Out of Waikiki, to the North Shore

We are in a mood to get out of the city, flee to rural Oahu today. Even though this is a medium-sized island, there is immense variety in terrain and climate. Wherever the tradewinds blowing across the Pacific for a few thousand miles suddenly slam up against a cliff, there is rain. Tall, dark jagged mountain cliffs block the moisture carried on the wind, sending it upward where it cools and tumbles, then condenses and pours down on the flanks of the mountains and plains further out. In contrast, the southeast side of the island, only a few miles away on the protected side of the pali, appears to look like the high desert of the southwest on the mainland. 

We decide to go to the north shore and circle the island’s perimeter starting with Haleiwa, the historic little town that has evolved from a plantation town to tourist attraction and gateway to surfing's mecca, the North Shore. On the north shore and areas that border it, life is surfing and surfing is life. There is solace, renewal and physical challenge out there in the salt water. It seems as if it is living, that ocean, but it is many forces of nature jostling for dominance, and we ascribe emotion to it. If nothing else, the ocean is intoxicating, I will give you that. 

Simply say, “north shore” to a surfer, and they know you’re talking about Oahu’s legendary surf spots. Lots of surf places can and do offer huge waves or beautiful swells, but this constitutes the beating heart of surfing, the one place where any surfer worth his or her salt will eventually find themselves gazing at the ocean, studying surf reports as they have never studied before. They all dream of paddling out for a spot in a lineup on the north shore, even if they can only handle a flat day like this one. There are many strata of surfers, the lowliest of them wobbling out on boards to try small waves, then paddling back to shore when the swells kick up, knowing full well that their skills don’t allow for head-high or overhead surf conditions. The waves the north shore are infamous for are big, thick 30- to 40-foot monsters that boom like thunder. It’s hard to imagine at the moment, but there are certainly a lot of galleries and stores stocked with images of wiry athletes charging down mountainous and glistening waves to prove that it happens. They seem to defy gravity just as cats do, exactly as lithe and graceful. 

Right across the street from the Haleiwa McDonalds, which looks very quiet, the Haleiwa Cafe is elbow to elbow with mostly large, white, not-a-chance-of-surviving-a-tiny-wave tourists, but a few locals (unruly hair, deep tans, surf shirts and board shorts) sit with friends here, too.  The food is hearty, nourishing and delicious. The women waiting tables are very good at their work. My breakfast burrito has a savory sauce that sets my mouth watering. I am grateful for the simplicity of it; it seems honest for some reason, perhaps because the cafe is very small and has evolved in response to the needs of hungry local athletes over a long period of time and stick with what nourishes instead of following trends and fads. 

I am glad to be away from Waikiki and the loud thrashing din there. We finish our meal and consider our route for the day. It’s possible to shop among many little boutiques and art stores here, but we will drive on further northeast and then south along the windward coast. This being the wet season, the sky is heavy and overcast but still warm. We are very comfortable in shirts and shorts. 

After a few minutes we begin to see roadside fruit stands and cars bellying up to them. The ladies at one stand have bagged fruit. They call out prices for bananas, pineapple, dragon fruit, tomatoes, corn and papaya in sing-song voices. No mangoes. I choose a pineapple, some corn on the cob and a bag of tomatoes. Thanksgiving is in two days. 

At Sunset Beach, the Vans Triple Crown of Surfing is setting up; it will also be held in turn at Pipeline and Waimea Bay. A huge crane is hoisting scaffolding into place to form the observation structure where judges will sit as well as the press photographers and officials. I can imagine the two-lane road we’re driving today will be an incredible crush of cars when the contest is going on. I’ve always hoped to see the waves heave up to massive heights, but the ocean has never cooperated while I’ve been on island. Someday. Certainly today looks like a riffled lake, a disappointment to competitors and fans all over the island.

We stop at one of many public beach parks to photograph and stretch our legs. There are a few other people around, but the moody sky is keeping most away from the shore today. A fresh pineapple snack is refreshing. Little red-topped cardinals as well as the ubiquitous and silly local doves call and flutter, alert for crumbs and morsels. Palm trees rustle in the steady wind, and they look like wild mops to me, upended by a temperamental giant. 

Traffic intensifies later on as we near Kaneohe, Kailua and Waimanalo. These are towns below the vertical pali that block the precipitation blown in on the shoulders of the tradewinds. The scenery is dramatic and tropical, vines climbing everywhere and flowers littering the ground. Driving is fairly easy to handle as most drivers on the island tend to move more slowly than in say, Southern California or Texas (where if you dare to use a turn signal, drivers behind accelerate past you with a devilish and pig-headed desire to obliterate you). Hawaii remains relatively mellow even as the population has increased, one of the reasons I love it. 

Finally reaching the southmost stretch of the island, we see wind-sculpted rocks, sere landscapes and turbulent waves thumping the shore. It’s rugged and beautiful, but seems to snarl with a nasty temper. The scenic overlooks near Sandy Beach give a good view of the dark teal water with its white foaming spray. The blowhole is going full blast, and little girls watching are giggling and screaming with delight. I am mesmerized and want to stand there watching for the rest of the day. 

At last we arrive back in the busy hive of Waikiki to rest and then join our family members later. (We’ve brought home leftovers from Maile’s Thai Bistro, a delicious discovery we bumped into in Hawaii Kai on the south shore.) The images of the day are jumbled, misted by restless waves and currents. So many people on one island, so much rock and such a tremendous ocean, all of it moving and alive, continually.