The world’s wettest spot generally is agreed to be the range of hills between the Pu‘u o Kila Lookout and Mt. Wai‘ale‘ale on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, the westernmost populated (another accolade if one ignores the populated but private island of Niihau) of these gorgeous isles. The road to the lookout is reason enough to come here, numerous layoffs giving majestic views of the Waimea Canyon , which in my opinion gives its more famous cousin in Arizona a definite run for its money. According to meteorologists, Mt. Wai‘ale‘ale receives an average of 451 inches of rain every year, although as everyone here was quick to point out, in 2004 there was dumped more than 600 inches of the wet stuff.

     Drive up Route 550 for a view of the mysterious island of Niihau, owned by the Robinson family. It can only be seen close to hand via expensive helicopter tours that the family sanctions to offset the island’s running costs (200 or so islanders live there, considered to be the purest, genetically, of the Hawaiian islanders). Route 550 merges into Route 552, which leads for 15 miles of spectacular vistas and brake-wearing bends. All that rain – and this is a loophole my native country of England uses continually – is worthwhile, for it means that when the sun does shine, the vegetation bursts forth in a riot of green that is almost incomparable. Take the rough, and for a few days, if you’re lucky, you’ll get the very smooth.

     Add into the mix the oranges, browns and whites of canyonside, the blue of sky, the grays and blacks of newly forming clouds and the silver threads of waterfalls, some over 800 feet long, and the canyon is a marvel. The road comes to an end at the lookout that views the other side of the range, the Na Pali cliffs . It is as though a giant has upended a gigantic pool table, scrunching up the green baize to form folds of luxuriant nature pointing into crashing surf. (To get to Na Pali from Pu‘u o Kila involves a drive around the whole of the island, heading first east, then north, then west and then undertaking one of the country’s most dramatic hikes, the 11-mile Kalalau Foot Trail. To try and get there directly from the lookout is foolhardy and has oftentimes resulted in death.)

     The handful of people at Pu‘u o Kila were engaged in gaping at the scenery in silence and hoping the clouds parted long enough for a snapshot. What Mark Twain reportedly said about another England, New England, holds true here, too: If you don’t like the weather, wait for a few minutes.”

     I felt as though I was looking at Arthur Conan Doyle’s Lost World, and to leave this lookout and embark on one of the trails through the adjacent Alaka‘i Swamp to enter that imagery. No mongoose live on Kauai, the only main island in the chain that can say that. Legend has it that a governor of Kauai on inspecting a crate of these animals, introduced to the other Hawaiian islands in the hope they would curb the rat population (they did not, for mongoose hunt by day, rats by night, but both enjoy bird eggs) stuck his thumb into the cage and was promptly bitten. In anger, he tossed the whole shipment into the Pacific Ocean.

     The governor’s anger might have saved some of the island’s endemic birds. Most of the colorful species of bird one sees on the island—indeed, on all the islands—have been introduced: Common mynas, Japanese white-eyes, White-rumped shama thrushes, to name three. Alaka‘i remains one of the few places where endemic species still live, albeit tenuously. (When I was on Kauai, news came in from the sister island of Maui that one of the three remaining Po‘o-uli, a small brown and white bird, had died.)

     The swamp is wet, with an almost Jurassic Park-like flora of large ferns and rare mosses (scenes from the Jurassic Park films were shot on the island). Hikers need to bring wet-weather gear, strong shoes and personal resolve, but the rewards are great, and, if very lucky, ornithologists might glimpse three rare birds here, all yellow in color, the Amakihi, the Anianiau and the Akeke‘e. Every step along the swamp feels somehow stolen.

     I had not reached mile one of he trail before the heavens opened. Other hikers rarely are met, although the grand hotels of Po‘ipu  are only a few miles away, for those truly soaked and in need of a bath, like me. Where could I go to get fully dry?.  Check here for the answer, and let me know if you've experienced Kauai.