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.