The stream that feeds the falls carries a Scottish name grafted onto a Maori landscape. William Stockwell emigrated from Scotland in 1876 and bought land above the waterfall shortly after arriving. He called the area Glen Esk: "glen" from Gaelic meaning valley, "esk" from a Celtic root meaning water. It reminded him of home. The Glen Esk Stream flows through what is now the western edge of the Waitakere Ranges, dropping toward Piha Beach through a valley that Te Kawerau a Maki, the tangata whenua, have known far longer than any European settler. This layering of names reflects a broader pattern across New Zealand, where colonial nomenclature overlays indigenous geography without erasing it. The falls exist at the intersection of both.

From 1910, loggers milled kauri from the slopes surrounding Kitekite Falls. The Piha Mill operated downstream at what is now Stedfast Park, and in 1911 Ebenezer Gibbons built the Glen Esk Dam at the top of the falls to propel logs downstream. The plan failed spectacularly. The drop proved too steep, and the logs shattered on impact. Gibbons converted the dam into a holding facility instead, and the milling continued by other means until 1921. By the time the saws stopped, every mature kauri in the area had been cut. A century later, the consequences of that eleven-year operation are still visible in the forest. Young kauri, known as rickers, are only now beginning to push their sharp, cone-shaped crowns through the canopy. At roughly 100 years old, they are just reaching the age when kauri develop their characteristic spreading crowns, a growth phase that continues for another 500 years.

The Kitekite Track begins at the end of Glenesk Road and follows the stream through nikau palms and silver tree ferns. Tui call from above. Puriri trees dangle red berries that draw kereru, the native wood pigeon, whose wingbeats are heavy enough to hear from the track below. The walk takes about 40 minutes to reach the base of the falls, passing a lookout with a macrocarpa bench before descending wooden steps to the pool. The falls themselves drop in three distinct tiers into a pool surrounded by dark, wet rock. A steeper side track, the Connect Track, climbs to the top in about 15 minutes, where a swimming hole sits above the main cascade. Longfin eels hide among the rocks at the base, and a rare moss, Fissidens rigidulus var. pseudostrictus, grows on the wet cliff faces.

Kauri dieback disease, caused by a water mould that kills kauri of all ages, prompted Te Kawerau a Maki to place a rahui over parts of the Waitakere Ranges, a traditional Maori prohibition that restricts access to protect a threatened resource. Working with the Waitakere Ranges Local Board and Auckland Council, the iwi closed many forest tracks to prevent hikers from spreading the pathogen on their boots. The Kitekite walk reopened on Boxing Day 2018 with new covered walkways designed to protect kauri root zones. The restrictions remain a source of tension: the rahui covers the forest, and within it all tracks are closed, but Te Kawerau a Maki have clarified that areas outside the forest boundary remain accessible. It is a modern application of an ancient concept, using cultural authority to protect a species that logging nearly wiped out and disease now threatens to finish.

Commercial canyoning operators run guided descents of the falls under permits issued by Auckland Council. Participants rappel down the wet rock faces, through the spray, past the same ledges where the rare moss clings to damp stone. The permit system has been contentious since at least 2002, when residents of Piha raised concerns about environmental impact at their ratepayers' association meeting. Council monitoring continues, and climbing on the falls without a permit or licensed guide is strictly prohibited, a restriction designed to protect both the moss and the integrity of the rock. The tension between access and conservation runs through every aspect of Kitekite Falls: a place that draws visitors precisely because of the wild beauty that too many visitors could destroy.