Hawaii – Day 13

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

Tossed and turned from 4:00 this morning until finally peeling ourselves out of bed at 6:00 to indulge in our Kauai ritual of making tropical oatmeal with our remaining pineapple and apple bananas. With things packed two days ago, we only needed to straighten up and sweep out the cabin before throwing our bags in the car. Prior to locking up, we grabbed the Poke Bentos and our coveted sweet potato haupia pie that we bought yesterday, knowing that on Christmas day, we’d be relegated to eating something ugly at the airport and we were going to have nothing to do with that.

Caroline Wise at Poipu Beach on Kauai, Hawaii

Down the bumpy dirt road and once more through the tree tunnel to Poipu. Luck would have it that a passing pod of whales was swimming by. The only things missing are the sun and a rainbow. Caroline jumped back into the sea for one last communion with the fishes and with that, we headed over to drop the snorkel gear, fill the tank of the rental car, and drive to the airport. We are in the outdoor waiting area after only needing a few minutes in security on this slow day. Pop open the bento lunches and split dessert. Boarding was just 15 minutes after our last bite before catching the short hop over to Oahu before the long haul back to Phoenix. Vacation in Hawaii is now over, Mahalo.

Hawaii – Day 12

Sunrise at Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

What a great sky to wake up to on Christmas Eve, or any day for that matter. That pineapple seen in yesterday’s photos was cut up along with some of the bananas we picked up at the farmer’s market and were used in making our breakfast of tropical oatmeal.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

The last time we stayed at Kahili Mountain, we only used the location for a launchpad and place to lay our head down; this time, we were hoping to spend a while checking out the local landscape. There are 197 acres of land to explore, and we certainly won’t be able to see but a small fraction of those.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

Behind our cabin is a small stream that is a little too wide to jump over, it is also the border of the property. We will take our time, giving nearly three hours to walk the perimeter to find what we might discover. This being Kauai, also known as the garden island, you can rest assured that we are out here looking for flowers and scenes not easily seen from our vantage point looking up the mountain or over the horizon at sunrise.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

There are a lot of strikingly beautiful, delicate splashes of color out here, and it’s winter. I’d love to see what summer brings when the full bloom is on, but the idea of the humidity is a detractor.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

Every corner and nearly every step forward shows us something new. All of this and no entry fee besides the cost of renting our cabin, which was an incredible bargain at only $85 a night with a free night thrown in because we were staying a week.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

I took a nearly identical photo on the Big Island years ago, but as of this writing I’ve not done justice to that trip to Hawaii, but someday I’ll expand on the single photo per day that I posted back then.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

Not your average garden variety spiders around here, right monsters that are difficult to get a bead on as to where the head, tail, or sides are at. Beautiful monsters, in any case.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

We don’t see many orchids in Arizona besides the ones at florists.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

I’d love to know what this is because when it blooms, it does something extraordinary.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

It explodes into a fleshy meat bloom. Full disclosure: I didn’t note specifically that this somewhat ghastly sight belonged to the above image, but my memory is assuring me that the two are related.

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

What the heck, is this a fern tree?

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

Suckers for rain forests, as who doesn’t love seeing a garden within the garden?

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

This tree has some of the strangest leaves we’ve ever seen. This is why visiting a botanical garden is so helpful, as they identify the plants that we are looking at.

Mmmmm, yellow asparagus with fragrant blossoms, though Caroline insists that I’m wrong. If I’m starting to see food in the forest, I guess that means I’m getting hungry. Time to head to Koloa.

This is the mess of Poke Bento I’ve been going about. It’s not very pretty, but I often have that issue when photographing food I’m in love with. I must admit that I’m quite surprised that the Koloa Fish Market is open here on Christmas Eve.

Poipu Beach on Kauai, Hawaii

Armed with the greatest lunch we could hope for, it was time to head to Poipu to enjoy our feast. Under the same palm tree where we finished our previous trip to Kauai, we finished our lunch and shared a sweet potato haupia dessert before Caroline went out for some snorkeling, and I stayed put and wrote.

For a moment, we were considering going back to the top of Kauai for a return visit to Tahiti Nui, but once again, all of the traffic was foiling our plans. Rather than deal with the crush, Caroline takes us out on a detour into a park-like setting with what looks like a pretty good swimming hole, but we have other plans and were hoping for a shortcut to Wailua Falls that didn’t work out. So we turned around to the main road.

South of Kapaa but not quite in Lihue, we turn off for the four-mile drive up the road to Wailua Falls. Obviously, the setting is a sight to behold, but it was a local craftsman who captured the majority of our time here.

This is Donny, and he’s a bit of a wanderer. For $5, he offers to whip up something small with a bunch of coconut fronds he’s harvested and the small knife he’s trimming them with. While he starts to cut, notch, fold, and weave the pieces together, making us a bowl, we talk. He tells us of his hitchhiking adventures exploring the mainland from Texas to California. Not just that, though we stood there talking with Donny for 45 minutes, and the more we talked, the more he made until soon he had a rose mounted to the side of the basket with a butterfly taking flight and a grasshopper on the other side. Twenty minutes earlier, he insisted we didn’t owe him anything, that he was just enjoying the company and the opportunity to demonstrate his skills. All the same, we threw him a twenty and felt that we were leaving with the best Christmas gift ever.

Dinner was at The Feral Pig, and what he ate hardly mattered. Caroline was intent on continuing the umbrella drink adventure she started yesterday and went for something called a “Sazerac” made with rye whiskey, sugar syrup, Peychaud’s, and Herbsaint that was created as an absinthe substitute back when it became illegal. This potent concoction was followed by a Mai Tai that was said to follow the original recipe from 1944, when the drink was invented. Tonight’s version featured almond milk, sugar syrup, lime juice, and vodka, along with dark and light rum. Caroline left with a big silly grin on her face and a case of the giggles. This is how we spent our Christmas Eve.

Hawaii – Day 11

Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

That’s funny it doesn’t look or smell like Sunday, but it is. Well, if it is Sunday, then that means we have to head into Lihue and leave exploring Kahili Mountain for another day.

Hey, this isn’t the road to Lihue, and there’s no way we’ll be buying a Poke bento this early. Ah, we are just sightseeing before we get to our regularly scheduled activities. Wait a minute, we don’t have a schedule! Well, then, without anywhere we really need to be, I guess another drive up and down the tree tunnel is warranted.

Once back on the main road, we made it over to Lihue for breakfast at the Tip Top Motel Cafe And Bakery that’s been feeding islanders and visitors for nearly 100 years. The place is highly rated among locals, and we now understand why. It was packed and noisy, but all the same, we were seated pretty quickly. Our orders were taken within minutes, and coffee was delivered before we saw the menu, which was already at the table. Ten minutes later, my Moco Loco arrived, and Caroline’s banana pineapple pancakes with guava pineapple compote were placed in front of her. If we weren’t suffering from a wicked addiction to the Koloa Fish Market, we’d be wise upon a return visit to eat breakfast here every day.

We are on our way north, heading to Hanalei, as Caroline needs to exchange some ukulele sheet music that was misprinted. You can bet it will not be a direct out-and-back journey, as this beach stop attests. Which beach is this, you might ask? Who cares? It’s a beach on Kauai, and we were so rude as to carve our names into the sand, letting those who follow know that “We were here.”

Roadside, fresh, chilled coconuts sounded like a great idea, and with nothing stopping us from indulgence, we obliged our hedonistic sides and packed in some more calories.

Another reason to snack has presented itself with the Anahola Farmer’s Market. That’s right, you read it correctly, they are selling apple bananas, and we are buying them because one can never eat enough apple bananas when in Hawaii. As for that sample of BBQ pork, I tried that morphed into a plate to go; we’ll just call that “breakfast dessert.”

There is no pineapple such as these on the mainland of America. These giant, ripe, and incredibly sweet, perfect pineapples are unique to Hawaii. We may eat this later today, tomorrow with breakfast, or on Christmas morning before we board our flight back to Arizona. The cold reality that we are down to our last 48 hours in Hawaii is better left for dealing with in the minutes before we drop the rental car, for now, we need to return to the exploration of paradise.

Kilauea Point National Wildlife Refuge is a fond, fond memory from our first visit, and with perfect weather, we would be fools not to stop again. That there is a Junior Ranger Program here is an added bonus, and within minutes of arriving Caroline has her booklet and walks along noodling over the questions.

It’s mere minutes later before we see a pod of whales offshore, and while once again we are denied seeing a breaching cetacean, we do get to see plenty of tail fins, spouts, and arching backs.

Can one have a favorite bird? While I certainly have my least favorite bird in city-dwelling pigeons, I probably only know of a fraction of bird species from around our globe, and there are many beautiful specimens, but the albatross certainly holds a special place in my imagination. Just the idea that this bird can fly non-stop around the earth without landing while expending little to no energy is a feat of evolution that boggles my mind. Then consider that we know that they can live up to at least 66 years of age and that once bonded with a mate, they will stay together until the end of their lives. Of course, there are those beautiful eyes they have that I’m too gullible in assigning anthropomorphic qualities to. I’ll just go and blurt it out right here: I love the albatross.

Check out the nene, also spelled nēnē, otherwise known as the Hawaiian goose. This native of Hawaii is only found on the islands out here in the Pacific and is speculated to have arrived on the islands when they were blown off course at some time in the past. They are friendly, curious birds with a unique soft call compared to the harsh sound of the common goose.

The Kilauea Point Lighthouse could not stand out in greater contrast to the blue sky, deep blue water, and greenery out here on this spit of land.

The sky is also full of frigate birds, and while a little bit buzzardly looking, they are graceful and draw my admiration for their ability to live free, fly around, and not be subject to the arbitrary laws and whims of power-hungry bird enforcers.

I don’t really care if they are red-footed or blue-footed because this bird has the word booby in it. Yeah, buddy, this is the red-footed booby. I tried a good two or three minutes to get a pair of boobies in my shot, but all I got was this bird in front of the ocean. I’ll be looking for a pair of boobies to photograph and will get back to you, the reader, should I see them.

The ocean churns hard around Kilauea Point, and at times, we watched waves break on a cliffside, sending its waters a good 80 feet straight up. With birds, dolphins, whales, a lighthouse, and perfect weather all around us, it is hard to figure out what to give our full attention to.

You should know just how badly I want to reach out and feel how soft those feathers are around the nene’s neck. These official State Birds of Hawaii are protected and endangered and so even if my judgment is occasionally poor, I will respect the request not to interfere with these gorgeous birds.

The other day, when we were up and purchased the ukulele, the sky was overcast, and this overlook of the Hanalei National Wildlife Refuge was jam-packed with others who had the same idea of snapping this image. This spot on Kauai is probably the second most famous after the Napali Coast and is certainly an iconic location. Down below are paddies with taro plants, which are essential to the Native Hawaiian diet of both poi and lau lau.

Here’s the view from below the overlook of those plots of taro. The last time we were here, we didn’t make time to follow the narrow road that was more of a wide sidewalk leading into the refuge; today, we did. The road might go for a couple of miles, but it was hard to tell, considering how slow we were traveling. There are thickets of bamboo, a couple of homes, a trail we won’t take this visit, and a slow-moving waterway that is the likely source of irrigation of all this taro.

Over at Hanalei Strings, we learn that there are no refunds, only exchanges. That was okay as Caroline opted to leave with more yarn; as I went to pay for the difference, the guy waved it off, saying it was for the trouble of driving back up, like driving around a Hawaiian island is a hassle or something.

The next stop was at Tahiti Nui. Why Tahiti Nui? Because Caroline, prior to leaving for Hawaii, let it be known that she wanted umbrella drinks on this excursion, and the other day at the Limahuli Garden a lady told us of a particularly nice dive bar. While it was specifically described as a dive bar, we were reassured that it was a great dive bar. While I, being the teetotaler, opted for Julia’s Iced Tea, which was a mix of iced tea, lemonade, and guava juice, Caroline “started” with their famous Mai Tai. Sitting there, taking in the sights of bar culture, we couldn’t help but do some noshing until Caroline decided on her second drink, a lilikoi margarita. With the umbrella drinks checked off the to-do list, one of us walks back to the car, and the other weaves.

A small apparently little-used road led us to a small cove. There are no facilities, no lifeguards, and apparently, clothes are optional.

When we were finally ready to leave that isolated spot of tranquility, the clouds were moving in, suggesting that another spectacular sunset was being scratched off the itinerary. Over to Starbucks, we went and with coffee in hand, we walked around. Wouldn’t you know it, there’s a man talking to a woman while holding a piglet. Turns out the woman is his girlfriend who works in the shop; we volunteer that we are certified expert piglet caregivers and would gladly watch his new pet while he properly visits with his girlfriend. So here we are, just hanging out in Kapaa, drinking coffee and chilling with a piglet cradled in my wife’s arms because that’s how we roll when on the isle of Kauai.

Sadly, the owner came back for his little black pig, which was okay as I would have had no idea how we’d ever get it on a plane to Arizona. Before returning to the cabin, we stopped at Walmart which turns out to be the best place for cheap souvenirs to drag back to coworkers in Caroline’s office. For our friend Rainy, we found some Hello Kitty pineapple-flavored marshmallows.

We packed up a day early so our last night would be as stress-free as possible. I headed to the shower outside, and Caroline pulled up the ukulele and tried playing. I say she “tried” playing because she’d chosen to try Aloha Oe, and in between the tears, she would have to stop and catch her breath. I listened to her through the walls and couldn’t help but feel teary-eyed with her as her romantic notions were affecting both of us.

Hawaii – Day 10

Sunrise at Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

There’s a fine line between helpful technology and technology that intrudes and disappoints. The pen and paper I use to capture these notes rarely fail. Though pens run out of ink, they are easily replaced. While an SD Card in my GoPro failing, taking with it snorkeling footage and a time-lapse of us driving from our cabin to Hanalei is a disappointment. The intrusion occurs when my mother somehow thinks it would be cool or helpful to let us know that our car that is camping at her place is having problems starting. Wow, is it the engine, battery, Mayan apocalypse? Why in the world does she think we needed distressing news texted to us? By the time we saw the message last night, it was already midnight in Arizona and so we got to go to sleep in worry.

From today’s sunrise, it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to suggest that Kukulcan, the Mayan feathered serpent god, had left the pyramid of the sun and was arriving to personally greet me in this new age; alas, it was just the patterns of the clouds allowing in patches of fiery light that stroked the imagination into fantasy.

This cock is relatively stupid while simultaneously protective of his hens; mine is out with her snorkel, scratching at the sea and pecking for fish. Sure this feathered specimen of maleness may look elegant, bold even, but at his core, he fertilizes eggs and battles for supremacy from any and all threats. Pardon the screed I’m about to share; it is my inner-cock mouthing off nonsense from my growing bias emanating from the encroachment of age.

Why wear a bikini for your cell phone when it’s for your boobs? Why wear a swimsuit that requires constant decracking? What’s up with the skimpy bikini top that forces you to dig your chin into your chest to ensure you still have nipple coverage? Small talk on beaches is highly overrated and most often inane. If the face can be an indicator of intelligence, it might appear that smarter women are more modest about their bodies and are dressed more conservatively out here. Those relying more on sex appeal than brains are flaunting a serious amount of butt cheeks along with more tats and piercings. I know I’m likely going to be accused of being sexist, but the same applies in other ways to the lunkhead men who are strutting their stuff in the same fury.

Older men still running on the high side of testosterone care little about the bulge of midriff fat or gratuitous amounts of body hair confronting others. Older men from professions tend to wear t-shirts out here, maybe due to the practicality of worrying about skin cancer. The higher the number of tattoos, the more cock-like the swagger. Forty with a rear-facing baseball cap? I can only wonder about the person’s carrying capacity that exists between their ears. ALL men check out young women’s rear ends, all of them. Muscular men travel in packs. Overweight middle-aged men travel with their spouses. Men who are traveling alone demonstrate some creepy anti-social behavior and the body language of lonely desperation, appearing sad and tragic. Strangely there are no solo women visitors to this beach. Hindus wear too many clothes in the ocean. I’ve only seen two hipsters over the course of our stay; I’m guessing they cannot afford Hawaii on coffee-shop wages. Not a goth in sight, I suppose the sun would foil their goals.

The other half of this Statler and Waldorf shtick has returned from the sea and kicks the pen from my hand, as she can tell by now when I’m channeling the grumpy old man routine.

The road to Waimea Canyon is paved with bananas and guava, along with a bevy of flowers, greenery, vines, and fields of coffee plants. These fruit, drink, and occasionally homemade baked good stands that work on the honor system are a real treat and a compelling reason you should travel with cash while on the islands.

Do you like beautiful, colorful spiders that try tricking you that they are not spiders by pairing up their legs, so you might think this four-legged yellow and black thing on the web is a trapped kitty kat? Then, venturing into the woods should be on your itinerary, too, because Hawaiians love their insects.

This orchard planted in red earth is growing some kind of stuff that is certainly not marijuana, coconut, pineapple, bananas, or corn. I’m wondering what it is, but I made no notes, nor do I remember going up to one of the trees to investigate just what they were.

We are 1,000 feet above the ocean and there is Ni’ihau again in the distance. In the foreground is Buffalo grass, which is invasive, but it does add a nice appearance to things. It is a shame how many species have invaded the islands; seems like everything and nearly everyone here is from somewhere else.

This is our first look into Waimea Canyon on this trip. This appeared much larger on our last visit, but back then, we hadn’t spent weeks at the bottom of the Grand Canyon or had just come off an adventure into the enormity of Alaska. Coming to grips with the nature of familiarity and how it alters our perspective might be a part of the maturing process, but there’s certainly a place for naivety and celebrating our first encounters with novelty.

Gaining elevation as we progress, the canyon grows in depth. Now, with our second visit to the area in pocket, we’ll have to consider hiking in Waimea Canyon should we find ourselves in Hawaii a third time. Upon searching for trails, it looks like the Kukui Trail would be perfect, especially if we could spend a night at the campground down there.

Here we are at the Kalalau overlook with the southern end of the Napali Coast over our shoulders. Down below are nearly ever-present helicopters that ply the airway to show others the spectacular part of the coast that we have yet to effectively visit. While last time we embarked on a hike out the Kalalau Trail, a broken toe that I acquired on Molokai in the days leading up to our time on Kauai thwarted our ambition under otherwise perfect weather conditions. One day, we will make it out there.

This is the Cliff Trail and is one of the shortest trails we’ve ever been on. A mere 1/10th of a mile is completed in about 4 minutes.

As we looked for vantage points to check out the view and consider trail options, this wild goat approached laughing out loud that we needed trails while it went where it pleased.

Before we get to the sunset proper I thought I’d try something different this late afternoon and share what the edge of a Hawaiian sunset looks like.

This was tough as one of my sunset photos had amazing god rays in the distance…..

….while this one is terrifically molten gold with a small boat passing by.

As we approached Waimea, the long string of parked cars was a good indicator of what lay ahead, so we simply pulled over and parked. So we wouldn’t miss a moment of the Christmas parade, we hoofed it and arrived just as the Waimea Canyon Middle School was turning the corner as the beginning of the festivities.

The parade is great with the spirit of the kids and families lining the street, making this into a party atmosphere. It all reminds me of another great parade when we were so lucky to be in Canadian, Texas, for a Middle of America Fourth of July celebration. Click HERE to visit that trip.

Along the parade route were plenty of food vendors to satisfy those of us who hadn’t set up a small BBQ in front of our chairs; as a matter of fact, Caroline and I were without chairs in any case, so where would we have set up a BBQ? The first thing I tried was some corn chowder, while Caroline opted for pasteles, a kind of Filipino tamale. After Santa passed and the parade ended, it took us over an hour to get to the other side of town. On such a small island with few roads, the people who live here full time are lucky that others allow them to pull in front of them instead of the mainland way of ensuring no one gets in. By and large, the atmosphere on the Islands is one of tremendous friendliness and people going out of their way to be polite.

It’s late, and yet it is still bright out, with the moon shining enough to illuminate the trees and our cabin from a distance. The stars are out in force and strangely enough, I wish for rain as I miss its sound on our tin roof.

Hawaii – Day 9

Sunrise at Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

We wake here at Fortress Kahili Mountain, where the hot water flows to the shower, the electricity is working, the temperature is perfect, and the sky is aflame in the glory of the rising sun. Uh-oh, the coffee maker is not functioning; we’ll have to venture away from our enclave.

Poipu Beach on Kauai, Hawaii

The crowds are out at Poipu, with the beach overflowing as tourists flock into the sea……NOT. The clouds are lighter than on the previous days, with a brisk wind coming from the east rearranging them quite quickly. While a large cloud or two will come along to blot out the sun, casting the beach into shadow, it too quickly moves on, allowing the sun to illuminate the turquoise waters. Caroline has been out there snorkeling but comes back to report that the fish are far and few between and then runs back.

Caroline Wise at Poipu Beach on Kauai, Hawaii

When my two-legged fish finally returns to shore, she is cut and bleeding from encounters with sharp volcanic rock, but she is all smiles. She wishes I was out with her but admits that the current is treacherous. With a sudden change of mind, Caroline decides she’s not had enough though she heads to the car first for her river shoes to better protect her already bleeding feet and then is back in the surf searching for sea life.

The horizon clears while behind me, the clouds pile up, hugging the mountains of Kauai. The molten silver sea seduces all who gaze upon it, eliminating tensions and leaving little for the mind to produce in the way of words. This likely has much to do with why Caroline and I return so frequently to the ocean that washes our brains with waves that hypnotize us into tranquility.

By the time we leave Poipu, we need that coffee we never had, and Starbucks will care for us on that front while another stop at Da Imu Hut Cafe serves us some fried seimen noodles along with a teriyaki fried chicken & steak combo. Learning that this inexpensive joint will be closed for the next four days as they are closed on weekends, plus the closure for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we commit to return tonight for dinner.

At a fork in the road, it’s up to a proverbial coin toss if we will head to Waimea Canyon or Polihale State Park at the west end of the island. Left it is, and for the next 16 miles, we are on a paved road, but after that, it’s almost five miles on a washboard dirt road that feels like 80 miles of mainland dirt road. It is abundantly obvious by now that we’ve never been in this area.

Without knowing what was ahead, the primitive road was, at times, intimidating, especially not seeing anyone else on the road. We maneuvered the ruts and sandy spots with relative ease in our small rental car. Finally, at the beach and the end of the road, we found maybe 40 other cars parked down there. On our right is the mountain range that stretches across the Napali Coast, while on our left is the longest beach on all of Kauai.

This place is a treasure, and spending a day out here should be on everyone’s to-do list.

Caroline throws herself into the surf, or maybe more accurately, the surf pummeled her into submission, knocking her down. Having grown up in a world of flatwater, she is ill-equipped to deal with the crashing waves of the Pacific and is easily toppled by pounding surf, but as usual, she is having fun.

I instead opt for watching shorebirds, clouds, people, Caroline’s frolicking, and the dark green mountains with streaks of red earth cutting into them.

The air is so clean out here you can make out reliefs on the moon and almost believe you can see mountains rising off the surface. Behind me, the ocean gives no hint of its rise and fall other than what breaks at the shore. As that surf pulls back, the flat beach momentarily takes on the appearance of a mirror reflecting the few clouds that are overhead at any given moment. Surfers work the furthest set of waves in the distance while people on bodyboards are riding the next set. Waves at the shore are the domain of swimmers who are playing it safe where their feet are within reach of the sand below them.

We stay long enough for my face to start crisping, and that’s even with sunblock on and this hat that two years earlier was worn down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon and just this past summer went with me down the Alsek in Canada and Alaska. The truth is that my complexion is an easy target for a wrathful scorching sun looking to victimize those of fair complexion. Even with the sunburn setting in, we hung out a bit longer, and lucky us as some whales not far from shore were spouting off, sadly though there were no breaches.

On our way out of town earlier, we would have been smart to pick up refreshments because the 16-mile stretch of road and five dirt miles are without services. By the time we finally do get back into the car, we are parched and race back to Waimea for a stop at Ishihara’s to rehydrate.

With our thirst quenched, the idea of giving in to a little something sweet was sounding quite appealing, so we stopped at JoJo’s Shave Ice for their famous #2 with macadamia nut ice cream topped with guava, lilikoi, and mango syrups on the shave ice. As we walk out the door, we are greeted by yet another glorious rainbow. This prompts me to wonder out loud if Hawaiians care about seeing these things when they probably see a dozen or more a day.

It’s the first day we have been bathed with perpetual sunlight, even when it’s raining in one direction or the other. As sunset falls upon the middle of the Pacific, we have taken up a vantage point that has afforded us a view of Ni’ihau over to the right, and while impossible to see in this view, we have been spotting the arched backs of passing whales and their spouts of mist shooting above the surface of the sea.

As the sun crawls lower in the sky, readying itself to dip below the horizon, our lonely spot on the shore is no longer so lonely, as others have recognized the location as a desirable one to be witness to the end of the day.

Suckers for local flavors and the knowledge that Da Imu Hut Cafe will be closed for the next four days, it was established earlier that we’d be back, and sure enough, that is exactly where we find ourselves for dinner. We split a Lau Lau and a Loco Moco. By now, if you haven’t picked up on it in previous blog entries from this trip or the many others, you will start to notice that food plays a large role in our travels, especially local fare. Maybe you could suggest we visit L&L Hawaiian BBQ in Arizona or California? Well, that’s like eating Chinese food in Alabama or Mexican in New York. Foods indigenous to one area are typically poorly represented in another, as local palates have expectations for authenticity. Even in these areas where a particular food originates, it is somewhat uncommon to see tourists in the local joints, as many of them require weak-tasting approximations, added sugar, a side of ketchup or ranch, and some specifically boring children’s dishes such as cheese pizza or chicken strips.

A few days ago, shortly after arriving on Kauai, we visited Talk Story Bookstore and learned that on Friday night, there was an Art Walk through Old Town Hanapepe; we had to come back. Strolling the streets sharing a citrus-spiced cup of hot tea followed by a slice of caramel pecan apple pie while window shopping the various art galleries made for a great way to spend the early evening.

We celebrated the end of the fourth world here on the 13th b’ak’tun, or Maya date 13.0.0.0.0, which we read as December 21, 2012, and take solace in knowing that the apocalypse was either narrowly missed or it is so insidious as to be occurring outside our consciousness. I’ve waited for this day for 20 years since first learning about the “Mayan Prophecy” from Terence McKenna, and while it might play well to the story if I could tell you that we are here in Hawaii just in case it was the end of the human reign of earth, that would be a lie. By the way, this is the historic swinging bridge that crosses the Hanapepe River and was our last stop of the night before heading back to Kahili Mountain and the beginning of a new Mayan calendar.

Hawaii – Day 8

Sunrise at Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

The sun is slowly creeping over the mountains, allowing the water droplets on the surrounding plants to glisten. Clouds are showing hues of red and pink, triggering a chicken in these early moments of the new day to stroll right by me up the stairs of our cabin like this is what it does. By the time I can start to say the words “Caroline close the…..” that chicken was well within the four walls of its new prison and our hell. Two minutes earlier, it would have won a Darwin award as it bolted right for the gas stove that had been cooking our breakfast. Fortunately for us, we now only had to get a raucous chicken out the door it came through instead of dealing with a floundering ball of flames that would have likely burned our cabin to the ground.

Caroline immediately tried shooing it away, but it took flight and landed on a light fixture, where it cackled at my wife; surely it was laughing at her. It’s almost three seconds into our tropical chicken adventure before I join Caroline, who is now armed with a broom and trying to take a swat at the unwelcome boisterous guest. I’m barely through the door which blocked its escape; my bad. Encountering me at the entrance, the chicken bolts left to land on our bed. I rush it, but this chicken is mind-reading my intention and launches itself overhead to land on the top of the bathroom door. Either in a show of fear or total disrespect, it let off a gob of liquishit. Not to be distracted, we keep up the pressure, but it’s already landing on my clean shirt on the second bed. I’m certain it is there to display supremacy and shit on my clothes but lucky for us, it was out of ammunition.

All of a sudden, the chicken is not at my center of focus as Caroline has gone primordial and becomes as animated as our fowl friend. She leaps on the bed in what can only be described as a dominant chicken pose and corners the errant bird. Two or three exchanges of position and Caroline establishes her place in the food chain using her shirt as a bullfighter’s mantilla, ushering this bird brain right out the door. We are near-hysterical in laughter at this point from the chaos this chicken has brought.

Now able to eat our breakfast, it isn’t long before Caroline is under the banana leaves showering while I purge our nest of the poo our visitor left us. We briefly discussed staying here the entire day to explore the 197 acres of the park, but instead will head to Hanalei.

Caroline Wise at Hanalei Strings Yarn Store on Kauai, Hawaii

It’s before 9:00 as we travel down Kauai’s first paved road toward Koloa. This tree-lined tunnel is beautiful and a pleasure to travel on every time. I’m loathe to turn around to continue on our journey from this brief detour, and going all the way to the fish market doesn’t matter anyway, as they don’t open until 10:00. But you never know if things can go your way unless you try your chances. I pulled up right in front of their door, which was slightly ajar, stepped in while excusing myself, and blurted out, “We’d just LOVE two poke Bentos for the road today.” The guy says, “Sure!”

Back through the tunnel, I turned off the main road toward Anini Beach. It’s gorgeous here, perfect even. Some windsurfers are in the shallows, receiving lessons in the art of standing on a tiny board in a vast ocean. Watching them exercise their determination as they crawl back up, again and again, we decided why wait for lunch so we broke out our brunch and accepted that we might be overeating today.

Finally, at the Hanalei Strings shop, where they sell yarn and ukuleles, Caroline is on one side stroking the fibers before rubbing them on her cheek to see if they pass the softness test while I was looking at ukes.

For over a decade I’ve listened to Caroline tell me how she’d like to learn how to play this instrument that is so very intertwined with Hawaii. Now, here we are in Hawaii at a shop that sells these things, and she wants to hem and haw about not having the time to learn it, how much they cost, and that she could order one online in the future.

I took her over to the counter, and the saleswoman put a ukulele in her hands. She showed Caroline a C chord and told her to strum it; her face turned to ukulele happiness. I could feel her starting to crack. Another uke was handed to her, and then another; this last one was a $1200 work of art. I asked, “Anything between the $65 Chinese unit and this Stratokalele?” Not able to choose between what we were shown, we asked the lady to play the three models she had chosen. A locally made ukulele ended up the winner and a free case was thrown in! If only you could have seen Caroline’s face as she walked away from Hanalei Strings with her great new uke.

Not able to spend another penny in Hanalei, we set off to finish the drive west; we didn’t make it, though, because the police had the road blocked. So we turned around to visit the Limahuli Garden and Preserve we’d passed along the way.

This is the kukui or candlenut tree and is the state tree of Hawaii. At one time, they were used for making candles, hence their name. The blossom of the kukui is also the official island lei material of Moloka’i.

The bird of paradise related to the banana plant is not native to the islands but is instead from South Africa.

Monstera deliciosa is also not a native of Hawaii, though these invasive species thrive here. You might have guessed that this is also known as the Swiss cheese plant.

The thick green blanket eats light while tossing back oxygen and moisture it doesn’t have a need for. This exchange conveys the necessities the majority of life on our planet requires to be alive. How we treat it is a measure of how we effectively treat our mothers.

The blood of trees flows out of the forest, allowing us to participate in the ritual of replacing the water that must also flow through us.

Cellular level activity not only creates the plant itself but powers the machine that pumps water from the ground into the sky. The plant is the membrane that exists between us and the vacuum of nothingness.

Breadfruit at Limahuli Garden and Preserve on Kauai, Hawaii

Breadfruit is said to taste like potato and, when cooked, is similar to freshly baked bread. The wood pulp of this plant is used for making paper and cloth, as we described on Day 4 while in Hawaii visiting the Bishop Museum. Click here to view that entry.

Upon the sunlight, plant, and water Caroline and I are afforded the fuel that allows our bodies to move our brains around in order that our senses collect impressions and skills that we will share with others. Such is the symbiosis of being alive on Earth.

I try to imagine life in Hawaii 300 years ago on an island without predators. A place where food easily grows, fresh water is abundant, and the essentials of life surround you. On any given day, one could jump into the warm waters of the ocean or meander on a circumnavigation of the island, as there would be no demand for one to return to operate a machine or pay rent. I can only wonder what the future holds for a society bent on a kind of enslavement to both ignorance and economy.

Opeakaa Falls in Wailua is our last stop of the day before returning to our cabin in order to wash the clothes that have eight days of accumulated grime on them. After performing our laundry chores, Caroline fires up the ukelele and crushes a virtuoso rendition of The Hawaiian War Chant. No, she didn’t, she actually kind of roughed it, but for a few minutes, I felt like we were in the Tiki Room at Disneyland, kind of.

Just in case tomorrow is the apocalypse, or some other version of doom unfolds that involves the end of the world, we at least were out in Hawaii and were pretty happy being here while it lasted.

Hawaii – Day 7

It rained overnight, over and over again, using the tin roof as a musical instrument that sang to us. The lyrics told of how the other drops that were falling to earth were feeding the plants and nourishing the land in order to keep Kauai happy. The light breeze gently blew through the open windows, and we slept like we were at home; we were cozy here. The full night of sleep lasted until the first light of morning stirred us awake.

Every few minutes, it rains and then slows to a stop, only to pick up again a few minutes later. The stream of clouds, while denying us a proper sunrise, works hard to make up for it by offering a dramatic show of cumulus clouds. We bask under the sky with our tropically enhanced breakfast of oatmeal and fresh starfruit, enjoyed with hot coffee outside on the front porch, pinching ourselves that this is our life today. Watching the world, we are one with our laziness. Chickens have come out to start their day pecking at the wet earth, looking for their own version of tropical breakfast. We indulge sky and fowl by being witness to their existence.

It’s nearly 11:00 before we leave the really slow life to join the normal slow life that exists beyond our encampment under Kahili Mountain. And just what was it that motivated us to put down the pen and the drop spindle? Poke bento from the Koloa Fish Market, of course. From the mud road over to the tree tunnel down to the small village by the sea, we collect our early lunch and look for the perfect spot to sit down and enjoy it. That spot is on the way to a spouting horn on the other side of Poipu. There’s a short wall here that becomes a picnic table where we dig into this mixture of ahi, seaweed, sesame, sea salt, wasabi cream, and rice. Another band of rain pushes us back to the car, and we are once again on the move.

On the way to the spouting horn, we passed a botanical garden and made a note that we thought we’d like to return and visit its grounds. The spout is busy as the ocean pumps water into a tube that feeds this hydraulic show. I’m comfortable sitting here watching the ocean while Caroline walks over to visit the vendors that have set up shop at the end of this road. The impromptu “mall” is reminiscent of the gift and jewelry stands we find being run by Navajos in Arizona and New Mexico

With no plan for what to do with the day, we stick to that plan and will simply go where our impulse takes us. After leaving the Poipu / Koloa area we head for the main road and spot a sign pointing us to the Old Road to Lihue – sounds perfect. The drive is exceptional in its beauty. If you were to think that I say this about all the roads in Hawaii, you’d probably be right. Our road travels through a broad green valley with lush mountains ahead and golden grasses lining the asphalt. There are not enough superlatives to exclaim our awe and good fortune that we caught the sign that has pulled us into this seductive landscape. While we creep ahead on this car-less road at five mph, we’d prefer to be walking it.

Following a curve in the road, we turn the corner to eye an even bigger surprise: the Menehune Fishponds or, more appropriately, the Alekoko Fishpond. Legend has it that this 1000-year-old lake was built by the Menehune “little people” in a night. No matter the source, this is a great example of early aquaculture that has survived for ten centuries.

Looking for old town Lihue when yet another sign drew our attention, this time to the Kauai Museum. It’s a small affair that charges $10 for entry, but the two-story building next door houses part of the exhibit, so the cost feels reasonable and we decide to go for it. This place has held on for 53 years now and is starting to show its age. I should point out that our ticket is good for a week.

Having visited the Bishop Museum in Honolulu and Waimea Valley earlier in the trip, this scene portrays what we see in our imagination now as to what Hawaii might have looked like back when Captain Cook landed around the corner. There are a few gaps of information and history that are filled in with this visit, but nothing really illuminating.

Great, I didn’t take a single note about what this was, but I believe it’s a crust of salt found near the salt ponds where saltwater would be evaporated for the collection of this all-important mineral.

One of the staff, upon hearing of our interest in the music of Queen Lili`uokalani (she wrote Aloha Oe), brought us over to Paul Isenberg’s family piano to sit down and play it. Who is Paul Isenberg? He’s the guy who moved from Germany to Hawaii to develop the sugar cane industry for the Kingdom of Hawaii. In 1918, during World War I, the operation was seized by the United States and sold to a consortium of Hawaiian businessmen. They renamed H. Hackfeld and Company to American Factors, which was shortened in the 1930s to Amfac. That company’s non-Hawaiian assets were bought by a Chicago realty company in 1988 that later renamed itself Xanterra Parks and Resorts and is the company that Caroline and I have used countless times to book stays from the Grand Canyon to Yellowstone. The piano is over 100 years old and was made in Leipzig, Germany.

Our intention was to head north to Kapaa, but a traffic jam turned us around, so we stopped at the “famous” Mark’s Place for dinner. One big MEH was our response to this allegedly popular joint. At 6:00, we dipped into a theater to watch the newly released The Hobbit, which elicited another big MEH.

Ended the day after a lackluster late afternoon with a shower under the banana leaves using our wonderful outdoor shower. We split a slice of haupia and purple yam pie we’d been saving from the Koloa Fish Market and sat down to write and listen to the rain. The windows are open and will remain so for the duration of our stay. The breeze is cool, and around 11:00 p.m., we start to consider getting some sleep.