Kona-Kailua, Hawaii

9-8-2008
The Coffee Shack, Captain Cook, Hawaii

Early this morning, as the sun was rising behind the mountains to the east, I wandered about Pu'uhonua o Honaunau. This area is the carefully-restored remains of ancient Hawaiian royal grounds and Place of Refuge. Today it is a U.S. national historic park but its historic importance predates the United States.

A massive, seventeen foot thick rock wall separates the royal boat launch and royal grounds from the Place of Refuge, where those who had committed kapu acts could be forgiven, if only they could get there. The kapu system was absolutely brutal by today's standards. The punishment for transgressing kapu rules was invariably death, though at least you got to choose whether you preferred strangulation, stoning, etc. Anyone who made it into a place of refuge before they were captured could spend a night in the temple there and all would be forgiven. Of course, since these refuges were aside the royal grounds and surrounded by waves, lava rock, and coral it would take quite an effort to make a clandestine appearance. It must have been a little like trying to sneak into the confessional booth, during Sunday mass, while being chased by a posse.

9-9-2008
Manago Hotel, Captain Cook

The Japanese influence here is much more evident than in Maui or Oahu. They arrived originally to work on the plantations, but became part of Hawaii's ethnic fabric and an important part of the business community. Sadly, I know this as much from watching Magnum P.I. and Hawaii Five-O as from wandering around Hawaii (maybe all those hours in front of the tube weren't wasted after all?).

In all seriousness though, there is much evidence of Japanese influence here. Everyone is expected to take off his shoes before entering the house where I'm staying near Hilo. At Puka Puka, a restaurant that features many varieties of food I was offered only chopsticks. Utensils are by special request. The green tea was excellent. Hotel Manago, where I'm staying near Kona, is still owned by the descendants of the Japanese man and his mail-order wife who opened it in 1927. Yesterday's lunch was very good, very inexpensive sushi rolls and miso soup from Hayashi's, a take-out stand in the tourist section of Kailua, near Ali'i Drive. Finally, last night I had dinner at the closest recommended restaurant to the hotel, Tashemi's. The crowd was a mix of locals, Japanese, haole, and, I think, a Mexican-American family. The table next to me was an interesting mix of well-dressed Anglos and elderly Japanese. The only employee who wasn't Japanese was a young black woman, dressed in a vibrant flower print aloha dress. Also, all of the wait staff and owner all wore bright aloha wear. While this is commonplace at the beachfront tourist joints, it seemed more appropriate in the aging Japanese restaurant. Everyone seemed to know everyone else in the place (except for me, of course).

The landscape of Hawaii, The Big Island, was a bit of a surprise to me. I was prepared for the beaches to be rocky lava. In my mind's eye, I imagined erosion etching out black basalt cliffs. But I was not prepared for the extensive lava flows that cover much of the entire island. On the west side, where vegetation is sparse, they are seemingly everywhere. Even in Kona, where rain is common, soil development is very shallow and jagged lava flows emerge from farms and forests. Between Kohala and Kailua-Kona there is a Martian sea of the stuff. Near Hilo, the constant rain (some areas receive well over 200 inches a year) creates a coating of soil.

9-11-2008
Honolulu International Airport

I'm on my way home and haven't yet described the real highlights of this trip. When true adventure or excitement happens, it's hard to find the time to reflect. Thus, here are my quick remembrances of some of the best adventures during the week.

Honoli'i is the most approachable surf spot I've yet discovered in Hawaii. The crowd and the waves are forgiving, despite lots of company in the water and a rock and boulder bottom. The spot is about four miles north of Hilo Town on Highway 19. It sits at the mouth of a stream, under an old bridge, where the coast curves abruptly, creating both a point break and a rock reef. Facing northwest, it receives both year-round trade wind swell and the larger, more powerful winter groundswells. The beach park itself is carefully tended. There's a lifeguard station, a few big trees for shade, picnic tables, showers and a bathroom. The only beach sand is dark brown and sits right at the mouth of the river. Most of the beach is large cobblestones. The water is brilliantly clear and much colder than you'd expect in Hawaii because of the constant flow of cool water from the small stream. Students from the university, Hawaiians, and local haloes all focus more on having a good time here than on the macho, and often overtly racist, territorial posturing I've seen on other islands. This vibe seems to be unique to Honoli'i, though even the other spot I visited was lower key than Maui or Oahu breaks. One evening for example, we surfed at Isaac Hale Beach Park on the south shore, where the surf was much more powerful, the crowd more intimidating, and the entry and exit routes rockier and more challenging. Along the beach, crowds of young (and not so young) Hawaiians blasted pop music and rap while drinking beer. Walking that gauntlet before entering the ocean was a completely different scene than Honoli'i.

Volcanoes National Park was a treat. While few visits to National Parks promise real interaction with wilderness, they almost never fail to uplift my spirits and renew my faith in my country. This despite the busloads of tourists at every viewpoint and the mediocre food and lodging options. What I love is the explicit attention to the things that matter to me: America history, ecology, landscape, and aesthetics. If only more of the American landscape could be cleaned up, freed of billboards, and refocused on the specifics that give a place it's unique sense and history. I hiked along the rim of Kilauea, watching steam and sulphuric gas rise from the currently active vault. I followed the Kilauea Iki Trail through thick cool forest at 4000 feet down to the bottom of Kilauea Iki Crater. The transition from tropical, fern-tree forest to bare, steaming basaltic lava flows is abrupt. You leave the cool shade of the forest and enter a sun-baked world of cake batter pahoehoe lava and craggy a'a flows. The broken floor of the mile-wide crater emits steam from obvious faults and tears in it's broken crust. The sense that the ground might open up and swallow you whole is hard to escape.

Currently the lava is flowing through underground tubes and emerging in a dramatic vent at the ocean, miles from the actual park. After driving through a neighborhood where the vast majority of the houses were years ago swallowed by the lava flows that started in 1997, we parked the rental car and hiked, along with dozens of other onlookers, to about a quarter mile from the current vent. The shear quantity of steam visible from miles away suggested that something exciting was happening, but it's not until sunset, as the sun went down and the rain picked up, that were able to watch as glowing molten earth was ejected in skyward eruptions and then flowed, cooling, to the sea. County workers and lots of yellow tape kept us further back that I'd have liked, but then I doubt a lava bomb is very pleasant to encounter up close. There was no sound at all from that distance. As we walked back the car a big Anglo guy in an aloha shirt selling palm frond hats quietly asked, "Hey guys. Need some pot?" I shrugged him off and we drove home to eat Paul's vegetarian soup and organic salad.

Finally, having read so much about Captain Cook for my thesis, I had to get to the Captain Cook Monument at Kealakekua Bay, south of Kona-Kailua. The white monument was erected by the English to commemorate the spot where Cook was knocked unconscious and then killed by the very same Hawaiians that had at one point treated him with respect and awe. Cook's men raced to rescue him from his attackers but remarkably Cook and other 18th century ship captains could not swim. He was dismembered and his bones were distributed amongst the Hawaiian chiefs. Access to the monument is troublesome since the site rests on a roadless peninsula on the north side of a rocky bay, backed by steep cliffs. Most tourists rent kayaks or hire tour boats to take them to the site. Most who visit are there for the fantastic snorkeling. The clarity of the water, the variety of fish, and the health of the coral all surpass anything I've seen anywhere else in the world, including Florida, Fiji, The Cook Islands, and Baja.

Needing exercise, I chose to hike two miles and 1300 feet of elevation down to the monument from a paved road near the town of Captain Cook. The trail is an old 4WD road and passes through old cane fields before the vegetation thins out into acacia scrub. This is because more rain falls higher up on the mountain. As the soil thins steep, sharp lava rocks replace the trail entirely and for the last mile or so you hike exposed to the sun on black basalt. At the bottom of the trail, along the beach there are more acacias and some mangroves for shade. Coming out of that landscape and finding a landing and monument crowded with snorkelers was a revelation. The cool water, at about 78 degrees, felt fantastic compared to the sticky heat on land. After snorkeling for a time, i pondered Cook's fate and the irony of so many tourists, many including myself of English descent, clambering around on the rocks where he died. The mid-day hike out was brutal. I stopped about a third of the way up to rest and my heart rate was 152 beats a minute. I certainly got my exercise, but next time I may take a kayak.

Finally, thanks to Paul and his generous roomates for their amazing hospitality and aloha spirit.

Hilo, Hawaii - Sabbatical Officially Begins!

9-3-2008
Honolulu International Airport, Oahu, Hawaii

Stopping by Glendale College yesterday made me deeply aware that my sabbatical has now officially begun. To my way of thinking it began after my Baja class ended in June, but the trip to Costa Rica was actually during summer vacation. Obviously, I'm thrilled about the opportunity to travel and write for a full year. It's a dream I've harbored for a very long time. I remember sitting in Mr. Balogh's geography classroom at Cabrillo College fantasizing about my future sabbatical. There were other dreams too. The little house and sports car are still daydreams, but today I find myself a tenured professor of geography, wandering the world, observing and reflecting. The house and the car will come later, I think, and are less important.

9-5-2008
Puka Puka Restaurant, Hilo Hawaii

Travelling for weeks at a time is going to be real challenge now that I'm a father. I think of Catalina continuously. I've become dependent on the little doses of joy she brings to each of my days.

The house where my friend, Paul, lives is about ten miles north of Hilo proper. It's in small neighborhood of mostly native Hawaiians. The neighbors even chat to each other in Polynesian pidgin. Lots of lifted pickup trucks sit in the driveways. Nearly everyone keeps their dogs caged in tiny little wire houses with corrugated roofs that keep the rain off. Seems brutal to me, but it's how dogs are kept here, I'm told. The sea sits about 600 feet below us, maybe a mile or two down the hill. Mexico is somewhere off in the distance from the back porch. Paul and his roommates keep an impressive garden. There is so much rain and the soil is so rich that after just a matter of months, they now eat lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, okra, and other vegetables from their own garden nearly every night. Four cats of varying sizes and dispositions roam the house and the yard. At night it rains. Clouds float over the blue sea in the mornings. The neighborhood is peaceful, suburban, pleasant.

It's an interesting menu here at Puka Puka, an odd little local hole-in-the-wall place where I'm having lunch. They seem to specialize in culturally diverse tastes: tempura plates, falafel, lamb, and Indian-style curries. Japanese cheesecake and green tea are featured too. I had sautéed ahi and green tea. It came with oily seasoned rice, sautéed veggies, and salad. All of it was excellent. The green tea had toasted rice in it, Japanese-style.

I'm looking out the window at Hilo Bayfront Beach Park. This area was the epicenter of tsunami damage during the 1946 and 1960 tsunamis. After the second tidal wave killed again, homes and businesses were replaced by a pleasant grassy park with many beaches and waterways. I give credit to the city for intelligent urban planning. Too many communities struck by natural disasters stubbornly rebuild time and again, despite persistent threat of repeat disaster.

Hilo is more a town than a city. Some of the turn of the century buildings downtown suggest a time when the town was more prosperous. Sugar cane was the source of much of the wealth in town but that business finally ended in the 1990s. On Maui I saw massive fields of cane. Here I've seen none. Tourism has clearly not replaced all the income. The only movie theater in town is in a classic old building, but it's been divided up into multiple small screens and shows recent, but not new, releases for $1.

Since it lies on the windward side of Hawaii, facing the trade winds, the whole area surrounding Hilo is green and lush. There are many organic farms and cattle ranches, especially to the north. In this area many streams and waterfalls cascade off the side of the volcano heading to the sea. Thus the coastal highway must traverse a canyon every few miles as it heads north out of Hilo town. At first these crossings are made on old bridges, but eventually, the road sweeps down into coastal valleys and along small bays, gracefully carving its way across the mountain faces.

Strangely, you can rarely see the volcano from Hilo. The slope of this giant shield volcano is too slight to make it appear as anything other than a gently sloping mountainside extending off into the high distance unless the skies are completely cloud free.

Hilo is the wettest city in the United States and yet most days the sun shines at midday. Rain comes often at night and in the early morning. This is hardly typical of tropical locations. Apparently the weather patterns on Hawaii are shaped as much by the daily shifting of mountain-valley breezes caused by the massive mountain as they are by the dominant northwest trade winds. The resulting clouds and winds combine with local geography to make for distinctly different climate in each region. While this is not uncommon on mountainous islands, there are surprises on Hawaii. For example, the area near Kona where the famous coffee is grown (and where I'm sitting right now) is quite wet, despite lying downwind of the volcanoes. Warm air rising up the volcano during the day draws moisture in to the area and as this humid air rises up the mountain afternoon showers are common.

Living for a week with Paul and his college buddies is a lot like returning to the years just after college. It's a hard time for middle-class American kids. Years of extended adolescence are coming to an end. Few twenty-something’s know exactly what they want to do with their newly earned college degrees. Meanwhile there is rent to pay and college loans are looming. I remember the time with distinctly mixed feelings. After a job in Manhattan I did figure out what mattered most to me, but it was a painful process.

Moreover, college life in America (and Hollywood's various paeans to it) often instill a nasty drinking or drug habit in the four (or five) years of college. Suffice it to say that there were frequent beer runs during the week. Also a few of the roommates have medical conditions involving pain which are apparently aided by frequent inhalation of marijuana. While my tone here is cynical, I don't for a minute doubt that the drug is among the safest, if the not the safest, ever used. Still, I can't help but wonder about all the young people today who use "medical" marijuana as freely as aspirin. It's tough to figure out who's simply subverting the prohibition and who really needs the stuff. I say legalize it all for recreation use and end the confusion.

Hawaii's medical marijuana laws, while similar to those in California, do not allow for dispensaries. Instead, any one with a "blue card" from a licensed physician can grow up to seven plants and carry as much as three ounces of the stuff without fear of prosecution. As a result of these laws, some of Paul's roommates have been experts in plant cultivation and discussions of nitrogen, phosphorous, and potassium fertilizers were as common as discussions of popular music. Having grown up in the East, it's a little unsettling to note that some of the house and garden plants would send a Rhode Island student to prison for years.