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Adventures to be had in Molokai

“Trust the mules,” Buzzy Sproat says soothingly. Before I trust the mules, I have to trust the man himself: a grizzled, grey-bearded muleskinner in signature leather chaps.
beach
One of Molokai’s best beaches - Papohaku Beach on the west side.

“Trust the mules,” Buzzy Sproat says soothingly. Before I trust the mules, I have to trust the man himself: a grizzled, grey-bearded muleskinner in signature leather chaps. Nine of us are about to mount a bevy of nonchalant equine relatives and plunge down the tallest sea cliff in the world.

The man is a gold-plated Molokai fixture, well known in the Hawaii rodeo circuit and one of the islands’ foremost experts on mules. Over 40 years ago, he was the first to ride one down the route we are about to take and when the previous owner closed the business in 1993, Sproat was the one who started it up again with local businessman Roy Horne.

“We’ve never lost anyone,” he assures us. “Mules don’t want to commit suicide.”

So, OK, now I trust the man and I give my mule, Stripe, a pat, anxious to bond as soon as possible. Its coat is actually spotted not striped, but Sproat tells me he named the mule Stripe to remind him that this was not a democratic operation but a dictatorship. I hope Stripe got the message.

Then we’re off, a lumbering gait that suits us all fine, because soon we’re starting down the 500-metre (1,700-foot) sheer drop. Consisting of 26 switchbacks, it’s almost five kilometres (three miles) down to the Kalaupapa National Historic Park, an infamous leper colony on Molokai’s central northern coast.

Open by invitation only, the well maintained community is still home to some Hansen’s disease patients and it’s dedicated to the preservation of the past and the education of future generations about a little understood and much feared disease.

An hour and a half later, dismounting on rubbery legs, we board the bus waiting on the verdant field. In a tour lasting several hours, we learn all about the colony’s history and hear stories of the remarkable, now sainted Belgian priest who arrived here in 1873, Father Damien. It’s a history lesson of the best kind, replete with all necessary visual aids and steeped in atmosphere.

While some may consider this laid back little island of 7,500 a little too quiet, even after we’ve crammed all of our adventures into two weeks, we still feel we’re leaving too soon.

The adrenalin continues on our next experience – hugging the coastal one-way road en route to Halawa on the easternmost part of the island, prodding the fringes of the road as much as we dare. Turning a final corner, we all uniformly gasp as we find ourselves staring at the iconic tropical nirvana scene of twin waterfalls streaming from jungle cliffs. It’s the stuff Hawaiian movies are made of.

Once we’ve inched our way down to the end, we’re off to eat windfall coconuts, watch surfers and tumble in the friendly breakers ourselves on a wide sweep of beach shared only with two others.

High up on the adventure scale is also the hike in Kamakou Preserve’s thriving rain forest in the mountains of East Molokai. Guided by a naturalist who knows every inch of this pristine natural habitat, we teeter on the narrow boardwalk, eagerly crowded on both sides by over 200 species of native plants.

And then there’s the fun of new beach discoveries, like Dixie Maru Beach on the west side, or Mile 20 beach towards the eastern end, a snorkelling haven. There’s the camaraderie of Hawaiian music at the Paddlers Inn, the Coffees of Hawaii café and the Molokai Hotel. There’s the rush of being splashed by a curious humpback whale and the thrill of snorkelling in the largest fringing reef in the United States.

But perhaps the best thrill is when we realize that we tourists are the minority here. No worries though, the natives are friendly!

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