Tag: Big Island

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Seahorses

Previously: On Top of the World (Part 2)

At last, it was our last day on the Big Island. Our flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until 10:59 PM that night, though, so we still had a full day ahead of us. Unfortunately, we needed to check out of the hut in the morning, since there was another group of people coming in to stay there, so we packed up the car and headed out to explore the island some more.

We didn’t have much of a plan of action. We considered driving all the way around the island one more time (after all, we did have the time to do that), but I wasn’t really in the mood to sit in the car for 8 hours. I did express some interest in seeing a waterfall on the east side of the island, and we were told we had to go to to Tex Drive-In for their famous malasadas, which was in that direction, so we drove east for some breakfast.

We had gotten a fairly early start, so by the time we had driven through Waimea to Honokaa on the northeastern shore, it was only 10:00 or so. The Drive-In did have a drive-thru window, but we wanted to sit down and eat, so we parked and went in the front door. The guy behind the counter had an uncanny resemblance to Judge Rheinhold’s character in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, both in his mannerisms and a little bit in looks.

The malasadas were good, but they were not spectacular. I suppose it was one of those experiences one “must” have while in Hawaii, much like having a beignet in at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans: they are both fried concoctions made of sugar and flour, little more than donuts without the hole, but if you don’t do it, you somehow are missing out on the local experience.

After breakfast, Ray started to not feel so well. We decided a long drive halfway around the island would not be so good, so we nixed the waterfall idea and made our way through the middle of the island (for once, we were not driving along the coast!) to Kailua-Kona.

We ended up at the only Seahorse Farm in the U.S., and signed up for a tour that would start at 1:00. The “farm” was located in an industrial park called NELHA (National Energy Laboratory of Hawaii Authority). We were interested in touring the energy labs, too (I had heard about some interesting alternative energy systems they were developing there), but apparently there was only one tour per day, and that had been at 10:30 in the morning.

The tour of the seahorse farm had all the makings of a Busch Gardens/Seaworld presentation, complete with wireless microphones and portable amps. All that was missing was a bunch of 20-somethings singing and dancing on a stage (I would have offered my services, only I’m not 20-something anymore and I was on vacation).

Although the tour itself was ostensibly to raise awareness about reef conservation and environmental stewardship, the money from these tours were being used to raise funds for research on these bizarre little creatures. It was a good cause, so I didn’t feel so bad about the overpriced tickets; I just chafed a little bit at the sterile show/presentation.

Oh, and there were children there. Lots of hot, cranky, pushy children. And I love kids, but their parents were just as hot and cranky, and they didn’t really police the kids when they pushed to the front of the line or knocked people out of the way.

Even so, I did enjoy myself. Seahorses are fascinating creatures, and this was the closest I had ever been to one, not to mention thousands! At the end of the tour, they let people hold the seahorses…okay, actually, they have you put your hands in the water, and then they get a seahorse to wrap its tail around your finger.

I was stuck behind a horde of whiny kids, so by the time it came for my turn, the seahorse in question would have none of me. Unfazed, the biologist plucked up another seahorse and coaxed it around my finger.

I barely felt anything at all: it was very light and smooth, and the seahorse delicately held onto my finger until the biologist decided it was time for the next person to go. He gently coaxed it off my finger onto his, and I went to dry my hands.

After the seahorse farm, we wandered back to the main part of Kailua-Kona, for one last trip to Kona Bay Books. I traded all my books (which I had finished in the previous day and a half) for enough books to last me the plane trip and then some. It turned out to be an even trade, and I didn’t have to spend any money, which was a bonus.

Apparently, there was an “international market” somewhere close to the book store, so we wandered over to where it was marked on the map. We expected something more akin to what we had experienced in Waikiki on Oahu on previous trips: dozens of small stalls selling t-shirts and tikis and silly Hawaiian collectibles for bargain prices (most of which were negotiable). This marketplace was more of an outdoor mall. They still sold kitsch, but not for bargain prices, and it didn’t really seem like anything was negotiable.

We ate dinner at the Kona Brewing Company again, and we got there right before the dinner rush. Ray still wasn’t feeling very well, and although he had napped a little bit in the car while we were at the marketplace, he ate dinner listlessly. I was hoping that whatever he had would pass before we got on the plane. The skies started to threaten rain (which would have been very bad for us, since we were eating outside), but luckily, the clouds passed by without comment.

Finally, it was time to return the rental car and check in to our flight at the airport. But as we got up to the check-in counter, the woman told us that our flight was overbooked, and would we like to stay here in Hawaii a few days longer? They would put us up in a hotel and give us a free flight back to Hawaii. The only catch: they couldn’t get us on another flight until Thursday.

I looked at Ray. We were both exhausted, and not thinking right. I had rehearsal on Tuesday evening and another one on Thursday, and Ray had to go back to work on Thursday. Could we really afford to stay longer? Probably not. I told her thanks but no thanks.

Stupidest thing I’d done the whole trip. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Next: Leaving on a Jet Plane

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On Top of the World (Part 1)

Previously: Tourist Trap

One of the things Ray wanted to do on our trip was go to the top of one of the mountains on the Big Island. We had heard rumors that there was snow in Hawaii, and we wanted to be able to see it for ourselves to believe it. So we booked a tour on Mauna Kea Summit Adventures, which not only seemed to be a pretty comprehensive tour (complete with dinner, a parka for the cold, and stargazing), but also did a pretty good job of advertising in every single tourist magazine we had.

We headed into Waimea/Kamuela for lunch at the Paniolo Country Inn and had a much better experience than our last sojourn into Waimea for food. Although this place was still akin to diner fare, there was no wait, and we were treated much better by the waitstaff. We ate our lunch without much fanfare and tried to find the spot where the tour van was going to pick us up.

When I had made our reservations for the tour a few days before, the woman on the phone asked me what resort we were staying in. Since we weren’t at any of the resorts, she told us the van would pick us up at the junction of Highway 190 and 200, which has no distinguishing landmarks other than the junction itself and a dirt turnoff by the side of the road.

We had given ourselves plenty of time in case John Cleese didn’t know where we were going, but we found the place pretty easily (it’s not like there’s anything else for miles!), so we pulled over and hung out until the van came to pick us up. I did get a chance to take a few pictures of the countryside while we were waiting.

At last, our van arrived, and it was already pretty crowded, this being the last pickup point before entering the dreaded Saddle Road (many car rental companies actually prohibit driving on the road because it’s so narrow and windy and locals drive very fast, especially at night). Apparently Saddle Road used to have spots that weren’t paved, but that has changed, and in fact, the state is working on widening and fixing the road so that it’s a safer, faster, more viable direct route from Kailua-Kona to Hilo.

Ray took the shotgun seat, since he has trouble with motion sickness when he’s not driving, and I made my way all the way to the back corner, where I sat next to a really cool gal from Colorado. As he drove up the mountain, our tour guide made comments on the countryside and the history of the area.

The road wound through ranches, sheep farms, a military camp, and finally arrived at the Mauna Kea Summit Road, where the grade got much steeper. We were going so high we were looking down on the clouds.

We arrived at the Mauna Kea Visitors’ Center (altitude: 9,000 ft.) just in time for dinner. We all piled of the van, and our tour guide distributed warm parkas and hot dinners (okay, mine wasn’t hot, but only because I got the vegetarian option, which was a cold veggie wrap with tofu). We were encouraged to wander around (i.e., use the bathroom!) for a little bit, but we needed to be back in the van in 30 minutes so that we could make it to the summit in time for the sunset.

After seeing this sign, though, I came to the conclusion that the real reason our tour guides wanted us to be back in the vans before too long is that they didn’t want us to be attacked by ninja cows.

Next: On Top of the World (Part 2)

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Lazy Bums

Previously:

Now that we were in the final days of our vacation, Ray was determined to spend as little time doing anything as possible. We lounged around the hut, and I started on the new books I had purchased at Kona Bay Books while we were in Kailua-Kona on Friday.

It’s not as easy for me to laze around for an entire day, though, so after a while, I decided to walk down to the water (a half mile) and take the path down the coast to find a heiau (temple) that was supposedly not far away.

I walked for a while past some boarded up coast guard barracks as the wind whipped past me and made the coconut palms wave like anemones. The sun was beating down on me quite a bit, too, and after I rounded the second curve a mile or so down the path, I saw nothing but wilderness for another mile.

I decided to give up on my quest to see a heiau, and instead I climbed up a large rock formation and watched whales breaching in the ocean. I still couldn’t get pictures of them, but it was still a magical experience, just watching with the naked eye.

Soon enough, my stomach started telling me it was time for lunch, so I walked back to the hut, where we ate some leftovers from dinner the night before.

Then it was back to reading, until we realized it was time for dinner. Since we didn’t have any food left in the kitchenette, we drove to the town next to Hawi, which is Kapaau, to a restaurant recommended to us by our host: Sammy D’s.

We were one of the only customers when we arrived, and we ordered our meal through a window into the kitchen before we sat down to wait for our dinner. We ate our sandwiches inside, watching as a big rainstorm pelted the highway. But by the time we were done eating, the worst of the storm had gone, so we quickly got back in the car and returned to the hut for more reading and lazing around.

Next: On Top of the World (Part 1)

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Happy Anniversary

Previously: Exploring North Kohala

You’d think that on our two-year anniversary here in Hawaii, Ray and I would go to a fancy restaurant or do something very cliché and romantic, but that’s just not the way we are.

When we got up, we decided to drive to Kamuela, also called Waimea (coincidentally, we got married at Waimea Falls Park, which is on Oahu, so our day trip was somewhat poetic, however unplanned). We had heard many good reviews of the Hawaiian Style Cafe (our host had mentioned that each person gets enough breakfast to feed three people), so I tried to get John Cleese to direct us to the restaurant.

This was the day that we realized just how bad TomTom’s map of the Big Island really was. John Cleese took us over the top of Kohala Mountain into Waimea (perhaps a more direct route as the crow flies, but not really from a topological perspective), but just as the time when we tried to find dinner a couple days before, John Cleese told us to go right when we should have gone left. I compared his map with the paper maps I had picked up on our travels, and directed Ray to turn left.

We made it to the center of town, but we couldn’t find the restaurant. We stopped at a grocery store and I asked the cashier, who said we were very close and that it was just down the road right past the park. We drove back the way we came and completely missed the restaurant again.

So we decided to follow John Cleese’s directions, even though he was leading us away from Waimea. But when he said, “You have reached your destination,” we were in the middle of nowhere again. Sigh. Unfortunately, it’s not like there are very many good places to turn around on a curvy two-lane road with very few turn-offs, so it was another two miles before we could reverse direction again.

Back into town we went, this time going very slowly and looking at all the building numbers and every single shop sign. “There it is!” Ray cried, pointing to the opposite side of the street. In a nondescript strip mall with only about five shops, a small sign meekly proclaiming “Hawaiian Style Cafe” and a few people milling outside the restaurant were the only two clues to the restaurant’s existence.

Even though there were people milling around outside, there were open seats inside and no hostess stand, so I figured it was a seat-yourself kind of affair. Ray and I walked right in and sat down. No sooner had we sat down than a good ol’ boy with a neck the size of my thigh who had been standing outside poked his head in and drawled, “Are y’all going to put your name on the list?”

“There’s a list?” I asked. I looked around for something resembling a list. Couldn’t see it at all.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re all standing out here.” His tone started to sound more aggressive.

“Well, there’s no sign.”

“The list is right there.” He pointed at a clipboard on a stool immediately to the right of the front door. Then he glared at us while we put our names down.

“Isn’t it funny,” I said to Ray in a loud voice, “how there’s no sign telling you what to do and nobody at the front to greet you? I wonder how people know what the protocol is.”

Good Ol’ Boy pretended to ignore me.

We only had to wait about 10 minutes before we got seated, but I was starving by this point, so I was sure that I was ready for the famously huge breakfast.

In reality, I wasn’t ready. Nobody can be ready for that much food. I ordered a veggie omelette (made with at least 4 eggs and a generous portion of Cheez Whiz), which comes with a “side” of 2 pancakes, each the size of my face. I made it about halfway through my eggs before I started to flag, but I insisted on having at least some of my pancake before I stopped. I don’t think I managed to finish either one of my plates, although I made a valiant effort.

While we were eating, we saw one of the customers approach the short-order cooks in the kitchen and tell them that this was the best breakfast he had had all vacation. “You guys are better than the chefs they’ve got at the resorts,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what he had ordered, but it certainly wasn’t the veggie omelette with cheese. Yes, there was a lot of food, but I’m not a believer of quantity overriding quality when it comes to my meals. And I was still ticked at the rednecks that had yelled at us when we had first arrived (who were seated next to us and talked to the waitress as if they were regulars).

This place was obviously little more than a diner that had gotten a reputation for large portions at small prices. They probably prided themselves on their small-town diner atmosphere and slightly rude waitresses. I get that. It’s a part of the diner’s “charm.” But the best breakfast ever? Hardly. I had been eating better breakfasts every morning so far: 1 fresh, ripe papaya + 1 bagel + POG and/or Kona coffee.

We were so full after breakfast that we couldn’t even think of lunch. But while we were in Waimea, we stopped at the supermarket (one of two we had found on the entire island!) and stocked up on some food to cook in our kitchenette so we wouldn’t have to go out for every meal.

Since we had gotten refrigerated food from the grocery store, we drove straight back to our hut (still an hour-long trip!), and spent the rest of the afternoon reading, napping, and generally lolling about. I did get up at one point to make a spaghetti dinner, which we enjoyed with Guinness (because it was St. Patrick’s Day and also our anniversary), and that was our romantic evening.

You might think I’m being sarcastic as I write that, but truly, it was a very nice night, because we were totally relaxed and happy and comfortable being with each other. We listened to the night sounds: the frogs, the toads, and the chatty geckos (Ray named them Taco, Paco, and Loco, although I’m sure there were more than 3 in our hut…there was also Cheep and Beep living in the bath hut), and we were content.

Next: Points South (Part 1)

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Exploring North Kohala

Previously: Another Side of the Island (Part 2)

We awoke Monday morning bright and early — well, I woke up early, anyway, since our room had hardly any curtains, and the dawn brought not only the morning light but chattering birds within the brush here in our corner of paradise. Ray, as usual, stayed asleep as I rolled out of bed and tried out the outdoor shower.

Without getting too much into an advocacy of the naturist lifestyle, I must say that it was exhilirating being able to shower while watching whales play in the ocean, my bare feet on volcanic rock. Granted, I wondered how much privacy I actually had, since our hosts were int he adjacent building, and the privacy screens were not 100% opaque and largely botanical. But it was early yet, and I did not hear anyone moving around, so I felt fairly safe.

After Ray and I were both up, fed, and dressed, we sat on the porch reading our books. Our host (the husband, whom we hadn’t met yet) introduced himself and proceeded to regale us with tales about his life story, the property, and the new neighbors (apparently Cher and Harrison Ford purchased property in the area recently). He gave us some tourist information about North Kohala (the north side of the island), as well. After listening to several (unsolicited) assurances that weed was not illegal on their property, we excused ourselves and decided to explore Hawi Town.

Hawi (pronounced “Ha-vee“) is a cute little town on the north shore of the Big Island. Hawi and its neighboring town of Kapa’au sprung up as bustling plantation towns when Kohala Sugar Company owned most of that part of the Big Island. After the sugar mill closed in 1970, the area suffered from neglect and fell into disrepair. Recently, though, North Kohala has been experiencing a little bit of a renaissance, with an influx of artists and craftspeople opening shops and galleries along Highway 270 (the main road running through Kohala). A few restaurants have sprouted up, too (although we seemed to have missed them in our quest for dinner the night before).

Lunch at Luke’s Place was exactly what we needed. Our host had advised us to go in the back entrance straight to the bar, where there was supposedly music, but we’re not much for music while we eat, and besides, it was lunch time, and we didn’t hear anybody playing, so we went in the front entrance. Even though we had to wait a while to get seated (there seemed to be only one person running the front of the house and the lady in front of us had some sort of business with the owner), once we sat down, we had a very pleasant, quiet lunch.

We wandered around the center of town (about two blocks) and wound up in the fudge shop, where I bought some chocolate/lilikoi fudge: tart and sweet and definitely a one-of-a-kind fudge. We bought some other flavors, too: coffee/macadamia, plain chocolate, and orange/chocolate, which we brought back to the hut and stuck in the fridge for later enjoyment throughout the vacation.

Ray and I spent the rest of the day lounging around the hut, reading our books. We took one more sojourn back out to Hawi for dinner at Sushi Rock, which I enjoyed immensely, but Ray simply tolerated (he’s not a fan of sushi, and they didn’t have that much in the way of non-sushi, despite our host’s comments to the contrary). After dinner, it was back to the hut for more reading until we fell asleep to the chorus of frogs.

Next: Happy Anniversary

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Another Side of the Island (Part 2)

Previously: Another Side of the Island (Part 1)

After we said goodbye to my mom at the airport, Ray and I headed up the coast to our next vacation rental outside Hawi Town. Our hosts had emailed directions to me, and I thought our GPS John Cleese would be able to lead us to the house easily.

Unfortunately, the map for the Big Island that was uploaded on our GPS was terribly out of date, and the road on which our vacation rental was supposed to be located didn’t seem to be in John Cleese’s files. Curses! I told John Cleese to take us to the center of town in Hawi, which was about a 2-hour drive up the coast anyway, and as we got closer, I navigated the old fashioned way: from the written directions.

The drive along the Kohala Coast was long. The highway is about a mile and a half from the coast, so the ocean was visible on our left, but there was nothing to see on the right except black, black lava flow from an eruption in 1859. Along the stretch of highway closest to the resorts there were examples of lava graffiti: stark white coral placed on the black lava to spell out words or messages like “Got Lava?” or “Aloha.”

The coast was peppered with luxury resorts, something that we didn’t see at all near Hilo or up by Volcano. We stopped at one resort area to find a bathroom (even though there’s tons of road on this island, there don’t seem to be any rest stops anywhere), and realized that most tourists fly into Kailua-Kona airport, where they are bussed to their hotel for their highly sanitized experience of Hawaii. Each resort is its own (luxury) shopping area, (luxury) restaurants, gas station, golf course, and beach (complete with reef for snorkeling). Helicopter pads are conveniently located across the highway for the helicopter tours, and all the bus tours stop at each resort. What a stark reminder that tourism is the main industry in Hawaii!

We finally made it to our turn onto Old Coast Guard Road (the road that didn’t exist on John Cleese’s map), and a cheery hand-painted sign with a picture of a whale and an arrow, and we breathed a sigh of relief that we were in the right place. Down we went towards the ocean, along a road that hadn’t been paved in 20 years.

“Does this count as off-roading?” I asked Ray. Our car rental agreement specifically prohibited off-road travel.

“Nah,” he replied. “It’s a driveway.”

We bounced down the pot-hole-ridden road for about a mile, seeing nothing on either side of the road except grass and shrubs and an occasional cow. Finally, we reached a driveway with three buildings and another hand-painted sign proclaiming “A WHALE XING.” We had arrived!

Our hostess greeted us at the gate and showed us around. Our cottage was really more of a one-bedroom bamboo hut with windows on all walls and not really as many curtains as windows. A kitchenette abutted the bedroom, and the “bath house” was another hut outside the bedroom hut and down a little wooden walkway.

The bath house had a very romantic claw foot tub and a beautifully hand-painted tile sink. The hostess then brought us around the side of the bath house and showed us the outdoor shower. The water was heated by a propane tank that she assured us would be changed today (their previous guests had just departed).

We asked her for some dinner recommendations, and she gave us a few restaurant names and pointed us in the direction of Hawi. We dropped off our bags and got back in the car to find some food. We found Hawi, but we only saw one restaurant, called Bamboo, and that place seemed way too fancy for what we were looking for. We decided to keep driving, but all we found were a couple small towns and no shops or restaurants at all.

We kept driving until John Cleese said there was no road left to drive, and then we drove some more on a road that was marked as a “trail” on the GPS map. It led us to Polu Valley lookout point, the northern counterpart of the Waipio Valley lookout point. There are several undeveloped valleys between Waipio and Polu, and this was indeed where the road ended on this side of the island.

After we took in this lovely view, we turned around, more determined than ever to find something to eat. We drove back through the little towns of Kapa’au and Hawi, past our guest house, and towards the resorts as the sun began to set. John Cleese had some restaurants on the map as points of interest, and the closest one was 15 miles away in Waimea, a town that was much more inland. I wasn’t too keen on going all the way to the resorts (20 miles away), so I told Ray to follow John Cleese’s directions to Waimea.

Once darkness came upon us, it was impossible to see anything. There were almost no street lights on the highway, and no buildings at all along the road. When John Cleese announced, “You have reached your destination,” we were incredibly confused, because there was nothing at all on the road. Nothing.

We turned around and made our way down to the first resort, which was protected by a security checkpoint. When we approached, Ray asked the woman at the gate, “Are there any restaurants here for non-guests?” She said, “Yes, the Manta, but…do you have a reservation?”

No, we didn’t, and we told her so.

“It’s fine dining,” she said. “They probably won’t let you in unless you’re dressed according to the dress code…um…it’s fine dining.”

Ah. Our shorts and t-shirts were a little too scruffy for the resort-goers. We understood. We certainly didn’t want to go eat to a place that had a dress code anyway. “Could you recommend any place to eat around here?” Ray asked.

“What kind of food are you looking for?” she asked.

I don’t know. I’m hungry. Food. “Seafood,” I answered.

“There’s the Seafood Bar up the highway in Kawaihae.” She gave us directions and told us we could either eat upstairs at the bar (that’s what the locals do), or downstairs in a more dignified setting.

Sweet. We turned around, followed her directions, and found the place right away. Dinner was quite good, and since we were in a bar, I decided to keep my promise to drink a fruity drink while I was in Hawaii. And as many of you know, I’m a lightweight, so one drink was enough to get me very happy and let me get to sleep very quickly as soon as we got back.

It’s a good thing, too, because as soon as we got back to our hut, we learned that the frogs and toads in the two ponds outside the room were very noisy. All night long.

Next: Exploring North Kohala

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Another Side of the Island (Part 1)

Previously: Volcano Day (Part 2)

It was my mom’s last day on the Big Island, and we hadn’t gone snorkeling yet. Ray’s not much for getting in the water, so if I was going to do any snorkeling, this was my last day to do it. After a little research, we had settled on the beach at Pu’uhonau o Honaunau (City of Refuge), and we had made plans to meet a friend’s sister (who happened to be working as an archeologist in Kailua-Kona) for the morning.

Since we knew it would take 2-1/2 hours to get there from Volcano (we were starting to understand just how far away everything was), we checked out of the Volcano Guest House at 9:30 and told my friend to meet us at 11:00.

But then I realized that we couldn’t go snorkeling after all, as my body decided to pick that day to start its monthly courses, and with areas in Honaunau Bay up to 100 feet deep, there was a good chance there could be sharks in the water. Best to stay safe and on land. Our friend had also sustained a nasty cut from the lava the day before, so we all decided on the phone to take a tour of the City of Refuge instead.

John Cleese (our GPS voice) couldn’t seem to find Pu’uhonau o Honaunau (the beginning of a trend for our electronic friend for the rest of the vacation), but I was armed with various tourist maps and was able to navigate us there safely. Our friend, on the other hand, got totally lost and ended up getting there much later than we did…it’s a good thing we had decided not to snorkel, because the heat of noon was upon us, and the morning fish were all gone.

We didn’t have a tour guide to show us around like we did in Waipio Valley, but the brochure they gave us at the gate did a very good job of explaining the area.

The City of Refuge, as it turns out, was the place to go if you had broken a cardinal law. If you could make it by sea across the treacherous reef to the shore, you were absolved of whatever law you had broken. Most people who attempted the journey died in the process, so if you managed to make it, that was a sign that the gods favored you.

Most of the huts and heiaus we saw were reproductions, but the wall itself was original (although repaired in some spots), and held together with no mortar at all, which was amazing.

We did see a couple of turtles hanging out in the water and on the beach, which is different from my last run-in with the Hawaiian turtle population. And I was still disappointed with not being able to actually do some snorkeling, but hey, at least the turtles no longer feared me.

After the walk around the City of Refuge, we decided to head into Kailua-Kona (another 45-minute drive) for a bite to eat. Lunch at the Kona Brewing Company was a bit touristy but very tasty, and all too soon it was time to take my mom to the airport and say goodbye.

Next: Another Side of the Island (Part 2)

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Volcano Day (Part 2)

Previously: Volcano Day (Part 1)

Lunch at the Volcano House was wonderful. We sat down with our buffet meals and ate in front of a huge window overlooking the Kilauea Caldera. The fog and rain were coming in, obscuring our view for much of the time, but we did get some good shots of the gasses emerging from the ground (see left), so I was pleased.

Even though there were tons of warning signs and blocked roads restricting views of the volcano (even the little steam vents by the main road were blocked off!), I was amazed that I could get as close as I did. I mean, we were on an active volcano! Not one that was dormant and maybe might go off soon, but one that was actively spewing out lava and gasses as we were watching.

So I didn’t see Pele’s tears or Pele’s hair as we were hiking around (I did see them in the Jaggar Museum, though). And we found out that because of safety concerns, the place where you can see the red flowing lava was closed. But I’m okay with that, because I saw this:


And so I feel like I really did see a volcano.

After lunch, we decided to see how far up we could get on Mauna Loa (Kilauea is actually a bit of a pimple on the side of Mauna Loa). One of our maps showed a road going up to Mauna Loa Lookout Point at 6,662 ft., so we decided to try it.

We drove up a one-lane, (mostly) paved road for what seemed to be ages. Even though we only traveled for 11 miles, we were also going 5-10 miles an hour. But there was much more to see here than the Chain of Craters Road. Where along the lava flows there was only desert, here was lush forest, with wild animals at every turn.

The rain and the fog persisted all the way to the top of the road: so much so that when we got to the lookout point, there was nothing to see! It was also 50 degrees outside, which, according to my mother, might as well be freezing. So, back in the car we went, to drive back through the fairyland forests and over the mysterious cattle guards (we really weren’t sure why they were there, since it didn’t really seem like ranching country…just one of those weird Hawaii things, I guess), back to our guest house, where we decided to have dine at the Lava Rock Cafe (okay, it was really a diner, but they wanted to be so much more!).

Next: Another Side of the Island (Part 1)

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Volcano Day (Part 1)

Previously: Valley of the Kings

While I had been planning our trip to the Big Island, the thing I most wanted to see was the volcano. I mean, the thought of being able to see the birth of the world was extremely exciting, and the fact that we happened to know someone who knew someone who had a guest house in Volcano seemed serendipitous.

So Saturday was Volcano Day.

As we entered Volcanoes National Park, we were inundated with warnings about the air quality. The level of sulfur dioxide in the air was high, and we should only enter at our own risk. We closed our windows and put the air on “recirculate,” but the smell was still coming in. The cloud of SO2 billowed across the road like a sinister fog (they call it “vog” in Hawaii – volcanic fog), and because we couldn’t find parking at the visitor’s center, we decided to drive around the crater away from the vog.

First stop: the Thurston Lava Tube. This seems to be the most famous of the volcanic landmarks, although when you come right down to it, it’s little more than a cave with two entrances. Sometimes, when lava flows, the top crusts over, but beneath it remains liquid magma, creating these natural pipes underground. As the source of the lava shuts off, the lava keeps flowing, but there becomes less and less and less, until there is nothing but air. This one is the largest of its kind, I believe, and you can walk right through it, which is what we did.

While we were on this side of the crater, we decided to take a look at Desolation Trail, which is truly a path of devastation left by an eruption in the 1959. The ohia lehua trees seem like the only plants able to survive in this desert. We started up the path, but quickly realized that there wasn’t much to see here (hence, desolation trail), so we turned around and headed back to the car for more sight-seeing.

Unfortunately the Crater Rim Drive was closed due to a new vent that recently opened within Halemaumau Crater, so we opted for the only road open to us: Chain of Craters Road.

The Chain of Craters Road is a 18.3-mile winding drive down the mountain to the sea, with craters and lookout points along the way. We stopped at some of the craters, but after the fourth one, we got bored and decided to stop at the scenic lookouts instead. I was ready to turn around about halfway down the mountain, but Ray was enjoying the lava experience, and he wanted to know what the end of the road looked like, so we kept going.

Lava flows from as recently as 1974 are all that exist here. Oh, there are some hardy ferns growing out of a few crags here and there, but there is nothing but black as far as the eye can see. A blank slate, land yet to find a name.

We finally made it down to the shore, where it was at least 15 degrees warmer. I shed my sweater as we headed down the path towards the plume of steam rising from the sea. That was where the lava was hitting the water, and I was interested in seeing what that looked like.

More warning signs abounded as we set off on the trail. Apparently when the lava hits the salt water, large amounts of toxic hydrochloric gas is produced, so we should proceed at our own risk. A little cartoon man on a warning sign was falling into the ocean because he had been hiking on an unstable lava shelf. All this made me nervous, but we decided to at least hike out for a little while.

As we were walking in the hot midday sun, Ray noticed a little oasis-like area with palm trees. It stuck out because there were no trees of any kind anywhere else. They were all so close together we thought maybe this must have been a village of some sort at one point or another (we found out later that it had indeed been a village before the lava came).

We did have to stray from the path to get to the trees, but it was nice to be in the shade even of coconut palms, and we got some cool pictures while we were there. That plume of steam was so far away! And it was lunchtime, and I was starving.

What to do? I wanted to see the lava flow into the ocean, but I just couldn’t ignore my growling tummy. We decided to turn around and head back up to the mountain (there was certainly no food anywhere here) and have lunch by the Kilauea crater.

Besides, my mom reasoned, the lava is much more spectacular at night when it’s glowing red. We could go to the ocean lava viewing area in the evening around sunset. But for now: lunch!

Next: Volcano Day (Part 2)

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Valley of the Kings

Previously: Infrequent Flyer (Part 2)

My mother was only going to be with us for the first weekend we were in Hawaii, so she and I had tried to plan as many fun adventures as possible while she was on the Big Island. Unfortunately, that meant me going back on my promise to Ray that I wouldn’t plan anything during our stay.

Technically, though, my mother planned the tour to Waipio Valley, so I can’t really take responsibility for that. All I had asked was that we have a tour in the afternoon, rather the morning, so that we could recover from our plane ride.

Being awake for 24 hours must have reset me in Hawaii time, though, because I was wide awake at my normal wake-up time, 7:00, even though I had only gotten about 6 hours of sleep the night before. Ray was asleep, though, so I left him in bed while I went to find breakfast.

The guest house was much different in the daytime. My mom (who is also a morning person) was up, and the two of us read through the welcome binder and noted all the signs around the room about preserving water (the entire water supply was through a rain catchment system) and how the solar water heater worked.

Our instructions said that breakfast was “in the greenhouse,” but we couldn’t figure out which building it was from our windows, so we went outside to investigate. Sure enough, directly opposite our building was a greenhouse, and we saw some people inside eating breakfast.

Fresh papaya and bananas were the first things I saw, and I took full advantage of the available fruit. The rest of the breakfast fare was typical: juice, cereal, milk, coffee, as well as assorted bagels, cream cheese, and other spreads.

We chatted with some of the other guests until our hostess, Bonnie, arrived, and my mother introduced us (my aunt went to high school with Bonnie, so we got a good deal on the rooms).

Later in the morning, after Ray was up and dressed, we headed east to Hilo for lunch before continuing up the coast towards Waipio Valley (the Valley of Kings). It was an hour and a half before we got to our destination, but we had left plenty of time, so we stopped at the Waipio Valley Lookout before starting the tour.

Our tour guide was a young Hawaiian by the name of Douglas (but everyone calls him “Toki,” since that’s his middle name), whose family owns some of the taro fields in Waipio Valley. He showed us a lot about local plants and their uses (the stinky Noni fruit with a smell that rivals Camembert apparently cures everything from a stiff shoulder to cancer, but if you’re suffering from nausea, you should chew on some young guava leaves), and he spent a great deal of time explaining that the King Kamehameha Bishop Estate, which owned Waipio Valley, lease land at very reasonable rates, but only to Hawaiians who are willing to farm taro through traditional means (no equipment other than your own two hands).

With electricity only running to the first five houses in the valley and only two roads into and out of the valley (one of which being a footpath only wide enough for one person on the face of a cliff, the other being a poorly-paved winding road built at 25% grade), it’s no wonder there are not people lining up to take advantage of the good rents.

But the valley itself has a very magical quality to it, and it certainly feels like paradise there. It’s just that the price of this particular paradise is manual labor, no electricity, and commuting from work to home via the river road (no really, it’s a road that’s also a river).

After the tour, we headed back down the coast towards Hilo. It was getting to be dinner time, so we stopped at Cafe Pesto, which had been recommended to us by my dad (apparently the owner is a son of one of his Peace Corps buddies).

It was a nice enough meal, but Ray and I were exhausted again, so we drove back to Volcano (at night, again…only this time approaching it from the opposite side of the mountain) to fall instantly asleep as soon as we got back.

Next: Volcano Day (Part 1)