The Maui Effect (Man-Made Trilogy #1)

The Oli

‘Iwa

‘Iwa had no idea why she’d agreed to let Dane come with her to the valley. Maybe it was because of his sheer doggedness, or how he’d sounded so grateful for the Mizunos for taking him in, and she felt a tenderness for him. But more realistically, it was probably because having someone with her in the forest meant two sets of eyes, and two sets of eyes were always better than one when you were in the field. Not to mention her burning need to halt Jones and his project. At least that’s what she told herself. She texted him the list.

Wear: long pants, sun shirt, hiking shoes, hat

Bring: backpack with two bottles of water, bug juice, energy bars, small binoculars, rubber slippers, raincoat, extra socks.

Be ready for anything.

Taking Dane into the back valleys alone was probably not the wisest thing to do, but it was too late now. She had plants to count, water levels to note and birds to find. Dane could be put to good use.

In the soft morning quiet, she heard his truck coming a mile away. He was early, good. She stuffed the two sandwiches her dad made into her pack, along with a big bag of trail mix and two underripe bananas, kissed Koa all over his face and went out to greet the day. Dane was standing by his truck like a kindergartener waiting on his carpool ride. His jeans looked brand new, creases and all.

“Morning,” he said.

“Good morning. Is that your hiking outfit?”

He looked down at himself, then up at her. “You said pants.”

She held back a laugh. “I didn’t say jeans. You’ll be hot and miserable in those, and give yourself a rash.”

There was nothing worse than the inexperienced hiker getting a rash when there were still ten miles to go. It had happened before and ‘Iwa did not want to be responsible.

“It was either jeans or cords. I don’t own any other pants, except for my khakis, which are in my closet on the mainland,” he said.

“Hang on.”

She ran back inside and found an old pair of her dad’s camouflage hunting pants. His waist had outgrown them, but ‘Iwa was working on changing that. Dane was pure lean muscle, but he was also tall. They could work.

“Here, try these.”

He took the pants and looked around. “You want me to drop my pants here?”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

She turned around and put her hands over her face. A minute went by.

“Okay, safe to open.” He held his thumb between the pants and his waist. “A little big but better than me being that kook you took hiking who had to be helicoptered out because he couldn’t walk anymore.”

She couldn’t help noticing his oblique muscles, which looked to be made of stone yet were extremely touchable, fading from mocha to whale bone white. ‘Iwa tore her eyes away and dropped her backpack in the back of the truck. “Good, because helicopters can’t land where we’re going.”

Driving the road to Hāna early in the morning always felt like a spiritual experience. Rays of sun shot through a mostly cloudy sky, lighting up blue circles in the ocean. In places, you felt suspended between green jungle and the deep blue sea. Or shallow black sand bays. There were more bushes and trees crammed per square mile than anywhere on earth, or so it seemed. Shaggy cliffs lined up and down the coast, and ‘Iwa and Dane were out before the rental cars descended.

“So, what’s our plan today? Do I get to see this waterfall of yours?” Dane asked.

“Not today. Today I’m collecting data and checking on an area we’ve been reforesting halfway up the mountain. You’ll see waterfalls, but not Waikula.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t in the Maui trails guidebook,” he said.

“Nope. Most of those trails are short. That’s one thing about so many tourists—they want it easy. Most of them won’t stray a hundred yards from their cars. So, if you’re willing to sweat, you can avoid them.”

“ Tourist is a dirty word around here, huh?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you think of me as a tourist?” Dane asked.

“Not really. You stay with a local family, and you’ve gotten to know the ocean in a way that most people never would. That elevates you.”

He laughed. “Ah, so there are tourist tiers.”

“Most definitely.”

“If it helps my case, I’m a card-carrying member of the Surfrider Foundation. I do beach cleanups on the regular,” he offered.

She couldn’t help but smile. “That moves you one more tier up.”

As they snaked along, she told him the names of the ahupua’a —the land divisions. Mokupapa, Waipi’oiki, Waipi’onui, Hanehoi. Dane stayed quiet, and she glanced over at him to see if he was even listening. His head was cocked and he was staring at her, the corner of his mouth flicked up. She looked back at the road, fast.

“What?” she said, flipping down the visor so she wasn’t blinded by the sun, which was now shooting out from behind the clouds.

“Nothing. Just admiring how much you know about this place and how much it obviously means to you. There’s something magical about this island that gets under your skin. I have a feeling it’ll be even more so after today with you.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Most people came to Hawai’i for the beaches, not the mountains, Dane included.

“Just that these rainforests aren’t for everyone. You might change your mind and that’s fine.”

“Is this a test? To see if I can hack it?”

She hadn’t planned it that way, but it would be a good gauge. Between the miles of mud and mosquitos, the slippery rocks and dizzying cliffs, you could tell a lot about a person.

“Don’t forget, you invited yourself along,” she said.

The trailhead was up a long dirt road, through four gates, across two streams. It was at this point in the journey, stretching deeper into the forest, where she always began to feel like she was leaving everything else behind. Increasing crowds, suffocating grief over her mother, concern about her father and his health—or whatever the flavor was that day.

Dane rode in the back of the truck and swung off the pipe racks to open each gate. She was glad he was in the back, because this transition was important to her, and she wasn’t sure he would understand. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but she still hadn’t told him about the last gate.

As they approached, she saw a figure emerge from the bushes like a ghost. Dressed in fatigues head to toe, he moved to the middle of the gate and stood with arms crossed. A long machete hung from his belt. ‘Iwa slowed to a stop and waved. He walked up to her window, unsmiling.

“Morning, Kala,” she said.

The air was ripe with the tangy smell of pakalōlō buds.

All she got in return was a chin nod. “Who’s the passenger?”

“Dane is helping me with the Hana‘iwa‘iwa land.”

“Did you clear him with the boss?”

She gave him her best smile. “No, this was a last-minute invite. You know I wouldn’t bring just anyone up here, though. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Kala looked back at Dane, and ‘Iwa willed Dane not to say anything stupid, like hey, bro . Dane was now sitting on the side of the truck bed, visible in her rearview mirror. Their eyes met, and he nodded to Kala.

“Howzit,” Dane said.

At that moment, she saw recognition dawning on Kala’s face, and he did something she’d never see him do before. He reached out and shook Dane’s hand.

“Dane Parsons, nice to meet you. I’m Kala,” he said.

Dane kept cool. “Likewise. Looks like God’s country up here.”

“Yep, and we like to keep it that way.”

Kala opened the gate, gun bulging out from under his shirt, and let them on through. At the trailhead, a small mud-packed clearing, Dane swung out lightning fast and opened her squeaky door for her.

“You could get high just driving through his land. Who is that guy?” he said.

“Someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“You two seem like you’re on good terms,” Dane said.

“He tolerates our team and we turn a blind eye to their weed operation. He calls his brother the boss, but I think Kala is really behind the whole thing. My dad went to school with his brother, Sonny, which might be the only reason we got permission to go through their land.”

Dane leaned down and tied his shoelace. “Hawai’i, the land of who you know,” he mumbled.

He wasn’t wrong. Connections here were worth more than gold. And being able to come through this property allowed them access to a section of Haleakalā that would be impossible to reach otherwise.

When they had gathered their gear and put their packs on, they walked to where two tall koa trees arched over the trail, moon sliver–shaped leaves covering the ground. ‘Iwa inhaled their woodsy scent, then stopped Dane.

“This is where we ask for permission,” she said.

“Is there yet another gatekeeper?”

“The forest. We ask the forest.”

Dane adjusted his strap and nodded. “Right.”

‘Iwa explained. “When we enter the forest here, we ask the trees and the plants and the streams and even the rocks for entry into their world. And also for protection. It’s like a two-way street, we take care of them, and they take care of us.”

“You do this every time?”

‘Iwa nodded. “It’s like how surfers touch the water and bless themselves before they go in the ocean. Do you do that every time?”

“Every time I paddle out.”

“Just follow my lead. We chant the oli three times. I’ll say it once first, and then the next two times, feel free to join in, call and answer style.”

Dane got a nervous look, but covered it up with a smile. She reached out for his hand and they faced the forest. Despite the sunshine on their shoulders, the air was cool and smelled faintly of rain and clouds. Even though ‘Iwa had done this hundreds of times, the words never lost their power. And as always, they took her back to that very first day with her mother. She took a deep breath and began.

E hō mai

ka ‘ ike mai luna mai ē

O nā mea huna no’eau

O nā mele ē

E hō mai

E hō mai

E hō mai ē

‘Iwa always chanted with her whole heart, but this time, she added a little extra. A new guest to the forest should have a proper initiation. At the end of the first round, she squeezed his hand and glanced over at him. He was staring at the ground. She chanted the next round, voice lifting up into the branches and mingling with the rustle of the leaves and the whoosh of the wind. The birds joined in. Dane didn’t.

When this round ended, she felt him shift his weight and exhale. His palm was sweating. She sang the first few lines alone, and then on the second e hō mai , Dane jumped in. His voice was surprisingly strong, calling out like he really meant it. Enough so that ‘Iwa swore the trees bent down and motioned them in with their branches. The birds quieted, and a misty rain fell from the blue sky.

When it was over, Dane held on to her hand for an extra beat, and ‘Iwa felt like she had to pry her fingers away from his.

She stepped away. “I think you’ve been approved.”

Dane was shaking his head. “Wow. Just, wow.”

“These chants are powerful.”

“I have chicken skin all over my body. See, look,” he said, holding up his arm so she could see the still-raised bumps.

“That’s a good sign. Getting chicken skin means you’re tuned in.”

“Doing my best.”

They hiked for an hour without stopping, ‘Iwa leading at a good clip. Dane kept up and didn’t complain, asking questions here and there. She noted a lot of rooting areas—evidence of wild pig, and made a few notes, but they still weren’t in native forest yet, which was where most of her work took place. At nine on the nose, they reached the first pond.

She set down her pack and took a long drink of water. “Make sure you hydrate.”

Dane kept his pack on. “I’m good.”

“With this humidity, you can lose a lot of fluid, trust me.”

He took out his bottle and drank.

“We cross here,” she said, pointing to the pond.

They were in a narrow gorge with steep walls on both sides—too steep to scale. She could see him searching for a way around the pond.

“We go through it. Put our packs on our heads,” she said.

The pond was twenty feet across and deep in the middle, with a small waterfall on the other side. Having a heavy pack on your head made it tough swimming, but it was the only way. And it was also why ‘Iwa used a dry bag–style backpack in these mountains. You always came out wet. Even with no rain. Dane took off his pack and set it to the side, bending down to roll up his pants.

“No, silly. Take your pants off,” she said.

He gave her a look.

She quickly added, “I mean, you can’t swim in those. Don’t you have your surf shorts?”

He was trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I brought everything you said to.”

“Meet me on the other side, then,” she said, not bothering to wait for him to change.

‘Iwa stripped down to her bikini, stuffed everything in her pack and was swimming across in the icy green water without looking back. She took note of the high water level, and had to kick hard to make headway against the strong flow. When she reached the other side, she stood on a submerged rock, tossed her pack onto a small ledge, and hoisted herself up with help from a guava branch. She turned, expecting Dane to still be on the other side, but he was right behind her.

He did exactly as she had, without the branch. Instead, he placed both hands on the ledge and lifted himself up with ease. The rock ledge was only a foot wide and they were crammed up against each other. Warmth emanated off his skin, and she was tempted to lean into him and absorb some of his heat.

“Feels like snow water,” he said, teeth chattering.

“Sometimes it is snow water. The watershed here is from the top of Haleakalā, ten thousand twenty-three feet. But not today.”

Clothes back on, they scaled the side of a six-foot cliff and followed a narrow trail that crisscrossed the stream for the next mile or so. Over the years, she had become adept at rock hopping, and knowing which path to take across the water. Now Dane was having trouble keeping up with her. She stopped every so often to let him catch up.

“Part forest nymph, part goat,” he said, after teetering on a small, mossy rock in the middle and making a four-foot leap to reach her side.

“It’s just practice, like anything else. Pretend you’re surfing. When you’re on a wave, you pick your line before you’ve even moved down the face, don’t you?” she said.

“Second nature.”

“Same thing here. I look for the dry rocks that look most stable, and connect the dots in my mind before I even cross. Try it.”

“The theory of river crossing, I like it,” he said, obviously amused.

‘Iwa felt her cheeks flush. “When you do something often enough, theories arise, what can I say?”

“Do you have a theory for everything?” he said.

She crossed her arms over her still-wet chest. “I’m a scientist, so yeah, I guess I do.”

Dane stared at her for a moment, gaze accidentally—or not—falling down her body, then back up to meet her eyes. ‘Iwa turned and continued on without another word. Ten minutes later, she could feel him breathing down her neck. Most men she knew did not excel at taking advice from a woman. Dane actually listened.

When the valley came to a dead end, they took a switchback up the steep side, through thick uluhe ferns clawing at their pants. In some areas, the trail disappeared. Sun pelted down on them now that they were out of the lowland canopy and into the Montane. At the top, they were rewarded with a wide view of forest sinking into the sea. They took in the sight and enjoyed a cooling breeze for a few moments.

Dane whistled. “I can see why you love your job.”

“None of this feels like work to me. I’d probably be doing it even if they didn’t pay me, which is a good thing, because I hardly make anything anyway,” she said.

“Nature and music, they seem like good bedfellows, especially with your talent. Have you ever recorded anything?” he asked.

Songs written, yes. Recordings, no.

“Once, and I hated it,” she said.

He moved a little closer, turning his hat around backward and looking into her eyes. “Why is that?”

His proximity made her fidgety. “I just want to play in the moment.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

She steered him back to why they were here. “Now that we’re in native territory, this is where our work starts. We are trying to get a few partnerships together to fence off several areas in this watershed to protect from ungulates. See that ridge and the valley below? That’s one section that has been identified, and you and I are going to count species and maybe collect seeds.”

Seeds were really at the heart of it all. The keepers of life itself.

“Ungulates?” Dane asked.

“Pigs, goats—anything with hooves. They are forest destroyers.”

On the ridge, she showed him the gnarled ‘ōhi‘a lehua trees with their twisted branches and scarlet flowers. “Most often you’ll see them red up here, but lehua blossoms come in yellow and orange, too. Even white, though only one person I know claims to have actually seen a white one—the ghost lehua.”

Once in the zone, which had been marked by red tape on branches, she explained which species they were counting. “And keep an eye out for honeycreepers—forest birds—too, we are now in their habitat,” she told him.

The counting went well, and Dane followed her instructions. The only problem was, he couldn’t keep the ferns straight. Hapu’u, ‘ama’u, palapalai, ‘i wa ‘iwa .

“Wait a minute. Are you named after this fern?” he asked as he ran his hand over the deep green lacy leaves of an ‘iwa‘iwa growing beneath a rocky ledge.

“I am.”

“All this time I was thinking ‘Iwa bird,” he said.

“That’s because most girls named ‘Iwa are named after the bird. But not me. My mom was a plant nerd.”

There were so many varieties that he kept mixing up their names. Finally, she told him to stick to the trees. He also kept slipping and falling because he was wearing skater shoes with no traction. It was her fault, since she’d failed to notice until they were already at the trailhead. She should have brought an extra pair of tabis like she and all the crew wore.

“You didn’t tell me there was black ice up here,” he said, after the fourth time down, caked in mud.

“We call it brown ice.”

Dane had mud slathered on his entire backside and forearms, with smears across his face and neck. He was being a good sport, but ‘Iwa felt bad for him, so before they stopped to rest and eat, decided to take a side trip down to the stream. Keeping one eye on the mist inching down the mountain, she led him down yet another steep trail.

“Sounds like a lot of water,” Dane said, close on her heels.

“It must be pouring higher up the mountain, even though you can’t see it. See that mist? The clouds hide all kinds of things,” she said.

At the bottom, the stream was running high and fast. Dane immediately started peeling off his shirt. On the rocks where they stood, there were sticks and debris from a recent flood.

‘Iwa stopped him. “It’s not safe. This is flash flood weather.”

“But all this mud on me, I stink.”

“Better stinky and alive, than swept downstream so your body turns up in the ocean. Come on.”