Leap of Faith

Cliff diving in the steps of Kahekili

 

Ellie Crowe

 

“It’s a heck of a jump,” said Dustin Webster, former world champion cliff diver, describing the dive from an 80-foot cliff at Kaunolu, on the island of Lana‘i. During the 2001 Red Bull Cliff Diving Championships, Webster’s left foot exploded from the violent impact as he hit the ocean, splitting his heel bone in two. He wore a cast for two years.        

The dramatic cliffs of Kaunolu are a place where ancient history and modern sport converge. In the 18th century, Hawaiian warriors made the giant leap of faith at Kaunolu to prove their bravery and honor their gods and their chiefs. Today, the legendary cliff beckons modern-day warriors and skilled athletes to cliff-diving championships periodically held by energy drink company Red Bull.
   
High sea cliffs and tales of daredevils and extreme sport can hold a certain fascination, particularly for those who would never, ever take part in such exploits. For me, just reaching the cliffs at Kaunolu was extreme enough. My husband, Will, and I headed out in a four-wheel-drive jeep with Sol Kaho‘ohalahala, then the cultural director of the Lana‘i Company (now executive director of the Kaho‘olawe Island Reserve Commission). Fortunately, Kaho‘ohalahala knew the way, because all dirt roads through pineapple fields tend to look much the same. This was a bone-jarring trip. We navigated five-foot-deep gulches right in the center of the road and shouted in nervous glee as we careened down to the headland overlooking the bay.
   
Below, nestled in a deep cove, the ruins of the ancient village of Kaunolu lay sleeping in the sun. The colors were intense—an inky-blue ocean, stark wine-red cliffs, and aqua blue tide pools. Kaho‘ohalahala brought the jeep to a halt at the parking area on the top of the bluff and pointed to one of the high ledges jutting out into the ocean. “That’s Kahekili’s Leap,” he said. “Chief Kahekili and his warriors used to leap from there.”
   
The formidable Kahekili—who ruled Lana‘i in the late 18th century—excelled at lele kawa, leaping feetfirst from high cliffs into the sea. Kahekili’s elite warriors, like their leader, were tattooed completely down the right side of their bodies (eyelids and tongues included) in order to duplicate the half-dark, half-clear image of Hekili, the god of thunder, whom Kahekili claimed as an ancestor. Kahekili and his warriors proved their bravery each time they went over the ledge. Because ocean-side cliffs were considered the point from which dead souls sprang into the afterlife, every successful jump was—both literally and figuratively—a defiance of death.
   
Kahekili’s jumps were not just confined to Lana‘i; other islands also have cliffs named “Kahekili’s Leap.” Maui has its own version, otherwise known as Black Rock, at Ka‘anapali. Jumping from Kahekili’s Leap, Lana‘i, is much more physically dangerous, however, because of its greater height—and the 15-foot-wide rock ledge in the ocean below.
   
We left our jeep behind here and made our way down the trail toward the shoreline.
Along the way, we passed numerous lava rock platforms—remains of early Kaunolu dwellings. Above us, the cliff face was perforated with cool, dark caves; Bishop Museum plaques along the trail informed us that villagers used these caves for food storage, long pili grass for thatching huts, the odorous fruit from noni trees as a valued medicine, and coconut trees for milk, food, and cordage.
   
The landscape is dominated by the high terraced walls of Halulu Heiau (an ancient place of worship). This was once a pu‘uhonua, a place of refuge where defeated enemies or kapu breakers could flee. The gods protected all who reached the sanctity of the temple walls.
   
A large pointed rock represents Ku‘ula, the deity who placed the fish in the ocean. Unusual ancient petroglyphs depict a surfer and a large bird. We wandered, fascinated, through the deserted stone ruins of this ancient fishing village. Spotting a stone adz amongst the rocks, we felt like successful archaeologists ourselves.
   
Reaching the shoreline, we scrambled over the boulders to the end of the cove, climbing and pulling our way antlike up layered rock ledges to Kahekili’s Leap, a rock platform atop a high cliff. Not only Red Bull athletes dive from here; members of the Hawaiian Group Na Koa (The Warriors) follow in the steps of Kahikili and leap to prove their bravery and to honor their ancestors Webster had told us that before the Red Bull competition began, “A kahuna [Hawaiian priest] prayed over the ocean, asking for deeper water over the rock ledge. It worked! A swell actually rolled in.”
   
Nevertheless, most of the contestants chose to leap from a platform extending farther out from the cliff. Built by the competition’s organizers, the platform reduced the danger of the dive—a little. Only Webster and one other contestant chose to jump from the original rock ledge. “When I saw a young, tattooed Hawaiian leap from Kahekili’s Leap,” said Webster, “I started second-guessing my decision. It looked like a really risky dive.”
   
Then he described what it feels like to plummet from the 80-foot-high cliff into the ocean at speeds of up to 60 mph:
“You try to mask your fear. You think of a million things as you climb up there. You tell yourself to jump strong, to look where you’re jumping. When you’re about to dive you feel almost at peace, strong enough to face the challenge. You’re on autopilot as you fall, and as you near impact fear comes rushing back, fear and exhilaration. You know you have a split second to correct anything that may be not quite right, give that extra twist in a blink of an eye as you plummet the final 30 feet. And then, under the water, is the time for celebration—or to collect body parts.”
   
Thinking of warriors of old—and modern-day athletes proving their bravery—I inched my way onto the platform, staying far from the edge. I stood with my back pressed to the surrounding rock walls. The wind wailed, and far below, ocean swells rolled silently by. It really would have been one heck of a jump! 
   
Red Bull plans to hold another cliff-diving championship at Kaunolu but has yet to set a date. Aware that this ancient site is special and needs to be protected, the competition’s organizers and the Hawai‘i Tourism Authority arranged for the hundreds of spectators to view the previous championships from sailboats, sea kayaks, surfboards, and the decks of Trilogy Excursion boats.
   
Kaho‘ohalahala, too, was passionate about taking care of the site. “Kaunolu is so remote that it is hard to police,” he said. “Visitors must be made aware that the site is fragile and they cannot walk on the ruins or take souvenirs.”
   
Evidently, most visitors seem to feel the same way—we saw no litter at Kaunolu. Feeling fortunate to have visited this unique place, we made our way back up the trail and left Kaunolu to its ghosts.

---\ You will need a four-wheel-drive vehicle to reach Kaunolu. They’re available from Dollar Rent A Car at 1(800) 533-7808 for approximately $130 a day.

Dollar recommends making advance reservations. To reach Kaunolu Village, take Highway 440 west out of Lana‘i City toward Kaumulapau Harbor. Go past the airport turnoff and take the next left, Kaupili Road, an unmarked dirt road, through abandoned pineapple fields. Travel 2.5 miles to a yellow standpipe on the right. Turn right toward the coast on  the rocky road that descends about three miles to Kaunolu Village. There are two parking areas, one farther down the hill from the interpretive trail. Take water and sunscreen and wear a hat.    

Jumping from Kahekili’s Leap, Lana‘i, is much more physically dangerous, however, because of its greater height—and the 15-foot-wide rock ledge in the ocean below.
   
We left our jeep behind here and made our way down the trail toward the shoreline. Along the way, we passed numerous lava rock platforms—remains of early Kaunolu dwel-lings. Above us, the cliff face was perforated with cool, dark caves; Bishop Museum plaques along the trail informed us that villagers used these caves for food storage, long pili grass for thatching huts, the odorous fruit from noni trees as a valued medicine, and coconut trees for milk, food, and cordage.
   
The landscape is dominated by the high terraced walls of Halulu Heiau (an ancient place of worship). This was once a pu‘uhonua, a place of refuge where defeated enemies or kapu breakers could flee. The gods protected all who reached the sanctity of the temple walls.
   
A large pointed rock represents Ku‘ula, the deity who placed the fish in the ocean. Unusual ancient petroglyphs depict a surfer and a large bird. We wandered, fascinated, through the deserted stone ruins of this ancient fishing village. Spotting a stone adz amongst the rocks, we felt like successful archaeologists ourselves.
   
Reaching the shoreline, we scrambled over the boulders to the end of the cove, climbing and pulling our way antlike up layered rock ledges to Kahekili’s Leap, a rock platform atop a high cliff. Not only Red Bull athletes dive from here; members of the Hawaiian Group Na Koa (The Warriors) follow in the steps of Kahikili and leap to prove their bravery and to honor their ancestors. Webster had told us that before the Red Bull competition began, “A kahuna [Hawaiian priest] prayed over the ocean, asking for deeper water over the rock ledge. It worked! A swell actually rolled in.”
   
Nevertheless, most of the contestants chose to leap from a platform extending farther out from the cliff. Built by the competition’s organizers, the platform reduced the danger of the dive—a little. Only Webster and one other contestant chose to jump from the original rock ledge. “When I saw a young, tattooed Hawaiian leap from Kahekili’s Leap,” said Webster, “I started second-guessing my decision. It looked like a really risky dive.”
   
Then he described what it feels like to plummet from the 80-foot-high cliff into the ocean at speeds of up to 60 mph:

“You try to mask your fear. You think of a million things as you climb up there. You tell yourself to jump strong, to look where you’re jumping. When you’re about to dive you feel almost at peace, strong enough to face the challenge. You’re on autopilot as you fall, and as you near impact fear comes rushing back, fear and exhilaration. You know you have a split second to correct anything that may be not quite right, give that extra twist in a blink of an eye as you plummet the final 30 feet. And then, under the water, is the time for celebration—or for collecting body parts.”
   
Thinking of warriors of old—and modern-day athletes proving their bravery—I inched my way onto the platform, staying far from the edge. I stood with my back pressed to the surrounding rock walls. The wind wailed, and far below, ocean swells rolled silently by. It really would have been one heck of a jump! 
   
Red Bull plans to hold another cliff-diving championship at Kaunolu but has yet to set a date. Aware that this ancient site is special and needs to be protected, the competition’s organizers and the Hawai‘i Tourism Authority arranged for the hundreds of spectators to view the previous championships from sailboats, sea kayaks, surfboards, and the decks of Trilogy Excursion boats.
   
Kaho‘ohalahala, too, was passionate about taking care of the site. “Kaunolu is so remote that it is hard to police,” he said. “Visitors must be made aware that the site is fragile and they cannot walk on the ruins or take souvenirs.”
   
Evidently, most visitors seem to feel the same way—we saw no litter at Kaunolu. Feeling fortunate to have visited this unique place, we made our way back up the trail and left Kaunolu to its ghosts.