Until the end of WWII, Diamond Head Crater was a strategic outlook post for the American Military. It’s unencumbered views of the Pacific made the crater rim an excellent surveillance point. The military lookout-turned-tourist trap hike is a fast-paced yet moderate climb, perfect with a bouncing 2-year-old on your shoulders. Endless switchbacks, incredibly steep staircases, dark tunnels carved through the crater, and breathtaking views of Honolulu, Waikiki, Koko Head, and the sapphire/emerald South Pacific are what this hike has to offer.

Entrance to the park is $1.00 on foot, or $5.00 per car. This trail is extremely popular, so we had to wait a few minutes for a parking spot.

Inside the crater, the trail begins as a wide, concrete sidewalk, but quickly changes to well-pounded dirt and rock. Across the crater, you spot the switchbacks that lead up to the easy steps and the first tunnel. The line of tourists, hikers, and fitness enthusiasts ambling up the switchbacks reminds one of pilgrims en route to some mountaintop shrine where they might engage in some ablutions or sacrifice.

The trail winds along the interior of the crater for about a half-mile until you finally join the pilgrims on the switchbacks at the foot of the first flight of stairs. The first flight disappears ominously into the mountain, hikers are devoured one by one. As you enter the first tunnel, you notice immediately the exposed and jagged edges of rock. You can’t help but wonder what nefarious metal beast was used to tear this crater a new one.

As you emerge back into the light, you are greeted by the worst climb of the day: the famous “99 steps.” It’s not the number of steps that is slightly daunting, but the unexpected angle of the climb, a solid 60+ degrees from level ground. At this point, you plead with your bouncing 2-year-old to calm down and focus. This is how you justify the external muttering.

To brace for the climb, you adjust the child on your shoulders, pull your core in tight, and put your foot on the first step. Without a second step, you are bombarded and jostled by the descending traffic, a ceaseless barrage of tourists who, in passing, reassure you that it’s worth the climb. Now you must push yourself close to the right wall so you can skirt around the oncoming traffic while balancing the baby. One step at a time, one hand on the baby’s leg, the other on the hand rail, you climb. They say that there are 99 steps, but counting is a fruitless task.

At the top of the steps, you are granted a brief hiatus with a level, well-maintained hallway. The dim lighting and concrete remind you that you are in an old military rampart. At the end of this hallway is a long spiral staircase that leads up to the first turret. Here you enjoy a quick break and a sample of the view, but this is not the end.

You exit the turret via a short ladder up through a tight crawl space that leads to a steep, narrow ledge enclosed with chain-link fence. Large gaps at the foot of the fence make this part extremely dangerous for small children. If your child is energetic, you may consider leaving her on your shoulders until the summit. One false move and she can easily slip under the fence to disastrous consequences.

Finally, after another short flight of stairs, you reach the precipice, the tiny lookout tower at the top of the rim. Though space is limited, and the crowd can be pushy, the astounding view stops your heart for a few seconds. Turning a full 360 degrees, you soak in the grand vista of Eastern O’ahu. To your right you see the unmistakable coastline of Waikiki, with its rows of towering resorts and sandy beaches. To your left is the crater interior, Hawaii Kai, and million-dollar homes. Behind you, rising like a camel’s hump, is Koko Head, a small, domed mountain that looks like a big, bald head. Facing away from the crater, you are greeted by only the vast, turquoise Pacific extending into the royal blue horizon. The inviting sea tempts you to find a worthy craft and a loyal crew to embark on untold adventures across unimaginable distances.

Your seafaring reverie is broken by a tug on your shorts and a soft-voiced plea, “Daddy, I hungry.” With that, you bid the sea adieu and commence the quick descent. Before you care to know, you are back at the foot of the trail, at the bottom of the crater, at the end of another journey, changing another diaper, quietly hoping that in some subconscious way, you are imparting in your child an insatiable sense of adventure that carries her further than you ever dared dream.

If you buy that, I’ve got a big steaming pile that you’ll absolutely love. I’ve simply moved the cynicism and angst to a new home at John Farley’s MisInformation Desk.

Regarding RedShift, I’ve raised this Phoenix once again so T and I could join forces to bring new families articles and tips on traveling with children. This was inspired by our upcoming trip to Hawai’i. As the subtitle of the blog indicates, we will be focusing on adventure travel: camping, hiking, rock climbing, canoeing, skiing, exotic ports-of-call; the real scary stuff that a lot of new parents shy away from. We’ve started this blog/zine to say, “Relax, kids are resilient.” All you need is some planning, preparation, and a sturdy helmet.

We’ll be sharing the duties of taking pictures, writing articles, and changing diapers. We hope to cover safety, gear reviews, long trips without drugs (for the children, of course), and unusual destinations that might lack a cartoon mascot. Feel free to post questions and comments. We may get a forum up and running as well.

For the most part, each article will be an experiment. We’ll report back what worked, what didn’t, what had long-term negative effects on the psyche of our daughter, etc. If you can’t experiment on your children, what is the point of having them?

As usual, I’m rambling, so I’ll sign off here. Subscribe to the blog or keep checking back for updates.