Hamakua Roads from 1865-1889: Firsthand Accounts

A letter to the editor in The Pacific Commercial Advertiser, Apr. 18, 1868, relates the impact of bad weather on his ability to travel “north of Hilo Town”:

“When good people north of Hilo town visit Hilo town, why should they be detained there for days and days…because.. they can’t get out?”

Isabella Bird wrote “Six Months in the Sandwich Islands” during a 1873 trip. A determined traveler, one of her routes went from Hilo to Waipio and back. It is, by far, the richest description of traveling the Hamakua coast in this era.

She explains the popularity of horses among the “natives” and the need for a powerful one when traveling the Hamakua coast:

The [Hilo] beach and the pleasant lawn above it are always covered with men and women riding at a gallop, the bare feet, and stirrups tuck between the toes. To walk even 200 yards seems considered a degradation.

About Deborah, the young Hawaiian woman who accompanied her:

She rode a powerful horse, of which she has much in need, as this is the most severe road on horses on Hawaii, and it takes a really good animal to come to Waipio and go back to Hilo.

The first few miles out of Hilo:

Wailuku river on a wooden bridge…then, after winding up a steep hill, among native houses fantastically situated...descend perpendicularly to the sea, dips into tremendous gulches….at last emerges on the delicious height on which this house is built [probably Kaiwiki Plantation manager’s house]….Then there is the sugar plantation of Kaiwiki with its patches of bright green cane, its flumes crossing the track above our heads, bringing the cane down from the upland cane fields to the crushing mill… Then the track goes down with a great dip, along which we slip and slide in the mud to a deep broad stream [Honolii]…the junction of two bright rivers, and a few native houses and a Chinaman’s store are grouped close by under some palms, with the customary loungers on horseback, asking and receiving nuhou, or news, at the doors.  Our accustomed horses leaped into a ferry-scow provided by the Government, …leaped out the other site climb a track cut on the side of a precipice, which would be steep to mount on one’s own feet.

Meeting natives on the trail and passing native villages:

There we met parties of natives, all flower-wreathed, talking and singing, coming gaily down on their sure footed horses...Every now and then we passed native churches, with spires painted white, or a native school house or a group of scholars, all ferns and flowers...

A plantation-Onomea:

This place is grandly situated 600 feet above a deep cove, into which two beautiful gulches of great size run… and a native village is picturesquely situated between the two.[Stayed in manager’s frame-house]…. Close by there are small, pretty frame-houses for the overseer, bookkeeper, sugar boiler, and machinist, a store, the factory, a pretty native church near the edge of the cliff, and quite a large native village below.…The actual, dense, impenetrable forest does not begin for a mile and half from the coast...

​Gulches described:

All the gulches for the first twenty-four miles contain running water. The great Hakalau gulch which we crossed early yesterday [on the way to Waipio], has a river with a smooth bed as did as the Thames at Eton. Some have only small quiet streams, which pass gently through ferny grottoes. Others have fierce, strong torrents dashing between abrupt walls of rock, among immense boulders into eep abysses, and cast themselves over precipice after precipice into the ocean…. A few are crossed on narrow bridges, but the majority are forded, if that quiet conventional term can be applied to the violent floundering by which the horses bring one through.

Palms, candlenuts, ohias, hibiscus…each gulch has its glorious entanglement of breadfruit, the large-leaved ohia or native apple, and the pandanus, with its aerial roots, all looped together by large sky blue convolvuli and the running fern, and sis marvelous with parasite growths.

Each gulch opens on a velvet lawn close to the sea, and most of them have space for a few grass houses, with coconut trees, bananas and kalo patches. There are sixty nine of these extraordinary chasms within a distance of thirty miles! I think we came through eleven, fording streams in all but two.
 
Some of the smaller gulches are filled exclusively with [Kukui] trees. Each gulch has some specialty of ferns and trees, and in such a distance as sixty miles [Hilo to Waipio] they vary considerably with the variations of soil, climate, and temperature. 

…a deep bass sound, significant of water which must be crossed, and one reluctantly leaves the upper air to plunge into heavy shadow, and each experience increases one’s apprehensions concerning the next.
 
Though in some gulches the Kukui preponderates, in others the lauhala whose aerial roots support it in otherwise impossible positions, and in others the sombre ohia, yet there were some grand clefts in which nature has mingled her treasures impartially and out of cool depths of ferns rose the feathery coco-palm, the glorious breadfruit, with its melon-like fruit, the large ohia, ideal in its beauty-the most gorgeous flowering tree I have ever seen…. And innumerable other trees, shrubs and lianas. [Also, she notes in one gulch an orange grove and in another, coffee]

​Difficult gulch pali on a horse:

The descent into some of them is quite alarming. You go down almost standing in your stirrups, at a right angle with the horse’s head, and up, grasping his mane to prevent the saddle slipping.
 
In a footnote she quotes from William T. Brigham’s 1866 “On the Hawaiian Volcanoes” regarding the trail from Hilo to Laupahoehoe: Few strangers, when they come to the worst precipices, dare to ride down, but such is the nature of the rough steps, that a horse or mule will pass them with less difficulty than a man on foot who is unused to climbing.

The trail in bad weather: Coming back from Waipio, they spent a night at Laupahoehoe. In the morning, it was raining in torrents and the surf was big and loud. After getting up Laupahoehoe gulch, she describes the trail:

We soon reached the top of the worst and dizziest of all the palis, and splashed on mile after mile, down sliding banks, and along rocky tracks, from which the soil had been completely carried, the rain falling all the time. In some places several feet of soil had been carried away, and we passed through water-rents, the side of which were as high as our horses’ heads, where he ground had been level a few days before.

A gulch crossing (probably Umauma) in bad weather:

D. then said that the next gulch was a bad one,… When we reached the pali above it, we heard the roaring of a torrent, and when we descend to its brink it looked truly bad, but D roe in, and I waited on the margin. She got safely across, but when she was near the opposite side her large horse plunged, slipped, and scrambled In a most unpleasant way, and she screamed something to me which I could not hear. Then I went in and …the brave animal struggled through, with the water up to the top of her back, till she reached the place where D’s horse had looked so insecure. In another moment she and I rolled backwards into the deep water, as if she had slipped from a submerged rock. I saw her forefeet pawing the air, and then only her head was above water. I struck her hard with my spurs, she snorted, clawed, made a desperate struggle, regained her footing got into shallow water, and landed safely. We went on again, the track now really dangerous from denudation and slipperiness.… Hundreds of cascades leapt from the cliffs bringing down stones with a rattling sound.

Hakalau gulch crossing in bad weather:

 …Then we reached the lofty top of the great Hakalau gulch, the largest of all, with the double river, and the ocean close to the ford. Mingling with the deep reverberations of the surf, I heard the sharp, crisp rush of a river, and of “a river that has no bridge.”… The dense foliage, and the exigencies of the steep track, which had become very difficult, owing to the washing away of the soil, prevented me from seeing anything till I got down.
 
I found Deborah speaking to a native, who was gesticulating very emphatically, and pointing up the river. The roar was deafening, and the sight terrific. Where there were two shallow streams a week ago, with a house and good-sized piece of ground above their confluence, there was now one spinning, rushing, chafing, foaming river, twice as wide as the Clyde of Glasgow, the land was submerged, and, if I remember correctly, the course only stood above the flood. And, most fearful to look upon, the ocean, in three huge breakers, had come quite in, and its mountains of white surge looked fearfully near the only possible crossing.

Hakalau stream splits near the mouth to form a small piece of land in between. She mistook it for “two rivers.” The first part of the crossing was to get to that piece of land, then submerged, and get a foothold there. This crossing had the added danger of being sweep out to sea so the “screeching” from Deborah and the “native” was about avoiding that fate:
 
I entreated D. not to go on. She said we could not go back, that the last gulch was already impassable, that between the two there was no house in which we could sleep, that the river had a good bottom, that the man thought if our horses were strong we could cross now, but not later, &c. In short, she overbore all opposition, and plunged in, calling to me, “Spur, spur, all the time.”… Deborah’s horse I knew was strong, and shod, but my unshod and untried mare, what of her? My soul and senses literally reeled among the dizzy horrors of the wide, wild tide, but with an effort I regained sense and self-possession, for we were in, and there was no turning. D, ahead, screeched to me what I could not hear; she said afterwards it was “spur, spur, and keep up the river”, the native shrieking in Hawaiian from the hinder shore, and waving to the right, but the torrents of rain, the crash of the breakers, and the rush and hurry of the rive confused both sight and hearing. I saw D’s great horse carried off his legs, my mare, too, was swimming, and shortly afterwards, between swimming, struggling and floundering, we reached what had been the junction of the two rivers, where there was foothold, and the water was only up to the seats of the saddles.
​
Ms. Bird is quite concerned at this point. Halfway to go. Young Deborah sums up the situation:
 
But can’t go back, we no stay here, water higher all minutes, spur horse, think we come through.
 
I saw Deborah’s horse spin round, and thought woefully of the possible fate of the bright young wife, almost a bride, only the horses’ heads and our own heads and shoulders were above water; the surf was thundering on our left, and we were drifting towards it “broadside on”. 
 
…I lifted and turned my mare with the rein, so that her chest and not her side should receive the force of the river, and the brave animal, as if seeing what she should do, struck out desperately.
 
My mare touched ground twice, and was carried off again before she fairly got to land some yards nearer the sea than the bridle track.

Kolekole gulch crossing in bad weather: Note that the crossing was far mauka of today’s Kolekole park.

This gulch, called the Scotchman’s gulch, I am told, because a Scotchman was drowned there, must be at its crossing three-quarters of a mile inland, and three hundred feet above the sea.
 
Portions of two or three rocks only could be seen, and on one of these, about 12 feet from the shore, a nude native, beautifully tattooed, with a lasso in his hand, was standing nearly up to his knees in foam, and about a third of the way from the other side, another native in deeper water, steadying himself with a pole. A young woman on horseback, whose near relative was dangerously ill at Hilo, was jammed under the cliff, and the men were going to get her across. Deborah, to my dismay, said that if she got safely over we would go too, as these natives were very skillful.

With much difficulty, they made it.
 
We got over just in time. Some travelers who reached Laupahoehoe shortly after we left, more experienced than we were, suffered a two days’ detention rather than incur a similar risk. Several mules and horses, they say, have had their legs broken in crossing this gulch by getting them fast between the rocks.

The dangers and difficulties of these gulches were reported by others throughout this period:
 
Hawaii Herald, May 27, 1897-- Hilo lawyer D. H. Hitchcock reports on his 40 yrs in Hilo (from 1857).  He talks about “roads” and bridges.  The Wailuku bridge was built in 1865 but the gulch paths and crossings from Pueo to Laupahoehoe were barely passable until about 1882:  ​

Hilo was now in communication with the north country but still there was dangerous streams between town and Laupahoehoe, namely Honomu, Kolekole and Nanue. …If I remember rightly, there was not a single bridge standing between Pueo and Laupahoehoe.  …A trip to Laupahoehoe took the whole day from daylight to dark. It is not more the fifteen years ago [approximately 1882] since much was done to make [the gulches] passable even. It was far easier to get to Laupahoehoe by canoe than overland.

The Hawaiian Gazette, Nov. 23, 1881:

One haole was washed away horse and all in Kolekole last Friday, and by rare-chance brought up on a large rock some 60 yards down stream, from which he was rescued, after standing on his watery pedestal for 4 hours by 3 natives who charged $5.00 on the spot. He lost his baggage. His horse managed to crawl ashore almost useless, minus saddle and bridle. A Portuguese was fished out a stream near Papaikou same day. Mr. L. Severance, on his way from Waimea to Hilo, had also a close shave. His horse stumbled in a deep hole, and fell with Mr. Severance partially under him. He could not extricate himself and, but for the presence of a native would most probably have been very seriously hurt or worse.

The Hawaiian Gazette, Aug 13, 1884:

Rev. E. P. Baker in across on Friday July 25, came very near being carried over the falls just below the Umauma stream, with his horse, and others have crossed the same place with even greater risk to life and limb.  The mail man is invariably late in his trip over the Hilo and Hamakua road, owing to the unsafe and swollen streams and bad roads. As one planter said “There are not 50 yards of safe road between Hakalau and Laupahoehoe.

Honolulu Advertiser, Aug 4, 1885--news after storm:

On Sunday morning at 10 o’clock, a Chinaman and mule went down Kepehu stream [near Papaaloa] and out to sea at Laupahoehoe and of course were drowned or killed on the rocks.”.. “One of the abutments of Waikomalo bridge [Ninole] was badly washed, and a little more would have sent the structure into the torrent.

Hawaiian Gazette, Sep. 23, 1885:

Dr Arnning came near being washed away in crossing the Hakalau gulch on Saturday Sept 12. A few hours previous the mail carrier was washed down the stream and caught on the scow in the harbor, thereby saving his life. That same morning, Mr Talloch, the telephone operator of the Hilo and Hawaii Telephone and Telegraph Company, came near losing his life crossing the gulch.

Hawaiian Gazette,​ Jun 14, 1887:

One of the worst and most dangerous gulches in the Hilo district is the Hakalau gulch. This gulch is very steep and the road is very narrow. It would be considered so under almost any circumstances, but to make it still worse, someone has lain a railroad track down its entire length… A person is in danger of breaking his limbs every time he passes this way.

Another very dangerous place is the Maulua gulch. The place is a terror to both man and beast, particularly in wet weather. This place should certainly be attended to as there have been several accidents to animals and narrow escapes for travelers…

The big change in Hamakua roads during this period were cuts made along gulch pali to enable travel by horse. As described below, traveling these paths was difficult.
 
More from Ms. Bird: ​

Formerly, that is, within the last thirty years, the precipices could only be ascended by climbing with the utmost care, and descended by being lowered with ropes…. But within recent years, narrow tracks, allowing one horse to pass another, have been cut along the sides of these precipices, without any windings to make them easier, only deviating from enough from the perpendicular to allow of their descent by the surefooted native-born animals. Most of them are worn by water and animals’ feet, broken, rugged, jagged, with steps of rock sometimes three fee high, produced by breakage here and there. Up and down these the animals slip, jump, and scramble, some of them standing still until severely spurred, or driven by some one from behind. Then there are softer descents, slippery with damp, and perilous in heavy rains, down which they slide dexterously, gathering all their legs under them. On a few of these tracks a false step means death, but the vegetation which clothes the pali below, blinds on to the risk.

Note that Rev. Coan described a “serpentine line” for the gulch foot paths prior to these horse paths. The description above indicates that the track of these old foot paths were modified to take a steep descent “without any windings.”

Hawaiian Gazette, Nov 23, 1881--Complaints due to apparent shortcomings in bridge-building and maintenance:

…The last act of our imbecile Road Inspector has been to destroy the bridges in Kolokole gulch. The other old bridges between Pepeekeo and Hakalau having been previously demolished. In their places, he has put his patent submarine crossings, which as a matter of course have all fizzled out during the rainy weather, and now anyone crossing these streams does so in peril of life and limb.

From Papaikou to Laupahoehoe, the roads have been shamefully neglected. Many dangerous gulches such as Honomu, Kolekole, Kaiwiki, Hakalau, not a bridge; instead of repairing the ones standing--why must they be destroyed?

… This is a populous district, with large traffic continually increasing and noted for rain, and what we want is good bridges with decent grades down the palis.

Hawaiian Gazette, Aug 13, 1884:

For some reason or other, the bridges along the route, although well built and cost a deal of money are so placed that no animal can get on to them, as for example the bridge over the stream in the Umauma gulch, between Hakalau and Honohina plantations. This is a fearful stream and very dangerous. The bridge over the stream has been built for some time, but the approaches to it have not been made, so that no team can by any means get upon it. Several valuable animals have barely crossed this stream with their lives.

Daily Honolulu Press, Aug 1, 1885:

There have been. in the [South Hilo] district, 12 bridges since August 1884, 12 bridges under contract with the Pacific Bridge Company, at an aggregate cost of $45,000. They are built over the following streams: Waiakea 1,300 ft span, Wailuku 150 ft, Pueo 40 ft, Honolii 155 ft, Pahoehoe 85 ft, Papaikou 65 ft, Honomu 110 ft, Umauma 110 ft, Opea 45 ft, Nanue 85 ft, Waikamalo 65 ft, Pohakupuka 50 ft. All or nearly all of these bridges are built according to the Fink- Gorrill truss patent or plan…. When I rode from Hilo to Waipio, the approaches to some of the above-mentioned bridges had not been completed, and the residents of the two districts, Hilo and Hamakua, were growling no end about it…

Hawaiian Gazette, June 14, 1887, a frequent Hamakua traveler writes about bridge maintenance issues:

I would advise [Road Supervisor] in the first place to keep on hand a little money on hand this year, at least enough to buy a plank for a broken bridge, and not leave a hole open in such a dangerous place as this is for about 6 months or more. He should also keep a few dollars for such as broken abutments, impassable mud holes and the like; anyhow, he should keep enough on hand to pay for cleaning the mud of the bridges once or twice a month, and in bad weather once or twice a week would be none too often, as this mud is rotting the wood away almost as fast as the forest could grow it. I would also advise him now that we have good weather to tar these bridges under the bottom where they usually rot out fastest, instead of tarring them on the top where they are usually dry.

The aftermath of storms and big rain events greatly impacted road improvements. A few good reports on road improvements were, in time, followed by complaints. The main reason for this cycle was the damage caused by recurrent washouts.
 
Honolulu Advertiser, Nov 28, 1883 in the aftermath of a big rain event: 

The Honorable Robert Sterling, Superintendent of Public Works, has handed in his report on the bridges in the Hilo district [Hilo to Ookala] to His Excellency the Minister. He reports that the damage done to the Wailuku bridge was repaired at a cost of $56. The Honolii bridge carried away entirely owing to abutments being washed away, and broken up.
Mr Lyman built a scow for the accommodation of the public…. At Pahoehoe the destruction was complete through a similar cause. He recommends that the abutments for the new bridges be laid up in cement and when well executed “can never be carried away”…. At Papaikou, a similar disaster occurred. At Umauma, a bridge of 40 ft above ordinary water level, on natural abutments was carried away by force of water. The great difficulty in repairing the recent disasters is the expense and time in hauling the material to the required places.

Honolulu Advertiser, Aug 4, 1885:

The roads are badly washed -that from Laupahoehoe to Hakalau, which has a national reputation, and enjoys the unenviable reputation for being the worst piece of road in the Kingdom, is now well nigh impassible. The distance over the “bad lands” is short, and a judicious expenditure of the insignificant sum of $500 would make a good bridle-path…

The practice of personal road labor to pay for the annual road tax was finally discontinued in 1882. This system was often unproductive and had led to significant quality problems. As this 1862 critique shows, the problem had been recognized for a long time. 

The Polynesian, April 19, 1862:

No one who has observed the working of the present system in the country districts of these islands, but has seen how little real work and how that little, sometimes from not being properly directed, was completely thrown away.