lisap

Yesterday morning, I woke early, and I used the hours of darkness before dawn to complete some work: I quietly went to balcony with my computer, and I edited National Board entries for my mentees (the portfolio is due March 31). I’m almost entirely caught up since I sent out eight or nine edited entries in the past two days, so I have a bit of time to report on our Hawaiian adventure.

We got out early again, and drove north through acres of lava (hardened, of course, since we do not have a magma-proof car). There’s a popular sort of graffiti in the lava fields, only instead of spray paint, people utilize white rocks to spell out messages (usually their names).

The first order of the day: Hapuna Beach, a stunning white sand beach that is repeatedly named one of the best beaches in the United States by Conde Nast magazine. From the breezy fig trees lining the path winding down to the beach to the fine grain sand to the perfect turquoise waves to the craggy black lava rocks, Hapuna beach is almost ridiculous in its gorgeousness. Nina stretched out on the sand with a few Hawaii books, and I threw myself into the sea (once I realized it wasn’t exactly a snorkeling beach), regretting my lack of a boogie board. The sun-drenched morning was ideal for riding waves on a piece of foam board, but I couldn’t figure out where to rent one, so I did my best without. After a stinging slap on the back from the ocean, I decided that bodysurfing wasn’t working, and instead investigated a strange hidden cove carved out from the lava. There I discovered the black rocks were alive, teeming with crabs and limpets (which resemble barnacles when they die and fuse to surfaces, but alive they are bizarre black puffed round anemone looking things, only their “legs” are like petals on a flower. I took pictures with the underwater camera since the surf wildly attacked the rocks over there, and I didn’t want to destroy my camera. We only stayed for an hour or so because we had big plans: to take the north coast road to the Waipio Valley.

Before we got very far, we realized we were near Spencer beach, which had been recommended to me, so we did a quick drive-by. This family oriented beach is smaller, the waves are gentler, but it’s lovely, and it’s next door to Pu’ukohola Heiau. A Heiau is a Hawaiian temple, and King Kamehameha commissioned this one when he decided to conquer the island of Hawaii. Hundreds of people worked on it (and some of them were sacrificed to the war god along the way). I’m not going to lie: the heiau kind of looks like nothing more than some rocks stacked on top of each other in a square formation (because it IS just rocks stacked on top of each other in a square formation). We didn’t stay long.

We raised the convertible top when the sky clouded over, and we drove on to the valley, taking the long way because Nina thought it would be the best way to see more of the island. The lava fields melted into grassy hills, and we sped through them on a winding, almost desolate highway. Highlights of the drive included a double shot of Asia on the radio, the King Kamehameha statue in Kapa’au, and driving past the place where Waterworld was filmed.

After a wrong turn or two, through turbulent wind and rain, we arrived at the valley, only it was the wrong valley, Polulu, not Waipo. As we quickly learned, the highway ended abruptly at Polulu, and there wasn’t actually a north coast road that we could follow to the Waipio Valley. Though we were annoyed at the prospect of  backtracking to get to our real destination, we trekked partway down the steep path. Though the view was stunning: lush greenery leading to a black sand beach, a loss of footing on that muddy way would have been seriously unpleasant. W

Nina took over the drive after that, and I went to sleep for a while. We arrived in Waimea, a cowboy town and stopped for an outstanding lunch at Waimea Coffee Company– the friendly loquacious proprietress (Toni) made a sandwich especially for me (when I didn’t want the vegetarian sandwich on foccacia bread). With homemade wheat bread, provolone, Hawaiian tomatoes and walnut pesto toasted in a panini maker, this may have been the best sandwich I ever had in my life.

We learned that the Waipio Valley was only 20 minutes away, so we took off. Everything you’ll ever read about this place indicates that it is practically heaven on earth. There are waterfalls (some of the tallest in the US) visible if you hike into the valley, and a lovely beach, too. The trail down the valley is paved, but I was reluctant to do it, considering the trek down is literally at a 25% grade, and you start out 2000 feet above sea level. Nina wanted to see the waterfalls, though, so down we went.

Try walking for twenty minutes down a 25% grade road, unless you actually enjoy having knees. I like my knees, but I did it anyway. Halfway down, we talked to some sweaty people on their way back up. All insisted it was worth it, and one guy mentioned that we could take a shuttle back to the top or pay some strangers to drive us in their four-wheel drive cars. I was perfectly willing to do that. About 3/4ths of the way down, the wind could no longer reach us to cool us off, and we realized neither of us had the guidebook or any idea how to get to the waterfall. We also realized we didn’t have any water. We’re not really experienced hikers, but we laughed and admired the wild orchids (yellow! pink!) and impatiens. All we remembered from the book was that we could NOT drink from any streams because animals poop in them.

At the bottom of the beautiful green valley, we admired a stream, listened to the songbirds and the distant waves on the beach to the right, so we veered left, walking on until we spotted something in the distance: a chalk line descending from a the top of the valley. That was the waterfall. As we stood staring at it, wondering why people thought this was worth it, we started laughing, and a shuttle drove by, stopped, opened its door, then left. We gaped in wonderment at the chalk line for another minute, then panicked because we NEEDED that shuttle, so we ran for it: two sweaty idiots with no water literally running after a shuttle bus. We had to hike.

I dug into my bag, hoping water would magically materialize, but it didn’t, so I took out my heart rate monitor. We wanted to time the hike, and I thought knowing when my heart was going to explode seemed like a wise idea. The trek up the 25% grade road was one of my most difficult accomplishments, and I was proud to make it to the top in 37 minutes, heart pounding wildly, hair drenched with sweat. At 2/3rds of the way up, a guy breezed by on a rickety looking three wheel ATV and offered  us a ride, but I turned it down for us… out of pride, I wanted to  prove we could finish. At one point, I started praying “Oh Lord, in your kindness and mercy, please provide us with shaved ice when we reach the top,” but that didn’t happen. Our legs hurt today, but we’re still proud.

We went home on a shorter route, watched American Idol, then had an extraordinary dinner at Fujimama in Kona… it’s not cheap, but it’s delicious.