It’s bad enough that an ecological treasure has been officially off limits to outdoor enthusiasts for more than 20 years, but even worse that problems created by that ill-advised closure are now being used as an argument to dismantle the Haiku Stairs altogether.
Before public access to the spectacular Windward climb was cut off, thousands of hikers a year safely traversed the roughly 3,990 steps, rewarded for their effort with a Koolau Ridge summit that affords a sweeping view of all the ahupuaa from Kualoa to Mokapu and part of Kailua. Scientists, teachers, students, Native Hawaiian cultural practitioners, tourists and everyday residents with strong legs and strong lungs were welcome to test their mettle, thanks to a simple sign-in and liability waiver system managed by the U.S. Coast Guard, which oversaw the site at the time. According to Friends of the Haiku Stairs, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving the area, more than 10,000 hikers a year climbed what is popularly known as the Stairway to Heaven.
That all changed in 1987, when rising concerns about safety and vandalism prompted the Coast Guard to halt public access. There were efforts over the years to renew legal entry to this remarkable resource, most notably in the early 2000s, when the city paid more than $950,000 to make repairs, with the intention of reopening the stairs and realizing the site’s full potential as an recreational, educational, historic and cultural asset. Ownership of the land where hikers parked their cars and accessed the climb had changed hands by then, however, and the site never reopened.
Now, amid a renewed effort, public-access advocates face a Catch-22. Opponents use the disruption caused by trespassers as a reason to deny the reopening and even to tear out the stairs, at a cost to the taxpayers estimated at several million dollars.
This is the worst possible logic. The reason that about 100 people a week are traipsing through nearby neighborhoods at 4 a.m., taking up street parking and waking the working folks, is to avoid security guards the city pays $70,000 a year to enforce the no-climbing ban during daylight hours. This is not to excuse the trespassers; they shouldn’t break the law. But it’s a simple fact that they would not be prowling residential streets in the middle of the night if the stairs were open to the public in the daytime, and the parking area was unlocked, as it was in the old days.
A City Council ad-hoc committee is now exploring the feasibility of reopening the stairs, and it will be a long slog. Several state and city departments and at least one private landowner control points along the trail itself or the best parking and access points, which are away from residential neighborhoods. Those bureaucratic challenges are not insurmountable, though. Another positive:The Koolau Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to preserving Haiku Valley, has emerged as a strong partner with Friends of Haiku Stairs as advocates for public use. Rather than the costly liability that critics claim, this site, if well managed, could become a source of revenue from reasonable user fees.
We’re a long way from that, obviously, but what’s crystal clear now is that the adverse effects caused by outlawing climbing at this popular spot should not be considered a legitimate rationale to justify the original wrong-headed decision.
