Chapter 6

Aloha friends and family.

January has been good to me, and will last as a dear time in my memory henceforth.  I suppose I'll pick up where I hurriedly left off a few weeks ago:

Daniela came to visit for a couple of weeks plus a weekend.  During the weekdays we worked on the farm as usual.  While a noteworthy experience for us to have shared together, there's not a lot worth mentioning there.  We stripped some trees, roasted some coffee, and cleared out the badly neglected Macadamia Nut orchard at the bottom of the farm.  Personally (and I think I can speak for her as well), I didn't mind one bit, as I was glad that she was able to see and do a lot of what I've been doing these past few months.  I think it added some depth and vibrancy to the whole experience.  Or, stated another way, it could very well be the case that you can't really get to know a place unless you've lived it and worked it.

As her tour guide though, I did feel the need to maximize our weekends.  We took it pretty easy the first weekend, just  hitchhiking into Kailua for a day and farting around Kona on the Spree the next (two people onboard... not advised, but just barely doable).  It was a pleasant time getting her acclimated to her new surroundings, and a good ramp-up for our second weekend.

The second weekend was our island tour.  While Hope and Eliza were still here we did a weekend tour as well, which served as my loose model for Round 2.  Notable stops on Day 1 were South Point (unfortunately the surf was WAY too high to do the cliff jump, but we did make it to the green sand beach), the Punaluu Bakery in Naalehu, a black sand beach, and Volcanoes National Park.  The high point for me was the Kilauea Iki Trail in the national park, which took us around and then down into and across a crater that was a lake of lava only about 50 years ago.  The sun set behind us as we made our way across the crater, and as such the shadow cast by the rim followed us the whole way.  Also neat was "the glow" after dark from the current eruption at the main summit crater, which was mostly obscured by dense fog the last time I was there.  After leaving the park we pulled into Hilo in time for dinner with our friends David and Eszter.  For those of you that don't know them, I met David while working for the Census Bureau a while back.  From those days of giving me rides when I didn't have a car, to pushing Steinbeck and Vonnegut on me, to building my fixie for me, he's never led me astray and I'm greatly indebted to him in spite of the brevity and randomness of our friendship.  I don't know Eszter as well but I look forward to the possibility if and when they ever find their way to this side of the island and eventually KC. They were kind enough to give us some floor space in their swank penthouse overlooking the bay.  In the morning they took us to a couple of good beach spots to whale watch (to no avail) and a nice little bake shop for coffee.  I was glad to repay them with some ice cream and a ride to Wal-Mart for their 3rd air mattress.  It was fun to pause a couple of times and marvel at the fact that we should end up on the same island in the most remote (distance wise) island chain in the world at the same time, having acted completely independent of each other.

Perhaps the best advice I ever got from David, though, was to visit Waipi'o Valley.  For that matter, it could be the best advice I've received in my brief lifetime.  In a moment...

After bidding farewell we made our way up the Hamakua Coast, a dramatic stretch about 50 miles long over, through and around a series of gulches carved by rain-fed rivers and peppered with unbelievable waterfalls.  Akaka Falls (and its less accessible partner, Kahuna Falls) is the most tourist friendly and is a great place for a picture.  Up the coast a bit lies Honokaa, where the main highway turns back west towards Waimea and eventually Kona.  There is a spur road, however, which goes to Waipi'o.  According to David's suggestion, we took the road to Waipi'o Valley.

We drove down the absurdly steep road completely oblivious to what we were about to experience.  Even now and after having gone back I'm at a loss to accurately describe it.  I could talk about how beautiful it was, but what's the point?  Over and above the scenery though there was a palpable mystique or spiritual-ness emanating from the valley which -- and you'll have to forgive me for the build-up -- I really have no desire (or ability) to expound on any further.  There are some things that belong in our hearts and souls only since to try at giving an account for things which can't be accounted for we only do a disservice to those things.  Suffice it to say we descended proud and ascended humbled.

After Waipi'o we made our way across the beautiful rolling green ranch land on the north slope of Mauna Kea towards Waimea where we would stop for dinner.  The landscape was wholly transformed by dusk and fog, taking on a more eerie and enchanting Scottish Highlands feel (I haven't been, but I saw Braveheart).  After dinner it was only a quick descent back to the Kona coast, now so familiar.  As we got back to South Kona we elected to drop down to the beach for a minute to unwind and stretch out before returning to the farm.  The moon hadn't risen and the star cover ousted that of my previous stargazing pinnacle in back-country Utah - a nice little exclamation point to our journey.

As the next week went by we were thankful for the experiences we had shared and looking forward to a much more toned down weekend to play us out.  Last minute though George and Carol mentioned that they were heading up to Kohala (the northern tip of the island, or the volcano that made it), and we took the opportunity and asked if they would take us as far as they were going so that we might hitchhike back to Waipi'o and hike the Muliwai Trail to Waimanu Valley.  Waimanu is a smaller version of Waipi'o, and it is uninhabited, untouched, pristine.  No road goes there.  It is common for visitors to have the valley all to themselves (in our case we shared it with 3 people for the night, though no sign of them come morning).  Ill-equipped, we set of on the grueling 8 mile hike from the far side of Waipi'o, at which point you've already hiked down a mile on the near side and across the beach for another mile.  The hike features an insane climb up the far wall of Waipi'o (a 1200 foot gain in just under a mile I read somewhere) then a back and forth routine in and out of a series of gulches.  We got a late start but made it with just enough daylight to spare to throw down our grass mats on the beach and get settled for the night.  The rising tide would eventually shoo us away to higher ground.

The next morning we shuffled along the far wall of the valley until we got to Wai'ilikahi Falls (over 1000 feet!).  We took a dip for a minute then headed back.  While putting my shoes back on a rock fell from some unknown height and landed with a great crash just a few feet behind me.  As far as I know that may be the closest I've come to death, though I suppose an inherent part of being human is being inches away from death at every moment whether or not it as obvious as a rogue tumbling boulder.  At any rate, we didn't want Time to become our enemy and after taking it all in for a bit we headed back up.

For whatever reason the hike back seemed easier, and we gained a full hour compared to the day before.  We were still elated to get back to the beach in Waipi'o and take our shoes off as fast as possible.  Oh that water!  Bubbles came up from my feet where they were sighing with relief.  It would be short lived though, as the 4WD road loomed across the valley.  After a horrendous climb where crawling seemed like the most viable option at some points, we made it to the outlook and concluded our weekend journey.  Or so we thought.

With little trouble we were able to hitchhike back to Honokaa, and from there into Waimea.  Again we stopped for dinner, much more ravenous than before.  Losing track of time and daylight though, hitchhiking out of town proved to be unexpectedly difficult.  After God-knows-how-long and a very unpleasant run-in with a very intoxicated local, we finally got picked up by our guardian angels, Max and Logan.  Max and Logan are two guys around our age that live IN Waimea, saw us earlier but couldn't pick us up, and were looking for something to do.  When we told them that we lived near Captain Cook (about 60 miles away), they said, "I guess we're going to Captain Cook!"  Not only were they inordinately generous, but they were kind and hilarious and liked good music.  Max quickly nicknamed us "Tootsie Pop" and "Jonny Boy".  They took us to our driveway.  Time of arrival was around 12:30 AM.  I still can't believe it.  Faith in humanity restored.

Daniela left the next night.  The experiences we shared are too grand for this blog, but I've at least given you a rough outline.  Our standards for what life can and should be have been blasted through the roof.

If you haven't seen them already, I've added close to 100 new pictures from our time together.  Click on the little slideshow on the sidebar here to get there.  If you have seen them, hopefully this post will give some helpful context.

There isn't much else to report.  Bob and Beryl are Bob and Beryl.  George and I enjoy talking books and adventures.  Farm life remains simple and mundane.  Not the boring, drab mundane, but rather the quaint sort.

Carol asked me if I was politically inclined yesterday.  My answer surprised me, and I'd be curious to know if you all find it to be an appropriate viewpoint.  More or less, what I said was this:

Most people's ideas and stances are rooted largely out of ignorance, and who am I to say that mine aren't as well?

Love your mother and love each other.  Aloha for now.

Chapter 5

Hello friends and family.  Here's your holiday recap:

With Christmas came an abundance of orders for our magical 100% organic 100% estate grown 100% Kona coffee.  Additionally, we process for a handful of other small farms, and when you add it all up we were very busy.  Even as the only intern and thus understaffed I didn't mind.  It is good to feel useful, and the busyness was a distraction from from the fact that I was not at home with friends and family for the holidays for the first time in my life.  I'm not very sentimental, but it remains that the people that I love the most are in the Midwest.

A big development of the past couple of weeks was the conclusion to the Gorilla saga.  After about 2 weeks of hunting for parts, I finally got a call from the shop telling me that all of the parts needed could not be tracked down.  My options were to pay them for the bit of labor they had in it already and take home a junk bike, or trade it in towards something else.  Option B made me the proud daddy of a 1987 Honda Spree (the year I was born!), which is pretty identical to this one (same color scheme, and I even have a basket).  The goal now will be to sell it prior to my departure from the Big Island and try and cut some of my losses from the whole thing.  You all will be glad to know that it is oil-injected, so all I have to do is top it off every 3 or 4 tanks of gas.  I think even I can keep up with that.  

I experimented with some video from a helmet camera that my family gave me for my birthday.  Here is a sample.  All it is is the last couple of minutes I recorded; I'm a video editing novice and for the sake of a timely demonstration that was easiest for me.  The entire video is almost 2 hours long, and nobody really wants to see the whole thing, even if it is Hawaii.  I had turned around at a half tank of gas and rode into the gas station on fumes, which is why I mention in the video that "I'm glad we turned around when we did."  Just FYI.  Enjoy, and stay tuned for some more elaborate and intentional reels.  

The other story line here in this quaint little epic has been the arrival of four more house guests.  Beryl's daughter Sarah and niece Rachel arrived about a week ago and uprooted my stay in the studio (back to the main house with me).  Sarah will be going to school and Rachel working off the farm.  A few days later George and Carol from Alaska arrived, and yes, they know Sarah Palin.  They are very gentle spirits and a joy to work with.  Overall, it has been a positive change since any and all social interaction is welcome.  

Right now I need to go pick up Daniela from the airport.  Sorry for the more informational nature of this post, as I know you all enjoy my existential ramblings.  Maybe next time.

Chapter 4

Somebody told me the other day that I was pragmatic.  While in all honesty I'm not entirely sure what that means (English experts, by all means), I think it has something to do with having a generally practical approach to things where experience trumps theory.  If that's the case, this person was quite right in two ridiculous cases this past week.  In each instance, the knowledge of the theory was known, but without proper experience I had no perception of their real-world implications.

LESSON ONE (from my father): Whenever you buy a car (or motorbike), the only way to know when the oil was last changed is to change it yourself.

How I learned Lesson One: The fellow I'm buying the bike from says, "I just changed the oil; it should be good for about 3000km."  Fast forward several weeks and oh, look!  There's Jonathan on the side of the road with his Gorilla!  Is that smoke?

The last conversation I had with the mechanic putting together a parts list that is taking DAYS to assemble went more or less like this: "It's not looking good buddy."

LESSON TWO (perhaps from my mother): Cooking with oil is dangerous.  It can splatter and burn and even catch on fire.

How I learned Lesson Two:  I love sweet potato fries.  I love them so much I put "sweet potatoes" on my grocery list.  You can imagine my delight when Bob came home with 10 lbs of sweet potatoes about a week ago.  Now, to make sweet potato fries, you have to fry the sweet potatoes.  To achieve this goal, I put a sauce pan on the burner, put in enough veggie oil to submerge my fries-to-be, and set my attention to cutting up a sweet potato.  Fast forward several minutes.  All done!  Let's start putting them in my hot oil to cook!  Remove the lid.  Oops!  I have an enormous fire on my hands!  I know, I should put out the fire!  What puts out fires?  Hmm.... oh ya!  Water!

WRONG!!!!!!

Those of you with some understanding of basic kitchen chemistry can predict what happened next.  If not, imagine my terror when flames engulfed the cupboards over the sink, reached the ceiling, set ablaze the paper towel roll, and melted the tupperware sitting on the drying rack.  I thought the light had somehow gone out, but no, it was just the smoke filling the studio.

Fortunately I emerged with only singed hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, and a few minor splatter burns on my hands and wrists.  I was able to stay collected enough to douse the paper towels before anything really problematic caught fire.  This weekend I will have the privilege of scrubbing the soot stained walls and ceiling, after which all will be forgiven.

These are the two lessons I learned this past week.  The moral is obvious, but here it is:  When you are taught something, please pay attention.  There are reasons for things being the way they are.  So boys and girls, whether its an engine or a kitchen you're dealing with, for goodness' sake...

Check. Your. Oil.

Chapter 3

To my 2 or 3 readers, I beg your pardon for my negligence here.  Is it what it is, and I shan't tarry on that point so let's get to it:

These days a blog can be one of a million things.  As wild and treacherous a beast the internet may be, how excellent a canvas it is for any and all who choose to use it as such.  I start there only to mention the fact that my blog has had no direction, thus I've had little motivation to maintain it, and thus you, the reader, have had nothing to read.  What I write about must, of course, matter to me, or I wouldn't write about it.  Just as important, it should be of interest to you, or else I should just keep a diary.  I don't want to be selfish with my thoughts and experiences by keeping them to myself, nor do I want to be egotistical and vain by overstating the facts of my grand adventure in "paradise".

All this to say: Let this be a restart for all of this blog nonsense.  For those of you that are and have been interested in the daily happenings of life here (viz. close friends and family), I will try to give quick overviews of my personal experiences in Hawaii.  Beyond that I will try to close with a lessons I've learned or  pesky thoughts I've had or lingering questions I've been asking myself so as to include all of you that I love on this adventure -- which, like all adventures, is one of the heart and mind and soul more than anything else.

So let's start from the beginning.  First of all, I would strongly advise everyone that hasn't already to spend a few minutes checking out the Big Island on Google Maps in satellite view.  The island is just as insane as it looks, and this little diversion can keep you busy for at least a few minutes.  Notice the striations created by ancient lava flows, the barren peaks and the lush coastlines.  Zoom out a ways and see just how massive a volcano we're really talking about by seeing where it finally reaches the ocean floor.  Evidently there are 13 climate zone types in the world, and the Big Island has 11 of them (all but Arctic and Saharan).  This place is wild.  There is a road that goes around the island, and essentially all development is restricted to that road down to the coast, farms being essentially the only implementations above the road a ways.  There is Hilo on the east side and Kailua-Kona on the west, Hilo being a "normal" town and Kona being the tourist hotspot.  Aside from that, human existence is predominantly agrarian, and much of the island remains back-country.  

With all of that it follows that some parts of the island are paradisaical indeed, while others are straight-up lunar.  Dragon's Lair Estate is somewhere in between.  It is lush beyond description (or, one anecdote I heard put it this way: You could stick a broom in the ground and it would grow), but it is every bit on the side of a volcano, rocky and harshly graded.  The farm is a few acres, only 200 feet wide and the rest long.  Bob and Beryl are my hosts, an "elderly" couple hailing from the mainland and Australia, respectively.  I put elderly in quotations as it is really just a formality.  Bob turned 75 the other day but remains just about as limber and able-bodied as I am in or around my prime.  I don't know Beryl's age exactly (and I dare not ask), but it is the same story.  Up until last week, I also had two other interns to round out my company here on the farm, Hope and Eliza.  They came as friends who graduated from high school this year, and are taking a gap semester of sorts.  They were good workers and dear companions.  I will miss the social exercise, the free meals, and the energy that community provides.  I hope they will remember me fondly and I wish them the very best the rest of the way.

As for daily duties, it's fair for me to simply say that I do what needs to be done.  Today, for example, I spent weed whacking (one of my favorite duties as it turns out; very cathartic).  The past few months have been harvest time, so in that regard you could say I came at the right time.  It is all just now winding down, so most days have been busy with processing.  That might be picking, pulping, washing, raking, milling, sorting, roasting, or packaging coffee.  We do it all and Bob and Beryl entrust us with the whole deal, so from an educational and hands-on experience standpoint, it is hard to imagine a better situation.  Looking ahead, the weeks and months to come will be spent cleaning the trees (picking all of the leftover, unusable beans), pruning, and in essence preparing the ship for next year.

Weekends are still looked forward to, as opportunities to get off the farm during the week are scarce.  I did buy a 50cc Honda Gorilla minibike soon after getting here as you all probably know by now, and it has been essential.  Bob advised against such a purchase on the grounds of safety concerns, and I hated going against his recommendation.  That being said, I am extremely prone to stir-craziness, and my suspicion is that by now had I not purchased the wheels, I would surely be asking myself why I signed up for this.  There is no discredit to the farm life or Bob and Beryl there, please don't misunderstand.  Rather, I am doomed to the fate of a restless soul.  Needless to say, Saturday mornings I hop on and take off.  For the most part, I just ride around.  I might go down to the beach and hang out for a bit.  I might go into town and walk around the tourist shops and watch the people.  I might take the upper, windy road and stop at a cafe for the quintessential coffee and a book ritual.  Nothing fancy, but the freedom that I experience is beyond description.  It is common that an involuntary shout of jubilation will leap from my heart as I zip on by a particularly stunning view of a bay beneath or an awe-inspiring stretch of hardwood forest opens up for me.

So this is a very concise summation of the life of Jonathan here in Hawaii thus far.  Going forward, provided I do indeed keep up with posting, I'll try to be a bit more specific.  Let this be a Catch Up post of sorts.

As to my take on the whole bit, I should say first of all that I came here with no expectations.  Before I came here, the trip would often come up in conversation with acquaintances and whatnot, and the responses were almost universally excitement or questions about my excitement ("OMG THAT'S SO EXCITING!!!" or, "OMG ARE YOU SO EXCITED?!?!").  I never quite knew what to do with that, as the future is such a strange thing to get excited about.  That's not to say, of course, that nothing exciting is ahead.  Certainly my experience here is exciting to me.  But it's exciting to me because it is at hand, because I am experiencing it, because it's a reality and it's inescapable.  It's true that I came here first and foremost to work and to learn, and that is exactly what I am doing.  Most days are actually quite mundane and pedestrian.  There's plenty of room to romanticize the whole thing in my mind or my accounts, but there's no need.  At the end of the day, aside from a few cosmetic differences, people are still people, work is still work, and life goes madly on.  And that is exciting to me.

It'd be a shame if I diluted it too much though, as not all experiences are created equal.  Train of thought time:

A few weeks ago at breakfast, seemingly out of nowhere Bob started talking about way back in the day when he had dreams to sail around the world.  Then he said something to the effect of, "When I was your age, you went to college, graduated, got a job, got married, bought a house in the suburbs and had 2.1 kids."  I very much doubt that you would ever hear Bob say that he has any regrets, but the incident at the breakfast table struck me as something sad.


 I was working construction before I came here, and all things considered it was a pretty good gig.  I was working with friends, I was outside, and I was getting paid pretty well to boot.  It was also hard as hell most days and I basically gave my life up for it for a few months there.

"Turn to page 112 if you want to keep working construction... OR ...Turn to page 143 if you want to move to Hawaii and work on a coffee farm."

Going back to those conversations with folks during the months leading up to my departure, another common thread was a type of restrained admiration, or at least curiosity.  People would find the whole idea interesting, or brave, or original, or strange, or awesome.  I don't wholly disagree with any of those sentiments, but am I crazy for thinking that my decision to come here was guided in large part by good ol' Common Sense?  Why on earth would I not come to Hawaii?  If it's helpful, then yes, life is one big Choose Your Own Adventure book.

And to close us out, some food for thought from our good friend Solomon:

Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun—all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.

Don't get stuck.  See you around.

Chapter 2

I am in Hawaii.

This past weekend I faced my fears:

FYI: I won't be posting updates or pictures on Facebook.  I will be posting pictures semi-regularly on here.  Click on the little slideshow on the sidebar to check out what I've got so far.