June 20, 2005 Lulumahu Falls and tragedy

This is a non-ukulele story, but interesting nevertheless. Sunday I went with a Hawaiian 101 classmate on a Sierra Club group hike to Lulumahu Falls located way up Nu'uanu
Valley. The hike takes you to a royal summer home that is now mostly in ruins and to the Lulumahu falls located at the foot of the mountain. It was a good hike, not too long, not very hot, not too muddy, and with the minimum number of mosquitoes. Further, the usual mauka showers were away on a temporary vacation. The participants of these kinds of hikes vary from local to tourists, from the fit to the unfit. In fact there was one participant who did have difficulties doing the hike, and was forced to stay back while the rest of us went on to the falls. The water fall was not large, but it was somewhat spectacular. A narrow chute of cold water spilled over from a notch in the green mountains that form the valley, splashing into a small pool. Looking up the falls, I couldn’t help but wonder what was up there to constantly resupply nature’s free show. Was there a “lost world” up in those heights? No walking trails were visible or possible. The ascent was sharp and I did not have any climbing gear with me, nor would I be willing to attempt the climb even if I did. After the group had their visual fill of the sights with and without cameras, we all left to head out. After a short time, we joined up with the individual who had stayed behind. He was accompanied by one of the group leaders who had stayed with him. When we were no more than 15 minutes away from the road the same tired individual had to rest. Plopping himself down, he sat on the ground just to the side of the trail. There were only 8 of us present at the time. The majority of the group was on the way out, not going at the slower pace as the rest of us. Mr. Outofshape was resting, sipping some water when he just slumped over. In a minute or two it became readily apparent that he had had a heart attack. Even so I still asked James, my classmate, what was happening. He confirmed what I didn’t want to believe. “Man, he had a coronary.” “You’re kidding,” I said not wanting to believe the obvious. “Yeah he did,” James insisted. I looked over to the slumped figure. The man’s face was white, his lips blue. One of the leaders, who were acting as the sweep, the one always at the rear, was quite versed in CPR, and she jumped on him like a scene out of ER. She worked on him until fatigued forced her to stop. Others took turns to administer CPR. Others included me. We worked on him for 20 to 30 minutes.

I have taken CPR many times never thinking that I would actually ever use it, but use it I did. When I took the class, they didn't explain the gut wrenching details like the slime that made it difficult to clamp your mouth over his, the smell and taste that lingers in your mouth like the bile that you regurgitate, your teeth hitting his as you try to breath life into his still body, the gurgling of his breath as it leaves his fluid filled lungs, the smell of his shit as his sphincter loses it’s muscle tone. I’m only thankful he didn’t regurgitate in my mouth, a common occurrence with coronary victims. With the cellular phone so common a device, 911 had been called at the beginning of the crisis, but it probably was longer than 30 minutes before the first rescue crew finally showed up. They would have been there sooner, but they had gotten lost. Such is fate. With them came the police, firemen, and a helicopter to take him out. Too much, too late. I don't think he made it, and probable it was for the best. It was way too long a time that he was not breathing and lacked a heartbeat. His brain must have been mush by then. I don't know if the Hawaiian Gods were there, but only when he died did it start to pour and the rain continued throughout the entire time. I didn’t know him. No one did. The papers in his wallet said that he lived on Kapahulu Street and his name was Dan Owens.

Relieved of our responsibilities I decided to leave with mixed emotions. Part of me wanted to stay to see the outcome. Another part wanted to flee. Walking out I passed one of the four good Samaritans who had performed CPR. As I was just about to pass him, I paused long enough to shake his hand. In those few seconds I’m sure that we were verifying our bond of sharing the same gut wrenching experience. We both had endured a most disgusting activity in the attempt to save a life. I mumbled, “Good job,” “Yeah, you too,” he said. Our eyes could barely meet.

As we walked out of the jungle and on to the road it was a surprise to find a news van on the road. News travel fast. He asked us a few questions, and then we left. We were all soaked and suddenly very tired.


When I finally got back to the condo, I immediately took a long hot shower and rinsed and brushed my teeth over and over, but I could still taste him. My hands were almost shaking, and so I walked up to a local tavern, Shinshotei, and ordered a double scotch. After a large gulp of the alcoholic medicine, I said to the bartender, “Do you want to hear a story that just going to floor you?” I just had to talk to someone, release some of the stress that had been building up. The bartender, like all true bartenders, allowed me to spill my guts and after several drinks I felt somewhat better, and thank God I didn’t dream of Dan that night.

Footnote: Many years later Emi and I were on another Sierra Club hike in Hawaii and we were talking to one of the leaders, Randy by name. I don’t know how we got to talking about my CPR encounter, but we did. Surprisingly, he knew all about it. He is one of the ranking members and he had talked to Dan’s relatives; his parents I think. Dan was visiting Hawaii and was quite interested in hiking in Hawaii. Go figure, a guy like that, so out of shape. He had numerous books about hiking and his parents wanted the club to have them. I had to ask Randy, “Did he make it?” “Nah, he died,” Randy said, a matter of fact like. Even though I didn’t know Dan, I was upset to hear that he had passed away. A part of Dan will always be part of me.