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.
