Description of pictures:
1 and 2. The coast north of Lahaina
3. Sunset from one of "our" beaches close to our condo
4. Golf course in Kapalua
5. Some of that "fresh dirt" lava
6. that surreal evening, waiting on the beach while bobby was snorkeling
7. a stop on the road to Hana
8. The road to Hana (you can see the road carved into the cliff in the background)
9. A ranch near Hana
10. The black sand beach near Hana
11. Your blogger, posing with a rainbow eucalyptus, which loses it's bark every year, revealing it's colorful trunk underneath.
11 and 12. The bamboo forest on the hike to Waimoku Falls
13. Waimoku falls
14. The seven sacred pools in Oheo Gulch
15. Looking across the top of the Haleakala Crater (10,023 feet elevation)
16. The Iao needle
Hello to my peoples, from vacationland.
It is day...lets see...number seven, I believe. Day number two on Maui. We are beginning to settle into our routines here. I make Bobby get up early, and he whines, and gets downright grouchy. but it's a good system, because it gets light about five o'clock here, and then we are ready for bed as soon as it gets dark in the evening.
Our first day on the island we mostly concerned ourselves with preparing for the rest of our stay here. After my morning run, we attended a complimentary breakfast hosted by an Expedia Local Expert in the pool courtyard. The Local Expert presented us with a slew of options, a map of Maui as well as suggestions on activities, a few opinions on which would be the smartest booking options. We have been kinda planning on going on a snorkel cruise while we are here, but have not booked one yet. Breakfasted with fresh fruit, we went shopping and bought all the necessities we could not pack. We found a farmer's market and bought onions, green peppers, tomatoes, mangoes, papayas, strawberries, pineapple, and lettuce. Then we went to Wal-mart and bought dry goods like rice, corn chips, and noodles. Then to safeway (I think it's funny that we got a safeway card in Honolulu last year, and have not used it until Maui this year, even though there's a safeway in Frisco) for apples, celery, carrots, avocadoes, bananas and mangoes (I forgot I had already bought some at the farmer's market) as well as other staples like bread, tortillas, fruit juice and booze. We staggered into our condo lugging our plunder, and have been slicing, peeling, and paring ever since, three meals a day. I could live like this for a long time.
By the time we had finished our shopping, it was raining, so we drove a few miles up to Makena, Big Beach, where the trees were dripping, but the rain was not falling, walked down the beach for a while, then kept driving until we passed a large backhoe, behind which the entire stretch of land, until it dropped into the ocean, was dug up, turned over in massive chunks of dirt. We actually puzzled over it, why the need for such massive, deep digging, until I looked closer and realized, this was not a new construction site, this was what a lava flow looked like. We felt a bit silly, but hey. How were we to know? They should not park machinery so close to it, leading people like us to make the wrong associatons when presented with such a foreign landscape. It really did look like a garden, freshly turned with a spading fork, but on a macro scale. last years potaoes in this garden would have been about the size of our rented Pontiac. We parked where the road ended and hiked into the lava field a little way, until it looked like no new scenery was going to present itself, then turned around. For kicks and giggles, we walked down to the Wailea beach, by all the grand resorts, and swam out. We had on our swimming goggles, and as soon as we stuck our heads under the water, found ourselves mesmerised by the world down there, fish we had never seen before. We dived for a while, snorkled without snorkels, coming up for air when we needed to breath (I am the world's worst at holding my breath. I start getting panicky and oxygen deprived after about twenty seconds) before we came to the inevitable conclusion- we needed snorkels. Back to Kahalui we drove, and spent some more time in Wal-mart. Cheap, but not too cheap... we finally settled on some, and brought them home, to be used in the morning.
This morning, I got Bobby up at six o'clock, and brought his breakfast to him in bed. No, this is not because I am such a doting, submissive wife (oh, wait... maybe it does) but rather, because he is too large for me to pull out of bed, and the consequences would be too dire were I to try it, so i must resort to other games. I know that chewing takes enough mental energy to keep one from falling asleep, and once the sugars from his meal hit his bloodstream, he will be much more alert. And although he would rather lie there and sleep than sit up and chew, he must take that first bite because I am standing there doing my best chef routine- as if my entire world hinges on what his impressions of my culinary creation are. So yes, i shamelessly admit that breakfast in bed is one of my weapons I pull out when I want him to get out of bed early, instead of letting him fall back asleep. Sure enough, before long, he came stumbling out of the bedroom, plate supported by a weak, wobbly wrist, halted when he realized that the living room was open to the entire out doors, set down the plate and stumbled back down the hall to find some clothes. He finished breakfast outside on the lanai, and before long, was all excited about snorkeling. yes, I connive. No I do not apologize. I pride myself on being good at only a few things- mostly things involving balance and endurance, such as snowboarding, and there are other things which I strive every day to be better at. Cooking and zen, for two, and for three, nonverbal control of my world. It just makes things easier. Ok, admitting that might come back to haunt me some day.
We stuck our faces under the water at Kamaole III beach, the one we are closest to, and paddled around for a while, delighting ourselves with being marine creatures among marine creatures, then went to Ulua beach, this one with a nice reef around it. This one had such a wonderful array of tropical fish, we stayed out until we were thouroughly waterlogged, came back to the beach to grap our waterproof disposable camera, then headed back out. we snapped some really good pictures, (we think), came back to the beach, only to realize the camera was full of water, inside the case. Only then did we remember dropping it earlier. Sure enough, closer inspecton revealed a cracked case. So much for
our pictures. but we still had fun, even though it took a few hours for the red ring encircling our eyes and nose from the goggles go away. We had some time to kill, and wanted to work on the tan, so we let the chlorine water in the pool wash away the salt water, then positioned ourselves on lounge chairs for about thirty minutes. All the factors for a good sunburn lined up just right, because we both have fiery burns. It was a nasty surprise for us. The burns are in patterns to suggest they happened in about a fifteen minute space of time, since that was all the time spent in the position that presented those particular parts of ourselves to the sun. BBD got it worse than i did. He shaved his chest hairs because they are causing his chest to itch, which makes him scratch it, which reminds him that he has a painful burn on it.
He tried to nap after lunch, but I wouldn't let him (oh, i can be relentless), insisting that if he slept now, he would not be able to go to sleep until late tonight, and then he would want to sleep in in the morning, and all my hard work this morning would be shot. So he dragged himself out of bed, and we drove to Lahaina, a historic whaling town. I felt like I was back in breckenridge, except with the pacific as a backdrop, instead of ski slopes. It was cutesie, but i find myself increasingly annoyed with towns of that nature. We drove on to Ka'anapali, with it's big resorts and shopping mall with overpriced surfwear and clothing that could be worn no where but here, and not even here unless you are a tourist, art and jewelry stores, also overpriced, and it was in one of these impractical board and boardwear stores (we were shopping for another pair of swim trunks for BBD- didnt find any) that I looked up and saw, on a bigscreen TV, a shredder, bursting through about three feet of freshies, a frontside board grab, a faceshot of snow, and as wrong as it felt, i wanted to be there. Oh boy. What is happening? Who am I? At that moment, I really wanted to trade my sweaty armpits and frizzy, humidity-destroyed hair for my new plaid snowpants, and a big, fluffy snowdrift under my snowboard with it's woodgrain graphics and the few stickers and decals i have gotten for free over the years and slapped on it. Surfing sucks. You heard that right. It sucks. If man was supposed to surf, we would have been born a little more amphibious. So much work for a few second's ride. But a mountain, a guaranteed ride down after all the work of getting up, marshmallow softness, knife-edge corderoy, ice, corn, bulletproof, bumps, glades, cruisers... ok, so maybe if we had been meant to do that, we'da been born a little more... furry. But it still seems natural to our species.
Don't get me wrong. I am loving it here. It is icy and snowy at home, and I am basking in perfect temeratures, day and night. Plants, trees, green, green, green. Coral reefs, golden sand, cool shade and salty breeze... it's almost heaven. It would be if snow fell here, warm snow. But, somehow, i think the vacation is achieving it's desired purpose. It's making me appreciate my home again.
We stopped at Kapalua and wondered down to the shore, through a portion of the golf course that hosts the Mercedes Benz Championship on the PGA tour. It really is picture perfect. We passed an ancient graveyard, now a protected culteral and historical site, and made our way to the cliffs at the edge of the golf course. I suppose i have
to grant, in it's manicured, perfect, every-blade-of-grass-in-place way, it was one of the more beautiful places I have been in. I of course left my shoes in the car, thinking I was just gonna read the black and bronze plate explaining the burial sites, so I made my way along the lave cliffs barefoot. The rocks had all been worn round, so I did not risk cutting my foot on a sharp piece of lave, but I did stub the piggie who had none, this time on the right foot. Even Bobby, walking beside me, heard it pop. At first I was convinced I had broken it, but four hours later, I can wiggle it painfully and though it is swollen, it is still pink, not purple, so perhaps things just got rearranged. I will be very surprised if I am actually buried with all ten of my toes intact.
Back at the condo, dinner made and eaten, we are feeling fairly ready for bed. The effects of the generous splash of coconut run in my fruit smoothie was making me a bit woosy, making the typing a chore, but it has passed, and I now I am steadily getting drowsier. it is sad indeed, since that was not even a shot's worth. And it is cheap rum, less alcohol content. I simply can't hold my booze. i'm a lightweight. And it seems to be getting worse. But then, i have barely sipped a drop of the stuff since I was ten pounds heavier than I am now, so maybe that makes a difference.
Tired. Must sleep. Big day tomorrow (doing what, I don't know yet)
Day ten. Ok, this keeping track of the days has gotten tedious. I have a three day gap here, and I cannot for the life of me tel you what we did
on each day. But I can recount the high lights. One of those afternoons (it might have been day eight) we did nothing. We sat in the condo, beside the open lanai door, and watched tv while it rained. I read another novel. The tv remote does not work to decrease the volume, only increase it, so we argued about the TV being too loud, and I kept gettin up to turn it down. We needed that one day of doing absolutely nothing, of being bored. One day, and no more. It helped us realize that we really are vacationing, not a single thing we need to do. That was the day I got up early and went for a run, up the beach to Wailea, and realized i had wasted a lot of energy running the other way, into Kihei. Toward Wailea was much nicer, waterfront walkways where the beach was not runnable. The sand right here is condusive to running, at least along the water. It is very fine and firm as long as it is slightly damp. But if one wants to enjoy it without dodging too many people, especially on the beach-front walkways, one must be up early. I try to hit it
at six thirty, and be done by seven thirty, because just before eight, everyone wakes up and the walkways no longer belong to just the runners, but to ambling retirees and motorised carts hauling lawn care equipment, as well as tables, chairs, umbrellas, and food for the outdoor restaurants and resort "ballroom" areas. And after eight, the families hit the beaches, and one may as well just walk no faster than the flow of foot traffic. The run starts at Kam III beach, just outside our door, on a gravel and woodchip path through a protected native bird nesting area, goes across the Kihei boat ramp, teeming with departing fishing, scuba, and snorkel expeditions at six-thirty, across the grass of the first of the Wailea resorts, then hits the beach for a half-mile or more. It is a broad, flat beach, studded with lava outcrop
pings, a wide area of sand smoothed by the waves breaking on it. After that, it climbs onto a foot bridge, which turns into the beach walk that separates all the uppity Wailea resorts from the beaches, and finally turns into a paved walkway along the cliffs that winds through several ancient culteral sites, and is well signed, making it a culteral and botanical tour. It ends at the last resort before the beaches are claimed by lava, and here, one must return either the way one came, or by the road. By the time one turns around, the sun is well up, and the sweat has begin dripping, even where there are no clothes to encourage it. It is a good way to start the morning. I have begun doing it every morning. By the time I get back, BBD is up, and may have even found his way to the beach. On that morning, I met him in the park that separates our condo from the beach, and followed him down to the water, where i stripped off shoes and socks and dived into water that felt like pure heaven, while he wandered around and snapped pictures. We returned to the condo, I grabbed an apple, and we scratched off to Wailea beach to snorkel. The water was less than pristinely clear there, so we had to go out a long way to find clear water, and by that time, we had to dive down a long way to see the fish and coral. I don't know why my ears are so sensitive. I used to dive to the bottom of the ten-foot deep Leoti pool, and sure, my ears hurt a little, but nothing like they do now, under five or six feet of water. But I almost want to scream from the pain, so diving is not something i do, unless hot on the tail of some really bizarre or beautiful fish, and then, not for long. And after that, I sat down, and realized my constant activity of the morning was catching up, and we proceeded to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon. At dark, we finally got achy enough to want to do something, so we went back to Ulua beach, and he swam out, in spite of the fact that it was overcast and threatening rain, and the beach was deserted. He saw a turtle, which made him even happier, while I sat and drew pictures in the sand, and took pictures. There were two other people in the water, standing on surfboards, paddling them around on the calm water. They gave the scene a very surreal feel, with the water the same gray shade as the sky, two grayer figures suspende
d between the water and the sky.
Day nine, I did not get in the water, not even once. It is possible for me, if not for BBD. He really is happiest in the water. Some of the best times we've had together have been in or on the water, and i think it is because there, he finally really forgets to worry about things. Maybe there is a phychological explanation, having to do with being weightless and washing your cares away, I don't know, but for him, water works. Instead, after my run, we threw some food in the car, stopped at a gas station to fill up with $4.29 gas, and hit the Hana Highway. Hana is not, as suggested by the name, the destination of the Hana Highway. The road itself is the destination. There are 61 one-lane bridges on this road, and six hundred curves. The road to Hana is included in many poeple's must-do list for Maui, and it was, indeed, beautiful. We stopped at several waterfalls, several viewpoints, and had a picnic lunch in Hana, at the famous black-sand beach, flanked by lava tubes and blowholes. Hana is tiny, one inn, one restaurant, both rediculously overpriced, a place where everyone would love to live in theory, but is just too isolated to be realistic as a home. It does have a unique sub-culture though, so isolated that it is much easier to support local growers tha
n pay delivery trucks to bring groceries over that road. Farms and fruitstands abound, and the people there are proud of their sustainability.
At the end of the road is an entrance to the far end of Haleakala National Park, and a hike we had already decided to take. It is a trail that winds up Ohea Gulch, through a surreal forest of bamboo, banyan, and guava trees, two miles and five hundred vertical feet, until it ends under the several hundred foot Waimoku falls. We lounged in the damp shade, water droplets falling around us for a half-hour, then made the two mile return trip in good time. At the point where the stream from the falls meets the ocean, is a series of seven pools, cascading one to the next, each one deep and inviting. These are called the Seven Sacred Pools, a
name the locals find irritating because there is nothing sacred about them. The name was a shamele
ss marketing ploy, along with the carefully planted rumor that in ancient lore, the seven pools represented seven something-or-others. Emotions, or beliefs, or something like that. I'm a little fuzzy on my fake history, and can't remember where I picked up that fun fact to varify it. Bobby swam in the lower pools, while I climbed to a few higher ones. Swimming is discouraged in them, because in the event of a flash flood, the only way out is out to sea, but it does not seem to deter the three hundred (or six hundred- another unvarifyable fact) visitors that drive the road to Hana in a given day.
And now, day ten, the day not yet over. I forwent the run in favor of a bit of snuggling, a leisurely breakfast, and an early departure. Everyone says we should watch the sunrise, or at least the sunset, from the Haleakala crater. Haleakala is the ten thousand foot volcanic sentinel of Maui. We deviated, because we are deviants. Well, actually we are lazy. One must roust at about 2:30 am in order to make sunrise, and we could not be sure of the clear view at sunset that we knew we would have mid-morning. The volcano on the Big Island has been sending vog (I still do not want to believe that's a real word) over here, obscuring the crater ever since we got here. This morning was the first time we were able to see it. We drove to the top, watching the landscape morph from tropical to sub-alpine, to a moonscape. As we were preparing to leave, Sky, a bouncy, blue-eyed brunette with a natural history degree, arrived and shouted to all who would hear that she would be
giving a natural history degree. We stayed, to learn about tectonic plate movements and volcanic hot-spots, eruptions and erosion. Then we wondered around the visitor's center just long enough to learn nothing new, except for the identinty of the unusually l
arge spider perched on the wall of the observation deck at the summit, and breath dep breaths of wonderfully thin air, not realizing until that moment how much the air at sea level makes you feel like you are breathing soup.
Just down from the summit, we swung over and picked up Chelsea, a hitchhiker in a big, floppy hat, dirty linen pants, and an ov
ernight pack. She had spent the night in the crater, and the rest of her party was hiking all the way down the back side, to Hana, but she had to be to work tomorrow, so she hiked back out the way she had come. She is doing an apprentice-ship on an organic farm in Hana, three days a week growing coffee, papaya, every imaginable fruit and vegetable. The farm is completely sustainable, the employees living almost exclusively on what it yields. It sounded, when she talked about it, pretty much like eden. The manager lives in a banyan tree, in a treehouse complete with stained-glass windows. Occasionally, meals are provided by local health-food restaurants, cooking with consideration to any diet- raw foodism, veganism, you name it. A place for nuts like me, with urges in the direction of an all-natural lifestyle, to live it out to their heart's content. It could only work so well here, in a place where one has only to drop a seed into the ground to watch it grow. But before you say it, be sure that B already has. He is a city boy, he tells me before I even have time to sigh a wistful sigh, and if i want that sort of lifesty
le, I'll have to do it without him. And that is where my passion for it breaks apart, because as healthy and good as natural sustainability is, what good is it if mixed with loneliness?
After dropping Chelsea off, we grabbed lunch and did a bit of shopping, then drove to the Iao (pronounced ee-oh) Valley, the scene of one of the bloodiest battles over land ever fought between the local people. In the heart of the valley is a needle-like cone, flat on the top, used as a lookout during war times, and, as Oahu soldiers closed in, as a retreat for the local Mauians. By the time it was over, the stream in the bottom of the valley ren red, and was dammed by their bodies. How completely pointless, all the wars faught over land, when in the end, even the victors will lose it to an even bigger rival. All it took in this case was a union of greedy American plantation owners, a few strategic lies, and a queen who loved her people so much she chose abdication over more bloodshed.
And now we are back at the condo, letting the day wear on at it's own pace, the lanai shaded behind the palms. Maybe, if I am lucky, I will be able to get online long enough to post this, maybe even add some pictures.
It is day...lets see...number seven, I believe. Day number two on Maui. We are beginning to settle into our routines here. I make Bobby get up early, and he whines, and gets downright grouchy. but it's a good system, because it gets light about five o'clock here, and then we are ready for bed as soon as it gets dark in the evening.
Our first day on the island we mostly concerned ourselves with preparing for the rest of our stay here. After my morning run, we attended a complimentary breakfast hosted by an Expedia Local Expert in the pool courtyard. The Local Expert presented us with a slew of options, a map of Maui as well as suggestions on activities, a few opinions on which would be the smartest booking options. We have been kinda planning on going on a snorkel cruise while we are here, but have not booked one yet. Breakfasted with fresh fruit, we went shopping and bought all the necessities we could not pack. We found a farmer's market and bought onions, green peppers, tomatoes, mangoes, papayas, strawberries, pineapple, and lettuce. Then we went to Wal-mart and bought dry goods like rice, corn chips, and noodles. Then to safeway (I think it's funny that we got a safeway card in Honolulu last year, and have not used it until Maui this year, even though there's a safeway in Frisco) for apples, celery, carrots, avocadoes, bananas and mangoes (I forgot I had already bought some at the farmer's market) as well as other staples like bread, tortillas, fruit juice and booze. We staggered into our condo lugging our plunder, and have been slicing, peeling, and paring ever since, three meals a day. I could live like this for a long time.
By the time we had finished our shopping, it was raining, so we drove a few miles up to Makena, Big Beach, where the trees were dripping, but the rain was not falling, walked down the beach for a while, then kept driving until we passed a large backhoe, behind which the entire stretch of land, until it dropped into the ocean, was dug up, turned over in massive chunks of dirt. We actually puzzled over it, why the need for such massive, deep digging, until I looked closer and realized, this was not a new construction site, this was what a lava flow looked like. We felt a bit silly, but hey. How were we to know? They should not park machinery so close to it, leading people like us to make the wrong associatons when presented with such a foreign landscape. It really did look like a garden, freshly turned with a spading fork, but on a macro scale. last years potaoes in this garden would have been about the size of our rented Pontiac. We parked where the road ended and hiked into the lava field a little way, until it looked like no new scenery was going to present itself, then turned around. For kicks and giggles, we walked down to the Wailea beach, by all the grand resorts, and swam out. We had on our swimming goggles, and as soon as we stuck our heads under the water, found ourselves mesmerised by the world down there, fish we had never seen before. We dived for a while, snorkled without snorkels, coming up for air when we needed to breath (I am the world's worst at holding my breath. I start getting panicky and oxygen deprived after about twenty seconds) before we came to the inevitable conclusion- we needed snorkels. Back to Kahalui we drove, and spent some more time in Wal-mart. Cheap, but not too cheap... we finally settled on some, and brought them home, to be used in the morning.
This morning, I got Bobby up at six o'clock, and brought his breakfast to him in bed. No, this is not because I am such a doting, submissive wife (oh, wait... maybe it does) but rather, because he is too large for me to pull out of bed, and the consequences would be too dire were I to try it, so i must resort to other games. I know that chewing takes enough mental energy to keep one from falling asleep, and once the sugars from his meal hit his bloodstream, he will be much more alert. And although he would rather lie there and sleep than sit up and chew, he must take that first bite because I am standing there doing my best chef routine- as if my entire world hinges on what his impressions of my culinary creation are. So yes, i shamelessly admit that breakfast in bed is one of my weapons I pull out when I want him to get out of bed early, instead of letting him fall back asleep. Sure enough, before long, he came stumbling out of the bedroom, plate supported by a weak, wobbly wrist, halted when he realized that the living room was open to the entire out doors, set down the plate and stumbled back down the hall to find some clothes. He finished breakfast outside on the lanai, and before long, was all excited about snorkeling. yes, I connive. No I do not apologize. I pride myself on being good at only a few things- mostly things involving balance and endurance, such as snowboarding, and there are other things which I strive every day to be better at. Cooking and zen, for two, and for three, nonverbal control of my world. It just makes things easier. Ok, admitting that might come back to haunt me some day.
We stuck our faces under the water at Kamaole III beach, the one we are closest to, and paddled around for a while, delighting ourselves with being marine creatures among marine creatures, then went to Ulua beach, this one with a nice reef around it. This one had such a wonderful array of tropical fish, we stayed out until we were thouroughly waterlogged, came back to the beach to grap our waterproof disposable camera, then headed back out. we snapped some really good pictures, (we think), came back to the beach, only to realize the camera was full of water, inside the case. Only then did we remember dropping it earlier. Sure enough, closer inspecton revealed a cracked case. So much for
our pictures. but we still had fun, even though it took a few hours for the red ring encircling our eyes and nose from the goggles go away. We had some time to kill, and wanted to work on the tan, so we let the chlorine water in the pool wash away the salt water, then positioned ourselves on lounge chairs for about thirty minutes. All the factors for a good sunburn lined up just right, because we both have fiery burns. It was a nasty surprise for us. The burns are in patterns to suggest they happened in about a fifteen minute space of time, since that was all the time spent in the position that presented those particular parts of ourselves to the sun. BBD got it worse than i did. He shaved his chest hairs because they are causing his chest to itch, which makes him scratch it, which reminds him that he has a painful burn on it.He tried to nap after lunch, but I wouldn't let him (oh, i can be relentless), insisting that if he slept now, he would not be able to go to sleep until late tonight, and then he would want to sleep in in the morning, and all my hard work this morning would be shot. So he dragged himself out of bed, and we drove to Lahaina, a historic whaling town. I felt like I was back in breckenridge, except with the pacific as a backdrop, instead of ski slopes. It was cutesie, but i find myself increasingly annoyed with towns of that nature. We drove on to Ka'anapali, with it's big resorts and shopping mall with overpriced surfwear and clothing that could be worn no where but here, and not even here unless you are a tourist, art and jewelry stores, also overpriced, and it was in one of these impractical board and boardwear stores (we were shopping for another pair of swim trunks for BBD- didnt find any) that I looked up and saw, on a bigscreen TV, a shredder, bursting through about three feet of freshies, a frontside board grab, a faceshot of snow, and as wrong as it felt, i wanted to be there. Oh boy. What is happening? Who am I? At that moment, I really wanted to trade my sweaty armpits and frizzy, humidity-destroyed hair for my new plaid snowpants, and a big, fluffy snowdrift under my snowboard with it's woodgrain graphics and the few stickers and decals i have gotten for free over the years and slapped on it. Surfing sucks. You heard that right. It sucks. If man was supposed to surf, we would have been born a little more amphibious. So much work for a few second's ride. But a mountain, a guaranteed ride down after all the work of getting up, marshmallow softness, knife-edge corderoy, ice, corn, bulletproof, bumps, glades, cruisers... ok, so maybe if we had been meant to do that, we'da been born a little more... furry. But it still seems natural to our species.
Don't get me wrong. I am loving it here. It is icy and snowy at home, and I am basking in perfect temeratures, day and night. Plants, trees, green, green, green. Coral reefs, golden sand, cool shade and salty breeze... it's almost heaven. It would be if snow fell here, warm snow. But, somehow, i think the vacation is achieving it's desired purpose. It's making me appreciate my home again.
We stopped at Kapalua and wondered down to the shore, through a portion of the golf course that hosts the Mercedes Benz Championship on the PGA tour. It really is picture perfect. We passed an ancient graveyard, now a protected culteral and historical site, and made our way to the cliffs at the edge of the golf course. I suppose i have
to grant, in it's manicured, perfect, every-blade-of-grass-in-place way, it was one of the more beautiful places I have been in. I of course left my shoes in the car, thinking I was just gonna read the black and bronze plate explaining the burial sites, so I made my way along the lave cliffs barefoot. The rocks had all been worn round, so I did not risk cutting my foot on a sharp piece of lave, but I did stub the piggie who had none, this time on the right foot. Even Bobby, walking beside me, heard it pop. At first I was convinced I had broken it, but four hours later, I can wiggle it painfully and though it is swollen, it is still pink, not purple, so perhaps things just got rearranged. I will be very surprised if I am actually buried with all ten of my toes intact.Back at the condo, dinner made and eaten, we are feeling fairly ready for bed. The effects of the generous splash of coconut run in my fruit smoothie was making me a bit woosy, making the typing a chore, but it has passed, and I now I am steadily getting drowsier. it is sad indeed, since that was not even a shot's worth. And it is cheap rum, less alcohol content. I simply can't hold my booze. i'm a lightweight. And it seems to be getting worse. But then, i have barely sipped a drop of the stuff since I was ten pounds heavier than I am now, so maybe that makes a difference.
Tired. Must sleep. Big day tomorrow (doing what, I don't know yet)
Day ten. Ok, this keeping track of the days has gotten tedious. I have a three day gap here, and I cannot for the life of me tel you what we did
on each day. But I can recount the high lights. One of those afternoons (it might have been day eight) we did nothing. We sat in the condo, beside the open lanai door, and watched tv while it rained. I read another novel. The tv remote does not work to decrease the volume, only increase it, so we argued about the TV being too loud, and I kept gettin up to turn it down. We needed that one day of doing absolutely nothing, of being bored. One day, and no more. It helped us realize that we really are vacationing, not a single thing we need to do. That was the day I got up early and went for a run, up the beach to Wailea, and realized i had wasted a lot of energy running the other way, into Kihei. Toward Wailea was much nicer, waterfront walkways where the beach was not runnable. The sand right here is condusive to running, at least along the water. It is very fine and firm as long as it is slightly damp. But if one wants to enjoy it without dodging too many people, especially on the beach-front walkways, one must be up early. I try to hit it
at six thirty, and be done by seven thirty, because just before eight, everyone wakes up and the walkways no longer belong to just the runners, but to ambling retirees and motorised carts hauling lawn care equipment, as well as tables, chairs, umbrellas, and food for the outdoor restaurants and resort "ballroom" areas. And after eight, the families hit the beaches, and one may as well just walk no faster than the flow of foot traffic. The run starts at Kam III beach, just outside our door, on a gravel and woodchip path through a protected native bird nesting area, goes across the Kihei boat ramp, teeming with departing fishing, scuba, and snorkel expeditions at six-thirty, across the grass of the first of the Wailea resorts, then hits the beach for a half-mile or more. It is a broad, flat beach, studded with lava outcrop
pings, a wide area of sand smoothed by the waves breaking on it. After that, it climbs onto a foot bridge, which turns into the beach walk that separates all the uppity Wailea resorts from the beaches, and finally turns into a paved walkway along the cliffs that winds through several ancient culteral sites, and is well signed, making it a culteral and botanical tour. It ends at the last resort before the beaches are claimed by lava, and here, one must return either the way one came, or by the road. By the time one turns around, the sun is well up, and the sweat has begin dripping, even where there are no clothes to encourage it. It is a good way to start the morning. I have begun doing it every morning. By the time I get back, BBD is up, and may have even found his way to the beach. On that morning, I met him in the park that separates our condo from the beach, and followed him down to the water, where i stripped off shoes and socks and dived into water that felt like pure heaven, while he wandered around and snapped pictures. We returned to the condo, I grabbed an apple, and we scratched off to Wailea beach to snorkel. The water was less than pristinely clear there, so we had to go out a long way to find clear water, and by that time, we had to dive down a long way to see the fish and coral. I don't know why my ears are so sensitive. I used to dive to the bottom of the ten-foot deep Leoti pool, and sure, my ears hurt a little, but nothing like they do now, under five or six feet of water. But I almost want to scream from the pain, so diving is not something i do, unless hot on the tail of some really bizarre or beautiful fish, and then, not for long. And after that, I sat down, and realized my constant activity of the morning was catching up, and we proceeded to do nothing for the rest of the afternoon. At dark, we finally got achy enough to want to do something, so we went back to Ulua beach, and he swam out, in spite of the fact that it was overcast and threatening rain, and the beach was deserted. He saw a turtle, which made him even happier, while I sat and drew pictures in the sand, and took pictures. There were two other people in the water, standing on surfboards, paddling them around on the calm water. They gave the scene a very surreal feel, with the water the same gray shade as the sky, two grayer figures suspende
d between the water and the sky.Day nine, I did not get in the water, not even once. It is possible for me, if not for BBD. He really is happiest in the water. Some of the best times we've had together have been in or on the water, and i think it is because there, he finally really forgets to worry about things. Maybe there is a phychological explanation, having to do with being weightless and washing your cares away, I don't know, but for him, water works. Instead, after my run, we threw some food in the car, stopped at a gas station to fill up with $4.29 gas, and hit the Hana Highway. Hana is not, as suggested by the name, the destination of the Hana Highway. The road itself is the destination. There are 61 one-lane bridges on this road, and six hundred curves. The road to Hana is included in many poeple's must-do list for Maui, and it was, indeed, beautiful. We stopped at several waterfalls, several viewpoints, and had a picnic lunch in Hana, at the famous black-sand beach, flanked by lava tubes and blowholes. Hana is tiny, one inn, one restaurant, both rediculously overpriced, a place where everyone would love to live in theory, but is just too isolated to be realistic as a home. It does have a unique sub-culture though, so isolated that it is much easier to support local growers tha
n pay delivery trucks to bring groceries over that road. Farms and fruitstands abound, and the people there are proud of their sustainability.
At the end of the road is an entrance to the far end of Haleakala National Park, and a hike we had already decided to take. It is a trail that winds up Ohea Gulch, through a surreal forest of bamboo, banyan, and guava trees, two miles and five hundred vertical feet, until it ends under the several hundred foot Waimoku falls. We lounged in the damp shade, water droplets falling around us for a half-hour, then made the two mile return trip in good time. At the point where the stream from the falls meets the ocean, is a series of seven pools, cascading one to the next, each one deep and inviting. These are called the Seven Sacred Pools, a
name the locals find irritating because there is nothing sacred about them. The name was a shamele
ss marketing ploy, along with the carefully planted rumor that in ancient lore, the seven pools represented seven something-or-others. Emotions, or beliefs, or something like that. I'm a little fuzzy on my fake history, and can't remember where I picked up that fun fact to varify it. Bobby swam in the lower pools, while I climbed to a few higher ones. Swimming is discouraged in them, because in the event of a flash flood, the only way out is out to sea, but it does not seem to deter the three hundred (or six hundred- another unvarifyable fact) visitors that drive the road to Hana in a given day.And now, day ten, the day not yet over. I forwent the run in favor of a bit of snuggling, a leisurely breakfast, and an early departure. Everyone says we should watch the sunrise, or at least the sunset, from the Haleakala crater. Haleakala is the ten thousand foot volcanic sentinel of Maui. We deviated, because we are deviants. Well, actually we are lazy. One must roust at about 2:30 am in order to make sunrise, and we could not be sure of the clear view at sunset that we knew we would have mid-morning. The volcano on the Big Island has been sending vog (I still do not want to believe that's a real word) over here, obscuring the crater ever since we got here. This morning was the first time we were able to see it. We drove to the top, watching the landscape morph from tropical to sub-alpine, to a moonscape. As we were preparing to leave, Sky, a bouncy, blue-eyed brunette with a natural history degree, arrived and shouted to all who would hear that she would be
giving a natural history degree. We stayed, to learn about tectonic plate movements and volcanic hot-spots, eruptions and erosion. Then we wondered around the visitor's center just long enough to learn nothing new, except for the identinty of the unusually l
arge spider perched on the wall of the observation deck at the summit, and breath dep breaths of wonderfully thin air, not realizing until that moment how much the air at sea level makes you feel like you are breathing soup.Just down from the summit, we swung over and picked up Chelsea, a hitchhiker in a big, floppy hat, dirty linen pants, and an ov
ernight pack. She had spent the night in the crater, and the rest of her party was hiking all the way down the back side, to Hana, but she had to be to work tomorrow, so she hiked back out the way she had come. She is doing an apprentice-ship on an organic farm in Hana, three days a week growing coffee, papaya, every imaginable fruit and vegetable. The farm is completely sustainable, the employees living almost exclusively on what it yields. It sounded, when she talked about it, pretty much like eden. The manager lives in a banyan tree, in a treehouse complete with stained-glass windows. Occasionally, meals are provided by local health-food restaurants, cooking with consideration to any diet- raw foodism, veganism, you name it. A place for nuts like me, with urges in the direction of an all-natural lifestyle, to live it out to their heart's content. It could only work so well here, in a place where one has only to drop a seed into the ground to watch it grow. But before you say it, be sure that B already has. He is a city boy, he tells me before I even have time to sigh a wistful sigh, and if i want that sort of lifesty
le, I'll have to do it without him. And that is where my passion for it breaks apart, because as healthy and good as natural sustainability is, what good is it if mixed with loneliness?After dropping Chelsea off, we grabbed lunch and did a bit of shopping, then drove to the Iao (pronounced ee-oh) Valley, the scene of one of the bloodiest battles over land ever fought between the local people. In the heart of the valley is a needle-like cone, flat on the top, used as a lookout during war times, and, as Oahu soldiers closed in, as a retreat for the local Mauians. By the time it was over, the stream in the bottom of the valley ren red, and was dammed by their bodies. How completely pointless, all the wars faught over land, when in the end, even the victors will lose it to an even bigger rival. All it took in this case was a union of greedy American plantation owners, a few strategic lies, and a queen who loved her people so much she chose abdication over more bloodshed.
And now we are back at the condo, letting the day wear on at it's own pace, the lanai shaded behind the palms. Maybe, if I am lucky, I will be able to get online long enough to post this, maybe even add some pictures.
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