A wonderful tramp today. I'm glad Jack and I have feet and ambition—we would miss two-thirds of our good times if we hadn't. Went up Palolo Gorge. Drove to the beginning of the trail, because Jack said we were out of training and must start easy. The car would have taken us to within three miles of it.
The trail goes up a little stream which you cross over and over again, and the mountain sides crowd you and are covered with great ferns and kukui and mountain apple trees, and strange, twisting vines, and there is sweet wild ginger all about, and wild bananas. At the upper end is a high fall of water coming down into a wide pool with black boulders and dripping green things all about. The trail goes around this fall to another, just as beautiful, above. We didn't have—time to go farther, but there are seven falls, one above another, coming from a crater 1500 feet up in the mountains. Jack cut me a bamboo alpenstock from a beautiful clump beside the stream.
