Sporting 17 miles of spectacularly isolated coastline, it’s the world’s longest open-ocean kayak tour and one of Hawai‘i’s most adventurous offerings. National Geographic called it the second-best adventure in America and for visitors to Kaua‘i, it’s the natural way to access the pristine, virtually inaccessible Na Pali coast. But this is no paddle in the park and even experienced tour operators like Na Pali Kayak are at Mother Nature’s mercy when they launch a fleet of tourist-filled kayaks.

Case in point was the unexpected voyage experienced by Hawaiian Style magazine publisher Doug King and myself on our first shared adventure assignment. We naively envisioned a half-day sightseeing paddle. It became a record-setting 11-hour Hawaiian ocean odyssey that challenged us in body, mind and spirit. Yet ultimately our adventures (and misadventures) gave us a deeper respect for the awesome power and majesty of Kaua‘i’s Na Pali Coast.

Our story begins with a 5:00AM wake-up. We check in at Na Pali Kayak and meet owner/operator/head guide Ivan Slack. Together with co-owner/operator Joshua Comstock, the pair have steered Na Pali Kayak for 10 years. The company has nine guides, each with up to a decade’s experience; all are certified in first aid and CPR. Ivan notes that for the adventure they offer, “Experience is not a prerequisite but participants must be in excellent physical condition.”

We are fitted for release forms and life jackets; then we truck down to the shore, kayaks in tow. After a 10-minute ride, and brimming with anticipation, we arrive at Haena Beach Park, unload the boats and gear and assemble for a surfside briefing. Next, our two guides, Melissa Hosono and Reise Paluso, run us through the basics of paddling, steering and the art of re-entering our open seat kayaks. By 7:30AM we are launching our five kayaks into moderate surf and riding the waves out to sea.

I am paired with Melissa, a veteran guide with 10 years’ experience. Doug teams up with Reise. The rest of our fleet includes three other couples, two from the mainland and one from Kaua‘i. As we paddle along the coast, Melissa offers perspective on the sites, giving us a deeper understanding of this remarkable region.

Over time the wind, waves, and rain have sculpted the Na Pali coastline to create isolated beaches, hanging valleys and numerous sea caves. We maneuver into one of the sea caves, timing our approach with the surging seas to avoid colliding with one another or the rocky walls. The experience is no mere water park ride. Instead, its rather like being a toy boat in a washing machine: rising, falling and slopping back and forth with each twist of water.

Escaping the sea cave, we pass through a spectacular waterfall and notice its source a hundred feet up an impressive vertical cliff. The tallest on the coast is about 900 feet and ridges that lead to these cliffs can rise over 4,000 feet The impression from offshore is of a long line of giant, green-cloaked sentinels standing watch over this ancient area. It brings to mind what early natives might have thought as they navigated similar craft along the same shores.

The views are so spectacular and the sunlight dancing on the waves so hypnotic that it’s hard to settle into a productive paddling rhythm. Wave motion poses a challenge too, and some of our teammates succumb to seasickness despite preemptive doses of Dramamine or Bonine. The nausea and physical challenges of paddling take such a toll on one couple that our guides change boats to help them out. That puts Doug and me together, novices turned self-sufficient kayakers in the space of a few hours.

As Doug and I settle into a new rhythm and I become acquainted with the pedal-operated rudder, we notice the appearance of slick grey fins just ahead. Soon we’re in the midst of dashing dolphins, separated only by inches of plastic and a few fathoms of water. The magical encounter lasts just a few minutes, but the thrill lingers as we paddle on.

Soon however, the earlier giddiness of anticipated adventure has given way to a resigned routine aimed at conserving energy. It’s been five or six hours of hard slogging and we’re told our first stop is still a couple of hours away. Melissa updates our pick-up crew using her VHF radio. Meanwhile, my previously carefree image of skimming along the Hawaiian coast has been replaced with visions of Ben-Hur rowing aboard a slave ship.

Then the cable controlling our rudder snaps and we drift helplessly out to sea. Our distress call brings Melissa back and a makeshift repair restores partial control. Time creeps by and our first landing site / lunch break seems frozen a mile ahead.

Finally, we approach our intended rest stop -- the only area not blasted by surf or ringed with jagged rocks. The mood is somber but relieved as we land our kayaks and gather around a pair of picnic tables for lunch. The waterproof packs are unloaded and sandwich wraps are passed around, savored as much as the stable ground beneath us.

Our break is short-lived since we are several hours behind schedule; so we load up and push out to sea again. Stronger winds are pushing heavier seas against us but we must press on. The only safe and accessible landing site is still miles away at Poli’hale Beach (the largest beach in the state). We’re well past the originally planned landing time, but it will take another few hours of hard paddling to conclude our journey.

The incredible mountain scenery and hypnotic ocean swells ease the passage of time and finally Melissa and Reise circle the kayaks to prepare us for landing. I can tell from their tone that our high seas landing will be a very serious matter. We are told to remove loose articles and secure them in the watertight compartments. We must attempt to time our assault on the beach kayak-by-kayak, pausing to catch lesser swells (we hope). All of us are exhausted, aching and sunburned. But those concerns fade in the face of this next critical challenge.

After a final VHF call to the recovery crew, Melissa takes the lead as the rest of us hover a few hundred yards from shore. We watch her ride the swells shrinking in size as she nears the beach. Suddenly, a breaker renders her red kayak ballistic, sending both passengers in opposite trajectories across the surf.

After a final VHF call to the recovery crew, Melissa takes the lead as the rest of us hover a few hundred yards from shore. We watch her ride the swells shrinking in size as she nears the beach. Suddenly, a breaker renders her red kayak ballistic, sending both passengers in opposite trajectories across the surf.

Reise then asks Doug and I if we’re ready. We exchange nervous laughter and begin paddling to our aquatic Armageddon. Adrenaline propels us across the first hundred yards of swells, but then a glance behind reveals a big one starting to break. These are massive 10- to 12-foot breakers and we’re now in between them with nowhere to go but down.

In short order we’re ripped from our kayak in a torrent of crashing water. Seconds of blurred and twisting submergence pass until I surface, gasping for air. My life jacket is still on, but Doug has drifted far away from me and the kayak is no longer in sight. Then another wave crashes down on us. This is no longer a novel thrill. We’re still almost a hundred yards from shore, floundering in water way over our heads, exhausted -- and the breakers are lining up to have their way with us.

Between assaults, Doug and I crawl for shore. And crawl. And crawl. Finally, we feel sand beneath our feet. A few more waves crash down on us as we scramble for the safety of a sandbar. Winded and weary, we feel robbed and assaulted by the sea. During the onslaught, both of us struggled to keep our pants on and had our watches ripped clean off our wrists. Adding to the indignity was the audience of beachgoers basking in the entertainment of our arrival.

I retrieve our kayak. As we emerge from the sea, the recovery crew is there to help with retrieval and ensure everyone’s okay. Fortunately no one was injured, though all but one kayak team suffered the same fate as ours. We commiserate over the death-defying conclusion to our marathon adventure. At the same time, there’s a realization that we’ve experienced something very real in a way most tourist packages can’t offer.

We began our adventure hoping to connect with the natural wonder of Kaua‘i’s Na Pali coast. Ultimately, that’s exactly what we got – a rare and intimate encounter with the wild side of this pristine and isolated region. The experience left us with a profound respect for the people who have lived and worked here for hundreds of years. Our guides from Na Pali Kayak surely never intended such an introduction…but they, like us, visit this world at the whim of Mother Nature.

Napali Kayak, Phone: 866-977-6900