Jon's last full day in Paradise

Being his last day, you could assume that we'd be out the door and on the road heading towards fun as soon as the sun crested the horizon. Or possibly before. You would, however, be wrong. It was another lazy morning, marked by indecision on what to do. Snorkel? Swim? Something non-beach related? In the end all water sports fell into the rejected pile because of the high surf. But we wanted to show Jon something special so off we drove, south past Kealakekua to Pu'uhonua o Honaunau (The Place of Refuge) National Historic Park.

Like the place of refuge in Waipio Valley, this area was a sanctuary in Hawaii's past. All sorts of things can be seen at this park but we focused on the tide pools. Jon got his requisite sea turtle sighting among plenty of other sea creatures. The waves accosting the shore were big, tossing spray onto us, the water at times dashing up higher and faster than we expected leaving us with wet feet. No one got pulled into the ocean, and only once did I worry that Jon, focused on getting good pictures, would be sucked in from the ledge he stood upon.

The shore in this area is awesome. Lava rock abuts the ocean, dropping down in sheer "cliffs" that can be seen when the water recedes. Because of the bluntness of the shore, waves crash loudly and send spray high up into the air. Sea urchins, sea slugs, a couple of eels, crabs and snails and I forget what else all fell prey to our cameras. A large pool sits along the edge of the ocean, into which The C and I plopped to refresh ourselves in the chilly water. 

Somehow lunch time walked up, checked us out and kept walking, an act left undiscovered for a couple of hours. By the time we gathered ourselves and left it was after 3pm and hunger left us weak. So weak that The C needed to be carried out fireman style. Fortunately the Kona Brewing Company continues to have tasty delicious and fairly nutritious food and beer. Without it I fear we'd have been lost.

Some of the reasons I love it here

For a little over three hours this morning The C and I and our two hosts wandered the lower half of the farm picking coffee. Despite the difficulty of walking over the rocky and rolling terrain, the work is fairly meditative. A hot sun followed us and obscured the color of the cherries. But with trees holding almost nothing but bright red future cups of coffee deciding which cherries to pick required no brain. A fine morning!

And it got better. As I approached the ohana for our lunch break, ML asked me: "Did you drop some eggs outside your door?" As she said this I remembered the clucking pest that had been nestling underneath the table outside our door, back up against the wall. At the time I'd hoped she'd lay a couple of eggs that could become my breakfast. It turns out I hoped correctly. There on the ground sat 2 little untended eggs. Yum!

My bounty approached spilling over. While lunch heated on the burner I pulled out the juicer and juiced a couple of oranges and grapefruits we'd gotten from other farms and a couple of tangerines picked right outside our window. Since I didn't have as much juice as I wanted, I walked out to the tangerine tree and picked a few more, juggling them for The C's entertainment as I walked back inside. She wasn't impressed with my act, which may have had something to do with the errant tangerine that caromed off her computer's keyboard.

Yup, tough times.

They aren't ripe yet, but I also picked 2 papayas and 5 avocados. Heading back to wintry Portland (it's snowing there today, again??) may hurt a bit.

A day of volcanoes, Part II

As our little group departed Volcanoes National Park, a new sign was letting visitors know that the area we'd visited in the morning (and been choked out of at the end) had been closed until further notice because of poisonous gases. Good thing we hit it early!

Under another sunny sky our trekking led us into the small port town of Hilo, where The C had lived a couple years back. A quaint little town, with not much to do, but neat. Candace took us to a cheap and tasty sushi joint and I took us to the Salvation Army. When packing for this trip, something led me to believe that 4 t-shirts would suffice for 3 months. What I'd neglected to ponder was the farm labor that would render each shirt unwearable more than a day in a row. Two days if the first entailed picking coffee. I now find myself short on shirts, shirts which have begun to unravel, tear and not come clean from constant use. I'd hoped to find an extra or two. Instead I found shirts that ranged from XL to XXXL. Desperation remains at bay and I left empty handed. Since we'd not been over to Hilo yet, we needed to stop by The C's old house to visit her ex-roommate.

This house is amazing. I won't go so far as to call it perfect, but it's damn close in my opinion. Up on the mountain above town, the house sits off on a small dead-end street that ends at a grove of massive trees. From the house you can sea the ocean and Mauna Kea (good selling points, even if the views are not sweeping). A huge front porch sits half a dozen steps above street level. Large windows set in every wall let in loads of light. The combination of the windows and a good floor plan make the inside feel very open and roomy.  The backyard houses fruit tree, bushes, pepper plants and lava rock. I love the house, even though I've never lived there. To top it off, the Cat of the House, Chongo, is friendly and loves to play tag (I've never played tag with an animal before, but he loves it. And he's much better at it than I.).

After a spot of tea and rambling conversations we left the house and dashed up Saddle Road trying to make sunset from the observatory on Mauna Kea. The curving winding road did not slow the Civic, her low-slung body gripping the curves and fine shocks absorbing the rolling asphalt. The landscape around us began tropical and steamy. As we climbed the plant life slowly thinned, the lava rock becoming more and more prominent. Up on the saddle between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea (a very wide saddle) a fine view of both peaks popped into view and of course we stopped for pictures. Up on the saddle it is pretty easy to see the different lava flows, some dark black others a lighter brown, always fascinating to me. Back in the 40s, I believe, the Army bombed a flow that coursed its way across this saddle, in an effort to divert it from the town of Hilo. Volcanoes are such an uncontrollable force that bombing lava to stop it seems akin to sending a gnat to harass an elephant out of one's corn. Maybe the bombing worked, I need to look it up. To me it's a reminder that we (humans) don't and can't control nature. We're part of nature, yes, and should act accordingly rather than exerting non-existent control. But I digress.

On the climb from Saddle Road up towards the observatory the air thinned and this did slow us down. As we climbed up to the observatory (9,200 feet) our speed dropped and the engine's pep took a break. On the last steep incline, the car moving at maybe 25mph my foot on the floor unable to trick car into dropping into a lower gear, I bemoaned the lack of a manual transmission. We made it to the parking lot of the ranger station, grabbed our jackets and cameras and took off running. Yup, coming up from sea level to over 9000 feet, we still took off running. Off to the south of the station is a small hill from the top of which an amazing view of sunset presents itself. Because we'd gotten up late time did not exist to dawdle, or walk, on our way to the top. The sun was falling below the clouds and the colors had begun to streak across the sky and we wanted a good view of it all. Unfortunately, weeks without cardiovascular exercise and being 9000 feet above our standard elevation conspired against us in our dash to higher elevations. After a quick, relatively flat 200 yards or so all three of us gasped and choked and coughed and sputtered to a near halt before moving off again. Finally we gained the windy summit and stood, taking pictures until the cold and lack of light forced us off the mountain top. The hike down did not take a toll on our lungs but there may have been a much higher incidence of tripping and stumbling.

Sunset did not mark the end of our adventures on Mauna Kea. Back down at the ranger station a video on the history of the o bservatories kept us entertained until all sunlight had left the sky and the many telescopes had been turned skyward: Jupiter and her moons, various stars and in the case of those set up by untrained tourists, the blackness of deep space. One of the employees gave a talk about the night sky, making use of the coolest hand-held laser I've ever seen. Jon munched astronaut ice cream and the three of us gazed through the telescopes when the people stopped ignoring our status as "in line" and cutting in front of us moved off. Eventually the cold got to be too much (so did the crowds, to be honest) and we headed back down the mountain.

If you've not been on Saddle Road let me tell you about it. Much of it has been improved in recent years, but too many miles on the west side still retain the character of the original road. It is narrow, technically wide enough for 2 cars. Rolling doesn't quite describe the hills-approaching the crests is much like a game of chicken, you hoping that the road continues in the same direction on the far side of the hill as on the near side because you can't see diddly. Much needed reflectors mark some of the center line, none of the edge line. One lane bridges pop up now and then with just enough warning for you to stop your car before crashing into someone coming in the opposite direction. Much of the time the road is fog or cloud bound, reducing already compromised visibility. Fatal crashes are by no means uncommon. It's a dicey road. After a long day of looking and not napping, eyes red and fuzzy after ingesting unhealthy amounts of toxic fumes, the drive is exhilarating. While my car mates some how slept I whipped the Civic around the curves, up and down the hills until finally we made the main highway and cruised on home.

A day of volcanoes, Part I

Upon tripping out of the tent in the newly risen sun, I noticed that my anxieties from the night before had been unfounded. Not about the vog rolling in and smothering us in our sleep, though that didn't happen either. After several cups of water and 1/3 of a bottle of wine I'd been bordering on paranoid that many potty breaks would be needed throughout the night. Although the tent has a door on either side (brilliant invention), I slept in the middle. My little bladder persevered and only once did I stray into the star light for a late night trip to a bush. And that happened when Jon got up first, then The C. Fortuitous. 

After stumbling out of the tent and realizing that it was morning and that I no longer filled the inside of my sleeping bag, my eyes opened to beauty. A complete lack of vog or cloud allowed the sun to shine down out of the clear blue sky. Everything around had a clarity that comes with early morning sunshine. Mauna Loa and even far off Mauna Kea stood out crisply and for a moment I gawped in wonder. In the night 2 other tents took their places within the campground but none of their inhabitants had yet stumbled into the sun. The still air was silent. Maybe no creatures had yet stirred or the vog had killed off everything in the area, I don't know. Without a word we three grabbed our cameras and began to wander around taking pictures. Not too distantly the plumes from the actives vents could be seen, plumes which began to haze over the clear blue as we watched. Hunger pangs started to sound out, prodding us into movement. A very wet tent returned to its sack and the rest of our gear got stowed in the trunk with no discernible order. While one of the other tent's inhabitants moved blearily into the world, we and the Civic drove off to eat breakfast from the Kilauea Caldera overlook before the vog closed in once again.


The volcanic plume

Me and Mauna Loa

Because of the early hour, we had the caldera rim to ourselves. The tasty Thai food from the night before tasted just fine cold, and we munched while trying to get pictures to capture the brutal, moonscape-ish beauty of the caldera. By the time other tourists arrived so had our coffee cravings and a nice thickening vog. Before going to Volcano House for coffee we stopped at the steam vents again for clearer pictures and to stand in the steam and warm up. When finally we walked into Volcano House (a hotel near the park entrance with an amazing view) our eyes burned. As soon as we left the VH with full cups of coffee, our eyes started tearing and our throats began to burn, prompting sick sounding coughs and wheezing. I've breathed foul air before, air thick enough to have density (Beijing), which didn't compare to the air now burning our chests. There didn't appear to be much in the air, but it was like standing in the middle of a raging bonfire of noxious materials. Ouchie.

How did we respond to this killer air? An air conditioned drive to a crater off the easternmost edge of the Caldera and then a 4-mile hike down into the crater, across it, and back up again. Fortunately the air remained clear for the hike. It was my first time on this trail and it was gorgeous. As we hiked along the rim our progress halted repeatedly for pictures down into the crater and pictures of the splendid foliage. One time a group of maybe 20 school kids and their chaperones caused us pause. These kids bounced and laughed down the trail, little backpacks and the occasional hiking stick. Like us they were headed into the crater but our route took us counter clockwise and their led them clockwise. "See ya on the bottom!" Chirping birds used their wiles to escape my visual attention, successfully for the most part. On occasion a flash of color would catch my eye while a warbling cry spun into and beyond my ears. Outside the thick tree cover the sun shone onto the black lava and created heat mirages. After some time passed the trail dumped us out onto the crater floor. It's amazing, seeing the remnants of a lava flow. The cracks and fissures, the brittle but skin-shredding lava rock seeming to pulse beneath a pair of worn sandals. We scurried up ridges and crackled down their backside. A faint white color somewhat marked a trail, helped along by numerous cairns. Halfway across the crater our school kid friends passed by. A trudgery now marred their steps and only the lead teacher still bubbled and skipped. Before leading her straggly band past us, she let us know that rangers had almost kept them from coming down the trail because of the terrible air quality. As they pondered turning back the wind shifted, the air cleared and they clambered down before it shifted again. This left us hoping that squalid air would not be greeting us on the climb out. 

As amazing as it is to see the old lava flows, what astounds me the most is the plant life that grows through it. The ohia tree is the first tree to grow back in a lava flow. Seeing this tree punching up through the rock is astounding. Nature is pretty rad. 

Our hike ended without any of the three of us succumbing to toxic poisoning so we headed to the Thurston Lava Tube for a quick poke around. It's neat, this large cave-like tube, which once carried oodles of lava through it. That's all I have to say about that. 

Kilauea Iki

Lehua blossom on Ohia tree

Thurston lava tube

Into the haze

Did you know that the southernmost point in the USA is located on the Big Island of Hawaii? It's called Ka Lae ("The Point") (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ka_Lae) also known as South Point. It is windy. And south. Every time I've been there the sun has shone and the crazy waves crashed in abundance. It's a popular fishing spot and I've heard tell that locals jump the cliffs into the wildly currented water.

South Point is a point rife with cliffs. The primary viewpoint is atop 35ish foot cliffs. I've never seen anyone jump from the cliffs, and that still holds. However. There is a lava tube back a short way from the cliff face, an ocean entry I would never dare to use. The large waves rushing into the tube seemed to raise and lower the water level by at least 10 feet. As I tried to peer over the edge from many feet away an older guy with a long white beard and scraggly long hair stepped off into the void, down into the roiling water. Soon after a young Aussie guy followed. The small crowd rushed over to the cliff face and we watched them struggle up a ladder bolted into the rock. Jon began stripping his shirt off, convinced that he too could defeat the ocean's wrath. We lured him away with the promise of malasadas at the Punalu'u Bake Shop which claims to be the southernmost bakery in the US (http://www.bakeshophawaii.com/). Reluctantly, drool slipping down his jaw, Jon re-donned his shirt and collapsed into the back seat.

Sugary sweet malasadas and unnecessary cups of coffee propelled us along the southern coast towards the volcano. As proof that an active volcano does reside on island, the haze of the vog grew thicker the nearer we got. By the time we arrived in the park (http://www.nps.gov/havo/index.htm), dusk preludes streaked across a sky hidden from our eyes by fog or vog or cloud. At the visitor's center we learned that a decent portion of the park has been closed because of the proliferation of poisonous gases. Maybe more because those gases can be deadly than the simple fact of their existence. After Jon finished taking pictures inside the center the Civic brought us to the Kilaeua Caldera overlook, where a magnificent view did not greet us. A solid wall of gray obscured all but the closest rocks. Inside the caldera a couple trails and a road typically allow visitors to get a ground's eye view. Unfortunately, that part of the park is closed because of recent activity. Within the caldera is the Halema'uma'u Crater from which is issuing a large plume of deadly gas. This we could not see. Instead steam vents back toward's the visitor's center provided us moist amusement until finally the decision was made to find our camping grounds for the night. These camping grounds, according to park maps, lay just beyond the border of the red cross-hatched "CLOSED" area. If the wind stayed right, all would be fine. If they shifted wrongly, well, hopefully we'd not find out. Back around the Caldera and down to a one-lane dirt road that brought us to the Kulanaokuaiki camping area. One tent had been pitched and a couple was eating a fast-food take-out picnic at one of the picnic tables. Otherwise the place was empty. From the trunk we grabbed our tent and sleeping bags and chose one of the free camping spots away from the parking lot. With true darkness descending we left the park and drove a couple miles down the road to the Town of Volcano for dinner.

On past visits, the C and I had tried in vain to eat at Thai Thai (http://www.yelp.com/biz/thai-thai-restaurant-volcano) a restaurant of great repute in the town of Volcano. All we had ever experienced was a "Closed" sign. Luck remained beside us this night and it was open! And the prices....a bit higher than we'd hoped. Nevertheless, hunger spoke louder than far off abused bank accounts and we grabbed a table. Oh my the food was worth the price! Spicy, very flavorful and great service. And portions big enough for half to be saved as breakfast. Yum!

Back in the campground a clear sky greeted us. Jon beseeched all the gods he could think of after dinner, desperate for stars and a decided lack of deadly gas. Some how he pulled it off. Our lone bottle of wine came out and while The C shivered in the tent, Jon and I stood and stared in amazement at the brilliant night sky. It was the perfect end to a damn good day. After finishing off the wine the three of us crowded into the tent for a cozy night's sleep.

Crescent white sand beach

I swear there are more activities on this island than beach-going, but there are so many amazing beaches that shouldn't be ignored. Jon's visit became an unnecessary excuse to visit one I'd not yet visited: Makalawena Beach (http://www.best-big-island-hawaii.com/makalawena-beach.html). Makalawena is a remote beach that tends to get rated pretty highly as a beautiful place to see. It's crescent shape, white sand, gorgeous blue waters and shady trees make it an amazing place to spend a day (or more). As an added bonus, I'm told it's not typically crowded. How, you may ask, is a place as "amazing" as this which is also close to one of the most touristic towns on the island not crowded? Well, I'll tell you.

There is a "road" that leads from the highway to the beach. It is a road so far as it is wide enough for a vehicle, provides direction to the beach and is smoother than the surrounding lava fields. Yet to drive it you need a serious 4-wheel drive vehicles with plenty of clearance. It's gnarly. At times my feet had trouble maintaining. If you don't have this vehicle you can walk. In 20-30 minutes your feets will get you across the shade-free lava field at which point the blue water looks enticing as hell. Unless the ocean is as rowdy as it was when we visited, then a dip would be more life ending than life sustaining. Unfortunately, we also carried out snorkel gear for three. Alas.

As advertised, the beach was mostly empty and we plopped down immediately. The only other lifes on the beach included a small family that soon left and a couple, the pregnant half of which showed oodles more bravery in her ocean adventures than any of the rest of us. But that's not all! Several jungle fowl (feral chicken-types) caroused around as did a she-goat and her kid.

The crashing waves seduced me into a trance as I lay there, my book forgotten. There is something about the sound of waves that is soothing and somewhat magical (assuming you are not being tossed/carried away in them). I could sit and watch the waves and listen to their crashing for hours, maybe even days.

Which I did, until my skin began to feel hot and red. All of us reached the point of incipient sunburn at the same time, allowing a conflict-free exodus. Our gear gathered in hand we made it a couple hundred yards to a shaded cove. Once there a break was called to enjoy sun-free time and a shallow and very protected little pool. A cool breeze sifted through the palms while the ocean sparkled and danced. All gazes turned ocean-ward and unfocused.

Finally tearing ourselves away, our plod back to the car commenced. Unused snorkel gear in bag in hand. Towels over shoulders and hats pulled down low. Amazingly, we all escaped sun burn-free!

For the first time in weeks it rains

What at first may appear to be a kink in plans can soon show it's true colors. Since Jon decided to bring the rain with him to Hawaii from Portland, a sunny day at the beach couldn't be considered a good plan. Instead, we headed to the beach to check out tide pools.

All sorts of ocean creatures came out to say hello: clams, crabs, a nudibranch (the see-through thing in the picture below), sea turtles, and sea slugs and anemones. A much slower paced, less active day than the previous day, but our aching legs found that acceptable.

Valley visits

Our car stereo has a Tuner option only. Radio stations on this island leave something to be desired (good music). Hence, our purchase of a supplemental stereo system. Our sweet sound system blasted out such classics as "A-B-C" and "Tell Me What You Want" on the drive to Waipio Valley. My power to select music disappeared when The C grabbed the iPod and declared that my selection of The Jackson Five and The Spice Girls eliminated my ability to select music for the group. She and Jon may have played "better" music after that, but my a capella rendition of "Mmm Bop" left no question as to my taste in music, and singing ability.

Needing to prepare ourselves for the day's adventures, we stopped at the Waipio Coffee Company to fill our cups with fortifying coffee, no room for cream or sugar thanks. The folks working there are rad. One guy paused in his frenetic attempt to keep up with orders to laugh at the irony of Jon, wearing a M.A.D.D. t-shirt, singing along to the Bob Marley filling the shop.

A white sand beach was the previous day's adventure. Today it would be not just a black sand beach but a black sand beach tucked down inside a gorgeous valley: Waipio Valley. Sacred Waipio Valley, the "Valley of the Kings", was the boyhood home of King Kamehameha I and is an important site in Hawaiian history and culture. The valley is one mile across and 5 miles deep with a 1,300 foot waterfall at the back end of the valley (tallest waterfall on the Big Island. Still haven't seen it up close). Less than 100 people still live in the valley though oral histories say that before Captain Cook's arrival, between 4,000 and 10,000 people lived there. A massive tsunami hit the valley in 1946 after which most people left the valley.

How does one get down into the valley? Since the valley's sides rise almost 2,000 feet a road with grades that reach 25% provides access. With a four-wheel drive the narrow road can be tamed, but our little Civic wouldn't stand a chance. So we walked. Fortunately clouds blocked the sun. In previous visits I'd been baked by the sun on the unshaded descent. Unfortunately, the clouds muted some of the colors and provided only a misty, yet still amazing, views.

As we descended I made sure to stop now and then to take in the view. It had nothing to do with aching knees, truly. I wanted to stop and pet the mosses and sniff the noni fruit. Cars passed by us with nary a head turned to offer encouragement or the much desired ride. Finally we hit bottom. A muddy rutted road with gorgeous overhanging trees led us toward the beach and the crashing ocean. Puddles along the way offered mirror glimpses of the sky and mosquitoes began to multiply and satiate their malnourished bodies with our fluids. Fortunately the scenery was grand enough to offset the buzzing and itching.

Waipio Valley was once one of the major places of refuge on the island, a sanctuary where a person could escape and be forgiven, whatever their transgression. Somewhat similar to the right of asylum in a church. I have to say, what a place to seek refuge! Entry much have been brutal, either down the steep cliffs or in from the crashing ocean. After that, I could think of much worse places to have to hang out. Even though it remained mostly overcast, sizable waves crashed and the beauty was inescapable.

Finally wearying of beauty, the return hike commenced. Again I say fortunately the clouds maintained their vigil in the sky because our silent pleas to passing vehicles for a ride went unanswered. Slog, slog, up to the top. Although we didn't swim it looked like we had by the time we reached the car. Gross, I know, but true.

A couple of valleys over from Waipio Vally is Pololu Valley. By boat it's a short ride away. By foot you climb up out of Waipio (opposite the parking lot and overlook), down the other side into another valley, up the far wall and down the other side, repeat once more and you're there. Or you could be there if one of the valleys wasn't private with through traffic prohibited. Our choices limited, we drove back out through Waimea, up over the Kohala Mountains, through Hawi and down the coast to Pololu Valley.

The Kohala Mountains are big green cuddly looking mountains rarely visible because of the clouds and rain-hence their greenness. When allowed out to play they make me want to climb up and roll down on what looks to be soft goodness. Until a closer look (and common sense) reminds the looker that all is lava rock here and that green won't guard against the pain. I don't think I'll ever give up the hill rolling dream!

Unfortunately we arrived at Pololu Valley as the sun made its way over to Korea but the beauty was hard to miss. After snapping another couple hundred pictures we admitted defeat and climbed back out. Yup, we hiked back down into another valley, this time stopping half way down the rutted and rocky trail. Legs unused to exercise loudly voiced their complaints.

How to end a day like this? How else-sushi at Sushi Rock in Hawi (http://www.yelp.com/biz/sushi-rock-hawi)!

After dinner a sky filled with brilliant stars watched over us on the drive home. The sounds of deep breathing from my sleeping friends played inside the car, attempting to lull me to sleep. I could have cranked up our stereo system, rocked out on the way home, but the iPod's placement in the trunk (not accidental) prevented that. Ah well. Still, a perfect day!

Off to the beach

It seemed appropriate to bring Jon to a beach on his first full day here. As our track record at Kua Bay continues pretty much unbroken we drove off under a deep blue sky and warm sun, Jon and his alabaster skin basking in the very un-Portlandesque weather.

The beach was not overly full and we found a short section of recently tide-cleared sand to stretch out on. Within minutes we splayed out, lathered with sun screen, our bodies audibly sighing as our muscles relaxed. Jon and his cameras soon jumped up to snap pictures in all directions of everything. As he giggled and traipsed across the sand, cameras around his neck, The C and I propped ourselves up to mover covertly take pictures. Of Jon. What's amazing is that his skin may have been paler than the white sand. In his defense Portland, OR is not know for sun, especially at this time of year so of course he had the Portland Tan. Still, I was amused.

When Corey's body decided it needed a break from the heat, it got up and plodded into the crashing waves. Jon and The C joined in the fun and for a while we let the waves pound the crap out of us until wave-tossed sand covered us completely. The C decided that she'd had enough and let a large wave tumble her up onto the sand. I laughed until a wave I'd not seen coming swopped me upside the head and left me spluttering. Jon continued to expound his amazement while we bobbed and bantered. Unfortunately, a sharp rock jutted up into J's foot, leaving a nice little gash and minor paranoia about infection. Thus, we retreated to the shore.

While Jon and I frolicked, The C plotted. For weeks 2 Santa hats lay dormant in the backseat of the Civic, ready for use as props for holiday cards. Now they came out. A simple blanket prone smiley shot would not suffice. Instead a Baywatch run up out of the water (hands held) with Jon running the camera and shouting out directions: "Lift your knees! Smile bigger! Don't drag her, slow down! Wait, is that a sea turtle? I'll be back!"

By now people began to notice our crew. Digging a hole in the sand big enough for 2 only aroused the interest of more people. The teenagers down the way fell down in mirth-laden piles at the cheesiness of our poses. Down in a hole, only our heads exposed, I took half a pb&j sammich up the side of my head but couldn't watch the little wanker run off because my Santa hat fell over my eyes. From the way Jon and The C reacted it was a funny sight.

Finally all memory cards filled and our photo shoot drew to a close. As our troop walked down the beach the crowds applauded our efforts and a purring voluptuous older lady commandeered Jon for a quick photo down in the water. As I watched her paw him I began to feel bad that we'd not left earlier-his paleness had been replaced by a shade of pink. But no, it was an all over body-blush.

Tomorrow we head to the Volcano.

Adventures?

What do you do when guesting a friend in Hawaii? This question kept us up for an hour one night as we compiled a list impossibly long for a one week visit. In the end we decided to start simply. And of course our plans got complicated. Our host convinced us to work for a few hours the morning of Jon's arrival picking desiccated coffee beans (vog or drought, it's hard to say). A trick seemed to have occurred since we ended up picking mostly alone as Man Host picked for 30 minutes before heading to Costco to buy a computer and She Host just wasn't around much. So it goes. At lunch time we broke off for food and sped off to the coffee shop before being corralled for more picking.

We left the coffee shop in plenty of time to stop by a farm to buy a lei on the way to the airport (we'd given up on making one for various reasons, some of which included late night rummy games and g&ts), never suspecting that all the farms and their roadside stands would shut down by 3pm. So it happened that our quest for a farm fresh lei resulted in frantic driving up an down a half dozen side roads and no lei. Fortunately the airport sells fresh leis for very decent prices. And since we arrived minutes before Jon walked out the gate there was plenty of time to toss a fiver at a lady in a flowered shirt and run off with a pretty purple plumeria lei in plenty of time (30 seconds or so) to greet Jon at the gate.

The huge grin he wore to greet us never wavered until after he'd left the island (or so I assume). And there was rarely a time that some variation of "oh my gawd this is AWEsome," wasn't leaving his lips. Watching his enthusiasm, even for the airport, was so much fun and really renewed our awe (which honestly, hadn't flagged) at the beauty around us.

How did we introduce him to the Big Island? A short drive through the vog brought us to the Kona Brewing Company's brewhouse. Pizza and beer and a 5 gallon keg of Pipeline Porter to go.

It was great to see Jon and fun to have our first guest!

Check out his "I'm in Hawaii" Jesus pose.

First visitor

Tomorrow is going to be an exciting day.

Though we've gotten our work hours in for the week we'll be working a couple/few hours tomorrow. Why have we decided to work rather than sleep in, have a lazy breakfast and some time at our fave coffee shop? Because it's time for a harvest! The coffee trees on the farm need to be relieved of their ripe cherry and we get to do the job. I'd been worried that we had missed the harvest so I'm psyched.

After the picking, we'll clean up and head off to the airport to pick up a friend of ours who is visiting for a week. This is the first time we've ever had a visitor while out here! It's about time!

Digression: the rooster on the farm, like all good roosters, crows whenever the mood strikes and not as the sun is coming up like in the movies. This rooster sounds demented. It's 11pm here now and he's going off. No cock-a-doodle-doo like all the rest, his is more of a strangled sounding "ROOooooOOOOaaa". The noise emitted sounds more like a screaming person than a crowing rooster. It's a good thing he introduced us to his call during the day. Otherwise his 4am racket would have scared the bejeesus out of us. Now the roosters across the mountain are responding to his call, or perhaps they are mocking him?

Ah yes, tomorrow. Fun times. We're also picking up the 5 gallons of beer I won in the silent raffle at the Kona Coffee Farmer's Association dinner a couple weeks ago. So much fun in one day! Perhaps I should go to sleep to prepare for the early morning and long day....

Chainsaw intrigue

When asked by our hosts/bosses if I had extensive chainsaw experience I of course replied in the affirmative because I don't, in fact, have such experience. And if a little bamboozlement is needed to get this experience, well, I'm not above misrepresenting myself. Thanks to my slightly embellished tales of prowess with a wielded set of whirring blades, quite the eventful day transpired.

The day's ultimate goal was to thin out 2 mango trees whose limbs had overstepped their bounds and were casting unwanted shadow down upon dozens of hapless coffee trees (whose income potential is vastly greater than that of the lethargic mango trees). Unfortunately, a vast majority of the unwanted limbs located themselves at least 10 feet above the ground. No big deal, right? Well, the ground here is less than ideal for the bottom end of a ladder. Jagged protrusions of rock lift up from the "soil" in sizes that range from that of a marble to that of a well-fed cow throughout the uneven ground (the sides of the volcano Hualalai) upon which I needed to place the ladder. Therefore, ladder placements were half-assed and it wasn't until I was 10-15 feet above the aforementioned lava rock that I considered the consequences of a fall.

If you've not spent time walking on the lava rock, some of its properties are: Sharp. Very sharp. Don't fall on it or you'll be prone for days (at best). Shoes don't withstand the perils of lava rock incursions with any semblance of fortitude. Ouch. And it's blackish, some of it looking very much like brownies (to me).

If we ignore for the moment the decided lack of coordination that I've exhibited as of late (I really need to start stretching), my duties should have harbored no danger. Up a secure ladder, BZZZZZZ BZZZZZ goodbye limb, on to the next victim.

Unfortunately, on almost no occasion did I have a clear and easy shot at any of the limbs. The simplest limb required my right arm to cross my chest, its wrist (in line with the blade) jerked at a 90 degree angle. No worries, except that the limb under attack was as thick as my torso. The rest contorted me, sometimes on the ladder other times perched in the tree itself, being overrun with the ants that had infested the trees (not biters, fortunately, but incredibly large in number). Tricky, yes.

Mango wood. Not the sturdiest. Translation: the point at which limbs decide they're done waiting for the saw to finish slicing varied based on their size, age and temperament. Even making cuts from below before attacking from above ensured no predictable breaking point. At first I scoffed, not at all worried about repercussions of the instability of the wood. Until the first large limb broke early (thick as my upper leg), snapping off jaggedly and falling mostly to the ground except for the jagged part which "brushed" my leg and dug into the trunk 2-inches from my knee. And then there was the limb (big around as my calf) that swung down and back without fully detaching, crashing into the side of the already shaky ladder. Adrenaline! Woot!

Most of the day went fairly uneventfully, but like in the movies, bad things happen late in the day. After 5 hours of wielding a chainsaw, often above my head, my body ached. You could say I'm out of shape, and I won't disagree. The point is, Corey was getting tired.

The Limb was 15 feet up, jutting up sharply from the trunk and making it impossible to cut off its smaller branches without a cherrypicker. Thick around as my body, overhanging the lava rock wall between the coffee tree orchard and cow pasture. Getting the saw to The Limb required standing face-out on the ladder and reaching back behind and almost over my head to get under It, and leaning far out to the side to get at It from above. Every couple of minutes I had to stop and take a rest, my arms and legs shaking from the effort.

One of the three cows came over to stare up blandly, chewing its cud, immune to the woodchips cascading down upon its large orange head like snow it will never see. The other two cows remained across the pasture, raptly staring at the far wall.

The only negative of the upwards cut was short sharp pain in my twisted back. My tired legs rotated my cramping feet around on the rung of the ladder, the saw passing from one hand to the other, the free hand clutching spasmodically at the ladder. Repositioned, I began the down cut while The C and Our Boss held the ladder from below. Before The Limb moved I heard a rifle-like crack. The saw's chain spun to a stand still and silence wafted across the pasture. Nothing happened in the lull so the cutting re-commenced.

Tired as I was, my instincts didn't desert me. The next crack cascaded into a volley of cracks and snaps and far end of The Limb began to swing down in a looping arc aimed directly at the ladder. Trying to complete the cut in time to shunt the backswing I leaned nearly off the ladder and hung all my weight on the saw. In the instant before The Limb hit the ladder my hand released the trigger and the saw whirred to a silence unheard over the din of cracking limbs and wood and aluminum colliding. Fortunately the ladies had jumped shrieking out of the way, sheltered behind the tree.

Below me, La Vaca gazed upwards with rheumy eyes, showing no incomprehension of the situation as my feet found themselves recently unsupported in any way. A heroic fling sent the saw spiraling into the field doing no harm to anyone but a rock that looked vaguely like Christopher Walken, as I began my descent.

It's funny what springs to mind in such moments. I've heard of flashing life stories, but all I saw was a procession of Portland burrito carts. Is that the story of my life?

Down I went. An "oh my gaaawd," rent my ears and prompted me to think: "why are you screaming? I'm the one falling out of a tree." The blow of The Limb was such that momentum carried me beyond the wall into the pasture....and onto the back of the cow. Facedown on its not-so-soft spine. As I lay across its back, smelling dung, accosted by flies, the cow continued looking up into the tree. Finally realizing that something had happened, it turned back to look at me, still chewing its cud, blowing gawd-awful breath into my face, and emitting a soft "moo". A giggle escaped me until the damn cow bucked and tossed me onto a pile of small rocks which sunk into my side and back. Now deeply enthroed in a pique of violation, La Vaca let forth a stream of ex-plants that landed close enough to my head to splatter.

At this final insult, my "worried" co-workers fell into paroxysms of laughter while I lay bleeding and filthy in an open field.