Hūnānāniho Beach Park sits along the Waimānalo shore, but many people know the place by its nickname, “Sherwood Forest” or simply “Sherwoods.” At the end of a narrow lane just across from the Polo Club, this pocket of land is covered with tall ironwood trees that are not native to Hawai‘i. While the ironwoods provide welcome shade for beachgoers and campers, they’re a relatively recent addition.
Long before the towering trees were planted, this stretch of the Waimānalo shoreline was already home to generations of Native Hawaiians. Historic photographs from the early 1900s show an open beach with very few large trees. Very different from the dense forest that later became famous.
Perhaps the most sobering reminder of Hūnānāniho’s past lies beneath the sand. Archaeological evidence shows Waimānalo to be one of the earliest permanent settlements on O‘ahu. Radiocarbon dating from nearby excavations places occupation between A.D. 1040-1219, with documented home sites, imu, stone tools, midden deposits, shell fishhooks, and burial grounds containing iwi kūpuna, the ancestral remains of Native Hawaiians.
Hūnānāniho was known to Hawaiians as a pu‘uhonua, a place of refuge or sanctuary. Anyone who violated a kapu or fled a losing battle and could successfully reach the grounds of a pu‘uhonua was granted protection from harm or execution. A pu‘uhonua is recognized as a sacred place where kāhuna would perform cleansing rituals and offer prayers for affected individuals. Through these solemn practices, they were absolved of their transgressions and were allowed to return to society.
In 1917, the Waimānalo Sugar Company sold around 1,500 acres of beachfront property to the U.S. Government, after which Pres. Woodrow Wilson’s Executive Order established the Waimānalo Military Reservation. What followed were sweeping changes to the landscape, including the destruction of archaeological sites, the grading of natural dunes, and the construction of an airfield.
In 1933, the reservation was renamed Bellows Field, honoring 2nd Lieutenant F.B. Bellows, who was killed in an airplane accident. The military expanded the facility during World War II to train Air Force personnel for combat. In the 1950s, the military discontinued recreational use of the area, and by the 1960s, it became known as Sherwood Forest, likely named after the famous den of thieves due to high crime rates.
When the military no longer required portions of the property, the land was returned to the state and, eventually, to the city and county. The park was officially named Waimānalo Bay Beach Park until 2021. After a years-long battle to prevent the city from building athletic fields at the park, the Honolulu City and County voted to restore the park’s original name, Hūnānāniho.
Hawaiian place names have mana, and they often convey the cultural significance of a place. The literal translation of Hūnānāniho is “hidden teeth,” but Hawaiian names often have a deeper meaning. Waimānalo cultural practitioner Kalani Kalima shared an explanation given by Kumu Hula Frank Kawai Hewett that Hūnānāniho means to keep something so sacred and personal that it is hidden, as one’s teeth.
Today, beachgoers come to Hūnānāniho for its soft sand and shaded shoreline, unaware of the history beneath the sands. While the daytime hours are spent in fun and frolic, the area can quickly become something else entirely.
A few years ago, Rich and his friend, John, crashed a beach party in Kailua, just looking for a good time. After everyone started heading home, the pair snuck a few beers and made their way to Sherwood Forest. Sitting on the tailgate of John’s truck, the young men were facing the beach, sipping their beer and talking story, when Rich noticed some fishermen’s lights bouncing along the shoreline. Not thinking much of it, Rich began texting another friend to see if he’d come and join them until he realized John had become quiet.
When Rich finally looked at John, he noticed his friend’s face was pale, and he was staring at something on the beach. Turning his head in the direction John was looking, he noticed that the lights he saw weren’t flashlights; they were fire, like torches. Then he noticed a long line of them, with dark figures walking beside them.
“Every hair on my body stood up,” Rich said, “and even though I already knew, I asked John, ‘What is that?’”
John started coughing, leaning forward and holding his throat like he couldn’t breathe. Not knowing what else to do, Rich started pounding on John’s back as if he were choking on something.
Finally, John sat up and whispered, “Night marchers!”
Rich grabbed John’s arm and helped him to the passenger’s side of his truck and shoved him in, and then jumped in the driver’s seat. He put the truck in gear and sped out of the tiny parking lot, realizing the cooler and some other things had slid out of the bed because the tailgate was open.
They drove to a friend’s house, and someone there told them the moon phase was Kāne, the night when the huaka‘i pō are said to walk the earth. Although it’s been years since that happened, Rich said that he and John never forgot it, and they always make sure to check the moon phase when they go out at night.
The authors can be reached at hawaii.mysteries@gmail.com
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