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I recently embarked on a solo backpacking trip along the Na Pali coast of Kauai, Hawaii’s oldest island. The Kalalau Trail is a 11 mile coastal stretch that runs through the ridges of the Na Pali (many cliffs in Hawaiian). I actually attempted* this hike last April.
A year ago, I came here with three friends and because none of them wanted to camp, opted for a day hike, knowing that we would turn back before the final destination. We made it past Crawler’s Ledge at the 7ish mile mark, turned around, and on the way back I got heatstroke from a combination of overexertion, dehydration, and four hours of sleep the night before. I would get up from taking a break, take three steps uphill and my heart would immediately start pounding rapidly, but my breath was normal. Along with a pounding headache and my friends hiking ahead of me since I had slowed down, it was pretty spooky.
This year, once I knew that I was going back to Oahu, I knew I had to make a redemption trip to Kauai. I wanted to complete the trail, but also experience Na Pali in its purest form by opting for a more immersive, freeform pace over four nights. It was the closest thing I’ve experienced to magic.
Leading up to the trip, I was trying to get ahead in work prior to my week of PTO, getting my apartment in Honolulu ready for move out, and also prepping for this hike. About a week out, I felt anxious not knowing what I would during all that time by myself without any cell service or friends. I figured I could avoid “wasting time” by listening to audiobooks and reading books on my Kindle. A couple days before my flight to Kauai, I was catching up with my friend Victoria who I met last year while surfing in Waikiki. From hearing about her recent life-changing silent meditation retreat in Joshua Tree along with my friend Jen’s experience with her silent meditation retreat on Big Island, I thought that for the first day on the hike I would experiment with not listening or reading anything. Still, the thought of being completely alone with only my thoughts was unfamiliar and intimidating. At least I had all the media (podcasts, songs, ebooks, audiobooks) already downloaded in case I got bored.
After a series of bus rides and a mini mission to get fuel for my camping stove, I arrived at the trailhead around 11:20am and began hiking. I didn’t notice any differences in how I felt or what I was thinking about for the first couple hours. Four miles in, I got to my first stop at Hanakapi’ai Falls and noticed that I was slightly more aware. As I sat on a rock underneath the waterfall, the thoughts started emerging out of nowhere in my head. I sat behind the waterfall and remembered my childhood Saturday mornings watching Batman on Cartoon Network and how he would enter his batcave which was always hidden behind a waterfall. I reminisced about my dad taking my friends and I to Watermine Family Swimmin’ Hole during the hot humid summers in Northern Virginia. Watermine had this giant bucket that would slowly fill up with water until it would tip over and dump all over anyone who standing underneath and I remember toddlers whose parents let them stand under this bucket would get knocked over by the sheer volume of water.
Then I looked down right in front of me and saw the water from above making contact with the pool of water below. For a moment, I tuned out, cut off my peripheral vision and thought that this imagery was exactly like what the constant downpour of a thunderstorm would look like. I realized it’s been a long time since I’ve seen rain fall from this perspective, because at some point we stop being kids and stop playing in the rain. Nowadays, we have nicer shoes that we don’t want to get muddy, smartphones that are always in our pockets, and nice cars with nice interiors that we don’t to get wet. I looked behind me and noticed the green algae that covered the rock wall that the water fall was in front of and thought of broccoli (since it’s my favorite vegetable). I sat under the waterfall for a while and when I decided to leave, retreated like a jellyfish with my back facing the water, noticing the torrential mist above.
After my first night of sleeping under a lime tree by a stream, I noted that I was still confused what the whole point of this adventure was:
In preparing for this trek, I had loaded up my Kindle with books and downloaded a bunch of Audible books onto my phone as well. I was thoughtful in the books that I selected, opting for adventure and nature books like Barbarian Days, Nowhere for Very Long, and Wild. I thought that with five days out in nature, I could at least be productive with my reading. If I can’t be productive with work, surfing, lifting, or other normal things, at least I can be productive with my reading. A sign that I still don’t fully grasp the whole reason why people love backpacking in the first place.
After taking two chill hours to eat breakfast and get ready, I left the midway campsite and headed towards my destination, Kalalau Beach. I felt tense because I thought I was supposed to be doing something productive. As someone who had previously only backpacked for one night last summer in Denali, I was still under the impression that there was supposed to be a point to this. That every thing I spend my time doing is supposed to have a tangible ROI.
After hiking five long windy miles, I arrived at Kalalau Beach, set up camp, and made a small lunch of soba noodles, tuna, and instant miso soup. It wasn’t that bad. Again, I felt like I was supposed to be doing something “useful” rather than sitting still. I headed towards the left side of the beach to explore some sea caves that some nearby campers told me about. I walked through the fine sand that had ripples across them from the heavy winds and spotted the first cave. There was already a tent and hammock set up inside so I kept walking. I took a break at the second cave but it wasn’t particularly relaxing. This bird kept screaming at me and flying really close to my head, but then jolting away at the last second. I thought this damn bird should leave me alone and let me have my moment of peace and serenity. but then I realized that I was actually an intruder invading its home, the nest that sat within the cave.
There was another cave that was hidden around the corner and I wasn’t sure if it was worth the walk but as I was approaching it, this girl came out and told me that there were great views from inside. That was enough to convince me to check it out. This cave was the only one that had water inside, but it was only thigh deep so I could wade through. Once I got to the sand at the back of the cave I started to notice my surroundings. The sand was slightly wet and cool so it was really soothing to sink my feet into. There were all these unique rock features that droplets of water were falling from. The sound of the shore break waves hitting the beach in the distance and the water dripping in the cave created this pleasant layered audio experience. Once I got into this cave that’s when I felt the urge to sit down and stay still. And it was only once I sat still that I was able to actually start letting my mind wander.
I started to realize that there was no point to this entire five day adventure. There’s no direct, tangible expected outcome from this trip that required me to wake up at 4am in California three months prior to snag one of the coveted 60 permits that run out in minutes. At first, I felt worried there would be nothing to show for my perseverance in carrying the heavy 50L pack, slogging through mud, and getting bitten by mosquitos. I thought I would return from the Kalalau Trail as the same person and that would almost be considered a failure, regardless of how beautiful the views were. In accepting that I wouldn’t be able to forcibly create any concrete benefits, I began to sit. I was already sitting in the sand within the cave, but until this moment, I wasn’t actually in the act of being - I was too busy letting my mind race. Only after giving up on the expectation that I would have an epiphany like where I want to live longterm or some clever startup idea did I start to become fully aware of my surroundings. I noticed what previous visitors had written in the sand and the cadence of the water dripping from the top of the cave. I became aware that the size of the droplets and how high up it was falling from determined the size of the splash once it made contact with the shallow pool of water.
I wasn’t meditating since I would occasionally change how I was sitting and I was letting my mind’s thoughts come and go, but I also don’t have a good way to describe what I was doing. I was just sitting in this cave, listening to the water drip down and the waves crash in the distance. I think I was just in the act of being - doing nothing and being present. It’s kinda weird to say that because not only is it a foreign sensation to me, but it’s also so amorphous. Like what it does mean to just be? That’s something a rock or plant does, not humans. We’re sentient, intelligent organisms that are all supposed to have some of purpose or mission in life, right? Here I was, sitting in this cave alone, internally jousting with myself, wondering what I was supposed to be doing. It was just Day 2 and I was starting to think how I would get through the remaining three days. What would I fill the time with? How long could I go in resisting the temptation to boot up my Kindle and starting reading so I could be “productive”? That’s when I questioned if I would be productive by reading or is reading just something we associate with personal growth so we tell ourselves that it’s a productive use of time.
It’s striking to look back at how scatterbrained and uncomfortable I initially felt once I found myself in this cave with nothing to do. I think it’s because we’ve all been conditioned to sacrifice our autonomy for certainty. We’re used to looking at our calendars for the next thing to do and structuring our days around other commitments that when we’re presented with the purest form of freedom and no distractions, we feel lost. We live in such an overscheduled and overcommitted society that when we have free time, we feel like we’re wasting the time and worry that others are doing fun things or getting ahead of us (FOMO). I find it crazy that sitting alone with no devices or people felt like a challenge to me. Like it was some kind of chore, errand, or hill to climb rather than simply an opportunity to reflect and do nothing.
After two hours went by of me just sitting in this cave doing nothing, I realized that doing nothing or just being is actually quite nice. I’m not sure why I associated it with negativity or decay. It wasn’t as excruciatingly boring as I thought it would be. Instead, I left the cave more aware of my surroundings and able to notice the small, often skipped over details. The increased clarity reminded me of the first time I got glasses after struggling with blurry vision or when my snorkel goggles stopped fogging up and I could finally see the bright, colorful fish in front of me. It’s weird to say I felt proud that I was able to sit alone in silence doing nothing for two hours, which is a sign that we’re all screwed as a society. If we can’t sit by ourselves and simply do nothing, how are we going to get real shit done like solve the healthcare crisis and save the planet from the destruction of climate change? Even though we’re adults, we’re no better than the kids in the Marshmallow Experiment that couldn’t even wait 15 minutes of not eating the marshmallow.
That evening, I felt relieved to know that I could make it through the entire five days without dying of boredom or going into content consumption withdrawal and needing to get my dose of dopamine in the form of a book or podcast. As the day turned to golden hour to sunset, I was out on the beach with my camera in one hand and my dehydrated mountain chili meal in another. I was facing out towards the ocean where the sun was going to set over when I turned around and realized there was this rainbow. The rainbow became clearer over the next few minutes and then a second rainbow appeared. While I was losing my mind over this double rainbow, I couldn’t help but notice that the others who were still by their campsites wouldn’t be able to see the rainbow from their vantage point. Some people realized that we were looking away from the sunset and were curious enough to come over, tut there were also plenty of people who weren’t aware of and remained in place. I felt glad that I had spent the time in the cave doing nothing because now I felt more aware in every moment. It was like I had the superpower of hyperawareness. I guess this is what being in the moment feels like.
That night, I slept perched over the beach on a hill next to the waterfall. My right ear listened to the quiet waterfall continuously flowing while my left ear could hear the crash of the waves as they curled and closed out on shore. With just my boxers on and no sleeping bag or blanket, I fell asleep feeling just as comfortable as if I were at home with A/C in the comfort of my queen bed.
Throughout the rest of the trip, I worried less about what I was going to do the next day and how I was going to fill the time and instead just tried to focus on what I wanted to do at that moment. By the third day, I realized that I should stop feeling anxious about what I was going to do next since I noticed that once I got to the actual day, I would always find something interesting to do. I hiked a couple miles into the valley and found a stream pouring into a swimming hole underneath coconut and mango trees. I spent a few hours alternating between sitting on a rock soaking up the sun and swimming in the cool water that was so clear I could look down and see my feet. On my way out of the Na Pali, I made a detour towards a waterfall. Along the way, there were dozens of mountain apple trees and I foraged enough to fill both of the pockets in my shorts before continuing onwards. I arrived at the waterfall to find that I was the only on there and didn’t feel an urge to do anything yet so I just sat there for a bit. I took pictures, swam around the waterfall, and feasted on 15 mountain apples. Compared to apples from the grocery store, these tasted less sweet and with hints of rose and pear.
I went into the Kalalau Trail open-minded, but deep down inside, I was hoping for some sort of revelation that would result in a big, bold life decision. On the last day, I felt ready to re-enter society, but also appreciated the serenity, simplicity, and pureness of living without the shackles of commitments and distractions of technology. While on the Na Pali coast, I was free from having to plan my day out, opting for a free-flow approach of doing whatever I felt like at that moment, eating when I felt hungry, drinking water when thirsty, and going to sleep once I felt tired, which ended up being right around 8:30pm, as soon as the sunset and the afterglow disappeared. I was free from the intrusive visuals of advertisements and unnecessary items on shelves at stores which mirror our consumerism-driven society. I escaped from the noises of cars, vacuums, gossip, and a jackhammer drilling into the parking structure underneath your apartment (I’m currently staying with my friend Joe in Chicago).
I’ve intentionally left out some stories from my Kalalau Trail experience because I want to keep those memories to myself. I met other hikers who taught me things I didn’t know. I met two guys who were on their 13th and 17th Kalalau Trail trip, respectively. There were other moments when I was all alone and my mind emptied out and there nothing to do but be. And on my last night, I ventured off the beaten path and found myself experiencing the sunset at an obscure location that felt otherworldly.
Returning to society
Instead of any epiphanies, once I was back to society and roaming around Hanalei on the north shore of Kauai, I realized that I was much more aware of my surroundings, engaged in conversations, and only thinking about the present. The first noticeable moment was when I was riding the shuttle bus back and it was just me and the driver who moved here from Boise, but grew up in Florida. I was eager to tell him about my experience, but also curious about his world - was it busy season in Kauai, had he done the Kalalau trail, what brought him to Kauai, etc. As he started to open up, I learned that he works 75 hour weeks and because they’re so short-staffed, he only gets one day off every 16 days. He hasn’t done the Kalalau trail yet which is understandable because he just moved here in March, but there isn’t a straightforward path for him to do it given his demanding insane work schedule. I could sense he was always stressed about housing since he repeatedly brought up how expensive it is in Kauai. From being in solitude for the last five days, my senses were hyperaware and I felt like I could sense how he was feeling from the tone of his voice. It’s poetically sad how he even though he lives in Kauai, he may never be able to see the Na Pali coastline. It’s sad that all he wants to do is be outside, but instead must remain locked inside of a moving chunk of metal during the entire day. It’s sad that when he drops off stoked hikers with their big backpacks at the trailhead, he can’t get out of his bus and join the rest of us.
I’m not sure if it was because of the good conversation we had or because he’s just a nice guy, but he was kind enough to drop me off in Hanalei so I didn’t have to walk an extra mile into town. After being away from society for five days, everything was reset including my dopamine, caffeine tolerance, and perceived needs. My previously self-determined needs were stripped away to the essential and those supposed needs evaporated into optional wants. I realized that in addition to the bare necessities of food, water, and shelter, I also have what I consider to be just as vital: freedom. Freedom to do what I want, when I want. Everything else (phone, car, camera, theragun massage gun, etc) is bonus.
Why I seek out solitude
There’s a difference between being alone and feeling lonely. I define being alone as a state of being; it’s voluntary, and not directly associated with negativity. On the other hand, loneliness is an emotion and can be felt even among the company of others. For example, if you’re at a bar with a group of friends, but they’re all talking to each other without including you, then you can feel lonely. It’s key to recognize the difference and that’s why this random person’s tweet must’ve hit home:
I seek out solitude to figure out who I am and what I want. When you strip away the devices, items, distractions, and other people, what’s left? That’s what I’m trying to figure out. In solitude, you are thinking for yourself without the influence of others or other things. There’s no judgement from peers or feedback loop to tell you if you’re right or wrong.
In solitude, I’m able to view things from a different vantage point than in the day-to-day. I’m able to think about the bigger picture like what habits should I change, where do I want to live in across the next few years, who do I want to spend more time with, who do I want to spend less time with, and what tradeoffs am I making by doing what I’m doing now. It’s difficult to have these thoughts surface when I’m in the rhythm of living a certain schedule with work and other obligations. But even when these thoughts do appear in the normal cadence of life, it’s nearly impossible to actually process them since there’s always distractions.
It also doesn’t have to be that deep. There are tactical advantages to solitude as well. As I sank deeper and deeper into the unfamiliar comforts of solitude, these thoughts starting coming out of nowhere. I should start working in a different room than my phone. I should think about this travel startup idea I have from a slightly different angle. For upcoming trips, I realized I needed to hit up friends who live in the area and figure out what I actually want to do. As I remained in solitude, the mental knots continued to emerge and slowly start to untangle themselves. I’ve come to learn that there are these hidden, unknown thoughts waiting to pop up and all you have to do is go be alone in solitude. The hard part is committing to be alone without distractions before you actually know what you’ll gain from the experience.
I challenge you to try and find some solitude in the next week. It doesn’t have to be a five day solo backpacking trip. It can be as bite-sized and atomic as you want. It could be a walk in your neighborhood without a phone or just driving without a destination in mind. What I wrote about solitude will sound kooky if you haven’t experienced solitude so go out and try it!
Quotes
Some of us need to discover that we will not begin to live more fully until we have the courage to do and see and taste and experience much less than usual... And for a man who has let himself be drawn completely out of himself by his activity, nothing is more difficult than to sit still and rest, doing nothing at all. The very act of resting is the hardest and most courageous act he can perform.
- Thomas Merton
All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.
- Blaise Pascal
Every prophet has to come from civilization, but every prophet has to go into the wilderness. He must have a strong impression of a complex society and all that it has to give, and then he must serve periods of isolation and meditation. This is the process by which psychic dynamite is made.
- Winston Churchill
As I came down from the mountain, I recalled how, not many years ago, it was access to information and movement that seemed our greatest luxury; nowadays it’s often freedom from information, the chance to sit still, that feels like the ultimate prize. Stillness is not just an indulgence for those with enough resources—it’s a necessity for anyone who wishes to gather less visible resources.
- Pico Iyer
Thinking, existentially speaking, is a solitary but not a lonely business; solitude is that human situation in which I keep myself company. Loneliness comes about when I am alone without being able to split up into the two-in-one, without being able to keep myself company.
- Christine Smallwood
Further reading on Solitude
Solitude and Leadership by William Deresiewicz
Social Media Trap by David Perrell
52 Blue - A meditation on what it means to be alone and how we seek meaning from the natural world
Solitude is not loneliness. Here’s the key philosophical difference.
Trading Solitude for Loneliness
No Time to Think - New York Times
The Advantage Of Being A Little Underemployed by Morgan Housel