Tag: Hawaii

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Points South (Part 1)

Previously: Happy Anniversary

Our days were starting to blend into each other at this point: wake up with the birds, shower, read, lounge around, read some more, find food. There’s nothing wrong with this schedule at all, especially when one is on vacation, but I am a very fast reader, and I was soon done with all the books I had brought.

I was starting to go stir crazy.

We headed down the coast to Kailua-Kona (a 2-hr drive) to find Kona Bay Books, a used bookstore that has an ad in almost every tourist pamphlet I had picked up. John Cleese was not much help AGAIN because he didn’t recognize the address. But I did manage to find the cross streets, so I had him direct us to the correct intersection, figuring we’d find the shop pretty easily from there.

John Cleese led us to an industrial park, and we were pretty sure he must have led us astray again until we saw a large sign saying “BOOKS” off to the side of one of the buildings, almost hidden in a parking lot.

They weren’t kidding; they had books, alright. This was one of the largest used bookstores I’d ever been in, with stacks and stacks to rival a library. They gave me a good trade-in value on my books, and I walked out with a pile of books almost as large as the one I had gone in with. (We actually went back a couple more times during our trip because I am such a voracious reader)

Ray’s plan was to drive down to South Point for the day (another 3-hour drive south from Kailua-Kona), but I was starting to get tired of sitting in the car — we had already been doing a lot of driving on this trip! — and I had a mini-breakdown, which surprised Ray, I think. But I was quickly mollified when we made plans to take a coffee plantation tour on the way to South Point, so back on the road we went.

There are tons of coffee plantations in Kona, and one can actually spend an entire day just going on a coffee tasting tour of all the major plantations (like the wine tasting tours in Napa Valley), but we still needed to get to South Point, and Ray doesn’t much like coffee, so I figured it was best if we just found a plantation that was close to Highway 11 (the main road going along the coast).

That’s how we got to Greenwell Farms, one of the oldest plantations in the Kona Belt. The original plan was to go to Mountain Thunder, because it was the largest organic coffee plantation (and besides, that’s where Mike Rowe filmed an episode of Dirty Jobs) but it was on the other side of the road, and in the end, we opted for convenience rather than fame.

The tour itself was somewhat disappointing (”These are the coffee plants; this is the growing and harvesting cycle. Over here is our drying process. We supply most of the Kona beans in the world. Okay, now you’re done. Please buy some coffee on your way out.”), but they did mention that all the fruit grown on the plantation was no longer sold, but given to food banks and guests for free. We were given permission to take any fruit we found lying on the ground (so I ate an orange) or in the bins by the store (so I took an avocado).

Oh, and I got to buy coffee for myself and friends, which I had planned to do anyway, and the free coffee samples were tasty (as I knew they would be). I also got a taste of a raw coffee cherry (the fruit picked right off the tree before it gets processed into the bean we all recognize) . That kept me awake for the rest of the day!

Next: Points South (Part 2)

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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)

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Infrequent Flyer (Part 2)

Previously: Infrequent Flyer Part 1

The next leg of our trip was a short flight from Honolulu to Kailua-Kona on the Big Island. We met up with my mom at the Honolulu airport (some confusion in communication had us meeting her in baggage claim, only to have us all go through security again, and having to confiscate the overpriced water bottles we had purchased in Phoenix). Even though we were hungry, we decided to wait until we got to Kailua-Kona before eating, since we didn’t have very much time before our flight, and Ray and I were both tired of overpriced airport food.

The three of us continued to the Big Island in a little Boeing 717 commuter plane, where Ray could stretch out in the aisle seat and I could try to catch a few Zs in the window seat.

Except I couldn’t, because there was a kid with autism or Down Syndrome or something right behind, and wasn’t it just my luck that he was a seat-kicker? He also was very excited about being on a plane, but was only able to express himself with moans and sighs and occasional hacking noises that disturbed me greatly. The flight only lasted 43 minutes, but it felt like 3 hours.

On the ground in Kailua-Kona, we had the great good fortune to have our baggage arrive first, so we were on our way to the car rental place with almost no delay. Once at the car rental, however, we stood in line for what seemed to be an eternity before we finally got our car.

In the car we went, and out came my TomTom GPS device (which I had uploaded with the voice of John Cleese, so we call the GPS “John Cleese”), much to the amazement of my mother, who I think had not seen one up close before.

Our first priority was to find food, so I used the “points of interest” feature on the TomTom to find the closest fast-food restaurant. John Cleese first led us to a Subway, which was closed (it was 9:00 at night by this time), and the second place, a Wendy’s, was not at the point indicated to us by John Cleese. Fortunately, we stumbled upon a Denny’s and decided to eat there.

Ray and I had breakfast, while my mom had dinner; one of the side effects of our travel was that our bodies thought it was 3 a.m., so I decided to treat it as an all-nighter. A half hour later, we had paid our bill (mom came in handy, as her senior status gave us 20% off the total!), and we were on the road again.

The maps we had looked at before the trip never had a scale on them, so I don’t think we really realized how big the Big Island was until we started driving. Sure, I had checked our road trip out on Google Maps before we left, and the estimated travel time was something like 2.5 hours, but I thought that surely that was a conservative estimate, and that once we got on the highway things would go much faster.

Little did I know that “highway” in Hawaii just means “road that is paved regularly.” It has nothing to do with number of lanes, because we were on a two-lane road for the entire 106 miles. Ray was a trooper, though, and while my mom and I napped, he navigated the windy roads up the mountain to Volcano very well.

We knew we were close when we smelled the sulfur dioxide from Kilauea’s crater. It was foggy, so we couldn’t see very well, but John Cleese led us to our destination with no problem, showing us where the road was when we ourselves could not see it. When we finally arrived at the Volcano Guest House, we rolled into bed and slept soundly.

Next: The Valley of the Kings

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Infrequent Flyer (Part 1)

It’s been two years since I’ve taken a domestic flight, and while many people may have been witnessing the gradual changes that airlines have been making, I (who do not travel nearly as often as I would like due to lack of means and time) have been shocked at the changes that have been made in the airline industry.

Granted, the last time Ray and I took a flight together, we were on our way to get married; I had booked a nonstop trip from Newark to Honolulu simply because I didn’t want to risk our baggage (read: wedding dress) getting lost during a transfer.

This time, though, we were more concerned with cost than with transfers, so when I found a flight that left from Philadelphia for a reasonable price with a reasonable travel time, I booked it.

Our first leg took us from Philadelphia to Phoenix. I had the pleasure of being seated next to Typhoid Mary, Plague-Bringer, who hacked and coughed her way through the 4-hour long flight.

I was also surprised that the “In-Flight Café,” which I had known would be a pay-for-your-food-if-you-want-to-be-fed deal, had absolutely NO vegetarian options. Instead our choices were: 1) a Reuben sandwich with cookie – $7; 2) a Cobb salad with cookie – $7; or 3) a “snack pack” consisting of a tiny can of chicken salad, 4 cubes of cheese, some crackers, and, you guessed it, a cookie – $5.

Ray had discouraged me from making sandwiches for the trip because (and it was a good point) we had no way of keeping them cold until lunchtime. Instead, I packed a bunch of Lara Bars, and he stocked up on cashews, Pepperidge Farm Milan cookies, and almonds, so that became my lunch.

As we were landing, we hit a patch of turbulence, and my poorly-fed stomach began to turn. Thankfully, our plane landed before things got too desperate, although I was trapped near the back of the plane (which is always annoying during disembarkment) and forced to listen to Typhoid Mary explain that she got sick from her grandson, whom she had visited, when the last thing I wanted to talk about was being sick.

In Phoenix, we had 1 hour and 15 minutes to get to the next gate (one terminal over) as well as eat lunch/dinner. I was still feeling queasy, as was Ray, but we forced ourselves to buy individual pizzas to bring with us on the plane.

Before we knew it, the flight had boarded, and we were back in the air again. Departing Phoenix was almost as bumpy as our arrival, so we were both thankful when we reached cruising altitude.

Even though I had specifically requested a window seat for Ray, something must have happened with the booking process, because he was given an aisle seat. And we were right next to the lavatories, which might have been useful if either one of us had continued to be sick. Instead, we got a whiff of other people’s bowel movements every single time the bathroom door opened.

I was stuck in the middle seat, as always, since I have shorter legs. The guy in front of me pushed his seat as far back as he could, and then he bounced back against the seat a couple more times, for good measure, I assumed, in case my knees hadn’t gotten quite bruised enough.

Meanwhile, the guy behind me (who had made a big stink upon boarding because his seating assignment had been messed up too, and the flight attendants gave him the option of dealing with a middle seat or getting off the plane) had some sort of nervous tic that involved kicking my seat for about 2 hours until he finally went to sleep. He awoke about an hour before the plane landed and resumed, much to my chagrin.

The only good thing about the seating mix-up is that Ray now realizes he likes aisle seating better because there is more room to stretch out.

After 7 hours in the air, we arrived in Honolulu tired and hungry and cranky, but we did stop to take in the fact that we were finally in Hawaii. That put smiles on our faces.

Next: Infrequent Flyer Part 2