One of the disappointing things I've learned about Maui is that there is not much in the way of hiking trails. Most of the hiking on the island is in and around Haleakala crater, which is fun to explore, but you don't want to go there every week...or even every month. It takes a while to make the 36-mile winding drive up there, and the main trails are long and can get really misty or even rainy.
 |
| Halemau'u trail - Haleakala National Park |
Outside of Haleakala there are few options. There's the Waihee Ridge trail, which starts out on a steep paved road next to a cow pasture. But there's a nice view at the top and you can get your dog to pose in a picturesque manner in the foreground.
 |
| View of Maui's north coast from the top of the Waihee Ridge trail |
I only hiked this trail once. Because even though the view was nice, you never really feel like you're away from civilization, which is what I crave when I go hiking. If you lose sight of the city below, there is sure to be a helicopter flying overhead within a few minutes.
Overall, Maui's few hiking trails are not really dog friendly. And what's a hike without your dog? So mostly, George and I take Riley for walks in the Makawao Forest Reserve, which is only about two miles from our house. At least Riley has a chance to be off his leash for a while so he can stretch his legs and get up a little speed.
 |
| Are you guys coming or what? |
 |
| Trail through the trees |
On the trail that we hike most of the time, there's a spot where we always like to stop for a few minutes and eat an orange. And give Riley a drink.
 |
| Nice logs for sitting and taking a break... |
 |
| ...and getting a drink. |
Hikers, runners, dog-walkers, and bikers all like to use these trails. But the forest reserve is also a popular destination for local pig-hunters. You can recognize their pickup trucks in the parking area by the combination dog cage/pig rack in the back. And in case you miss that clue, there's always the full rear window sticker.
On one of our recent hikes in the forest reserve, Riley got a whiff of pig and took off like a bat out of hell. Down the hill he went and instantly disappeared into the shrub-choked gulch. Since he does this running off behavior fairly often, we figured we'd just hang around until he showed back up again, which is when he's good and ready and has nothing to do with how loud or strenuously we call his name. We heard some crashing through the brush and then nothing for a few minutes.
The next sound we heard was this god-awful pig squealing and then the worst kind of multi-dog barking and growling and a whole lot more pig sqealing. A couple of guys came running by in their orange pig hunter getup and I yelled out to them that our dog was down there. They took off down the hill and George went after them. I waited on the trail with visions of my dog lying in shreds, laid low by a wild hog and a pack of hard core hog dogs. But then the snarling and squealing stopped and I heard snatches of talking and laughing. When George reappeared he had Riley with him, worn out and panting like crazy, but not a scratch on him. George gave me a vivid description of the scene he came upon: Riley had joined up with the hunting dogs for a full-on pig attack. They had it on its back and were tearing away at it when the hunters showed up and killed it with a knife. I was so glad I did not see that.
