Kauai Again

It takes no more than 20 minutes to fly, from liftoff to touchdown, from Honolulu to Lihue, Kauai, but the flight crew of  Hawaiian Airlines manages to hand out small juice cups up and down the aisle before we land. Nice touch.

Lihue airport is situated on the island like the flight deck of an aircraft carrier; it's on a flat shoulder of land that's like a shelf off the island's southwest curve. Kauai is here! Rather, we are here! Kauai has been here longer than any of the other habitable islands, the northernmost in the chain of Hawaiian Islands. It's the prettiest one, in my opinion, and it has the most chickens. Little factoid there, but I'll get to that later, in another post.

We round up our rental car, load up our stuff, drive away to the south shore, opposite direction from our home town for the week, Hanalei. It's too early to check in, so we've decided to explore. Most visitors to this island beeline for the south and stay in Poipu. In the winter, it's drier, warmer, and all the big resorts are here. We are hungry and look up best bets for good local grinds, choose a popular hamburger chain, head for it, find it, and then smell garlic. Hmmmm. I poke around a bit and find a place called Savage Scampi and my mouth waters vigorously. After some, ahem, discussion (he wants a burger), we go to the shrimp place. It seems more authentically good. A few thousand people have turned the walls into a giant yearbook of sorts by writing messages to the owners all over the walls, floor to ceiling.

He orders a fish taco dish, and I order a scampi-and-rice dish that comes piled up with garlic, garlic and more garlic. I have to peel the scampi, but it's good. I'm happy. We eat with fine appetites and then go poke around Koloa, an old sugar mill company town now given over to touristed trinket shops and food places.

The one main reason we drive to and from Koloa is the chance to go along the so-called tunnel of trees. The trees are tall, grand, overhang the highway and border the road on both sides for miles. They were stripped of all leaves and most small branches during Hurricane Iniki in 1992 but have recovered wonderfully and form a living cathedral over much of the roadway. Along the same stretch of road, a dramatic panorama catches my eye, a cattle ranch. Its spread of trees, backdrop of volcanic ridges and hills, as well as the open plain of grasses is rugged and natural in appearance, a testament to the beauty of nature if left mostly alone.

It's time to head up to Hanalei Bay and find our place. We were here two years ago, so the island is looking and feeling immediately familiar. The famous Princeville area with its many condo communities and golf courses sits on the high point above the bay to the northeast. Taro fields, a long curving scythe-shaped beach and spectacular mountains form a stage-backdrop setting for the little village of Hanalei. It's so perfectly tropically pretty and charming from every angle that even ugly is pretty. The dark red iron-rich soil tinges buildings, cars, the tree trunks and fence posts with its ochre red. Corrugated roofs built to withstand upwards of 25 inches of rain a year and hot sun as well are picturesque to me. Lush undergrowth and tall beautiful trees with flowers in their canopies give way at times to reveal craggy and jagged peaks in every view on the mauka side of the road.

Our bungalow is a vacation rental that we have completely to ourselves for the week. There's no maid service. Just us. I find it to be in total contrast to our Waikiki hotel. It's very quiet, simple, old-fashioned in some respects, but our wifi hookup is far better than we had at our last hotel. In defense of better hotels on Oahu, wifi is generally no problem, but it seems like a kind of voodoo security system is evolving there to the point that it's sometimes very hard to find cell-friendly areas with adequate signals for smart phone use. But, I digress.

We take a walk after settling in. The sandy expanse of Hanalei Bay is about a five-minute walk away. The sand is soft, warm brown and easy to walk on. My guess is from one end to the other might be about three miles. We walk around and wade in the warm water when the waves rush up onto the beach. Without suits on, we are just up to our ankles only. We'll begin our exploration tomorrow in earnest. Right now, softening into the rhythm of the place is all that's required. Wow, is it pretty.

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.