Photos- 1-the beachfront walkway I have now pounded up and down almost every morning this week
2-more of the beachfront run

Day eleven, I sneaked out of the house again, this time at five thirty, for my run. i stealthily dressed in clothes laid out in the hallway the night before, beat the sprinklers across the lawn, and ran to Wailea by way of the road, prefering pavement to sand for a change. I ran horribly that morning, dehydrated since I had not drank much the night before, but the sunrise was beautiful. I watched the sun crawl over the edge of Haleakala, at the same time watching it's new, pink light slide down the islands of Kahoolawe (the uninhabitable island visible from Maui- it has too many unexploded land mines leftover from WWII on the island in in the surrounding water) and Molokini. I ran back along the beach, not listening to my ipod, instead trying to imprint the whole sensation, the waves, the breeze, the sunrise, into my mind, since this woulod be my last run. I got back to the condo, and noticed a few things amiss... BBD's running shoes were out on the lanai, the door was open, the lights were on... I went inside, and he seemed a little squiffy. Apparently, he had not noticed when I got up, but woke up shortly after and impulsively decided to do the one thing that always builds instant brownie points with me- join me on my run. since I had not turned on lights and crashed around getting ready and putting on my shoes and filling my water pack, he thought I must still be in the condo, and when he saw I was gone, he grabbed his clothes, tied his shoes, and tore out the door after me, running along the path I had described to him and never seeing me (because I was up on the road). After a mile of running on the sand beach, he decided he would not catch me, and returned home. I felt terrible after I heard his story. I had begged him the night before to go with me, just once, but I never thought he actually would. I told him i would do anything he wanted the rest of the day, to make up for it. We had by then heard that Turtle Town, a highlight of the snorkel tour, was actually only about a quarter mile offshore (if even. I have no concept of distance over water.), so he smeared on about a quart of sunscreen and i donned long shorts and a long sleeved, turtleneck surf shirt. (I try to avaid sunscreen whenever possible, because of how sick it makes me feel. I must be sensitive to an ingredient, because at the end of the day I have more energy and less raw skin if I just wear clothes instead of sunblock) and we splashed out from Wailea Beach in search of turtles. When I say turtles, I am talking about those huge, green sea turtles in Finding Nemo (for example), with flipper feet, about three to five feet across, huge and rare. We swam out until we reached a coral shelf with deep, inviting caves beneath it, and saw nothing. We hung around, swam in circles, peering down into the murk, and nothing. Finally, feering we had come all this way for nothing, we began lazily paddling back to shore, when Bobby grabbed my arm and began gesturing wildly, and there, swimming beside us, head stuck out of the water as he checked out the activity, was a turtle.

Now, for those of you who might not understand, turtles are kinda my thing. When BBD caught on to this, he began buying me turtles, fuzzy stuffed ones, from everywhere he went without me. I gave them names like Edgar and Otto, very cool turtle names. (then he married me, so turtles ceased to be necessary) My enthusiasm for all things turtle has rubbed off on him, and he claimed, as soon as he got there, that he would not be leaving without swimming with a turtle. And these are no ordinary turtles. They are a symbol of Hawaii. They are huge and beautiful and protected, and they command respect. They are old, one knows by their size. Did you know that a turtle does not die of old age? Their cells regenerate differently than ours do. They grow old, but as far as lifespan is concerned, they could be ageless. They die instead of encounters with fishing nets and boats and predators, poluted water, diseases, anything that kills besides old age.

We followed him for a while, until he sank down to a murky cave under the coral shelf, then we began swimming along the shelf. This time, i spotted the turtle first, what looked like a smooth, round rock drifting along the bottom. We swam closer, until we could see him, and followed him for a while. By that time, we were a long way from shore, so we turned around and began swimming back, and suddenly another one swam beneath us, this one just plain enormous, and close. We watched as he faded out of view into the murk (visibility was less than wonderful that day) and finally, made our way back to the beach, having swam more than a mile.

When we got back to the condo, we brought all of our stinky, wet clothes and towels inside, along with our snorkeling gear, because we would not be using them again. We did laundry, ate more leftovers, lay around, and finally came up with a plan- sleep now, then stay up late, so that we could sleep in the next morning, so that we could be prepered for the loooong day the next day.

Which we did. After a nap, we spent some time by the pool, read some books, ate dinner, channel surfed, and finally got out my computer and watched the movie "Munich". It is about the aftermath, the reckoning, that followed the killing of eleven isreali athletes at the '72 (I think) Olympic games. A depressing movie, and a long one. we stayed up for the whole thing, but not because we wanted to.

There was no run on day twelve. We slept in as long as possible, used the last of the fruit to make smoothies, packed, cleaned, and hung out at the condo until check-out. Since we had ten hours to kill until our 10:40 pm flight, we drove to Lahaina and ate at the Hard Rock Cafe. It was a lot to pay for a veggie burger and a brisket sandwich, but it was our only actually eating out experience while on Maui, if ya don't count Panda Express take-out a time or two. After lunch, we walked down the main drag, a narrow, waterfront street lined with shops and restaurants. Breckenridge without the snow. We even bought tee-shirts and souveniers. Ate Lappert's ice cream on the boardwalk. Wondered through the art festival under the banyan tree. The banyan tree is a landmark of Lahaina. It was planted for the express purpose of shading an entire city block, and it does just that. It's arial roots have grown into the ground and turned into trunks in over thirty (I think) places, it's branches wind and twist overhead, and the area it covers was home, on that day, to a gathering of local artisans in something called the Festival of Canoes. we left Lahaina hot and full, and drove an hour to Kahalui, the airport town, where we found a Borders bookstore and prepared for a bit of boredom by buying reading material. We found a beach six miles out of town, and took a walk while the sun set, then shared one last Panda express meal, even though we were far from hungry, and drove to the airport two and a half hours before our flight. Two and a half hours we were loaded, buckled in, luggage stowed, ready for takeoff...and then the pilot came on and announced that the crew was experiencing a bit of confusion, because the on-board navigational charts were nowhere to be found. So we sat. Thirty minutes later, he announced that come to find out, a change of policy had just been instated, and the pilots were now expected to carry their own navigational charts, instead of relying on the on-board library to provide them. The incoming crew had taken them with them, and the outgoing crew was now without them. Someone would have to drive to Lahaina, through road construction, to bring them back. So we sat. We slept in our seats. Two and a half hours later, the crew recieved their charts, and we could leave. We have never been so glad to have a non-stop flight. When we picked up our luggage, we were two of about five people waiting at the baggage carousel. About 150 more people were milling around the customer service counter, trying to rebook their connecting flights.

Now, as I finish writing, we are finally home. We hit the road in Phoenix on a few catnaps caught on the plane, after being up for twenty four hours. We drove ten hours to Wendell's house in Cedaredge at nine:30 that night, then, as is our norm when with Wendell (the guy does not sleep until he drops of exhaustion these days, so we often go to bed in the wee hours when we are in Cedaredge) we stayed up until three am this morning. We slept like the dead last night.

This morning, we drove through a green, green Colorado, the Colorado river already swollen from run-off, marveling at the beauty of this place we call home. We almost decided that we would rather live here than in Hawaii.

Every island in Hawaii has something to offer. Something one is loath to miss out on by going instead to another island. The Na Pali cliffs on Kaui, the war history and big city on Oahu, and I am sure the other islands all have their offerings, too, even though we have not been to them. But for the most part, Maui is the one we have been on, most tailored to mainlanders. We saw almost none of the rusted vehicled on blocks, the beach locals living in tents made out of old blankets and holey tarps, or the local's hostility that we ran into on Oahu. There is more going on than on Kaui, more accessible beaches. The crowd in Maui seems to be of the light-skinned, mainlander variety, We did not even see very many Japanese, local or tourists. The ethnic diversity seems to not be as strong on Maui. The landscaping seems to be everywhere, not just in the resorts. The homes have windows, not just bars over sagging window frames. Shingles instead of tar paper. Kaui is as well kept up, but just does not have the things to do, the areas to visit. Mostly, Maui seems to have a lot of sunburned tourists than anything else. So I suppose if one likes to keep their comfort zone close, Maui is the island to go to. More accesible reefs (and reefer, I noticed- maybe that's why many locals seemed to be an extension of the Summit County crowd) more beaches, more hospitable locals, and lots of open country, small farms and ranches tucked behind eucalyptus and fruit trees. More guitars and ukaleles on street corners, more back-to-the-land types. More board shorts and flip flops, less glamourous types of tourists than Oahu. More farmer's market and fruit stands. Less chain restaurants, more local dives.

It was a good trip. But it's good to be home, too. The lake is melted off, there is no snow left in the yard, even though the peaks are still white. On tuesday, we plan to close on the house, so we will be busy, but having fun, too, fixing up our home in Summit County- something we never thought we would be able to do. We thought we would be living in increasingly smaller apartments for as long as we cold afford to live here, and finally we would be forced to leave. So the security this offers us is incredible. It is strange, being so happy to be home.