Pedals, Pork and a Pool - Kapaa and Hanalei

I need a pool. But, hey, why not swim in the ocean since it's everywhere? Good question. The difference between a pool and the ocean gets down to salt and swell. I guess I'm too used to swimming a measured distance in fresh water under controlled conditions.

I've brought a few bags on this trip to carry my things and bring groceries home if I need to. I exasperate myself with my indecision about what to bring for the day. It seems I end up with everything. When did my life get this complicated?

First of all, we're going down to Kapaa to rent bicycles. I've heard there's a community pool somewhere nearby, but distances are vague in my mind. I recall that most things are not very far from anything else on this nearly round island.

I give up on deciding what to take, stuff everything into all my bags and declare myself ready. We leave, heading south to a place called Coconut Coasters where we can rent bicycles. It's easy to find. On the way down the coast from Hanalei, we've already seen glimpses of the bike path I read about before our trip. And, no kidding, the pool is right behind it at the Kapaa Community Park. Wow. The pool isn't open yet, though. That's okay because the bike ride is going to be first.

Outfitted with big ol' three-speed cruisers we begin to ride south on the one-mile-long trail section that's right next to the water and find ourselves grinning like fools. There really is no better way to see the countryside than by bicycle, and this wide, easy, flat path is as pleasant as any I could find anywhere. For anyone interested, this trail is interrupted after a mile by a two-mile length of city streets that have no trail. However, once you get on past the two-mile section of town, you are back on a separate trail again. More trails are planned apparently but need funding, of course.

Most of the trail is a wide, flat cement trail that seems more like a wide sidewalk than a "path." We go to the end of that one mile, including a charming little lagoon-like protected area called Baby Beach where a tiny boy and his mother are playing in the sun. We turn around and come back past Coconut Coasters and the park. Then we continue on north taking the next 3.5 miles which is a very scenic and gently undulating trail. This is Sunday, and we hardly see anyone. There is a good headwind, but the air is warm, and our 3-speeds are handling the terrain without any trouble. Every so often, covered picnic tables provide shelter from sun or rain. We pass several beaches that seem virtually deserted but perfectly beautiful. Too many beaches on Kauai - what a problem! On the way back we have a tailwind and zoom along for free, hardly pedaling.

The bicycle fun is over far too soon. Our backsides are squashed by the cruiser seats, but that's the only complaint. The big cruisers are back in the able hands of staff at the Coasters, so we look for lunch. Nearby is a small cluster of food trucks, so we go see what we can see there. One looks well kept and a young woman is outside neatening up. She says her food truck, Al Pastor, offers a special mahi fish taco she recommends ordering medium rare, which I do. We sit, wait, watch kids nearby and then gather our order when it's all ready.

Oh dear, I'm not sure I'll ever have better fish taco again. Pinto beans, rice and lime are served with the taco, which is served inside small corn tortillas. Very few Mexican places make their own beans, but this little truck does, and they are buttery soft and savory. The fish is tender, perfectly done, and they are big healthy hunks of very fresh mahi. We rave, exclaim, savor and slurp. It's messy good food. The young woman comes over to check on us and tells us her husband, the cook, is a native of Oaxaca. Well, he's hired. That's all I can say. Hired.

Not a bad start to our Kauai vacation at all.

The community pool is open now, but I'm too full to eat. I make a mental note about the pool in case I cannot find one closer to our bungalow. Heading back north on the main road, there's a sign for a farmer's market, so we make a quick turn up a sloping, bumpy county road. You pay on the honor system for any fruit you want, and you can try some Hawaiian barbecue pork. I carry away a pineapple, a good bunch of apple bananas (small size, wow flavor), and some limes for papaya back home.

On the road again, we decide to have a look at Princeville, a highly manicured collection of time shares, resort hotels, golf courses and tennis courts. A friend has told me I might be able to find a lap pool here and join for a week. She's right. The Makai Golf Club will let you be a member for a month and use their pool. I'm only here for a week; the price is pretty spendy for only five days of swimming, but it's only five minutes away from our bungalow and I need to keep swimming, so I join. Still stuffed with mahi tacos, I decide to begin my swim regimen tomorrow.

The road takes us to our rustic place, a satisfying contrast to the uber high-end digs at Princeville, which, by the way, is offers eye-popping views of Hanalei and the Kalalau Range. Just so you know I appreciate both ends of the rental market...

It's time to get down and real at the beach. Slippers, suit, towel, and we take a shuffle on down to the huge beach. There is only one thing to contend with:  What part of said beach is more perfect than the rest? We are spoiled, aren't we. Yes, it's tough here. Lifeguard flags signal the biggest rip tide area, so we avoid that. Way over to the right of us is the very picturesque and useful covered pier.  Clouds are low in the area. It looks like rain any second.

On the way to the pier, we see a tall, thin young blonde wearing a glistening sparkly gold rashguard and a red helmet. She's trailed into the water by two young local men who are wearing rashguards with the name of their surfing instruction business. Two guys to teach one girl? I wonder who she is. She looks accustomed to having staff.

The pier was built in the 1930s and stands patiently awaiting some maintenance, upkeep, anything. The sandy bottom of the bay is shallow, easy to learn to play at water sports. In rhythmically surging ocean next to the pier, two stiff and anxious Chinese men are learning to surf from only one instructor who is very patient with them. They seem very unused to the water, unable to figure out how to paddle. They are game to try though. Before you know it, they're hopping up on their feet and catching swells that the surfer pushes them into. Looks fun. I'd try it too if the sun was out and I had my stuff with me.

Rain drizzles down but stops absolutely no one from doing whatever they're doing at the shoreline. Way out at the surf break at the tip of the bay opening, surfers are getting long rides Hanalei is famous for. They must be a mile away.

After watching for quite a while, we walk back home along the beach and access streets to our place. Dinner out at a local tourist restaurant and we're good for the night. Life is very simple this way:  The sun comes up and we're up with it, outdoors most of the day and back in when it's dark. Keeping things sweet and real. That's Kauai for you.

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.