And yet I’d made such a brave start, clambering up each rocky section to achieve the first, second, third, and even fourth spectacular lookout points. Each time I gloried in the panoramic views back towards Ha’ena and tantalizing glimpses of the Na Pali coast ahead. My husband had been "after" me on our previous trips to Kaua’i to do part of the Kalalau Trail, legendary among hikers, the most hardcore of whom backpack a grueling 11 miles along the coast, stay at a primitive campsite, and hike back the next day. Day hikers generally trek the first two miles to Hanakapi’ai Beach, perhaps going further inland to reach a waterfall, and then return. The second half of the beach hike is, alas, mostly downhill.

I’d reached a point about a mile and a quarter along the trail (the start of the downhill section), when I began to wonder if this was not the stuff of an "I survived the (fill in the blank)" T-shirt. I hate those types of outings.

"I think I’ll just stay here," I announced as we reached a fifth and even more spectacular lookout. "You go on and I’ll wait till you get back. It’s going to be mostly downhill from here, and it looks like it’ll probably get even muddier, too. I won’t enjoy it."

My husband gave me a look that managed to be simultaneously solicitous and aggrieved. "Are you sure? I don’t know how long it’ll take me."

"It doesn’t matter. I have water, binoculars, and a book. What more do I need? This is a gorgeous spot; I don’t care if I see the beach or not."

And so I found myself perched on a large boulder on the northernmost part of the island, with nothing before me but thousands of miles of blue Pacific. Of course, there were plenty of other hikers coming along to share the experience, but they seemed inexplicably preoccupied with getting to the beach. My bird watching was quickly supplanted by hiker watching.

"You been to the beach yet?" some inquired.

"No, this is as far as I’m going." Puzzled looks in response.

I sat gazing out to sea, listening to songbirds rhapsodizing in the ironwood trees. Western Meadowlarks, of all things. A long way from home, like me.

"You look very regal perched up there," said a gallant passing Englishman.

"I’m just lazy."

"Seen any whales?" asked his companion.

"Not a one. But then again, I’m not really trying."

The beach was reward enough. Here, the crashing sea meets perpendicular cliffs and the power of the ocean is apparent in cow-sized boulders rounded by rolling in the surf. Good place not to be in a storm or rough seas! Further back on the trail is a sign warning hikers to seek high ground if a tidal wave threatens.

There's a large centipede in Hawai'i - about the only venomous creature there. And we found one along the trail (see photo). That's only the second we've see - both on the Kalalau, which we've hiked four times over the years. Not to worry. A larger risk is stumbling on a slippery trail (it rained the day before). The soil is red clay and I have a well stained pair of hiking shorts and socks to prove it.

Park at Ke'e beach and take plenty of water. The trail along the 2 miles to Hanakapi'ai is pretty easy. The beach here is beautiful but dangerous. People have been known to be swept out to sea and drown, even when just wading along the shore. I admit we took our chances and went in up to our knees.

While many turn back at this point, we decided to take the side trail up to the Hanakapi'ai falls. This 2 mile jaunt was much more difficult- the trail is much narrower and requires several stream crossings. At one point we were scrambling over a steep slope that was wet with runoff.

The surprise at the end of the trail is worth the effort. Although we saw plenty of waterfalls during our visit to the island, this one remains my favorite. It was incredibly tall, beautiful and had a wonderfully cold pool for swimming (although there's always the danger of falling rocks.)

We had thought we had packed enough water in, but thanks to the exertion, warm weather and our foolish generosity (we encountered a nice but clueless couple that hadn't brought ANY water on the hike and so gave them one of our 4 water bottles), we ran out. We had to hike the last 2 miles back dry- and nothing was as beautiful to us as the water faucet at Ke'e beach.