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Although I grew up in Hawaii, my family relocated to Indiana while I was a student at the University of Hawaii, so I was eager to reunite with them after graduation.

I’ve been back to Hawaii a couple of times, and on July 16, 2012, I escaped death while hiking at Manoa Falls.

Having grown up in Hawaii, I was pretty familiar with the Manoa Falls trail. It was raining on this particular day, and although the path was muddy, it never occurred to me that we were putting ourselves in danger. We trekked up to the falls, snapped a few pictures, and turned around.

As we began our descent, we approached a section of trail that was split by a large boulder. Hikers could choose to go left or right of the boulder — but both options appeared to be well-traveled and well-defined sections of trail. Large puddles of muddy water were pooling to the right side of the boulder, so I followed my brother to the left.

He stepped down, but I wasn’t so lucky. Just as I took a step, the trail crumbled and the ground beneath me literally disappeared. I began to fall, and my 6-year-old niece, who had been holding my hand, fell with me.

On the way down, I thought for sure that our lives would end. Somehow, though, we landed safely, protected by the soft earth that had fallen with us. I looked back up, immediately giving my brother a thumbs-up to let him know we were OK.

We waited a long time for rescue crews to reach us. Initially, first responders hiked up the trail, but they soon realized they couldn’t safely make their way to the creek bed where we’d landed some 30-40 feet below. There was talk of having a helicopter land at a nearby Manoa home, but rescuers ultimately decided to turn around and hike back up through waist-deep water.

Remarkably, we were uninjured, so rescuers were able to guide us through the muddy water, back toward the falls. There, we climbed a short bank and returned to the marked trail. After rescuers examined us, we turned to head back to the trailhead.

In doing so, we had to navigate the section of trail where the landslide/mudslide had occurred. Half of the trail was gone, and the rescuers commented on the freak nature of the accident. Still, I was worried that the story would be all over the news and I’d be labeled a careless tourist.

Surprisingly, we saw no media coverage of this event the next day. At the time, I felt it was a blessing. As a UH journalism graduate, I didn’t want my peers to write about one of their former classmates.

In hindsight, though, I am somewhat baffled by the fact that this event wasn’t covered. Certainly the fact that my niece and I both survived made it less newsworthy (I’m certainly not complaining!), but why wasn’t there any coverage? Why didn’t anyone alert people – tourists and residents alike — of the dangers associated with overly muddy trails?

Also, this popular tourist destination was in bad shape following the mudslide. Certainly, it had to have been closed for several days while workers reconstructed a safe walkway.

I can’t help but wonder if government and tourism officials are reluctant to make a big deal about the frequency of such accidents. That’s why the recent Civil Beat series, Dying For Vacation, is so important. It brings to light an alarming trend that people need to be aware of!

How many accidents like mine – accidents in which people escape with minimal to moderate injuries — happen every single day? It’s scary stuff.