The Jungle

Hawaii is fun to explore by land and by sea.  We've hiked all over it and we decided to do one of our favorite jungle hikes on the recent vacation.  It's an 8-miler that winds through partial canopy jungle and scales a serious mountain.  We like it for its variety:  plants with leaves bigger than we are; waterfalls; pockets of bamboo forests; ground that is literally made from tree roots so large and prolific that the hike takes twice as long as it would on flat ground; wild flowers; warbling birds that sound like visitors from another planet; and great views of both the city and the country. 

Another highlight to hiking in the islands is that there are no predators.  No snakes to watch out for, no bears to fear.  The only semi-dangerous land animal they have is the Hawaiian wild boar, which easily weighs in at 300+ pounds and has a nasty temper.  Not to mention that they travel in packs of 10-20.

I'm not sure who originally brought them to the island, but they've become a nuisance because they dig up the jungle and eat tree roots, which kills the trees, which then kills all kinds of other parts of the eco-system.  To keep the population under control and to protect the unique tropical environment, the state sponsors wild boar hunts a few times each week.  This trail is one of the places they hunt. 

We didn't think twice about it because we've hiked for years and have never seen even a sign of a wild boar.  Know what that sentence sounds like?  Famous Last Words.

You know what's coming, people.  ROUS's, like in The Princess Bride.

G and I are slogging through about mile 6.5 of 8, chit chatting away, listening to the birds, when we hear it about 200 feet below us in a ravine.  EEEK EEEK EEEK.  I was like, that's a pig.  G was like, yep.  And we kept walking.

Then the single, almost cute-sounding squeel doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in number and in decibels:  EEEEEEK EEEEEK EEEEEEK EEEEEEK EEEEEEEK!

Then:  WWWWWHHHHHHAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGG!  The loudest, meanest, longest growl I've ever heard in my life.  And then all wild boar hell broke loose, echoing through the jungle.

My first thought?  The Black Smoke Monster from LOST.

Let me just say that there's nothing that will put a spring in your step faster than hearing loud roars, followed by all kinds of pain-filled EEEEEEEK-ing, surrounding you on all sides.  As we high-stepped our way through the forest, the noise got even worse.  It was still coming from below us (and behind us) in the ravine, but this ain't the first time we've been on a hike, people.  And we are hardly strangers to how it works in the wild.  Animals conserve energy - that's like Rule #1 in their Handbook.  And how do they do that?  By taking the trail whenever possible.  Why hack your way through the dense jungle brush when you can just follow this nicely carved slick of mud? 



Somewhere behind me, I hear G panting something about throwing out our meager lunch leftovers if "things go south."  Those are three words you just don't want to hear someone like G say.

Still high-stepping it, I grunt out that we should get a stick or a rock or something.  But we see nothing because it's all a blur and who wants to, you know, stop running???  And then I hear G shout, "There!"  He's pointing off in the distance.  "That BEAT STICK!  It's MINE!"  He tears off after something reminiscint of Fred Flinstone - a club covered in moss and I don't even know what else.  He wields it, while scurrying through the jungle, in a way that only Russell Crowe's character from Gladiator can fully appreciate.  At that point, the humor of it doesn't even occur to me, as I'm glancing at the trees and wondering if I could climb them in a hurry, using G as a step stool...

After a few minutes, the roars die down and then all is silent for a while.  We gradually slow down, start to breathe again, and after a mile or so, we start to pass other hikers.  Which means we're approaching civilization once more. 

They eye G's club precariously and we just smile.