a month later, we hiked the ‘Okolehao trail, which the summit trail spurs off of. We were curious what the trail to the summit was like. Our guidebook describes it as:

“Nasty, scary, hard core and death-defying make it a must-miss alternative.”

Sure enough, almost immediately past the main trail, we encountered a rope down a steep section of the ridge line. After two more ropes, it became quickly obvious that I was a little freaked out by them and the overall thought of continuing on. It was clear this could get dangerous in muddy conditions, with serious exposure and long drops along the way. And, we knew no one who’d been on it for beta. (We found only two accounts online: this one and this one. Neither one particularly encouraging.)

Hmmm... maybe "fun" wasn't the right word.

Risk is defined as uncertainty, or whenever the outcomes of an action are not assured. Since I am one who likes to gather information and prefers to make decisions based on as much information as possible, the realities of not knowing what the trail would be like half-way up, as well as what my mental state would be like, were daunting.

Our reconnaissance mission complete, we turned back in the late afternoon, discussing plans on hiking to the summit soon. Bracken was full of excitement and anticipation. I could tell he was super-jazzed and ready to explore. Over the next months, the topic of when we’d get to the summit was repeated.

Okay, maybe "fun" for him is accurate.

I, however, was decidedly *not* looking forward to it. In fact, just thinking about it brought the butterflies into my stomach. My mind visualized steep inclines, wet with slick, red clay, myself clinging to a threaded rope, heading into an abyss of jungle below (not that I’m melodramatic or anything). I secretly hoped we’d leave the island without returning.

risk and gender

A lot of the materials I’ve been reading on risk focuses on the gender differences between how men and women experience risk. While it's commonly believed to be a combination of environment/culture and biology, there’s a lot of interesting data coming out about specific physiological differences. I won’t go into heavy detail here (that's an entirely separate post), but wanted to highlight a few key points I find fascinating from the book Why Gender Matters, by Dr. Leonard Sax:

• “We now know that females are wired to respond to stress in a different way than males. Dozens of studies over the past twenty years have consistently shown dramatic sex differences in the biobehavioral response to stress. The female autonomic nervous system has been shown to be influenced more by the parasympathetic nervous system, which is energized by acetylcholine rather than adrenaline and which causes an unpleasant, nauseated feeling rather than the “thrill” of the sympathetic nervous system.”
• “The boys were also more likely to report feeling exhilarated [...], whereas girls were far more likely to report feeling fearful.”
• “Boys systematically overestimate their own ability, while girls are more likely to underestimate their abilities.”

I find it frustrating that only in the past 20 years scientists have begun testing both men and women in all sorts of studies (heart disease, cancers, stress). Prior to that, it was assumed that results from male studies could be applied to women. The excuse given was that a woman’s hormonal cycles were too complex, thus effecting results. This is mind-boggling to me. Wouldn’t the difference in hormonal cycles indicate a significant difference between the genders with regards to how our hormones and bodies work? Seems an obvious conclusion to me. Ah, but I digress.

The point is, we are learning more every day about taking risks, the stress and fear related to it (especially with women), and how that effects our behaviors, perceptions and confidence.

Taking risks is something I struggle with. For me, it's about fear of the unknown, and it's about feeling confident in my abilities. I like information. It’s easier for me to take risks with something when I know someone who’s experienced it (like a particular 14er, or a long-distance run). It’s even better when I can watch someone in person (on a bouldering problem or surfing a bigger break).

So thinking about climbing Hihimanu, not knowing what the trail was like, not knowing anyone else who’d climbed it, not knowing how long it was, or how many ropes I’d have to climb... it felt formidable.

After reading the research on gender differences, it made more sense that my husband would be excited about the prospect of the unknown while I was holding back. Unfortunately, I was also feeling “wimpy” and disappointed in myself. I wanted to go, but wanted a way out at the same time.

I thought about past situations where I allowed fear to limit me. There was the raise I felt I deserved and never asked for. The relationship I stayed in too long. The moments I didn’t speak up with confidence and ended up listening to someone else voice a similar idea and receive praise. The (numerous) times I declined to lead a climbing route. That perfect wave I didn’t paddle for.

risk

Risk is important. I’d go so far as to say imperative and essential to a successful and fulfilling life. It teaches confidence and strength in our abilities—to succeed and to fail. It allows us to experience the process of getting back on our feet after we’ve failed, and to accept praise with grace.

In outdoor sports, risk can mean life or death. Through sport we learn to mitigate our fears, take educated and calculated risks. We learn to weigh our options and move forward.

In life, if we don’t take risks as humans, we don’t grow. We don’t learn and we don’t evolve. What are the effects of not taking a risk? I would argue that it can be just as much a life or death issue as steep terrain with exposure (and who knows how many ropes).

With all of these thoughts in my head about risk and fear and stress, I thought about Hihimanu and realized I needed to go. Not despite my fears, but because of them. I needed to challenge myself physically and mentally. I needed to accept the unknown and maybe even learn to embrace it a little bit.

a view of hanalei bay from the 'Okolehao trail

moving closer to the goal

I began thinking much more seriously about the hike, and why I wanted to go. To challenge myself, to push my boundaries, to test my mental strength. And I also realized there were other reasons. One, I love my husband and wanted him to have the opportunity to go. (And it frankly scared me more to think about him doing it alone.) Two, as much as it scared me, I really, really wanted to summit.

There’s something about climbing a mountain and then looking back and seeing that summit. I wanted that feeling again. I wanted to know what the view was like. And I was pretty curious about what the jungle was like up there.

Looks like I was going on a hike.

taking action

Before I was ready to hit the trail, I wanted to be sure I felt more comfortable. The last thing I wanted was to have a meltdown in the middle of the trail dangling from a rope (yes, I have an active imagination). Making the commitment toward a goal is only the first step. I wanted to allow myself the maximum opportunity for success, so got down to the business of preparing. As a life coach, I know that my mental preparation (or lack of) would be the key to whether or not we made it.

Physically, I knew I could do it. But there were two areas that I needed to work on: confidence in the trail conditions and the ropes.

kaua'i red clay

Kaua’i is known for the red clay soil found on most hikes. It’s also the wettest of the Hawaiian islands, so mixing rain with red clay can equal amazingly slippery and unpredictable conditions. It was clear we’d wait until we knew the trail was predominantly dry, although not knowing the trail, we couldn't know how wet or for how long the trail might remain muddy. The wet conditions scared me. Hiking here is not like hiking in Colorado where there are lots of rocks keeping the soil stable. (I’ve begun to hike barefoot a lot just for the added tactile feeling to help me find stability. However, barefoot on this hike wasn’t a consideration for me... it was too long and I had enough to worry about.)

I’d been on the ‘Okelahao trail a few times by this point and one day decided to go on a run in the rain, just to see how the trail held up and what it was like really wet. I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared and I began to feel better about the hike. Since I’d survived the clay in the rain, and we’d be hiking mostly dry, I felt more confident that I’d be able to handle any small portions of wet soil we might come across.

The ropes. Ahhh... the ropes. We didn’t know how many ropes there would be, but we’d been on other, shorter trails with similar ropes, so knew what they’d most likely be like.

And by ropes, let me be clear: these are not climbing ropes where you have a harness and are tied in. Nope. These are fixed ropes that are tied at one end to a tree (or a root) and hung down over the trail to help with footing. Some have knots tied along the length to assist with your grip, others don’t. Most look like they’ve seen better days.

I am not naturally skilled with the ropes. I tend to cling and over grip and I don’t down climb well at all (never have been comfortable with going down facing the incline... definitely makes for slow going at times). So I’m incredibly grateful that we came across other, shorter, trails that had ropes for me to practice on.

Whenever we found ourselves on one of those trails, I visualized Hihimanu and what I wanted to accomplish. I practiced where I put weight and how I held the rope. I paid attention to what it felt like to shift from one side to another, and where I placed my foot. I knew I needed to feel comfortable on these ropes because it was this, more than anything, that frightened me. (Well, more specifically, would I be able to hold on and keep myself from falling into that imagined abyss?)

decisions

In doing all the reading and research on risk, I realized that I was not a risk-taking connoisseur. I’ve taken a number of risks in my life, but I believe there are far more times where I chose the safe route. However, I try not to dwell on the “what if’s” and instead, look ahead at the opportunities before me. And there she was: Hihimanu in all her glory.

After a visit from friends where we took them on a short hike that included some rope work, I noticed my confidence was up. I was moving a little faster. I was also very aware that our time here was limited. It hadn’t rained in a few days. I was feeling strong.

It was time.

The next morning when we were discussing potential plans for the day, I simply looked at Bracken and said, “today’s the day for Hihimanu.” I want to climb it.

Okolehao and Hihimanu trails

Next week: The adventure continues... a full post on how the hike to Hihimanu's summit went. (Route preview: check out the picture. The green line is the Okolehao trail. The red is Hihimanu's summit trail.) Wild orchids, ropes and centipedes, oh my!