He yelled to us to stop, from out of nowhere, it seemed. It was startling, and one of the last things on my mind, as I led the group of 9 teenage backpackers down the trail, headed back to our Base Camp facility after a week out in the Lost Creek Wilderness. We’d be back in less than an hour except for whatever was about to happen. He was ragged-looking, probably in his 40s, had a Pit Bull by his side, and, thankfully, kept his distance across a dry wash.
Our OWA group was backpacking on the Big Island of Hawaii along the Mulawai Trail. The first night out, we camped in Waipio Canyon. The next day, we headed toward Waimanu Canyon and stopped for the night on a rustic camping platform provided by the state Division of Forestry and Wildlife. The shelter was conveniently located on a mountaintop within a day’s walking distance of the trailhead and was a welcome sight after our long and hot climb through the jungle and up the Z Switchbacks. We reached the elevated platform in the middle of the afternoon, and since there was still plenty of daylight and because we were all physically drained, everyone picked a spot and stretched out on the shaded, relatively clean plywood for a quick nap before setting up camp for the night. As I dozed off, I thought contentedly of gentle breezes, juicy Lilikoi fruit, and thick clouds.
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