Kohelepelepe, commonly known as Koko Crater, is a large volcanic cinder cone that rises up over Hawai‘i Kai, creating a prominent landmark along the far eastern shore of O‘ahu. It was once part of a vital radar site on O‘ahu that tracked aircraft approaching the island.
The “staircase” along the southwest ridge consists of over one thousand railway ties, rising roughly 1,200 feet in elevation over a distance of less than half a mile. Originally built by the U.S. Army during WWII, it was the base of a gas-powered tramway meant to transport equipment and supplies from the base camp at the bottom of the crater to the summit.
After the site’s decommission, the tramway became a popular hiking site, attracting people of all ages and backgrounds. Seeking a challenging workout and amazing views, hikers can be seen from before sunrise to well after sunset. But with so many people visiting this trail every day, could it be haunted?
Byron, a realtor friend of mine, recently shared his story about the Koko Crater Trail with me. In his thirties, he was hit with a bombardment of bad news, all within 24 hours. From his job to his relationship, to his parents’ relationship, it seemed everything was falling apart.
Frustrated, he found himself driving around the Koko Head Terrace neighborhood, where his parents’ home was. He wasn’t very familiar with the area since his parents bought a house there after Byron and his sisters had all grown up and moved out. He drove past a few baseball fields, and a pair of “Road Closed” signs made him turn into a parking lot at Koko Head District Park.
As Byron sat there, thinking about everything that had gone wrong in a single day, he noticed that several couples and a few groups of people had passed him, walking up the closed road. Curious, he got out and followed them. Ill-prepared for such an excursion, Byron found himself at the foot of a long line of steps leading up a tall hill. Although he was still in his work clothes, a sports jacket, tie, khakis, and loafers, he gave no thought to what he was wearing; he just began climbing.
Other hikers, who were dressed appropriately, looked at him strangely or asked if he needed help. He didn’t reply; he just kept going, focusing only on the next step in front of him until he reached the top. Then, he just sat at the edge of a concrete slab and cried quietly. After a while, as he began to stand up to leave, a woman about his age plopped herself down next to him.
“Auē! What a journey,” she said, “I forgot how high this trail is. I haven’t been up here in so long!”
It must have been hours, but they talked as if they were old friends. To this day, Byron said he can’t recall exactly what they talked about. What he does remember is that the Hawaiian woman shared the water from her small Hydro Flask. And somehow, the water never ran out.
Finally, Byron decided it was time to leave, and the woman asked if she could accompany him back down the trail. On the way down, the woman began speaking only in Hawaiian, and before he could explain that he didn’t understand, he suddenly did.
“Ua ho‘opakele au i ku‘u kaituahine,” she said. I have to help my sister.
At the bottom of the trail, he turned to thank the woman for keeping him company, but she had already quietly disappeared. He assumed she ran off ahead of him and didn’t think much about it. Just then, a local couple approached him and asked if he was alright. They told Byron that they saw him coming up the trail in his suit and felt that something was wrong, so they kept an eye on him. They figured he was fine once he settled down at the top of the trail, even though he was crying.
“You not hot in that suit?” the man asked, “You must be dehydrated?”
Byron said he was fine and that he and the Hawaiian woman shared water from her flask. Puzzled, the couple said they didn’t see anyone approach him while he was up there. They saw him talking to himself and gesturing, even bringing his hand up to his mouth several times. But no one was with him. They followed him to make sure he got down the trail safely, but he was alone the whole time, they said.
Curious and a little freaked out, Byron went home to research the trail and the crater and came across an old Hawaiian legend. He read that the crater was formed inadvertently by the goddess, Kapō‘ulakīna‘u. In an effort to save her sister Pele from the pig god, Kamapua‘a, she removed her vulva and threw it as a lure to draw the pig god away. It left an imprint where it landed, and the crater was named Kohelepelepe after that event. When Kamapua‘a followed the lure, Pele was able to escape.
I know Byron’s story isn’t exactly spooky, but it is pretty unique. I haven’t heard anyone say they encountered anything like that on the trail. He can’t say for sure that he met a Hawaiian deity, and he can’t explain how he understood what she was saying in Hawaiian, but whoever she was, his talks with her lifted something off his shoulders. Although they didn’t exactly disappear the way the woman did, Byron’s problems didn’t seem as big as they did the day before.
In my own experience, the scariest thing that happened to me after hiking the Koko Crater Trail (out of the blue with no prior exercise or warmup), was getting scolding from my wife as I lay in bed with every muscle in my legs throbbing. At least I brought my water with me.
