The Brookston Family Blog
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We backtracked a few miles from the Waimea Canyon Lookout to our first hike of the day, the Canyon Trail to Waipoo Falls, which is just over three miles. As usual the skies were threatening to spill over on us an did so a number of times in short bursts. Visibility waxed and waned as the fog swirled around the canyon at the wind’s whims.

After walking down a long access road, the trail meandered through a wooded area and past this stream which seemingly disappeared into a natural underground cave.

Where tropical flowers beaded with water from the recent rains.

Sarah still dry on the trail.

Wild blackberries were all around.

The canyon was still only barely visible.

We took a short detour to a cliff lookout, where the fog made it even more difficulty to see anything.

Though we could now see into the canyon bottom.

And mountain goasts grazed on hilltops.

Sarah rests by a giant boulder that resembled a frog.

The clifftop path thoughtfully had wooden steps so we wouldn’t tumble over the side to certain death.

The last downward turn before the falls.

I though this rock formation across the canyon was pretty interesting.

Finally we arived at the Upper Waipoo Falls.

This week I’ve got two more oddball group photos.

Keith eating the centerpiece flowers. I think this was taken at one of our regular weekend breakfasts, but I’m not sure where. I think Sheldon is still in his robe. Around the table clockwise, from left: Shmare, Keith, Suzanne, John Smith, Zenobia, Sheldon, Christi and Michelle.

This was taken in Tahoe and I think the photographer, whoever it was, was lying on his back shooting up while the rest of us surrounded him or her in a circle. From me at 9 o’clock, clockwise: Me, Suzanne, John C., Sheldon, Mike S., Zenobia, Sarah, Shmare, Jenny and Nikki.

When we woke up Sunday morning, the sky was ominously cloudy and it was raining off and on. We had already resolved not to let a little rain stop us and we dressed for it in all quick-drying, drip-dry clothing. Sunday we planned on visiting the west side of the island where Waimea Canyon is. Mark Twain called it “The Grand Canyon of the Pacific” which is an apt name since indeed does resemble a small grand canyon.

Our first stop was the canyon lookout, which is the farthest place you can drive to. As we drove the jeep higher and higher, the cloud cover increased and we dispaired that we wouldn’t be able to see the canyon by the time we got there.

Only a few thousand feet up, the canyon begins to emerge.

One of Kauai’s ubiquitous wild roosters.

Hydrangea.

A mother hen and her chicks.

By the time we reached the lookout, the canyon was enveloped in a cloud with almost no visibility. Drat.