Two of the loveliest places on Kaua’i are reached by short treks down from the manicured heights of Princeville. In both cases, a little willingness to climb down sometimes slippery hillsides or scramble over rocks pays off, though a scarcity of parking and lack of signposting will ensure that Hideaways Beach and Queen Emma’s Bath will remain two of the so-called "secret" spots of the North Shore.
The path for Hideaways is near the gatehouse for the Princeville Hotel, next to a miniscule 10-space parking lot provided for beachgoers. The narrow path runs alongside tennis courts and then down concrete steps which end abruptly halfway down. The remaining trail involves negotiating the steep slope down to the beach. Some public-spirited soul had tied a long rope to the end of the step handrail the last time I was there, providing a much easier descent.
Hideaways is well worth any effort, though. It's a lovely crescent of coarse golden sand fringed by autograph trees providing welcome midday shade. The snorkeling is excellent when conditions are calm, and sea turtles frequent the edges of the reef. It never gets crowded here, and early in the day we’ve even had the place to ourselves. Of course, there are no facilities; furthermore, this is not a good spot for the foolhardy, as in high surf rip currents can form that could pull a swimmer out to sea. (Next stop, Samoa.) Always observe the wave action carefully before venturing out. More people drown yearly in Hawai’i than in any other state.
The path to the second spot, Queen Emma’s Bath, is off Kapiolani Road. Keep an eye out for another 10-car parking lot set among the houses. A sign which laconically reads "trail" points to a path (again, slippery after rain) that passes a lovely waterfall before leveling out on a rugged lava shelf. The "bath" is about a 10-minute hike over the lava rocks.
The surf pounding onto the shore is a magnificent (and somewhat intimidating) sight, but the bath itself is usually tranquil. Note that word "usually." There’s a small inlet in the rocks encircling the bath, allowing water to spill into the pool. On days of high surf, this "spill" becomes a crashing torrent.
The first time we visited Queen Emma’s bath, the pool was serenity itself, shared only by a bearded fellow who politely asked whether we minded if he swam nude. This, we gathered, was his early morning ritual--who were we to demure? The second time we visited, monstrous waves were crashing over the lip of the pool. A group of young daredevils was tempting fate by leaping from the rocks above into the pool, nearly getting swept out to sea as water funneled powerfully back out through the inlet. There was much whooping, splashing, and calls of "Man, you gotta try this!" directed at a cluster of girls, who were no doubt practically overcome with admiration.
Ah, "immortal" youth. Give me the occasional middle-aged nudist any day.