Long before modern houses and paved roads, Nuʻuanu was home to dense forests, sweeping loʻi kalo, towering cliffs, meandering streams, and hidden waterfalls. In our oral traditions, supernatural beings are commonly thought to be guardians of specific places, and stories about encountering these spirits usually serve as warnings, as those who disrespect those places are often met with disaster.
There are numerous legends about dog-spirits in Nu‘uanu Valley, including Kaupe, a creature with the body of a man and the head of a dog. Dozens of petroglyphs in Nuʻuanu serve as a reminder of the important role that dogs played in ancient Hawaiʻi. While the exact meaning of these petroglyphs is unknown, they may often be interpreted as marking places associated with legendary dog figures and spirits.
In one legend, a couple settled above Kapena Falls, making a home there with their five dogs. The dogs never left the area where the couple lived and never allowed strangers to set foot within their grounds, until they were welcomed by the couple. As time went on, many people befriended the couple and their dogs, but the friends slowly came to realize these were not just pets. Some believed these dogs were kupua in dog form, supernatural beings that possessed talents and powers beyond those of ordinary dogs.
The path to the Pali passed the couple’s home, and the dogs never bothered anyone on the path, unless they tried to enter the homestead.
One day, two friends of the couple were on their way to the Pali. As they neared the home, the dogs rushed out, started howling, and then lay across the path. One friend was spooked and returned home, while the other thought it was nothing. He patted the dogs playfully, then continued along the path to the Pali. But he never made it. The man was soon set upon by robbers and was killed. The friend who returned home insisted the dogs were warning them, but the other man did not heed the warning.
There have also been tales of moʻo, shapeshifting beings said to resemble lizard-like creatures that lurk in ponds and waterfalls.
I was an awkward junior in high school, but I was always willing to hang out with friends. One Saturday, after a long, muddy hike, a friend suggested we go to Kapena Falls to wash off and swim in the pond. We squeezed into our friend’s Toyota Celica, but it was a really small car. The driver’s cousin, a senior at ‘Aiea High, wanted to come with us. There really wasn’t enough room, so Sunshine (yes, that was her real name) sat on my lap.
After the short ride, we parked at the cemetery and walked along the stream to Alapena Pond. I noticed a stray dog when it let out a single bark and lay down. In the most chivalrous fashion that would make my mother proud and my father roll his eyes, I placed myself between the dog and Sunshine. Something about the dog nagged at me, but I wasn’t afraid. It was just a strange feeling. However, in my youth, I quickly ignored it.
There were a lot of people that day, swimming in the pond and jumping from the top of the waterfall. I recall the driver and everyone else ran ahead, climbing up to the top of the falls. Sunshine lingered a bit near me before she pulled my shirt and pushed me into the pond. She laughed with glee and ran off with the others. The driver jumped in first, hit the water with a big splash, and surfaced soon after. It was the same with the other two that jumped. I didn’t like the pond because it was too dark. No one could see to the bottom, which made me nervous.
When Sunshine dove in, it was like she was a professional high diver. Graceful and powerful. She hit the water with hardly a splash. Everyone there, whether they knew Sunshine or not, waited at the edge of the pond to congratulate her. She didn’t come up right away. The pond grew still and quiet.
Even the waterfall didn’t seem to make any splash or ripple on the surface of the water. It was right when everyone began to voice their fears that Sunshine surfaced on the other side of the pond, letting out an audible gasp. She quickly climbed out and ran screaming down the trail toward the cemetery. We found Sunshine at her cousin’s car, sobbing hysterically, begging her cousin to take her home. Her hands and legs were covered with unusual red marks that were quickly turning to bruises. On the ride to her home above, she was curled up in my arms, her head resting on my chest, sobbing. Everyone kept asking Sunshine what happened.
When she was finally able to speak, she said, “She was trying to take me under! She wanted me to stay with her because she likes the way I swim!”
“Who?” we all asked. As far as we knew, Sunshine was the only person unaccounted for during those long minutes.
“The lady who lives in the falls,” Sunshine cried.
She put her face in my chest and cried harder while squeezing my neck tighter. I, the awkward, lanky teenager, didn’t know what to do. Eventually, I just held her in my arms, but very lightly.
Years later, after I learned about some of the history of Nu‘uanu, I wondered if the dog was trying to warn us. I can’t really say. I’ve only gone back there a few times since then. But never to swim.
The authors can be reached at hawaii.mysteries@gmail.com
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