One of the most interesting ways to learn about the view people in times past had of the land is to hear the stories that have been passed down. In many ways, the proverbs and sayings of ka po’e kahiko — the people of old – are a distillation of such stories. Rather like a poem, such expressions compress the ideas about places, the images people used to have about areas that they may have visited or just heard about from others who traveled more extensively. The crowning achievement of Mary Kawena Pukui’s long and productive career as an interpreter of her Hawaiian culture was the compilation of her collection of proverbs and sayings in the book referenced above. Of particular value is the series of indexes in the book: not only is there a general index, but one for personal names, for plants and animals, and for places. If one wants to know the reputation an area had for people in times far past, looking up the sayings about that area gives a good idea.

When it comes to sayings about Hamakua and Waipi`o, it is the rugged grandeur of the landscape that is emphasized. Na pali alo lua o Waipi`o speaks of the Valley’s cliffs facing each other. Hamakua i ka wakawaka tells of the gulches and valleys characteristic of the land in our district – “irregular and rough Hamakua.” The saying that heads this article describes the steep trails of Hamakua, and in doing so, points to the geological events that create the conditions necessitating trails going sharply up and down.

Most of the eastern side of Hamakua is on Mauna Kea, but a portion around Kukuihaele is on lava from Kohala. The district also extends along the windward cliff-and-valley coast of Kohala volcano past Waimanu and Honopue Valleys. Kohala, Hawai`i Island’s only extinct volcano, has had no eruptive activity for an estimated 60,000 years. Mauna Kea, our Island’s only dormant volcano, has been eruptively quiet for about 3,300 years. The last acts of Hawaiian volcanoes sees a shift from effusive eruptions of molten rock to explosive eruptions of pulverized material that falls to the ground as cinders and/or ash. For a very long time, then, the main geological activity impacting these slopes has been erosion.
It is only when the lava is covered by ash, in fact, that flowing streams begin to develop and significant fresh water erosion begins to occur. It takes some explanation to convey to visitors why they cannot see flowing rock and flowing water in the same area! We are all familiar with the lack of standing or flowing water on the flanks of Kilauea and Mauna Loa – even their windward slopes. If the ground surface were not almost entirely porous rock, water would accumulate and Kilauea would have geysers, thermal pools and other features similar to those seen at Yellowstone, the other U.S. National Park located over a geological “hot spot.”

Once the ground is covered with ash, at any rate, rainfall, instead of percolating into the surface, begins to flow over the surface. Drops become trickles, trickles turn into rivulets and thence to streams. As the volume of the flowing water increases, particles of soil begin to be displaced and channels start to form (most residents here know about Ka ua wa`awa`ahia o Waipi`o – “The furrow-cutting rain of Waipi`o”). As erosion progresses, the streams continue to cut down through ash layers and become powerful and debris-bearing enough to begin to erode the underlying lava. Since lava flows differ in their density, they erode at different rates and waterfalls begin to appear at the edge of harder rock. As experience of this Island reveals, some of its beautiful features occur only on the rainy sides of the oldest volcanoes.

One consequence of the water undoing the creations of Pele is that as we traverse the windward flanks of Mauna Kea and Kohala we frequently encounter steep-sided kahawai, or gulches. Thus, the ala ulili, down one side and up the other. Those traveling on foot count themselves fortunate if they are on a trail, steep though it may be, that takes them across the kahawai. Lacking a trail developed by humans, in fact, travelers are well advised to stay up on the side until they find a pig trail, since these creatures are quite familiar with the best ways to cross such obstacles.

Isabella Bird, describing her visit here in 1873, wrote of her astonishment when, on a ride from Hilo toward Waipi`o, her mounted guide suddenly disappeared in front of her! She quickly understood when she came to the side of the precipice to see him sliding on his horse down the pali and had to overcome her own considerable hesitation in following. It was a measure of her progress when, some months later, as she ended a day of riding solo from Waimea she did not hesitate to urge her mount over the edge to take evening shelter with the residents of Laupahoehoe.

These days, of course, highway bridges take us right across the kahawai, going between Waipi`o and Hilo, only into the three with sweeping curves at Ka`awali`i, Laupahoehoe and Maulua. The old trails have often disappeared under brush, landslides or construction projects. Finding and walking on the remaining ala is like traveling to an earlier time. And whether or not you get to walk on an old trail, take a look at the gulches as you drive the awesome Hamakua Coast. Think about what it would be like to cross them on foot. Honor the skill and determination of the people of times past by whispering softly, “Hamakua i ke ala ulili.”

What this means is that if it can be demonstrated that a trail or road was in use by the public in 1892, and has not been formally surrendered to someone, that trail or road is still available for public passage. The government has given some such holdings away: the old trail that ran from around Kahua Ranch over the western flank of Kohala to Kawaihae was long ago deeded to the owners of the surrounding lands. More often, though, even when the trails have not been used much for a long time, citizens have the right to pass over them.

In some cases, though the right exists, there are significant barriers to public use. A good example is the so-called “Judd Trail” that goes from Kona up into the saddle between Hualalai and Mauna Loa. This route takes its modern name from Gerritt Judd, the government official who oversaw the building of a formal road along the general route of an ancient Hawaiian trail. It was intended that the new road would link Kona and Hilo – a road was started from the Hilo side at the same time, around 1859. The project was abandoned in 1859 when a voluminous lava flow from the 11,000 foot-level of Mauna Loa crossed just in front of the leading construction site of the Judd Trail.

The Judd Trail is a remarkable structure in several ways. It is very straight, seemingly laid along compass lines, so it goes over pits that had to be filled, rather than bending slightly to the side to avoid them. In one place near its upper extremity, it goes a good ways on a rugged `a`a lava flow where just 20 or 30 feet away it would have been on much, much easier pahoehoe. It passes through beautiful and interesting country, going near Ahua`Umi, the famous heiau built by `Umi-a-Liloa.

In any case, it is surrounded by private land and the owners are adamant that they will not permit access to the public, citing liability and vandalism as their concerns. The public ownership is not in question, but the practicality of access definitely is.
Hawai`i’s new – and only – National Trail, the Ala Kahakai, winds from Upolu in North Kohala all the way down the leeward coast, around Ka Lae (South Point), and up the eastern coast of Ka`u and Puna to the Hilo-side boundary of Hawai`i Volcanoes National Park. Over half the trail is on government land, either federal, State or County, and it is thought that much of the remainder will be found to be property of the State under the Highways Act of 1892. In contrast, the trails built in Kohala and Hamakua for the water tunnels and ditches were both post-1892 and under private control so that no public right of access holds.

We have in earlier articles dealt with the fact that the gulches of Hamakua provide a considerable barrier for cross-country travel, since their sides are in many places too steep for crossing. Places that could be crossed were well known in earlier times, and, often, improved (now overgrown) trails that angled in one side and out the other are still in evidence. These fragments of trails are quite possibly subject to State ownership, and it may be that rights of way connecting gulch crossings still legally exist. While it’s never a good idea to wander through someone’s property without permission, and difficult in most instances to find the traces of trails across open lands, we who like to explore on foot can take comfort in the fact that Hawai`i is a place that has historically honored the rights of those who use the trails that lace our lands.

Written descriptions of the lands and people of Hawai`i began with the visit of Capt. James Cook in 1778, though he and his crew did not extensively explore on-shore areas and never got so far away from Kealakekua as Hamakua. They did observe it from the sea as they coasted along from west to east, circling the Island in a clock-wise direction. One visitor from a time past who did travel through the lands of Hamakua and wrote of his impressions (Polynesian Researches: Hawaii) was Rev. William Ellis, who came through in 1822.

Ellis was a native of England who had been serving as a missionary in Tahiti. In 1822 the government of England had built a ship as a gift to Kamehameha I (apparently unaware that he had died in 1819). The ship and its escort passed by Huahine, and offered to transport some of the missionaries there to the “Sandwich Islands,” as the Hawaiian Islands were known for a period of time. Ellis and “two pious natives, members of the church, and one of them a chief of some rank in the islands” went along with this small caravan of ships. They anchored off Kealakekua on March 27, immediately meeting Kuakini, serving as governor of the Island. After a few days here, Ellis voyaged to O`ahu, then returned to the Island of Hawai`i to travel its circumference. Some of his travel was by canoe, but much if it was on foot. He went south from Kailua, rounding Kalae (“South Point”), took an inland incursion past Kilauea’s caldera, then came along the coast to Hilo and beyond, to “our” part of the Island.

Though his account of his travels is of great interest — details of the landscapes and conversations with kanaka maoli are interspersed with his ruminations on the geology, language, customs and geography – this article will focus on his rather brief comments about Hamakua. The Ellis party’s entry into our district was not without drama. Ellis describes reaching the “pleasant and verdant valley of Kaura, which separates the divisions of Hiro and Hamakua;” at the bottom, they found a heiau dedicated to Pele, “with several rude stone idols, wrapped in white and yellow cloth, standing in the midst of it.” The people there told them that every passing traveler left an offering of some sort; as Christians, of course, this group was disinclined to follow this practice, but did not diminish the structure, choosing instead to advocate the abandonment of such customs in favor of worship of Jehovah. The kanaka maoli responded that the being represented by the stones was “very powerful, and capable of devouring their land, and destroying the people.” After more give-and-take about worship, “When a drawing had been taken of this beautiful valley, where kukui trees, plantains, bananas and ti plants were growing spontaneously with unusual richness of foliage and flower, we took leave of the people, and, continuing our journey, entered Hamakua.” Ellis comments on the lack of recent volcanic activity, the conspicuousness of “lofty Mouna-Kea,” and the habitations of the natives generally appearing “in clusters at the opening of the valleys, or scattered over the face of the high land.” He speaks, too, of the warm climate and the frequent rains, the fertility of the soil, and the richness of the vegetation. The named places (using Ellis’ spellings) they passed through follow: Kearakaha, Manienie, Toumoarii/Taumoarii (both spellings occur), where they rested overnight; their fatigue was considerable, since they had “crossed nearly twenty ravines, some of which were from three to four hundred feet deep. They continued on the next day, traveling slowly because one of their party, Mr. Goodrich was ill, and passing through Kaahua, Koloaha, Malanahae, and spending the night at Kapulena.

At Kapulena the party divided. Mr. Goodrich and Mr. Bishop went inland to Waimea on their way to “Towaihae” (Kawaihae), where they met and were hosted by John Young. William Ellis and Asa Thurston continued on toward Waipi`o. The latter did not leave Kapulena until about five p.m. on Saturday. Since they wished to spend Sunday in Waipi`o they moved as quickly as they could to get there before the light failed. We get a glimpse of what the area looked like in Ellis’ words: “we travelled fast along the narrow paths bordered with long grass, or through the well-cultivated plantations of the natives.” Perhaps because of his desire to make good time, Ellis complains of the Hawaiian’s lack of interest in straight-line, wide paths: “the paths from one village to another were not more than a foot wide, and very crooked.” He thought the trail from Kapulena to Waipi`o was especially “serpentine.”

Despite their haste, the party arrived at the edge of the Valley after the sun had set behind the pali across from them. There was still light enough to see that, “the charming valley, spread out beneath us like a map, appeared in beautiful miniature. Its numerous inhabitants, cottages, plantations, fish-ponds, and meandering streams, with the light canoe moving to and fro on the surface of the latter, gave an air of animation to the scene, in which the distinct and varied objects were blended with the most delightful harmony.” It was full dark by the time they got to the bottom of the Valley, and Ellis was further delighted by a fish dinner, cooked over a sandalwood fire, the fuel contributing its wonderful scent to the air, and by the moonrise reflecting off the streams and pools. Over the next several days, in their usual busy fashion, Ellis and Thurston surveyed the settlements in the Valley (estimating the population to be “at least 1325,” based on their count of 265 houses), attempted unsuccessfully to gain entrance to the building in Pakalana heiau in which Liloa’s bones were said to be housed, and preached to the people. When they remonstrated with the people about “the folly of deifying and worshipping departed men,” they were answered with, “Pela no i Hawaii nei: so it is in Hawaii here.”

A canoe was provided them for their travel to Waimanu, where they found the chief, Alapa`i, busily engaged in shipping sandalwood to a sloop belonging to governor Kuakini. They thought Waimanu exceptionally beautiful, even compared with Waipi`o, partly because of the numerous waterfalls. Ellis comments here at length about the ease with which Hawaiians in Waimanu and elsewhere took to the powerful waters of the ocean, and provides perhaps the first written description of surfing. In his usual careful way he includes the craft of constructing the surfboard, the kinds of areas favored by surfers, and the means by which they paddled out “perhaps a quarter of a mile or more out to sea.” His astonishment is plain as he tells how they “ride on the crest of the wave, in the midst of the spray and foam, till within a yard or so of the rocks or shore; and when the observers would expect to see them dashed to pieces, they steer with great address between the rocks, or slide off their board in a moment, grasp it by the middle, and dive under water, while the wave rolls on, and breaks among the rocks with a roaring noise, the effect of which is greatly heightened by the shouts and laughter of the natives in the water.”

On leaving Waimanu, they saw a recent landslide at Laupahoehoe, with the remains of houses still visible in the rubble; continuing along the coast, they noted “winding paths” on the faces sea-cliffs 500-600 feet high. They thought they must be goat paths, but later “saw one or two groups of travellers pursuing their steep and rugged way.” At mid-day, they “passed Honokea, a narrow valley which separates the divisions of Hamakua and Kohala,” and thus drew away from our district.

William Ellis left behind not only his detailed descriptions but also a drawing of Waipi`o that is sometimes seen on tee-shirts as well as in history books. Far more than most travelers, he had a deep curiosity about places new to him and a genuine concern for the well-being of the people he met. His facility with the language of the “South Seas” served him well in Hawai`i, allowing him to converse immediately with those he met here. The record he handed on to us is invaluable and has a permanent place in the record of our islands. I think his experiences here, including those in Hamakua, were of great importance to him, and held an enduring place in his mind and heart.

Isabella Bird came by ship from Australia to O`ahu. She took a ship called “Kilauea” to Kawaihae, then rounded Opolu Point in North Kohala to coast along windward Kohala and Hamakua to Hilo. She was much taken with Hilo-town: “This is the paradise of Hawai`i. What Honolulu attempts to be, Hilo is without effort.” After a visit to Kilauea, standard for visitors then as now, Ms. Bird had her further travel plans put on hold by flooded gulches around Hilo-town. She settled into an extended stay in the area, and soon rode a horse to visit the Austin family in Onomea. Mr. Austin was involved in the growing and processing of sugar cane, and Ms. Bird made observations on that aspect of life, beginning with this general context: “Sugar is now the great interest of the islands. Christian missions and whaling have had their day, and now people talk sugar.”

Though Isabella Bird had many interesting, exciting and sometimes dangerous experiences during her “Six Months in the Sandwich Islands,” and though she passed through the lands of Hamakua several times, we will here consider the passages she made on her initial transit to Waipi`o Valley and her return to Onomea.
The steep-sided gulches of Hilo and Hamakua strongly impressed travelers in the days before they were bridged. Ms. Bird was no exception: “The descent into the gulches is always solemn. You canter along a bright breezy upland, and are suddenly arrested by a precipice, and from the depths of a forest-draped abyss a low plash or murmur rises, or a deep bass sound, significant of water which must be crossed, and one reluctantly leaves the upper air to plunge into heavy shadow, and each experience increases one’s apprehensions concerning the next.” And, later, “It is wonderful that people should have thought of crossing these gulches on anything with four legs. (W)ithin recent years, narrow tracks…have been cut along the sides of these precipices, without any windings to make them easier…. Most of them are worn by water and animals’ feet, broken, rugged, jagged, with steps of rock sometimes three feet high, produced by breakage here and there. Then there are softer descents, slippery and damp, and perilous in heavy rains, down which they slide dexterously….”

Ms. Bird, her wild young guide, Kaluna, and the companion assigned to her by the Austins, a Hawaiian woman named Deborah, negotiated all the gulches to Laupahoehoe. There, torrential rain and strong winds made even more hazardous the descent of what she saw as “…merely a dangerous broken ledge” for a trail. They passed on to a planned stop some six miles further along the way. After a restless and amusing night under dubious and crowded shelter, the party proceeded to Waipi`o, encountering a new hazard in the form of wild bullocks, about which they were several times warned by travelers they met along the way. Isabella Bird saw no sign of the Valley until, “…we came suddenly to the verge of a pali, about 1,000 feet deep, with a narrow, fertile valley, and a yet higher pali on the other side, both abutting perpendicularly on the sea. … It is in fact, a gulch on a greatly enlarged scale. The prospect below us was very charming, a fertile region perfectly level, protected from the sea by sandhills, watered by a winding stream, and bright with fishponds, meadow lands, kalo patches, orange and coffee groves, figs, breadfruit and palms. … We saw all this from the moment we reached the pali; and it enlarged and the detail grew upon us with every yard of the laborious descent of broken, craggy track, which is the only mode of access to the valley from the outer world.” She stayed in a comfortable frame house, belonging to Halemanu, the sheriff; she visited the base of Hi`ilawe Falls (though she does not name it) and rode a considerable distance toward the back of the Valley. Only 200 people (in contrast to Ellis’ estimate of “at least 1325,” just 50 years prior) were living in Waipi`o at the time of her visit, and her host sadly expressed his fears about the total disappearance of the Hawaiian people.

After two nights Isabella Bird and her party departed from Waipi`o while the full moon was still in the early morning sky. To avoid the peculiar lodging they stayed in on the way to the Valley, the three rode that day a distance Ms. Bird estimated to be 34 miles, to Laupahoehoe. Their lodgings were quite comfortable, she reports, and a welcome respite from “eleven hours in the saddle.” The next morning, though, the weather was stormy. High surf was pounding the shore, the rain was pouring, and had evidently been falling much of the night. Much of the household discussion was in Hawaiian, and so not directly understandable to Ms. Bird, though as she says, “I shall always think, from their tone and manner, and the frequent repetition of the names of the three worst gulches, that the older men tried to dissuade us from going; but Deborah, who was very anxious to be at home by Sunday, said that the verdict was that we might reach Onomea before the freshet came on.” This hopeful scenario was not to be, as they “…splashed on, mile after mile, down sliding banks and along rocky tracks, from which the soil had been completely carried, the rain falling all the time.” Kaluna had to leave them when his horse “broke down,” and while they waited for him Ms. Bird and Deborah visited the latter’s grandparents, some four hours from Onomea. There they dried out a bit, ate hot food, and, against the entreaties of the residents, continued on in the rain. Isabella Bird comments, “I thought it a sign of difficulties ahead, that on one of the most frequented tracks in Hawaii, we had not met a single traveler, though it was Saturday, a special traveling day.”

The journey got more and more harrowing for the two ladies, with Hakalau gulch providing special thrills not only from powerfully rushing water, but from the proximity of “mountainous billows” of surf near the crossing. There, they struggled to a higher point in mid-stream and had an exchange about their situation, shouting at one another because of the roar of the water, when abruptly both their horses were carried away downstream and toward the surf. They managed to turn their mounts upstream, and spurring the swimming horses at an angle toward the Hilo-side bank, managed to avoid disaster and get out of the streambed.

Shaken though they were by their experiences, the women proceeded on with one more even more perilous crossing to face, in a gulch then called “Scotchman’s gulch” because a Scot had drowned in it. Here, there were some Hawaiians in place to assist another woman traveler, a lady desperate to get to Hilo to attend to a seriously ill relative. Two men perched on boulders in the stream, both standing in rapidly flowing water. One had a lasso-rope which he wrapped around the horse’s nose. Pulling the animal into the water, he guided it past his boulder, then threw the rope to the next man, who continued guiding the horse across, the traverse ending with, “a violent scramble on to a rock, and a plunging and floundering through deep water to shore.” When the first lady had made it safely across, Deborah decided to trust the system. Watching her and her mount disappear entirely underwater in the deep section between the two boulders, Ms. Bird decided that she would forgo the crossing until the stream’s fury had abated. The men assisting at the crossing assumed otherwise; fastening the rope around her horse’s nose, they dragged her, “…screaming ‘No, no’….” into the roaring water. She, too, was submerged, but did successfully gain the farther shore. They were the last to make it across that gulch that day. Others behind them were forced to lay over for two days.

Soon after, Deborah’s husband was seen coming toward them, on his way to meet them, as he supposed, in Laupahoehoe where he thought they surely would have waited. “Our adventures,” she concludes, “are a nine days’ wonder, and everyone says that if we had had a white man or an experienced native with us, we should never have been allowed to attempt the perilous ride.”

Those who remember the drive from Honoka`a to Hilo before the present highway was opened in the early 1960’s will have a better sense of the risks posed by travel across Hamakua in the old days, but even they will have to acknowledge the good fortune and daring attitude of the visitor Isabella and Deborah, the native Hawaiian, two travelers in Hamakua long ago.

Without doubt, the best known Hawaiian in history is Kamehameha I. His fame is due not only to his personal qualities, but as well to the coincidental overlapping of his life-span with the beginning of written history due to the presence in the Islands of witnesses from outside of the culture of Hawai`i. Events associated with his life took place in various areas of the Island of Hawai`i, including Waipi`o, but his `aina hanau or birthplace and his lo`i kalo or taro patches were in Kohala. It is commonly thought that these proud lands, Kohala `aina ha`aheo, held the central place in his mind and heart.

Of the many ali`i who held sway in Waipi`o over the centuries between the end of the `ohana period– the society of the original settlers– and the time of Kamehameha, the most prominent was `Umi-a-Liloa. Like Kamehameha, a combination of his own attributes and the circumstances of the time led to his fame, but the stories of his exploits were for centuries carried forward purely in the oral traditions of the Hawaiian culture. For the early and most critical events of `Umi’s life, our land of Hamakua was the setting.

Tales of `Umi are well told by a variety of writers, including His Hawaiian Majesty David Kalakaua, David Malo, Abraham Fornander, and Martha Beckwith. What follows is a sampling of some of the events recounted by these writers with special attention to the ground under our feet and what happened here in Hamakua as `Umi moved about in it.

Liloa was the father of `Umi, and well-remembered himself as an Ali`i who oversaw his land holdings so astutely and well that peace and prosperity characterized his reign. Attentive to his spiritual obligations, he directed the consecration of a heiau in Hamakua named Manini, at a place on the coast below Kuka`iau called Koholalele. He seemingly took a holiday before returning to his headquarters in Waipi`o, for he went toward Hilo and rested at Ka`awikiwiki, not far from the “curving bridge” on the present highway. Going to a pool to bathe, Liloa saw a lovely woman, Akahi-a-kuleana, from nearby Kealakaha, purifying herself in the stream. As the early Hawaiian historian David Malo says in Hawaiian Antiquities, “…he conceived a passion for her, and taking hold of her, he said, ‘Lie with me.’ Recognizing that it was Liloa, the king, who asked her, she consented….” Knowing that pregnancy was likely to ensue, Liloa left his malo (loincloth), his niho-paloa (royal pendant) and laau palau (club) as tokens to be given to the child as proof of ancestry. He further directed Akahi-a kuleana to name the child `Umi if it were male.

It is said that Akahi-a-kuleana had a husband who believed that the child of her meeting with Liloa was his own son, and that his treatment of the boy was harsh enough to arouse distress on the part of his wife. When `Umi had “grown to good size,” she informed the boy and her husband of his true lineage, gave her son the possessions of his real father and sent him off to find Liloa in Waipi`o. Picture a strikingly strong and handsome young man making his way with two friends from near the Hilo-side boundary of Hamakua across the windward flank of Mauna Kea to Kukuihaele, the head of the main Waipi`o trail. The route of that trail was closely followed by the present road, and ‘Umi would have come at once to the Wailoa stream at the bottom. Once across the stream, evidently, the compound of Liloa was unmistakable and close at hand. Akahi-a-kuleana had given `Umi careful instructions on the way to gain the presence of Liloa without being killed by the guards who kept careful watch over the kapu associated with their ali`i. His Hawaiian Majesty Kalakaua’s description of `Umi’s approach is quite vivid and deserves to be read in full (The Legends and Myths of Hawaii), but suffice it here to say that `Umi managed to climb over a back wall, evading the guards and reaching his father. Several sources describe his sitting on Liloa’s lap (an interesting image – the strapping teen-ager rushing in to place himself on the legs of his elderly sire), and some emphasize that Liloa pushed his legs apart to dump the intruder on the floor. As he did so, however, it is said that he recognized his own malo and niho-palaoa, and asked the questions that established the boy’s identity.

`Umi quickly found a place of honor in his father’s court and just as quickly incurred the enmity of his older step-brother, Hakau. The dislike of Hakau for `Umi grew as `Umi’s prowess and leadership became increasingly evident. When the “black kapa” was drawn over Liloa, Hakau succeeded to his father’s position. `Umi was given custody of and responsibility to and for “the idols and the house of the gods,” a situation foreshadowing that of Kamehameha in centuries to follow, and guaranteed a drama that continued for some time in the lands of Hamakua.

Having dramatically claimed his place as the son of the great ali`i Liloa and established himself as a powerful and popular person in his own right, he found growing pilikia or trouble with his jealous half-brother, Hakau. With the death of their father and Hakau’s assumption of his temporal powers, `Umi found himself increasingly subject to Hakau’s hostility, despite his position as custodian “of the gods and temples,”. Without the righteous presence of Liloa, Hakau felt bold enough to demean `Umi’s position by asserting, among other insults, that his mother, Akahiakuleana, was of undistinguished blood.

Deeming it imprudent to challenge Hakau’s hostility openly at this juncture, `Umi quietly left Waipi`o with his two boyhood companions, passing beyond the bounds of Hamakua to dwell in privacy in the Hilo lands called Waipunalei, between the gulches of Laupahoehoe and Maulua. It is said that although every effort was made to conceal the identity of `Umi, his mana was such that he attracted the attention of others, including the kahuna named Kaleioku (or Kaoleioku), a person of great authority and former attendant of the famous Manini heiau. Many interesting details are to be found in the various accounts of this episode in `Umi’s life, including the use of a hog to identify `Umi as an ali`i, his friendship with the giant Maukaleoleo, and the collaboration of two kahuna from Waipi`o to set the stage for a confrontation between `Umi and Hakau.

Of special interest to residents and visitors in the lands of Hamakua, however, are the particulars of the movement of the players from place to place: One journey undertaken on behalf of `Umi was a messenger dispatched by Kaleioku to his fellow kahuna of Waipi`o, Nunu and Kakohe. As told by his Hawaiian Majesty Kalakalua, the messenger left Waipunalei late in the morning and arrived in Waipi`o some hours after nightfall. When he had delivered the message and got the commitment by the kahuna to visit with Kaleioku, the two fed him meat and poi, commenting that “…there is a wearying journey before you.” Half an hour later, the story goes, the messenger was “…scaling the hills east of the valley…,” an undertaking that seems formidable to many these days, even if there were not the distance to and from Waipunalei to cover!

Plans were laid to deprive Hakau of his army by a plot to trick him into sending them into the uplands to gather feathers and plants to create a ceremonial offering to sway the gods to support his efforts to exterminate `Umi. Sentinels were stationed on seven different high points between Waipi`o and Waipunalei to prepare materials for signal fires. When you drive the highways between Kukuihaele and Waipunalei, keep an eye on the landscape around you: where would those signal fires have been placed? The easternmost is said to have been perhaps three miles from Pakalana heiau in Waipi`o, and westernmost was a “…rocky pinnacle about four miles from Waipunalei.” Is it possible to rediscover those hilltop fire-signal station? In any event, the fires were lit when Hakau made the fatal commitment of his forces, and great events were set in motion.

An army of as many of 2,000 warriors was formed into three units, each moving by a different route from Waipunalei to Waipi`o. `Umi led on the central path, and his long-time supporters, Omaukamau and Pi`imiawa`a, the makai and mauka routes. His Hawaiian Majesty Kalakaua comments that the paths were rough, overgrown, and difficult of passage. In another context, he describes Hamakua as “…scored at intervals of one or two miles with deep and almost impassable gulches.” Even today we can appreciate the challenges, as discussed in another article, “Hamakua i ke ala ulili – the land of the steep trails.” Add to these difficulties the fact that they were moving at night!

The separate routes of the armies were to converge at their intersection with the alanui, the main trail running from Kukuihaele to Waimea. Could this route have been very different from the “Mud Lane Road?” Probably not, and it’s fascinating to think of these masses of warriors gathering just above Waipi`o. They rested while the final confirmation of Hakau’s vulnerability was determined before descending to the Valley floor. They were unable to move as units on this last part of their journey because of the steep, narrow, winding paths. Once into the Valley, they reformed and moved on Hakau’s compound. Hakau’s attempt to re-summon his troops by blowing the Kiha-pu, the sacred war trumpet, yielded only strangled sounds of distress — an appropriate prelude to his own imminent death.

The stories of `Umi go on to describe the active life of a great figure in the history and culture of Hawai`i. We who appreciate the majestic slopes, streams and shoreline cliffs of windward Hawai`i Island can enjoy the understanding that many critical aspects of this great figure’s story took place in the lands under our feet, the lands of Hamakua.

Battlefield Hamakua

The most thorough and inspiring archeological/historical synthesis ever done on Hawaiian data was published last year, as, Exalted Sits the Chief: The Ancient History of Hawai`i Island, by State archeologist Ross Cordy. One of the most riveting things about the book is the fact that, since it deals with our Island, it has numerous references to our Hamakua lands.

Many were the battles during what Cordy calls “The Decade of Strife & Tears,” the period between 1782 and 1791. Because western observers were intermittently present during this period, either to witness the events or to hear of them from participants, there is a good deal of written information about the twists and turns of events that eventually led to Kamehameha’s establishment of dominion over all the islands of Hawai`i. Hawaiian historians also were able to document the history of the time with accounts from some with direct or second-hand experience. One particular episode in all these conflicts is of particular interest to us as residents of Hamakua.

With the death of Kalaniopu`u, three rivals emerged for control of the Island of Hawai`i, after a very brief reign of the old king’s son, Kiwala`o. Keawema`uhili controlled the lands of Hilo, eastern Hamakua and eastern Puna. Keoua held sway over Ka`u and western Puna, while Kamehameha ruled the lands of Kona, Kohala and western Hamakua, including Waipi`o. Warriors from Maui had gotten involved in the fighting among Hawai`i’s chiefs and Kamehameha had invaded to conquer portions of that Island.

After the bloody battle in `Iao Valley on Maui, in which Kamehameha’s lead in the race for western weapons assured his victory, Kamehameha traveled to Moloka`i. His intent was to increase his power by arranging connections with several powerful women. It was at this time, too, that he received the prophecy that a heiau dedicated to Ku and built at Pu`u Kohola, would assure his success in conquering all the islands. In his absence, Keoua invaded Hilo and slew Keawema`uhili at `Alae, thereby extending the land under his control into Hamakua. With no one to seriously oppose his movements, Keoua continued on up the coast into Kamehameha’s strongholds, including Waipi`o. There, according to accounts put forth by Rev. Stephen Desha (see Kamehameha and His Warrior Kekuhaupi`o), he “…dried up the famous ponds of Lalakea and Muliwai, and also broke down some other fishponds. The kalo patches being cultivated by the men were damaged. The kalo was laid waste, and the banks of the lo`i needlessly broken down. He plundered the maka`ainana and abused the women of Waipi`o.” From the Valley, Keoua’s troops moved on to Waimea – probably along the alanui, or main trail that ran approximately along the route of the current-day “Mud Land Road” — where the same kind of despoliation continued.

Reports of these terrible activities had reached Kamehameha, and his heart was greatly troubled. Kamakau, in Ruling Chiefs of Hawai`i, quotes Kamehameha as saying, “Alas, While I have been seeking new children my first-born have been abandoned.” He and his troops set out to return to Kawaihae. Their arrival was observed by Keoua’s spies; when he learned of the landing of his rival, Keoua immediately ceased his harassment of the people of Waimea and descended the slope of Mauna Kea toward the coast, placing himself and his army directly in Hamakua. John Young and Isaac Davis helped lead Kamehameha’s forces, and when they caught Keoua at Pa`auhau, on the shoreline below and toward Hilo from present-day Honoka`a. Their cannon, Lopaka, did great damage to Keoua’s troops, but was for a time captured by one of Keoua’s leading fighters. The battle was indecisive, and Keoua retreated down the coast toward Hilo; another bloody but also indecisive battle was fought at Koapapa in east Hamakua. It, too, was inconclusive. Both armies retreated from the field, Kamehameha to Waipi`o, Keoua to Hilo.

These events, centered in Hamakua, were sandwiched in between the prophecy that led to the building of Pu`u Kohola heiau at Kawaihae, and the destruction of much of Keoua`s army at Kilauea by the violent eruption a short time after in 1790. At least in the temporal sense, and perhaps in even more critical ways, the lands under us here were the stage upon which pivotal events in the unfolding of history in Hawai`i occured.

In my imagination, I pictured the tall, solemn captain standing bare-headed on the deck of his sloop, reminding his attentive crew of the true meaning of this pivotal day in the religion of his (and, mostly, their) English homeland.  I know that ship captains often presided over the all-too frequent burials at sea, and thought they might have a more general ministerial role.  I determined to make that very first Christmas in the Islands the subject of the December article.

I searched the Internet and learned that there are an amazing number of people interested in Capt. James Cook, in part because he affected the history of so incredibly many places around the world.  He made two circumnavigations of the globe before his third encirclement was cut short by his death at Kealakekua.  The discovery of new lands and the mapping of both known and novel places were a primary mandate.  His tracks are not only extensive, but well-documented by place names he assigned and by charts he compiled.  Though I found on the web several accounts of his death and some summaries of his whereabouts in the weeks prior to his arrival at Kealakekua on January 16, 1779, I found no reference to what was taking place aboard his ship, the Resolution, on December 25, 1778.

Off to the Honoka`a Library I went to see what I could discover in print.  The collection on Capt. Cook there is sparse, but I did find a readable and seeming authoritative volume by Richard Hough, “Captain James Cook: A Biography.”   I also discovered, at the Thelma Parker Library in Waimea, a more detailed book by J.C. Beaglehole, “The Life of Captain James Cook.”

I studied the sections describing Cook’s death on February 14, which detailed more mayhem and complexity than I had known before, and then worked backward into December.  I learned that this was a difficult time aboard both ships (the Discovery, under Capt. Clerke, and Cook’s flagship, Resolution.)   After searching for the Northwest Passage in the icy waters of Alaska and Canada they had arrived at Maui, and then sailed on to Hawai`i.  Their supplies were running low, their ships were in need of repair, the crews were disgruntled, and James Cook was manifesting an increasingly foul temper — a generally uncharacteristic quality in him.  Their passage around Cape Kumukahi, the eastern-most point of land on our Island was made quite difficult by strong and highly variable winds and very high seas.  The Resolution came very near to running aground in rough surf on the Puna Coast.  Only the light of day revealed their danger to them and as they scrambled to recover, critical sails and lines failed from excessive wear; only a light and transient offshore breeze enabled them to escape catastrophe there.

To make matters even worse, in the middle of the night between December 23 and 24, the ships got separated, partly because of Cook’s assumption that the Discovery could see him and it was unnecessary to send a signal to Clerke of his intent to tack to the south-east.  When day broke, they had lost visual contact.  After some dithering and waiting for Clerke, Cook decided that his second-in-command had taken the Discovery back along the northeastern coast to go around the Island’s north end.  He therefore proceeded on toward Ka Lae, “South Point,” thinking to meet Clerke somewhere on the west side of the Island, very hopefully at an anchorage where they could re-provision and repair their ships.  Christmas Day, then, was passed somewhere off the Ka`u shoreline, between Kumukahi and Ka Lae.  It took the Resolution until January 5 to round Ka Lae, soon after which Clerke and the Discovery re-appeared, having chosen to hold to the route Cook had pursued.

At the Waimea Library Janet Lam was kind enough to lead me to “Cook’s Journals, Vol. III,” which contains most of the Captain’s own written notes.  I found an entry dated Dec. 24, 1778 that continued on through Dec 28 and apparently had been composed later than the initial dating, as a summary of what had happened during that time span.  Captain Cook did not acknowledge in writing that Dec. 25 had even come to his notice as Christmas Day.  Given all that he was dealing with, it is understandable that this great day of Christendom was particularly not a time of extensive celebration.

To get some comparison of this Christmas with others on his ships, I searched out reports about Christmas, 1768, on the first of Cook’s great voyages, aboard the Endeavor after leaving Rio de Janeiro, headed for Cape Horn.  Comments came from Cook himself (“the People were none of the Soberest”) and from a botanist named Banks, who noted, ”all good Christians that is to say all hands get abominably drunk so that at night there was scarce a sober man in the ship, wind thank god very moderate or the lord knows what would have become of us.”  A year later, still on that first voyage, and off the coast of New Zealand, Banks writes, “our goose pye was eat with great approbation and in the Evening all hands were as Drunk as our forefathers used to be upon the like occasion.”

On December 25, 1772, during his second voyage, so far south of Africa as to be steering around ice bergs and avoiding pack ice, Cook, speaking of his crew, notes, “At Noon seeing that the People were inclinable to celebrate Christmas Day in their own way, I brought the Sloops (the Adventure and the Resolution) under a very snug sail least I be surprised with a gale of wind with a drunken crew.”  He adds, “mirth and good humor reigned throughout the whole Ship; the Crew of our consort seem’d to have kept Christmas day with the same festivity, for in the evening they rainged alongside of us and gave us three Cheers.”  Added to this description are comments to the effect that boxing matches were among the amusements the crew participated in.   Beaglehole comments, “Indeed bloody noses and oaths may have consorted ill with the silent dignity of the ice islands.”  Evidently, serious intoxication and the various disinhibitions that come with it were part of the English tradition, at least for sailors: so much for my initial imaginings of a dignified ship’s service.

Christmas Sound, off the southern tip of South America, Christmas Harbor, off Kerguelen Island in the Southern Indian Ocean, and Christmas Island, a Pacific equatorial atoll, are names that mark the locations of subsequent acknowledgements of December 25, and the comments from Cook and his companions on those and other Christmas days do not vary much from the citations above.

In his Epilogue, Beaglehole observes about Cook’s judgment, “The drunken fighting of Christmas Day was permissible only after the ship’s safety had been provided for.”  This perhaps accounts for the Captain’s silence about the first Christmas to occur in the waters of Hawai`i.  The situation may just have been too dicey to permit the extensive abandonment of senses that were customary in more favorable times.  And perhaps it was just as well.  Fate was unraveling the plans of everyone on board the Resolution and its consort, the Discovery, to culminate in the tragic events that were to unfold in the 51 days between Christmas 1778 and the fatal conflict of February 14, 1779.  There were at least 17 Hawaiians killed by musket and cannon fire, Cook and four marines dead, and an untold number of houses burned.  “Drunken fighting” would have seemed in retrospect only a pale foreshadowing of the death and suffering that would ensue.