Hanalei: A living lullaby

Rain wakes me up in the middle of the night, a building rush of sound that holds its deepest note for no more than three minutes and then fades into the darkness. I am awakened by the sound, feel a cool breeze on my face from the open window by the bed. There is no other sound at first. Then I hear a low, soft, muffled and distant rhythm: the waves on Hanalei Bay's beach. Then, I drift off to sleep again.

In the morning, something awakens me again from my sleep. Or many things do, all of them the small noises of creatures and life stirring. I have these early morning hours to myself as my husband sleeps. Time to imagine what I'll do in the day ahead, think of what we did the day before, and listen. 

The birds out in the garden are local, not island birds native to Kauai. Like full-blood Hawaiians, native birds are very rare now. Whatever variety they are, the songs and calls color the early hours of the day. 

As a short-term visitor here, I am a bit torn between a wish to just sit peacefully and a need to get out and do things. I imagine friends I talked to before the trip, asking me, "What are you going to DO when you're there?" 

"Well, nothing," was my reply. But I am very curious to go see, to be active and not just be a blob. Blobbishness, I tell myself, will be enjoyed after some kind of exploration is undertaken, by some mode other than car driving. I just have that need to move and feel myself alive in this paradise. There is a sense of excitement and thrill, being in a more exotic environment than my own home. I imagine myself some kind of rugged, fit athlete, able to climb, paddle and surmount physical challenges with aplomb. The truth is, I am some fainter shade of that colorful imaginary self at my age now, but I've got a lot of kick left in me. 

I sigh. We'll come up with a plan for the day, sketched in broad strokes, as we usually do. We've got a few things on a mental list that sound interesting or entertaining: Biking, hiking, swimming, body surfing. Boredom is to be avoided, but so is a frenetic pressured need to see and do all. We'll walk a line between them, I hope. 

I begin cutting up fresh pineapple, papaya and some sweet bread we bought yesterday at a farmer's market in Poipu while we were driving around. Coffee begins to brew and fill the small bungalow with its familiar aroma. It already feels like home here, easy to fall into a rhythm of our own. We sit at the table in the kitchen, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and the birds in the yard. It's peaceful here. We are escapees from the ugliness and stress of modern life, way far away from anyone we know but also very safe, unchallenged except by any small bit of physicality we chose to throw into our own path. 

It's really a living lullaby in Hanalei for visitors like us. Times like this, I'm not certain at all I ever want to go home again.

Aloha, Sweet Kauai

Heavy rain pounded down on the corrugated red roof of our little B&B bungalow and the ocean steadily rose, too, increasing the intensity of waves rolling in at every beach.  Kauai's rivers and waterfalls became muddy torrents for a while, but nothing close to flood stage.

Once we made our way east to Hanalei for breakfast, a distance of about six miles, the heaviest showers had moved on and we were able to stay dry, although beach fun was off the list.  As we sat at Paradise Deli eating our French toast and coffee outdoors on a lanai, another heavy shower angled down.  Not much changed; people were still walking around in their shorts, summer beach wear and flip flops.  Okay, maybe a couple of folks kind of squinted as the water pattered on their heads, but that was it.

After considering a few options, the most adventurous thing we wanted to do in such weather was to go see Waimea Falls, which entailed driving out of Hanalei Valley east past Princeville, Kilauea, then down to Kapa'a to get to the highway that leads up to the falls.  On the way, we drove to a pretty overlook above the Waimea River where kayakers were making their way upstream.  On another trip here, I'll be doing that for sure.  There are lots of rivers on the island and kayak rental companies are everywhere.

I had read about a Hindu temple that's situated on the lava rim high above the river not far from the overlook.  The temple is made of 40,000 stones transported from India, each one hand carved.  Each stone is said to have taken seven years to carve to its correct dimension.  The temple is only open to the public on certain days, and today was not one of them.  Further up the road, we saw a small sign indicating the area enclosed within a fence was a small forest sacred to the Hindu followers.  A small shrine greeted us at the entrance to the forest area.  The trees within had been planted and have a peculiar fin-like root shape that winds and curves away from the tree's trunk.  Soon enough, a young Indian man showed up and greeted us, asked us questions politely and tried to give us information, but his accent was heavy and hard to understand. The gist of it was that the temple was not open; try another day.

On we went to find the road to Waimea Falls and found it easily.  The falls were held sacred by the early Hawaiians, as was the headwaters on Mt. Wai'ae'ale.  Since it had been raining heavily all night and probably was still pouring up high there, the falls were in full roar.  A busload of Russian tourists was lined up along the overlook railing, so we joined them and admired the pounding water and its beautiful rainbow.  We've seen at least one rainbow every day we've been on Kauai, a pretty good streak to be proud of.  I can't say that about any other vacation I've ever been on.

We found Mark's Place in Puhi, a small community on the way to Koloa Town.  Mark's Place sells "local grinds," the pidgin term for good honest down-to-earth food that locals love.  I bought the Mark's Special Plate that included:  Beef Katsu, a large scoop of brown rice, two pieces of Teriyaki Beef, green salad, and beef stew, all piled high in a take-out box.  Other choices for sides alternative to green salad are macaroni salad, potato salad, or white rice.  Seven bucks; that's it.  I ate half and was stuffed and saved the rest for dinner tonight.  (We split that and added fresh pineapple and grapes and were stuffed again.)  It is known to be the best local food on the island, end of story.  The staff are - as so many servers and staff have been everywhere - polite, eager to please, very generous and thoughtful in attitude.  It's the aloha that used to be everywhere in Hawaii.  Sweet.

Roosters, who are evident everywhere on Kauai, began crowing right at our feet as they re-established territories in the yard next to the eatery.  In 1992 when hurricane Iniki whacked Kauai, the roosters' forebears were sprung from cages and began to breed like rabbits.  Something like that.  They're handsome and foolish but harmless.  I think a few good coyotes could do some good around the island, but that's what someone said who introduced mongoose to Oahu as well as cats, geckos, kokee frogs, mice, rats (well maybe not rats; they sneaked off ships), English sparrows, pigeons, and on and on.

On to Kaloa, the home of a large sugar plantation started in 1835.  It became the center of business in that area, the third largest port in Hawaii, and remains a quaint town with many plantation-style buildings still standing.  It's cute.  We shopped around for gifts, looked at a huge monkeypod tree overhanging a creek that gurgles on its way to the sea, and ate some haupia ice cream (a local coconut dessert we'd had at the luau last night).

We drove all the way back to Tunnels Beach to try to see one more sunset.  Missed it but saw larger waves than we'd seen before and felt the drive was worth it.  Besides, we got to listen to surfers talking story about Duke Kahanamoku at Disneyland while we drove.  KKCR plays Hawaiian music and local info, so we tune in when it's within signal reach.  Duke is a legendary hero all over the islands, introducing surfing to the world once he'd won Olympic gold in swimming.

This is our last night in Kauai, and it's hard to believe.  From the time I was about 10 or so, I formed ideas about what Hawaii is like and imagined myself living here, surfing, swimming and being out in the natural beauty.  In many trips to the islands - about six or seven or more now - I'd caught glimpses of what my imagination had conjured as a child.  Now, here it is, that lovely, soft place.  It really exists.

Has it changed me? I'm not sure yet.  I'll know when I get home and contrast my new self to my old hometown, Pacific Grove.  I'm bound to be changed; it always happens.  It's why I travel, to push change and transformation in myself and see the world.  What I do know is:  Aloha lives, and Kauai is its home.

Kauai's Beauty Beckons

The funny thing about a small roundish island like Kauai is that you want to look at it a lot.  Kauai is so beautiful in so many ways, from so many angles, that you can't stop staring.  So, instead of trying to remember our manners and quit staring, we just gaped and ogled the beauty from as many places as possible all day long.

Starting with things severely endangered, we took in grand vistas of the north shore at the site of the westernmost lighthouse in the whole United States.  It happens to be the northernmost point of all the Hawaiian islands, too.  Kilauea Lighthouse State Park is also the site of the Kilauea National Wildlife Sanctuary.  Sadly, both the lighthouse and several of the nesting birds visible at the site are endangered.  The lighthouse was built in 1913 and houses a special lens, made in France, that proved to be very important to both boats and airplanes during the days when the lighthouse was maintained and occupied.  Now the metal parts of the lighthouse tower are rusted and unusable.  It needs to be fixed and that will take a lot of money, but it's a beauty and deserves the upkeep.

The good news is that there is increased interest in the restoration of the tower.  Local people on the island who know about it are in the process of voting for it to be restored as a monument, but it is competing with other sites in the nation worthy of restoration and repair.  I'm crossing my fingers.

The other endangered things were birds living on the sea cliffs and bluffs of the sanctuary.  You can borrow a fine pair of binoculars for free and have a good look at boobies, albatross, tropic birds and nene geese.  The birds are spectacular in flight and the site is maintained for long leisurely sessions gazing at the horizon or whatever catches your eye.  I kept looking at the clouds and beautiful mountain ridges to the north that scoop moisture from the tradewinds, piling up huge poofs of mist and rain that drift out over the valleys and ocean.

Once we could not stand another minute of gorgeousness from Kilauea Point, we drove a mile or so into Kilauea town to find the bakery.  It is renowned for its delicious baked goods and boasts gluten-free products throughout, which is a big accomplishment.  However, the pace is extremely slow when you order something, so be very patient or call ahead for your order.  But, don't order too far ahead or they'll forget you ordered in the first place.  The ladies who work there are wonderful, kind, sweet to a fault and have good intentions all the time, and I can say without any hesitation whatsoever that the food is excellent.  We ordered a tuna melt panini and it took 15 minutes to have it served to us.  I think if they ever develop an efficient system of processing orders, they will be absolutely unbeatable.  I will definitely go back again, hands down, but I will bring a book or my laptop.

After the panini, we shopped in the tiny historic shopping center (formerly the Kilauea Sugar Mill), and we bought a couple of gifts.  But, after awhile we felt vista deprived and longed for more of Kauai's eye candy, so we left to find a beach we'd read about.  Sure enough 'Anini Beach Park was wonderful, and we feasted our eyes on a mile or so of coral-strewn sandy beach and wide open stretch of blue ocean.  A boat went putt-putting by as I was snorkeling.  "I'm going to catch some tuna; that's Plan A.  Plan B is hamburgers," said the captain when I asked what he was hoping to catch.  He said I might see turtles in the water where I was, but I didn't.

After an hour, we got restless and left 'Anini and drove further north in the direction of Hanalei and beaches we'd visited before to find better snorkeling.  We hadn't tried swimming at Tunnels before, just watched sunsets from there.  I plunked my towel down and looked eastward at the sparkling water and other beachgoers.  Ho hum, a huge rainbow arched across the scene with no rain visible that I could see.  I think it was just running around loose from somewhere else on the island.  So, yeah, another rainbow.  Lots more roosters everywhere, in case you wondered.  No rain, lots of roosters, lots of rainbows, beauty everywhere.  Yawn.

After showering off at home, it was luau time at 6 pm across the street in the Mediterranean Gourmet Restaurant where we had eaten three nights ago.  It's a family-run show,  and it's very good, consisting of drinks followed by Hawaiian luau favorites and then a dance performance including a fire dancer.  The food was excellent, and plenty of it was served buffet style.  The dancing was authentic and performed with traditional style and music.

At the end, everyone sang Aloha Oi and stood in a big circle together.  The lead performer, who is also the father of the dancing girls and the fire dancer - quite a guy - did a lot of teaching about lyrics, hula movements and Hawaiian traditions.  He is doing a lot to ensure the Hawaiian language is kept alive in Kauai, insists on extending aloha to everyone in keeping with the old ways of Hawaii.

As we walked back across the road to our B&B, we saw the final vista of the day:  Infinite stars strewn across the inky black sky, undimmed by city lights or pollution.