HAWAII’S ISLAND OF ISOLATION
For about a century, leprosy sufferers were quarantined on Molokai
A visit to the island of Molokai offers a window on a unique and tragic chapter of Hawaiian history. For about a century beginning in 1866, some 8,000 individuals afflicted with leprosy were quarantined to live out their lives on the remote Kalaupapa Peninsula on Molokai’s northern shores. Their stories are told at Kalaupapa National Historical Park.
About 100 people still live in the community, mostly government workers along with a few patients who chose to stay after the quarantine policy officially ended in 1969. Unless you’re invited by a resident, you can only visit the park on a guided tour with a permit.
There are several options for getting there. My wife Yukako and I booked a package with Makani Kai Charter Tours that included a flight from Honolulu to the main airport at Molokai, a bus tour of the park plus lunch, and a return flight from a tiny open-air airport inside the park.
We also planned a hike down Kalaupapa’s steep sea cliffs before our park tour.
We headed to the trailhead from Molokai’s mountaintop airport, sharing a 15-minute taxi ride with two people who had been on our flight. Our fellow passengers were heading to the cliffs for mule rides.
We were told to start ahead of the mules as the trail narrows in some spots and the mules make it tougher to navigate.
At 1,664 feet (507 metres) up, the mountaintop offered an incredible view of the Kalaupapa Peninsula — though it would have been even more spectacular if there hadn’t been storm clouds and vog (what locals call volcanic smog).
As we began the roughly three- mile (five-kilometre) hike, we were immersed in a loud chorus of tropical birds. We also caught a few glimpses of the ocean rumbling below at spots where the thick foliage thinned out. As we made our way down, I spotted huge spider webs above in the trees and Yukako found tiny flowers and mosscovered rocks. Colourful plants abounded along with guava, noni and Brazilian pepper trees heavy with red bundles of peppercorns. Farther along, a wild goat ignored us while quietly munching on the noni fruit, also known as Indian mulberry.
Storm clouds broke an hour into our hike.
The rain was brief but heavy, turning the trail into a slippery mud bath. The hike took about two hours total, but would have gone faster if the rain hadn’t slowed us down.
We met our tour near the beachside mule corral. An old yellow school bus transported us to the national park.
We visited structures built in the late 1800s by St. Damien, the Belgian priest who devoted himself to the colony and was eventually canonized, and also saw the gravesite of St. Marianne, the nun who cared for female patients of the colony and who also was made a saint.
Our guide pointed out an ancient Hawaiian altar called a heiau, and we visited two turn-of-the-20thcentury churches still in use.
Some of St. Damien’s remains are interred at St. Philomena Church.
Along the way there were deer, wild pigs and dozens of feral, but friendly, cats who were accustomed to being fed by the bus driver.
It was sobering to consider that ships once anchored here to unload passengers who would never leave.