Before I even began researching my trip to Molokai, I knew there was one attraction I couldn’t pass up: the island’s infamous Kalaupapa leprosy colony, now a National Historic Park . I never got around to reading The Colony, the 2006 bestseller by John Tayman. But I knew the tale of Kalaupapa from Jack London’s short story, The Lepers of Molokai.      

The colony sits on a remote peninsula at the base of towering sea cliffs and there are no roads connecting it to the rest of Molokai. For tourists, this means there are only three ways to reach Kalaupapa: on foot, by air or on the back of a mule. A usually muddy and mule poop littered path, not to mention a 1700-foot elevation change, makes hiking down via the Kalaupapa Trail an unappealing endeavor. Jaw-dropping airplane tour prices rule out the second option. So at 8am on a crisp November morning I find myself at the Molokai Mule Ride  barn on the back of Elvira, a mule that gave me major stink eye when she saw the mule skinner leading me toward her. 

The narrow winding trail, gouged into the face of the sea cliffs, has 26 switchbacks and several unnervingly steep drop offs.  Much of the trail is actually concrete steps, and as the mules walk, they’ll occasionally miss a step, resulting in a scary lunge forward and downward. The woman on the mule in front of me whimpers every time her mule does this, much to the amusement of hikers we pass on the way. The views are phenomenal. In the morning light, the sea cliffs are a brilliant velvety green. Far below, the wild blue Pacific explodes into sparkling white foam as it crashes on the shores of the peninsula. 

Quick history lesson. The 1860s saw leprosy spreading at an alarming rate throughout Hawaii. King Kamehameha V ordered all leprosy patients banished to the Kalaupapa Peninsula on Molokai. The cliffs, some of which are 3000-feet high, meant there was no escape. Living conditions were horribly inhumane until a Belgian priest named Father Damien arrived in 1873 and began caring for the patients. He built housing and churches, and gave them a sense of hope. Tragically, he contracted leprosy himself and died at the colony in 1889. Leprosy was cured in the 1960s and patients were finally free to leave Kalaupapa, but many didn’t. It was the only home they’d ever known. And as of 2008, nearly two dozen former patients sill live in this incredibly beautiful spot.

At the mule stable just outside the village, a rusty old yellow school bus picks up our group for the guided 4-hour tour. The former patients, we’re told, stay indoors when the bus rolls around, so it often feels like we’re touring a ghost town, albeit one with a gift shop. We pass the main hospital and weathered wooden homes. We stop to see a cemetery and then hit the local “bar,” which sells snacks and sodas, but no beer until 4pm. Rats.

Later, the driver lets us off to visit two churches, the St. Francis Church in town, and the spectacularly set St. Philomena Church, which sits on the peninsula’s windward coast and offers awesome views of the dramatic north shore cliffs. Finally, the bus carries us to the far-flung site of the original leprosy settlement at Kalawao, where a box lunch is served on a bluff top. In Hawaii, I’ve eaten at my share of fantastic restaurants with views to match. But I can’t think of a single one that tops eating a simple turkey sandwich while taking in a panorama of Molokai’s spectacular mist-shrouded pali (cliffs). 

     On the mule ride back to the barn, I can’t help but think how strange it is that a place with such a sad history of suffering and pain is now a tourist attraction. It’s the same feeling I imagine you get after visiting Pearl Harbor. That’s not to say the Kalaupapa tour is a bummer. Far from it. Father Damien’s story is inspiring, and the peninsula is without a doubt one of the most gorgeous spots in the island chain. Molokai Mule Ride Inc. offers Kalaupapa tours Mon-Sat. Advance reservations required. Phone (800) 567-7550.