We met a young woman on our downtown walking tour a few years ago. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a no-nonsense air about her. Toward the end of our tour, as we walked along Richards Street, she caught up to me and asked about the history of the Aloha Tower area, where she worked, and, more specifically, Pier 11.
I answered her with a question of my own, “Did something happen there that you’re concerned about?”
She explained that she’d thought ghosts and spirits only came out at night, but something strange happened during a shift in the middle of the day. The woman said that part of her job was to walk through each building to ensure everything was in order. It was all pretty routine for her, something she did every day.
After entering the building a little after 1:00 p.m., she noticed a few people walking about. People were speaking softly, going about their day. No one seemed to be loitering unnecessarily. No problems or issues were waiting for her, which was just how she liked it.
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain on the side of her head. It felt like someone yanked the short hairs near her ear. Hard. Before she could make sense of what happened, she felt the sensation again, and yet again within seconds. She let out a loud scream and ran.
“Where was I running to? I don’t know,” she said quietly, “I just had to get out of there.”
The woman’s experience wasn’t the first time someone claimed to have felt an invisible presence at Pier 11 and the attached Harbors Division building. Some people have shared that they heard voices when the building was empty, and others have said they saw moving shadows at night. But this young woman is the only one we’ve known to have had such a physical encounter with something unseen there. As strange as her experience may be, it seems more unsettling when we consider what stood upon that parcel of land more than a hundred years ago.
A short walk from Pier 11 is the heart of Downtown Honolulu, a city layered with centuries of royal history, sacred sites, and long-forgotten memories. Before the cruise ships and concrete buildings, this stretch of shoreline was home to Pakaka Heiau, a sacred place that once observed secret rituals and royal power.
In Kamehameha’s day, Pakaka was already ancient, built before the time of the great warrior ali‘i, Kakuhihewa. For centuries, this heiau was a gathering place for kāhuna to learn and train in their respective arts. In one particular description, it is said that the walls of the heiau were adorned all around with the heads of men offered in sacrifice.
Having already secured the islands of Hawai‘i and Maui and then conquering O‘ahu, Kamehameha I made the seat of his kingdom in Honolulu and his personal home at Pakaka. In 1810, he met with King Kaumuali‘i of Kaua‘i at Pakaka to finalize negotiations for unifying the Hawaiian Islands under a single rule. In exchange for his loyalty, Kamehameha promised Kaumuali‘i that he would never invade Kaua‘i or Ni‘ihau and would do all in his power to help maintain the two islands. From this meeting, a unified Hawai‘i was born.
Progress dramatically reshaped Honolulu’s original shoreline around the turn of the 20th century. The natural coastline was gradually filled in with crushed coral and dredged materials from the harbor floor, extending the land outward into the harbor and creating space to accommodate Honolulu’s growing needs.
In 1926, construction of the iconic Aloha Tower began on this newly formed land, and by 1927, Piers 10 and 11 were completed just alongside it. During the construction of Nimitz Highway in the 1950s, part of Pier 11 was torn down and the Harbors Division building, now known as the Hale Awa Ku Moku building was then erected perpendicular to Pier 11 and along the shoreline.
As we know, the changing landscape doesn’t always erase history. Sometimes, remnants of the past appear as shadows and whispers, and apparently, even hair pulls.
The woman never told me whether she quit her job as a security guard or whether she remained employed. After my brief explanation of the history of Pier 11 and Pakaka heiau, she let out a heavy sigh.
The woman smiled and said with a bit of sarcasm and a quiet laugh, “Thanks, I really needed to know that.”
