When the Oahu Railway was fully functional, it extended all the way to the Wai‘anae Coast, looping around the rugged coastline at Ka‘ena Point to Mokulē‘ia and beyond. The railroad transported both passengers and goods, serving much of the island.
In 1926, Oahu Railway advertised ongoing excursions to the Wai‘anae Coast featuring the great cave near Mākua. At the time, the cave was less than 200 yards away from the railway, and guests were encouraged to bring water and a packed lunch for the long train ride and the hike up the hill to the cave. Today, the railway is gone, and the mouth of the cave now towers over a busy, paved highway with a parking area across the street.
Carved into the ridge that separates the ‘Ōhikilolo and Mākua Valleys, Kāneana Cave is a place of ancient tales and mystery. Although the entrance is wide, shadows quickly take over the hollow space. As one walks over the uneven ground and moves deeper into the darkness, the air is cool despite the arid heat outside. On the left wall, less than a hundred feet away from the entrance, there is a large, flat boulder, and just past that, an opening that leads to a small chamber. This narrow tube is about four to six feet high, with puddles collecting the water that drips from the ceiling through hundreds of feet of rock and soil.
The cave’s main chamber flows downward about two hundred more feet from the entrance. The ceiling is high overhead, but the width of the cavern minimizes echoes. The rounded walls and ceiling give the appearance of a ribcage, where one can imagine being inside the belly of a great shark. It is said that there was once another chamber going further into the mountain, but the passageway has become blocked by fallen rocks over the years.
Kāneana was initially formed underwater millions of years ago and was the dwelling place of Kāmohoali‘i, the shark god and Pele’s oldest and most sacred brother. Ages later, as the cave sat above the ocean, Kāmohoali‘i walked upon the land as a man and met a woman named Kalei. Soon, the pair became a couple and had a child. Just before the child was born, Kāmohoali‘i warned Kalei to keep careful watch and never allow their child to eat meat. Then, the shark god disappeared, returning to his ocean home.
Soon, Nanaue was born. He was like any other human child, except he had an opening on his back shaped like a shark’s mouth. Kalei was careful to keep his back covered with a kihei (a cloak) made of kapa and kept him away from the others. However, when he was ten years old, Nanaue went to eat in the men’s house, as was the custom. There, the men fed him pua‘a kalua (roast pork), and Nanaue came to enjoy the savory taste of meat. As the child grew, so did his appetite.
One day, a group of boys passed Nanaue, announcing that they were going to the beach to swim.
“Be careful,” Nanaue said, “For there are sharks in the water.”
Later, as the sun was setting, the boys passed again, all crying and wailing, “One of us has been killed by a great shark!”
For months, shark attacks terrorized the people of Mākua.
One day, Nanaue was involved in a digging contest. As he dug furiously into the earth, determined to win, the cape on his back flew up.
“A shark-man!” someone shouted, “See the mouth of the shark!”
The men captured Nanaue and brought him inland to be killed, but Nanaue let out a cry to his father, the shark god. Kāmohoali‘i caused a great wave to rise up and crash upon the valley, allowing Nanaue to escape into the ocean. The people of Mākua never saw him again.
Legend says that every once in a while, an old Hawaiian man would sit in the cave at night, cooking meat over an open fire and inviting weary travelers as they passed by on foot. Once the unsuspecting traveler grew tired, the old man would change his appearance to a shark, kill the sleepy visitor, place their body upon a large boulder, and then consume them at his leisure.
Over the years, a number of deaths and tragedies took place in the cave, leaving behind a repository of negative energy.
Several years ago, my wife and I brought two friends sightseeing along the Wai‘anae Coast. We ended up at Kāneana just after dark. I parked across the road, and as we stepped out, we immediately noticed the eerie stillness. There was no wind, just silence, except for the crashing surf behind us.
The stench of rotting lipoa (seaweed) grew stronger as we approached. Without speaking, we all stopped at the same moment. I stepped forward, took a deep breath, and offered an ‘oli (chant) to announce our presence. Suddenly, I felt like I was in a bubble of empty space. The feeling lasted a few minutes until I finished my ‘oli, and then we stood silently together. We did not enter the cave that night.
On the drive back to town, my wife and our friends finally spoke. They explained that the smell of lipoa had disappeared when I was in the middle of my ‘oli. According to them, it didn’t dissipate, nor did a breeze blow it away. It just suddenly stopped smelling. When I asked what they had felt, they described it as being in a crowded room with all eyes on them, being watched and judged. It was as if someone was waiting for them to make a mistake. Whatever the smell, the stillness, and the feelings were about, it was clear that we were not meant to enter the cave that night.
It is best to be aware of your surroundings and always carry with you an abundance of humility and respect. Sometimes, places in Hawai‘i will welcome you. Sometimes, they will not.
