A beloved landmark on the West Side, Mauna Lahilahi offers history and just enough height.
Waikīkī may have Diamond Head, but the West Side has its own iconic geographic landmark. Referred to by locals as the “world’s smallest mountain” due to its elevation of only 230 feet, Mauna Lahilahi rises as a petite, seaside pyramid on the eastern end of Keawaiki Bay. Distinct ridgelines slice upward to its pinnacle, giving credence to its name: In ‘Ōlelo Hawaiʻi, mauna lahilahi means “thin mountain.”
As a natural palena (boundary marker) between the Mākaha and Waiʻanae ahupua‘a, Lahilahi remains an area rich with cultural and historical significance. Dozens of petroglyphs dot its craggy rock faces. Small stone platforms peek through the guinea grass at its base. Among the nearby niu and naupaka, the remains of a heiau offer a solemn reminder that the mountain had been sacred to both Kane, the Hawaiian god of procreation, and Ai‘ai, the god of fishermen.
Despite its small stature, the mountain’s presence looms large, featuring prominently in countless mele (songs) and mo‘olelo (stories) of the West Side. In one riveting tale, the young and handsome Chief Mākaha sets out to impress Ke Ānuenue, the goddess of rain. As he scales Lahilahi, he calls out to Mano ai Kanaka, the most fearsome of all man-eating sharks. As Mano ai Kanaka emerges from the sea, the young chief dives from Lahilahi’s peak into the dark blue depths below. Moments later, he bursts through the water’s surface, riding gallantly upon Mano ai Kanaka’s back, having wrestled the terrible beast into submission.
“It makes sense,” says Mākaha resident James Rotz of the popular legend. “Lahilahi is well known for its shark caves, and the biggest tiger sharks on the West Side usually cruise in the waters there.” Lahilahi had been a familiar presence for Rotz while growing up. Seen from the large picture window of his childhood home on Papaoneone Beach, the mountain rose like a miniature fortress of basaltic rock, beckoning the young Rotz with promise of exploration and adventure.
“As kids, we’d explore the caves and look for the petroglyphs,” Rotz remembers. “But the most fun was to go to the very top, just to see what we could see—schools of fish, the direction of swells, the spot where the reef drops off into deep water.”
That universal urge to scale a mound, a mesa, or a mountain, simply to see what one can see, continues to draw onlookers to the path that winds along folds of rock and cliff and brush. Ascending Lahilahi’s rocky outcroppings, small treasures abound: a sunlit breeze, a delicate ‘iliahi bloom, the sound of waves ebbing and flowing into the tide pools below. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a glorious 360-degree display: looking inland, the ancient green walls of Mākaha valley; looking outward, soaring blue swaths of sea and sky.
Standing atop Lahilahi’s summit, all of nature’s splendor reveals itself. Even the smallest mountains come with big views. Deemed a historic site, Mauna Lahilahi’s intrigue goes beyond a quick, coastal mountain hike. To visit the area, head west towards Mākaha and turn left onto Lahilahi Street. Parking available in neighborhood. Please be respectful to residents.