Calvin and Hobbes/Fight Club?

This is awesome. Calvin is Jack and Hobbes is Tyler Durden? Hella creative.

Hilo side adventures

A couple of weeks ago we headed Hilo side to cat sit for a night and make use of our friends' projector and movie screen. You know, a get away from our get away. The only notable happening during our stay was the exceptional stealth displayed by the resident cat, Chongo. A cat of many names (5 to be exact), the "Houdini" should have clued me in, But alas, it did not. An outdoor cat most of the year, our friend asked us to keep him locked up inside during their absence. Easy enough, I thought. In the morning I opened the backdoor to check the yard for a pepper plant to add spice to breakfast. Chongo, who had sauntered off into a different room burst out the door between my legs without me hearing as much as a step in his approach. Of course I felt bad and once I got myself off the ground I dashed down the stairs to where he'd been standing. His apparent confusion at the ease of his escape allowed me time to scoop him up and toss him back into the kitchen. Candace laughed at me, lost her smile and told me not to let it happen again. Ok. The cat didn't fool me again for a good 30 minutes. The front porch is the perfect place for breakfast and coffee. I held the cat (mistake #1) while The C brought our goods out onto the porch. As she passed through the door with the coffee, Chongo began writhing and clawing my arms acting like he wanted to head away from the door. So I tossed him that way. He hit the ground facing back at the door, legs in motion mid-air. By the time I knew what was happening, he'd shouldered the screen door open and disappeared. This time he didn't stick around. Candace didn't smile when she reprimanded me; her look strongly hinted that I find the cat before sitting to eat. I found him, but grabbing him didn't happen. I chased him over the fence, across the street, in circles around the car (turns out hide n seek is his fave game) until collapsing in a pile of panting sweat at the bottom of the steps. By now the frown had become gales of laughter and breakfast opened to me. As the bread sopped up the last of the food, Candace called Chongo. He reappeared and ran up into her lap. I cried a little.

Later in the day our thoughts turned to the holidays (this took place pre-Xmas) and decoration creation. Following The C's lead from 2 years ago, we made wreaths. Surprisingly easy, especially when you have a creative partner to fix yours up to look vaguely wreath-shaped. How did we make them, you may ask? It all began with a stop-over off Saddle Road on our drive up to Mauna Kea for another sunset viewing. The task couldn't have been simpler: get cuttings from plants that would look good on a wreath and put them into a plastic sack. Avoiding lava tubes and pointy plants added a bit of danger, but we persevered and filled our sacks.

To round out our adventure, once more the Civic labored up the steep road to the Mauna Kea ranger station. This time our arrival preceded sunset and with plenty of time to spare we'd climbed up a nearby hill with dinner and a couple of Coronas. The hill top wind shelter provided a perfect place to hunker down out of the chill wind and eat our food, toasting our good life with the Coronas. For a good while the hill top was ours. As the sun sank lower and lower people began to arrive. Loud talking people. People whose awareness of those around them seemed not to exist. A family with 3 kids arrived. The mother stood in front of us and continually screamed at her kids, finally forcing them to sit beside her and not have any fun or do any exploring. Sad, but at least she stopped yelling quite as loudly. All five of them plunked down in front of us on rocks (blocking our view) without so much as a "hello". Dad tried to get a picture and kept telling the kids to move over, more, still more, so that we would not be in it. Still no acknowledgement of our presence. By the parents. The 2 older boys both said hello and apologized when they walked in front of us. Eventually we moved down the way so that we could see the view. Amazing, really, the lack of awareness. And it's not because of the kids and the exhaustion of parenthood. There was just no concern about anyone else. Why does it still amaze and frustrate me to see this sort of thing so often? It continued later with many folks down in the dark parking lot around the telescopes the rangers set up, but I don't feel like recounting that. Instead, some pictures!

Whales

Over the last few days we've seen amazing sights and adventured to our hearts' content (mostly). Today held a very special surprise that would have been missed had I not been too tired to hold up my 1,000+ page tome (heavy).

After a morning of work-type computer activity at Lava Java over tasty yerba mate, a visit to a beach was deemed mandatory. The Civic whisked us up the coast to Kua Bay where half the beach seemed lost to large pounding surf. Fortunately, the spot we seemed to lay in most times we go (oft ignored by others I guess because it's away from the water access?) remained open and we plunked down. A hot sun shone down on me and I twitched between writing in my journal and laying on my back to stare at the large crashing waves, letting the booming wash over me. It's amazing how the various blue hues in the water still shine forth as waves rise, and crash over in mighty tubes. Gorgeous and awesome. Out beyond the bay whitecaps scarred the ocean out into the horizon.

I began seeing splashes out of the corners of my sleepy eyes. Splashes much larger than the day's norm. Waking up a bit to take more notice a large splash in front of my eyes woke me completely and I began poking Candace in the shoulder, asking for her opinion on the source. My thought was whales, but perhaps dolphins. For a while she helped me look but saw nothing. Finally I got a clear look at a huge humpback whale breaching! From then until we left just before dusk our eyes stayed trained up and down the ocean looking for signs of the beasts.

I saw whales years ago when I visited Kaua'i. From the beach their spouting barely registered. This time the action was much closer. Not only did we see them spouting, but they could be seen twirling as they breached most of their bodies out of the water. We saw their backs as they dove after spouting. The closest action gave us a view of their massive flukes smashing the water. My greatest excitement came while watching a couple of them smashing their huge pectoral fins repeatedly onto the surface of the ocean.

I'm still smiling as I write this, as it was nothing I'd witnessed before and it was incredible. Maybe one day I'll see it closer up, but today's action was perfect for now. Tomorrow we may head back out and try to see more action. I didn't even try to get a picture today, maybe tomorrow I will. Wish me luck!

I'm in trouble

Today paradise trembled. In my heart anyway. Clouds obscured the blue sky and vog enveloped the ocean and horizon in an obscuring gray. Warm breezes held a cooler note and the typically heated air felt neglected by the sun.

My mood followed suit. Away flew gaiety and carefree thoughts. In rumbled gray and muddy thoughts. Perhaps a lack of sleep led to this, maybe a crash after an excess of caffeine. But I think it was the gray. One whole day of it.

What will happen in Portland in a few weeks?

Best not to think about it.

New fruit

Our friends Ken and Christine have a tree in their yard, bearing significantly fewer limbs after Monday's hack-fest, that is called the Ackee Tree. Said tree spouts rad little fruits that kinda hurt when they are knocked from a branch 20 feet up. But that's not important. What is mandatory knowledge is the oddity of their appearance. While on the tree and intact they look innocuous:

Yet after preparation they come out looking like scrambled eggs. Odd, I know.

Bull adventures part II

Today's adventure with the bulls lacked yesterday's excitement.

Correction: I'm not actually playing with bulls. There are three cows, but they are vicious looking!

Our unwritten, non-hand shaken contract for terms on the place that is "home" this month stipulates a 10 hours work week. By this morning only 1.5 hours remained to meet the week's requirement. As such, elation ruled the morning and we walked out the sliding screen door smiling hugely. Right outside the door ML crouched and neatened the edging around the ohana. They have paying guests arriving in a couple of days and she asked us to make everything around the ohana neat and tidy and pretty. And oh, she had to leave for an appointment right then. Oh easy day! The C got to edging and I lopped dead or dying or slightly faded branches and leaves from hapu'u ferns, ti plant, palm trees, banana trees and assorted other plants whose names I don't know and/or have forgotten. And maybe in the process I ganked a couple of papayas and avocados. All trimmings but the last became fodder for the cows.  

As the hour .5 wound down, a lightheaded giddy feeling usurped my brain. With rake in one hand and a load of palm fronds in the other I neared the wall between me and the cows. After throwing them more food I delayed a return trip for more cuttings to get a better look at these creatures.

My back sprouted an itch. Forgetting my scratching hand held a rake I moved to attack the itch and bopped myself in the forehead. For some reason my brain's focus moved from relieving my own itch, to thinking that the cows could use a good scratching, and wouldn't a rake be just the thing? Look at them! Covered in flies, plants hanging half-chewed from their jaws, malice in their beady eyes. How could they not like my idea? In my defense, the rake was one of the chunky plastic dealies, not a rock rake or a metal tine-y one.

Their heads lowered to the newest offerings. I quietly crept closed, stepping over dried out monstera fronds and fallen bread fruit. Once I made it to the wall the silliness of my stealth became obvious-the fresh greenery captured all their attention. So I leaned out and began scratching the neck of the nearest. The tines touched her back, she squalled and bucked and knocked the rake out of my hand. She stared at it. Then at me. And back at the rake. Her right fore-hoof lifted and she once more looked at me. Eye contact did not break, but the rake snapped as she stamped down.

"Chuff!" And she resumed eating. The other two ate the rake head. All three gave me the stink eye and sauntered off. I called it a day and had a Corona. I guess we all win.

Torrero

Twice in the last two days I've engaged the local cows in entertainment of my own creating in order to dispel any boredom they or I may have had. Our interactions were markedly different on both days. Allow me to re-enact the first of these episodes...

Fade in to a mildly disgruntled Corey wandering down through the farm, raking leaves out from under trees and bushes from their entwined positions around sticks and plants and rocks. In my opinion the leaves harbored no desire to move. And why would they? Protected from the sun, lawnmower and any sort of animal that would see them as food, their position in life couldn't have been better. Well, except for the decomposition. And worms and other small critters munching on them. Still. Relocating decomposing foliage from their resting places did not cause the festerment. No. A well laid ruse prolonged the work day and kept our heroes from their afternoon of sloth.

Starting early in the morning all four of us on the farm started picking coffee, beginning at the bottom of the farm and stumbling our way to the upper fence line. I enjoy picking. It relaxes and can be meditative, until an unseen or loose or grabby rock sends a mislaid foot awry. Or branches slap into your face. Or spiders, which weave elaborate webs between trees, leap onto you in protest at your innocent destruction of their traps.

This is all beside the point. All morning we picked, me assuming that the end of picking would be the end of our work day, as has been the case in the past. Four and 0.5 hours and 160+ lbs. of cherry later I prepped for a shower, snack and possibly a nap. Instead ML asked us to help load a couple piles of downed monstera into the pickup so that she could haul it down to the dump. Since we'd cut it (Candace cut it, really. Turns out it has similar chemical properties to poison oak, to which I'm allergic. If I didn't mind little watery blisters that itch like hell and spread entirely too easily to all parts of my body-all parts-then I'd have help cut it.) the day before how could we say no? A little foresight and maybe I'd have run. During the year, poor ML gets no help around the farm. As a result she's entered a state of frantic panic to get as much help as she can before we leave and she is left with maintaining the entire place. Unfortunately for all, our time is limited (and dwindling way too rapidly) and work is not our priority.

As the monstera rained into the truck bed, ML ducked over to the side of the 1/4 mile driveway which is lined with the fast-growing plant and began to cut more. A few minutes after her cutting started, when I tried to load more into the truck she yelled me away from it and told me that instead I could get the leaf blower and blow all the leaves out from alongside the driveway and haul them across the orchard and dump them in the pasture with the cows. My eyes goggled and all I could utter was: "Um. Ok." The whine: "But I don't want to work anymore," stuck on my craw. Off the good Little Slave trundled.

For maybe an hour and a half I wrestled plants and the rake (the leaf blower is totally ineffective because of the underbrush and debris), making piles, dumping the piles into a tarp which I emptied into the pasture. The C and ML ran off to the dump and came back with smoothies. Thinking our day over, I rushed to finish my last pile before my smoothie melted. When ML began gathering more leaves and pruning everything in reach I choked. And wandered off with another load before the curses on my tongue could escape into the air.

At the wall I dumped my leaves and looked at the cows lounging under the trees. Like clouds scudding out of sight before a strong breeze my dark mood lifted as a tremendous idea came to mind. Without thinking I mounted the lava rock wall which of course collapsed under and on top of me. Fortunately all the large boulders banged off of me and continued on downhill leaving me a little bruised but unpinned. Key. The cows blinked.

Keeping in mind what I learned about bull fighting from James Michener's "Mexico" I bowed low (hehe) to the cows before hoisting my blue tarp cape. "Heaahhh!" I yelled while advancing with the mincing steps I imagine a true torrero takes. Beside me the blue tarp weaved and flapped and sometimes got hung up on the pointy rocks, tearing holes because of my energetic waving. Nothing. All three continued cud chewing, casting bored/dumb looks at me. I paused and wiped sweat from my eyes. Again I advanced. Down on the highway (100 yards away) a pickup full of locals cruised past, the bass drawing the cows' eyes away from me. Two of the guys in the truck yelled out encouragement. I think. I heard "Something something haole something."

"Yah! A sus pies! Lúcheme!"

Finally Lucy lumbered to her feet, raising her hindquarters and then lurching up and straightening her fronts. She began to plunk towards me and I'll admit, my nerves may have wavered as I took in her size: feet the size of dinner plates, head like the uprooted stump of a 100-year or ficus tree and a body the size of...a cow. Cows are not small, let me remind you.

After a quaver or two I picked up my tarp, straightened and held it straight out from my right side. "Ole!" came a bit prematurely. Instead of sweeping past while I gracefully twirled the cape over her head she stopped in front of me. Unsure what to do I lowered my arms and said hello. In a flash a wad of cud hit me in the face and before I could wipe it away her woolly horn-less head came in from the side and knocked me over. Afeared of her sharp hooves I rolled and scrabbled blindly until the wall hit my forehead. Hearing nothing resembling a stampede I wiped my eyes clear and looked to check on my adversary. There she lay, back under her tree, chewing her cud and playing the innocent.

As I crossed back over the wall I created another rockslide 5 feet over from the first. I made a hasty repair of both to keep the cows in (and to avoid having to explain how the holes through which they escaped came into being) and walked back up to the ladies.

"Where is your cape," Candace asked.

"What happened? Your pants are torn and what is that black stuff on your face?" ML offered.

I grunted, tossed a dismissing wave at them and walked on. My clothes made a trail towards the edge of the pool into which I tossed myself, rubbing off the shame and pain and black cud.

That smoothie was warm by the time I drank it.

Goings on

Tales and anecdotes with no rhyme or reason to the presentation

The day was overcast and cool, rain piddled down on us while we scoured tide pools for signs of life. The rowdy ocean crashed behind us, alerting us to our intransigence and folly at being so close to a shelf and rabid water, backs turned against the power. Finally good sense took over and away we moved. The ocean sighed in relief at the return of good sense. Back in the Civic, attempting to pull out of the parking spot a minivan taxicab cut us off, the driver yelling out the window as he parked alongside. A coffee cup, forgotten on the roof had impelled the kind stranger to overtures of helpfulness. Once the wayward cup settled back into the bosom of safety we thanked the kind sir. With a giggle he said: "Of course! Now it's time for a smoke!" And up he lit his pipe, not of the normal kind. With acrid smoke lingering in our noses off we went to another safer set of tide pools.

A single hour of work had passed by. In the yard rakes collected lava rocks and leaves and detritus from various tropical creations. These piles made their way into a wheelbarrow by way of my gloved hands, thence conveyed into a large pile of rotting rubble at the property's edge. Moving into a solid groove we steadily cleared the yard in preparation of renewal. Until the wind picked up. And gray clouds not so much scudded as bullied their way into the sky overhead. Eventually, cold rain drops began to fall and a nodding of heads conferred the wisdom of a hasty retreat onto us. Within minutes of driving off the property the rain began to fall in earnest. Winds pushed the car from centerline to edge line and back. Makai, a water spout over the ocean caught the attention of drivers who paused in their forward progress to gawp. We arrived home, grabbed our gear and madly dashed into the ohana. As the screen door wicked shut the storm gathered in intensity and started began to try. Sheets of rain cascaded off the roof and into the pool. Leaves and branches and the random farm fowl flew past the windows. Nary a drop of rain entered the windows so there we stood, taking it all in. Gray clouds turned black; lightning strikes bounded forward and ricocheted off the surrounding hills. Winds of horrible strength threatened the trees and the cows moaned in agony. One "ping" preceded another and then another and soon the yard filled with marble-sized balls of hail. And then it ended. Much too soon for our intense-storm deprived psyches.

New Years Eve 2009 in Hilo, HI. A pregnant woman and her husband, me and my lady. A dinner of daal and flat bread followed by several games of Wii Mario Cart. I'd not played the game since college, when it served a worthy distraction from class. Video games have come a long way since then. The ladies deferred from playing; Jimmy and I went to town. Just when I'd reached my limit, his pregnant lady said: "no more," and off it went. Did I mention that the game was played not on a tv screen but projected onto a pull-down screen. In place of the game came the movie: "The Fall". Quite good. Just writing about the night makes me feel old, as it bears little comparison to last year's loud dance party at the Holocene. Instead of dancing and boozing each couple reclined and cuddled on a couch while the movie played inside, and every house in town lit off fireworks outside. As midnight neared the movie we moved outside as the intensity of banging out-gunned the movie's sounds. Sparklers and pictures (see below) entertained us for a while. Midnight bonged, the frequency of serious explosives increased and we kissed. The year 2009 ended, the year 2010 began. Amazing. Since the outside noise now diminished, finishing the movie was possible though only two of us made it through. Are we old? Perhaps. I'm ok with that. A reflection on the amazing year that was 2009 is yet to come.

Chickens and I

It's legal to have chickens within Portland city limits. For a while now I've considered getting chickens so that I can be eating fresh eggs from a source I know all about. Plus, it'd be fun to tell folks that I have chickens. Offer to trade them eggs for something. Like a pie. Or cookies. Maybe a kombucha creature. However, the last couple of weeks here on this farm are causing a rethink. It's been a reminder to me on the nature of chickens and the oftentimes incompatibility of our natures. They like to cluck constantly, making noises that serve no logical purpose. I, on the other hand, experience a cause of the fantods (which occasionally howl) at this. Especially when said noise happens before 7am. Which has been happening fairly consistently lately. Anywhere from 5:15 to 6:30am this silly black chicken (I'll call her Deep Fried, DF for short) decides to waddle around the ohana, clucking and squawking repeatedly. The other chickens ignore her until they get fed up and chase her off making their own ruckus. Some lucky mornings DF will jump into the coffee processing area which happens to share a wall with the bedroom. In there she'll let loose, creating an echo that isn't slowed in the least by the blinds.

She's a chicken, they make noise and I can't hate her for following her nature right? That makes sense now but not in the morning. I've banged on the wall. I've popped through the door into the processing room, scaring the poop out of her (literally) which only drives her up onto the roof, adding scratching to the noise. Once I chased her out across the yard but the owners of the farm saw that and didn't look overly impressed.

On other unfortunate mornings, the turkeys wander into the yard. They have no problem getting into it with DF. And there are more of them. And they are louder. Who knew turkeys could sound like tortured women? I didn't know and wish I still didn't. To the credit of the other chickens on the farm (all 20-some of them), when the turkeys begin their harassment of DF the other chickens come to her defense. Which makes a gawd-awful noise that is impossible to sleep through. At least I've stopped trying to call 9-1-1 at the first shrill screams. One misreported call was all it took.

I guess the bottom line is that I'd better rethink my chicken obtainment plan. Maybe my yard in Portland, if I ever have one, doesn't need any chicken inhabitants.

Food for thought.

Happy new year!

Hard to believe that it's 2010 already. The last year flew by, faster than I would have liked. As I sat reflecting on what happened in the past year, well, a lot has happened. A lot of travel, some work, life changes and a lot of fun. I'm too tired to get introspective right now, maybe I'll get to that later.

We rang in the new year with our friends over in Hilo in very mellow fashion: dinner and some wine. Jimmy and I played Wii MarioCart (my first Wii experience) while the ladies chatted. A movie went in ("The Fall") and was paused for the midnight. And the fusillade of artillery outside. Of course there were small fireworks going off constantly all around us for at least an hour. Peppered in among the smaller noises were loud thundering booms. Since they sounded off across the way we've no idea what they were. They didn't sound like the legally purchased fireworks, that's for sure. Good times!

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!