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Hawaiʻi Scene on Social

[{"text":"We can't argue, it the best way to make Portuguese sausage.","type":"text"}]

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<title>Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "Burn dat buggah!"</title>

Alex_farnham has a very particular drive-through order in today's social media find.

Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "Burn dat buggah!"

We can't argue, it the best way to make Portuguese sausage. 

Lopaka and Tanya Kapanui

Lopaka Kapanui and Tanya Kapanui

Hawaii History

Columnists

The Mānoa Falls Trail is one of Oʻahu’s most beloved hikes, leading through lush rainforest to a 150-foot waterfall at the back of Mānoa Valley. Managed by the state’s Nā Ala Hele trail system since 1988, the path is maintained as part of the Honolulu Mauka Trail System, which links multiple routes across the ridges and valleys above Honolulu. In recent years, the trail underwent significant improvements to better accommodate the many visitors who explore the valley each day.

While a popular attraction, the trail has also seen its share of challenges. The Honolulu Fire Department regularly responds to rescues for lost or injured hikers, with some requiring helicopter evacuations. In rare but serious cases, hikers have suffered fatal accidents near the waterfall itself. Temporary closures are also not uncommon, especially after heavy rain or storm damage, when fallen trees and slippery terrain make conditions dangerous.

By day, the Mānoa Falls Trail feels like a living postcard. Its lush forest and idyllic scenery draw countless visitors to its famous water cascade. But as with many places in Hawaiʻi, the beauty of the landscape holds a deeper layer of stories passed down through generations. Long after the hikers have gone home and the valley quiets under the canopy of trees, Mānoa takes on an entirely different presence that locals whisper about with caution, and visitors sometimes stumble upon when they least expect it. It is in these hushed moments, after dark, that the trail reveals its other side.

One weekend night in the early 1970s, Vance went on a double date with a friend. His girlfriend was beside him in the front seat, while the second couple sat in the back. On a whim, the group decided to drive up toward Mānoa Falls. They reached the chain that blocked cars from going farther and parked beneath the trees. It was late, and the valley was wrapped in silence and heavy darkness. The two couples sat for a while talking inside the car. That was when Vance noticed something strange: two eyes, suspended in the air in front of them.

At first, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. But the longer he stared, the more dread crept in.

[{"type":"text","text":"Grabbing his date’s arm, he blurted out, “Look! Eyes!”"}]

She followed his gaze and screamed, as did his friend’s date when she looked up. In the back seat, Vance’s friend kept his head down, refusing to see for himself.

“No! No! I’m not looking!” he shouted when Vance demanded to know if he could see it too.

The hair rose on Vance’s neck, chicken skin running down his arms. In a rush of panic, he started the engine, threw the car in reverse, and sped down the road, not slowing until they were safely back in the residential streets of the valley.

Years later, Vance shared the story with a younger co-worker who had graduated from Roosevelt High School. The co-worker grew animated and hurried off to fetch an old yearbook. Flipping through the pages, he pointed out a photograph of students standing at the same chain that blocked the Mānoa Falls trail. In the picture, clear as day, were a pair of eyes. This time, they were not high up in the trees, but close to the ground. It wasn’t a trick of light or imagination. That picture, he said, is still in that old Roosevelt High School yearbook. Vance was shaken all over again.

His unease deepened when, on a tour years later, he listened to storyteller Glen Grant describe disembodied eyes seen across the island with warnings not to follow, for they beckoned people to the other side. Standing there listening to Glen’s stories, Vance’s wife turned to him, eyes wide, and whispered, “That’s exactly what you’ve been telling me all these years.”

Those strange encounters in the 1970s weren’t the last time someone would see something unusual there. Just a few years ago, while the trail was officially closed for maintenance, four friends decided to visit at night, hoping to capture evidence of something paranormal on video. They had already made stops at Morgan’s Corner and Tantalus Drive when one of them suggested the Mānoa Falls Trail.

[{"type":"text","text":"It was a moonless night, so he joked, “Guarantee get night marchers!”"}]

The group’s excitement overrode any hesitation that an individual might have had. Around midnight, they parked in the middle of the dark road, headlights shining on the closed gate. One man stayed behind in the car to take a call from his girlfriend, while the other three stepped out with their phones set to record. A cool breeze moved through the valley, carrying the damp scent of mud and rotting vegetation. Mosquitoes buzzed in their ears. One man held an EMF meter, but its lights stayed still and dark.

[{"type":"text","text":"Then came the first sign that something wasn’t right."}]

“Aw man, my phone died!” one of them shouted, and seconds later another man’s phone went black.

Confused, they huddled by the car, trying to make sense of the sudden power loss, while the fourth man inside continued his call without interruption. Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men caught movement by the trail. His blood went cold; not from thoughts of ghosts but of feral pigs. He grabbed a flashlight from the car, but the beam was weak, and the shadows at the gate were impenetrable. Uneasy, he climbed back inside the car and called to his friends, who had moved closer to the gate.

Several long minutes passed before the pair suddenly ran back and jumped into the vehicle. The driver started the engine and tore down the rough road, potholes rattling the tires, not slowing until they reached the residential neighborhood.

After they’d finally calmed down, the two men explained what happened. As they approached the gate, they saw a pair of white lights floating about four feet off the ground. They looked like two eyes. It was weird and confusing, and neither of them could figure out what they were looking at—two lights, about the same distance apart as a pair of eyes on someone’s face. But there was no face, no head, no body. The lights slowly seemed to drift closer toward them, and when they got about a foot in front of the gate, they blinked. That’s when the men took off running. I asked if they got it on video, but they did not.

“I wasn’t aiming the camera right at the lights, so all I got was bushes and then the blurry road as we were running back to the car. But seriously, we saw what we saw.”

I then asked if they would ever return to try to get whatever they saw on video, and he laughed and said, “Maybe. Probably not for a long time, but maybe.”

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Gate to Manoa Falls Trail 2

<title>Disembodied eyes at Mānoa Falls Trail</title>

If you look out into the dark of night at this storied trail, something just might look back at you.

Disembodied eyes at Mānoa Falls Trail

Kelli Shiroma Braiotta Headshot

Kelli Shiroma Braiotta

Food & Dining

Yes, you read that right — you can get tofu for 75 cents on Oct. 2 only.

 is selling its soft tofu (regular price $3.35) and firm tofu (regular price $2.80) for 75 cents each. The soft tofu is known for its delicate, custard-like texture, while the firm tofu is popular for its versatility. It’s often used in soups, stews and stir-fries.

Customers can take advantage of the discount during the business’s factory hours from 7 a.m. to noon.

The discounted tofu will be limited to five per person; first come, first served. According to Aloha Tofu president Paul Uyehara, the 75-cent price is in honor of the business’s 75th anniversary this year.

Open 7 a.m.-noon Sundays-Tuesdays, Thursdays-Fridays, 7 a.m.-10:30 a.m. Wednesdays and Saturdays

Aloha Tofu Factory Paul Uyehara 093025

<title>Aloha Tofu Factory is selling tofu for 75 cents on Oct. 2</title>

To celebrate Aloha Tofu Day, the biz is selling its soft tofu and firm tofu for 75 cents each. This deal is from 7 a.m. to noon at the factory on Thursday, Oct. 2 only; limit five per person.

Aloha Tofu Factory is selling tofu for 75 cents on Oct. 2

Square Mike Brestovansky Headshot RGZ3736 Large

Michael Brestovansky

Government & Politics

 throughout much of the state, only one plan to extract freshwater from the ocean remains active.

Three separate desalination projects have been proposed on different islands over the last decade. But of those three, only one is still being developed, while another project has ended and the third never really began.

Pūlama Lāna‘i, the land management company established in 2012 by the island’s owner Larry Ellison, had plans to develop a desalination plant on the island in order to support greater housing developments on the island. Maui County planning records 

 that the facility, a 15-acre plant located near Manele Golf Course on the island’s southern coast, would be able to provide 5 million gallons of freshwater per day.

However, by 2015, those plans stalled, after the Lāna‘i Planning Commission only granted Pūlama Lāna‘i a 15-year permit for the facility, rather than a 30-year one as initially requested.

 from Planning Commission meetings in 2014 show skepticism from commissioners and residents about the project, including concerns about the health of the island’s aquifer, which was already overextended at the time, and the potential for a failure at the plant to compromise the island’s primary water source.

 in 2015 suggested that Pūlama Lāna‘i still intended to develop a desalination plant, but as of 2025, no such plans have materialized.

Two other desalination projects have produced more tangible results. In 2018, the U.S. Department of Energy awarded $1.9 million to the Natural Energy Laboratory of Hawai‘i Authority to develop a prototype solar-powered desalination facility in Kailua-Kona on the Big Island.

That facility was reportedly successful, with project partner Trevi Systems 

 in 2024 that the facility could produce 500 cubic meters — about 132,000 gallons — of fresh water per day without reliance on an external energy grid.

However, the NELHA facility was a test project only that 

 between June 2022 and September 2023. While the project paved the way for larger-scale renewable desalination facilities in the future, none have so far been proposed for Hawai‘i.

The third facility, planned on O‘ahu, is gradually moving toward reality. The Kalaeloa Seawater Desalination Facility is planned for construction at Campbell Industrial Park, with a proposed yield of 1.7 million gallons of water per day.

, Honolulu County consumed nearly 45 billion gallons of water between July 1, 2023 and June 30, 2024, averaging out to about 123 million gallons per day.

While construction has not yet started on the $204 million Kalaeloa facility — which is scheduled to go online in 2027 — the bureaucratic process continues apace. According to a project 

, the Honolulu Board of Water Supply approved in May a test report that concluded that the water produced by the facility will not cause any detrimental impact to customer pipes or existing water infrastructure.

Aloha State Daily reached out to the Board of Water Supply, NELHA and Pūlama Lāna‘i for comment.

Kona1 0 16x9

<title>Still salty: Only one desalination project in Hawai‘i still alive</title>

The ongoing legal battle over water on Maui amid drought conditions had us wondering — we're surrounded by water, could desalination help ease Hawai‘i's water woes? Here's what we've learned about three desalination projects in the Islands.

Still salty: Only one desalination project in Hawai‘i still alive

Some people call it Snake Road, others refer to it as the windy road, but its actual state designation is Kaukonahua Road. This narrow ribbon of asphalt connects Wahiawā and the North Shore. There have been many car crashes and pedestrian accidents along this twisting thoroughfare. Long straightaways tempt drivers to push the speed, but they end in sudden curves, blind rises, and tight lanes with little shoulder to forgive a mistake. Minimal lighting and slick pavement after a rain add to the hazards, giving the road a spooky reputation that only deepens after dusk.

Although the road is well-traveled, those who have to drive it often do so with trepidation, like this Hale‘iwa resident who shared her story with us.

She was held up at work and left Mililani just at nightfall. If she’s able to make it before the sun goes down, she’ll travel the windy road, Kaukonahua. However, on this particular evening, the sun had already set, so she contemplated staying on Kamehameha Highway. Because it takes longer to get home that way, she laughed at her own nervousness and decided to travel her usual route along the twists and turns.

About a mile in, she realized there were no cars in front or behind her. Usually, at this time, the road is bustling, but for some reason, she was the only driver. For a second, she thought it was unusual, and then let it go. As she drove further, she saw a white owl flying in front of her. It had been years since she’d seen an owl, she said, and thought it was neat to see one so early in the evening. As she continued to drive the speed limit, she assumed a vehicle would soon catch up to her, but none did. Shortly after passing a small memorial on the side of the road, she finally saw the red taillights of a car up ahead in the distance. She sped up a bit, trying to get closer to the car in hopes of easing her discomfort at being the only one on the road. All of a sudden, the music cut off, and the instrument panel on her new truck turned red with an “imminent crash” alert flashing and a loud beeping alarm echoing in the cab.

[{"type":"text","text":"“Crash into what?” she thought, “There’s nothing around me!”"}]

It happened so quickly and stopped so suddenly, she didn’t know what to think. She made it home safe, brought the truck in for service, but found nothing wrong. She said that all she could think of was the legend of the Lady in White.

[{"type":"text","text":"“What if I ran into a spirit?” she asked."}]

There’s an urban legend about a bride who was late to her wedding at the old St. Michael’s Church. The priest was driving her in his car and was speeding to get to the church on time. The vehicle hugged each treacherous turn on the winding Kaukonahua Road until it took one turn too wide. The priest lost control of the car and hit a tree head-on. Both the priest and the bride were killed instantly. People say that on certain nights, you can see the bride and the priest walking along Kaukonahua Road, trying to hitch a ride to the wedding. You pull to the side of the road and wait for them to walk up to your vehicle, but they never do. However, as you continue along the road, you see them again, trying to hitch a ride, but this time, their bodies are bloody and mangled.

There is a story similar to this one in nearly every state in the union. Sometimes it’s just the bride. Sometimes it’s the bride and the groom. The details differ depending on the location, but they’re all very much the same story.

When I was still in the early stages of my ghost tour career, I developed a tour to a few haunted locations in the Waialua area. The tour would take us by bus down Kaukonahua Road, and I had an idea to add to the experience. I asked two friends of mine if they would dress up as the bride and priest as part of the ghost tour. We chose a safe spot on the side of the road where they could stand so they would be under a streetlight, and I would time the story just right so when the bus made that turn, there they were in full bloody costume and makeup. They were enthusiastic about doing it, and we drove the route and practiced a few times so we would all be prepared by the weekend.

And so the tour began, and I was in full storytelling mode. As we turned onto Kaukonahua Road, the bus driver turned off the interior lights to add to the ambiance. The bus came around the bend with perfect timing.

“And there they wait, on the side of the road, hitching a ride to a wedding they will never attend.” I said, then I pointed, “Look! There they are!”

When the people on the bus looked out the window and saw the bloody images of a priest and the bride, everyone screamed. Everyone. Our plan went off without a hitch. After the tour was over, everyone went home scared, happy, and worn out.

The plan was to meet at Denny’s in Kunia afterward to decompress and discuss the tour. My friend and I waited for the couple, but they never showed and didn’t answer their phones. Finally, as we were walking back to our cars, my phone rang.

As I was congratulating them on a job well done, the young man interrupted me and asked if I’d gotten their messages. My friend and I both checked our phones, but there weren’t any missed texts or calls.

“We both got called into work last minute,” the young man explained, “I texted you. We both did. I’m so sorry we let you down.”

I stopped in the middle of the parking lot, confused. As far as I and twenty-five other people saw, they were standing on the side of the road, fully dressed in a priest’s suit and a wedding dress, and covered in blood. We rushed back to town and met the couple at their job forty-five minutes later. Their boss, who was standing nearby, confirmed that he called both of them into work for the evening shift, and they’d been there all night. That was the first and the last time we ever tried anything like that.

Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "Burn dat buggah!"

ASD Staff

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Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "Burn dat buggah!"

Authors

ASD Staff

More in Hawaiʻi Scene on Social

Hawai‘i Scene on Social: It’s October 1st

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