Wild Greg Adventure Tours can promise you:
- the tour guide will try to give you the slip
- nearly vertical rocky ascents clinging by your fingertips
- crossing murky bodies of water
Don’t be deceived by the presence of other relaxed tourists at the starting area. While they are sauntering along a wide, well groomed path, you will be catching glimpses of them as you struggle for footing among the slimy tree roots at the bottom of the gully. Of course, you will sooner or later find yourself where NO other tourists are going, doing things like balancing across rock walls. And that will be only a mild wild tour. But let me start at the beginning and show you a few photos, as well. [hr]
That morning, Greg told me I might want to put on a swimsuit under my clothing, because we were going waterfall hunting. I envisioned clear lagoons in the sunshine and photos of us splashing in the sparkling cascade. We were heading for the jungle side of Maui (but not quite to the torturous section of the Hana Highway), to find Twin Falls. The map showed the entrance to the falls as being two miles past the junction with the 365, north of Kahului airport.
Knowing that the words “trip to Hana” cause me distress, Greg indicated on the map just how far we were NOT going, and enticed me with reports of an excellent snack stand at the trailhead. He said it was supposed to be a one mile walk to the falls. Our fellow 30th anniversary celebrators joined the tour.
The colorful snack van was there, as promised. We purchased a ripe coconut. The other tourists were milling around, with a small flow of people coming and going from the path that disappeared into the tall, lush plants. We began down the same route, with me cheerfully carrying my half of a coconut chopped up in the husk, and using the other hand to pick up pieces to nibble on. Then Wild Greg saw a narrow path off to one side.
We gradually descended down into the mosquito infested grotto. The jungle floor was bare except for gnarly tree roots and lots of football sized grey rocks, both sharp and round. A waterfall tripped prettily over the short stack of basalt rock stairs, into a brown pond. Someone was photographing a fake jungle man smeared with oily dark bottled tan. The effect was truly tribal. We gazed at the scenery, but declined the opportunity to go in the water. Our tour guide got restless. Not one to unnecessarily take the same route twice, he stole up a the wall-like slope. I warned the others that he was getting away; we quickly packed up the coconut and followed.
In spite of climbing like an ape, grasping wet stones embedded in mud to pull myself up the small cliff, my finger nail polish remained unscathed. (gelish, girls) From the upper vantage, we could see there was a series of small waterfalls leading down to the last one. It reminded me of our Jade Pools in the Owyhees, only not so jewel toned… The guide went by himself up the side of the falls, but came back to lead us for a while on the general tourist highway. He let us photograph some exotic flowers along the way. I have tried to identify them, but if you are doing a research paper, you might want to double check:
When the trail divided into three prongs, we took the left fork first, making our way to the main tourist attraction, the actual Twin Falls. Two parallel streams of water fell from above. We traded group picture taking with someone, but, again, the guide grew restless. Too many people. Too boring of a trail. We went back to take the middle fork.
No one else was on the middle fork of the trail. Before long, we were in the midst of a system of hidden rock walls and tunnels. They were channeling water that looked like cocoa had been swirled into it. The walls were the only path. We traipsed along those, occasionally needing to inch over higher stone sections. Anyway, I inched. The tour guide kept getting away.
Even Wild Greg is stopped by some rock walls, at least when he is lacking other equipment. Here at this last waterfall, the jungle roof and thick clouds above created an isolated mansion/hideout. Our two men talked about what a great place it would be to play as a boy. They also teased us about piranha and crocodiles. Carnivorous fish or not, we women limited the mud bath to our bare feet. A heavy drizzle tried to compensate for our not plunging under the waterfall. The ubiquitous rocks and tangled roots became more slippery, but remaining barefoot for a while helped me. Then a quick foot rinse in the canal, and we had one more fork to explore.
Besides crossing a thoroughfare of a thin sheet of water streaming over a 20 foot wide stone ledge, there is not much to say about the third fork, other than Wild Greg lost us for a few minutes again. He does always come back for us if we don’t catch up, but he likes it better if we can just keep up. Perhaps, now, you are no longer wondering why I am constantly in training.