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