Hawaii: 3rd Time's a Charm

As I'm writing this post, sitting at home in Baltimore, parts of Hawaii are burning and I feel terrible for the people, especially those in Lahaina, who have lost so much.

The first time I went to Hawaii, it was 2004 and it rained in sheets. It's the closest I've gotten to the likes of a monsoon. It rained so much that the island of Oahu lost power and we spent much of our week in darkness. We were staying in a little cabin on a YMCA camp on the North Shore and I wouldn't call the place airtight. So, to add insult to injury, the rain flushed out enormous, I mean, gargantuan centipedes that bite and hurt something fierce, making your middle-of-the-night trip to the bathroom a dangerous trek in the dark. Furthermore, at the end of all this, I was disconsolate as I was forced to say goodbye to Kip for 4 whole months while he continued around the globe to finish his law degree in Australia and New Zealand. I flew my sniveling self back to Baltimore and subsequently racked up enough cross-continental phone bills for a down payment on a house. I promised I wouldn't go back to Hawaii. Ah, promises.

The second time I went to Hawaii was in 2010 for Kip's brother's wedding. I was 6 months pregnant and toting a precious 18-month-old. Our pediatrician, God bless her and her prophetic wisdom, warned, "I wouldn't do it. The time change is going to be hell for the little one." In my optimism, we ignored her entirely (I haven't done that since) and packed a slew of entertainment for Liam on the 10-hour plane ride. Bwahahaha! We thought the plane was going to be the most challenging part! Meanwhile, after 10 hours in the air, 6 hours in an airport, lost luggage on the Big Island, and a wailing child, we flopped in our hotel bed only to be awakened for good at 2:25 am by a set of lungs that rivaled a fire alarm. This happened Every. Single. Morning. for a week. Our only respite from the screaming was our drives around the island coast, which seemed, miraculously, to be the only way to lull him to sleep. Instead of lounging in beach chairs and drinking Mai Thais (which I couldn't have had in my condition anyway), Kip or I saw the same stretch of coast by car each day for two hours. I spent that vacation hormonal and angry as a wet cat. I made another promise that I wouldn't set foot in Hawaii. Ah, promises.

Needless to say, I was wary of the prospect of being back. But, I also made a promise (er...vow) to Kip that we were in this life together and if he wanted to visit his sister, Courtney's, new farm in Kauai, I couldn't argue with that!

And, what a farm it is! You could make the biggest, juiciest, fruit salad with the things that grow off the trees here. Mind you, I've never heard of much of it, but fruit is fruit, right? Jackfruit, Bread Fruit, Lychee, Avocado, Apple-Bananas, Lilikoi, Apples, Soursop, Papaya, Dragonfruit, etc. In the little town of Kalaheo on the island of Kauai, the farm sits up high with a near-constant breeze and a beautiful view of the big blue ocean. If you take your gaze slightly east, the distant island of Ni'ihau appears, shrouded in mystery. Ni'ihau is also known as The Forbidden Island and is off-limits to everyone except the approximately 35-50 Hawaiians who are said to live and sustain themselves by hunting and fishing, without any of the modern "conveniences."

Drew, Courtney's husband, is learning as he goes. When a fruit is ripe? Where to plant? How often do certain trees bear fruit? It's a lot of work and, he'll invariably go out on the hottest part of the day to prune, water, and mow the grass; very much earning his retirement. On our first days, the little two took to farm life like they were born for it, feeding the neighbor's horse, Snowflake, playing fetch with the dogs, co-riding the mower, cracking macadamia nuts, and collecting fruits, or sticks to haul away.

The rest of us were content to sit on the Koa wood daybeds on the lanai and read until the sun sets in a profusion of colors.

Several days in, we were so excited to have our niece Jade join us from Oahu to celebrate her 18th birthday and spend time with her before she heads to the mainland to start her freshman year at Tulane University.

Our days were leisurely, guiltily so, as I watched Drew sweat around the farm. In the mornings, you wake to the sound of gentle rain on the tin roof but by mid-morning the sun has burned it away and replaced the rain with a cool breeze. In our downtime at home, we played volleyball and had dinosaur boat races down the hill inside the sturdy husks of some large and mysterious fruit.

We played card games, read, swung in the hammock chair, ate dinners on the lanai at sunset, snuggled, and played with the dogs. Most evenings we capped off the night with a Dark and Stormy.

But we were not short on adventure. Our first one was a Zodiac boat ride along the rugged and captivating Na Pali Coast.

Stowing our stuff in dry bags, we sat side-saddle on the edge of the boat, tucked our feet under the rope to prevent us from falling out, and held on for dear life. Just past the jetty, Madi, our captain, showed us just what this boat could do as she gunned it to 35 miles per hour while throwing in a sharp turn for emphasis. The boat tilted precariously as we rooster-tailed water.

I took one look at Onora's red, panic-stricken face, and thought, "Oh man, I didn't prepare her well enough for this." Because of her age, she was sitting in the center console of the boat, in the lap of first-mate, Jordyn, and in those first 10 minutes, Onora looked, for all the world, like she was trying to scramble and climb inside of this person she met not five minutes ago.

Cruising and bumping along on this perfectly sunny day, the swells were small and the going was easy, me smiling and assuring Onora that all of this was perfectly normal and safe. About 30 minutes into the ride, her panic subsided and was replaced by grim stoicism and possible disassociation. As we rounded the island, the swells kicked up and instead of skimming across the water, we launched off the crests of waves and crashed back down into the troughs, only to do it again and again, until we felt our spines collapsing upon themselves.

The coast became more and more dramatic, fog lingering on the tops of the jagged peaks that are carved by the wind like "V's", unlike any mountain I've ever seen.

The boat eases in and out of several caves carved by the winter swells that rise up to 75 feet high. One cave is where Mary J Blige filmed her video “Everything,” standing on a small rock, surrounded by water, in the center of a circular and roofless cave.

Passing by a beach, Madi tells stories about this place where Hawaiians of old would bury their kin in the sand in hopes that the waves will pull them out to sea, releasing their mana - or spiritual power. (Think: Moana’s grandmother when she turns into a manta ray)

She talks of legends where a Hawaiian King selects one person from his tribe to serve as the ”kahu” (one chosen to protect sacred things). The kahu is responsible for hiding the king’s bones upon his death. The kahu rappels down the side of the cliff on the Na Pali coast, buries the bones in a secret place where they will never be found. The kahu then immediately jumps to their death into the sea in order to protect the bones whereabouts forever.

Madi cut the engine and we stopped for a snack and some snorkeling. The boat undulated, bobbing and rolling, which prompted my own bout of panic. If you know me, you'll know that I can't even sit on a swing anymore without a roiling belly. Fortunately, of the 6 of us, I seem to be the only one with a weak stomach. In this instance, I may have ignored the dosage recommendations on the Dramamine bottle and took a few extra, hoping to stave off the ratcheting sense of doom. After a Ginger Ale, I felt my best course of action was to get in the water and see some fish. I found that the only way to mitigate the seasickness was to propel myself in a forward motion in the water, kicking and kicking, never just hovering. All the while, I dragged Onora along with me and prayed I wouldn't chum this pristine turquoise water.

Snorkeling is an other-worldly peaceful experience, being face to face with blank-eyed and expressionless fish who seem to swim without direction. Liam was surprised to look down and see a large sea turtle gracefully gliding under his feet.

Once back in the boat, it took 5 minutes of speeding along the coast for me to feel better again. And, miracles of all miracles, Onora was getting the hang of the speed too. With Jordyn's arms around her waist and reassuring words in her ear, she brightened. I will always think of Jordyn and how she saved the day. Madi cranked the music, and suddenly Onora was singing along to songs I didn't even know she knew like, "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics. At one point, she had her hands in the air while singing along with Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA."

"So I put my hands up

They're playin' my song, the butterflies fly away,

I'm noddin' my head like, yeah,

Movin' my hips like, yeah,

I got my hands up, they're playin' my song,

They know I'm gonna be okay."

And, she was okay.

Always looking out for sea life, Madi slowed the boat and pointed ahead, "Dolphins."

A small pod surrounded the Zodiac and swam with us for more than 5 minutes, breaking the water on occasion to come up for air and seemingly enjoying the movement of the boat beside them as they twisted and turned, right under our noses. What a show!

Our next adventure, though less intense but equally enjoyable, was with Kauai Backcountry Adventures to tube the irrigation canals and tunnels that were once dug by hand to irrigate the sugar crops on Kauai.

Before the civil war, Hawaii claimed only a handful of sugar plantations. However, during the war, the North needed a new supplier of sugar. Hawaii filled the void and grew its sugar crop tenfold. By 2000, sugar was all but abandoned in Hawaii yet the evidence of its history remains in these irrigation canals which run 51 miles through Kauai.

We drove the open-air bus, and given a bit of Hawaiian sugar history along with some corny joke, stopping briefly to look at Mt. Wai’ale’ale, one of the wettest spots on earth. At 5,000 ft., it gets around 450 inches of rain per year.

We arrived at the put-in, sank our butts into the "refreshing" water, and were set adrift. With headlamps, you bump along, having no control of your tube, letting the water take you at its own pace.

Not quite white water rafting and not quite lazy river, we floated down only a small portion of the canals on Lihue Plantation, through 5 pitch-black tunnels, one of which was a mile long and was completed without the use of the headlamp. You haven't seen dark until you see this kind of dark.

Afterward, they pick you up, bring you to a picnic spot and serve sandwiches and chips while the infamous Kauai feral chickens roam about your feet.

Estimates say 450,000 chickens roam Kauai which is pretty significant when you consider that the human population of Kauai is only 73,000. That's 6 chickens per person. Why are there so many "free-range" chickens? In 1982, Hurricane Iwa devasted the Hawaiian islands, doing the most damage to Kauai. In the storm, most of the chicken coops were destroyed and these flightless birds took their first air travel adventure and were blown from coast to coast, scattering them from the parking lots of Lihue, to the beaches of Waimea, and to the mountains of the Na Pali coast. They're everywhere.

The guide quipped that in Hawaii people are outnumbered by chickens, pigs, and Toyota Tacomas. On our bus ride back after lunch, like Pavlov and his bell, pigs showed up when they hear the rumbling of the bus engine, emerging from the grasses for leftover lunch scraps. They know the routine as the driver dumps any excess onto the ground. Guess what the pigs go after first? Ham...Darned Cannibals. One pig left the scene, comically, with a croissant sideways in its mouth.

Between adventures, we beach-hopped every other day, taking sun breaks for my children with fair skin who aren't meant for Hawaiian summers. Poipu Beach for calm waters and sea turtle sightings, Kalapaki Beach for paddle boarding, and Shipwreck Beach for the surfing waves and the 30-foot cliff jump (nope, not us).

Above: Poipu Beach

Above: Kalapaki Beach

Above: Shipwreck Beach

When you have kids with ages ranging from 14 to 6, it's not a one-beach fits all type scenario. At Poipu Beach, the little two frolicked joyfully in the calm water, while the older two tried to find 102 ways to use an inner tube for entertainment.

Conversely, at Shipwreck Beach, the older two were consistently crushed by large waves and still went back for more while the little two stood at the water's edge and screamed at the foam that came tumbling in fast, easily knocking you off your feet.

Our shade days were for shopping, coffee tasting, ice cream, or shaved ice, and relaxing on the lanai with a good book.

Coffee at Kauai Coffee Plantation was an all-you-can-taste event. The kids left a little caffeinated and sugared up with the most delicious scones and muffins on the planet.

The lizards who live on the plantation seem to agree and lick up all the crumbs.

One day, we left early in the morning and drove up to Hanalei Bay on the north coast of the Island for a 4 or 8-mile hike, depending on your preference. The hike was on the Na Pali coast, the same mountains that we viewed from the Zodiak several days before (gulp). Stocked with lunches, water, bathing suits, and dinosaurs (of course), the hike started off a serious uphill battle.

Climbing and scrabbling over rocks, pausing to catch your breath while you hiked further inland, or catching a breeze once you reached each point that overlooked the water.

In and out, back and forth, we traversed the mountains, as we rounded each point of the Na Pali. While Liam and Quinn could have done it in half the time, I was amazed at Onora and Gaelan's perseverance and positivity. The water, through the trees, is an enticing clear turquoise, making the first stop at a hidden beach, Hanakapiai, all the more exciting. This beach is where Onora, Gaelan, and I made camp while the rest of the crew hiked another 2 miles to a waterfall.

Although slightly easier hike than the first two miles, Hanakapiai Falls at 300 ft tall was well worth the extra miles for a refreshing dip. The photo was taken with a lens that makes them all look like “Stretch Armstrong.”

The beach is absolute perfection. This place is a one-beach-fits-all scenario that you can't find anywhere else. A half-moon-shaped beach with golden sand is protected by trees and cliffs. Large rocks divide the tree line from the beach and beyond those rocks is a perfectly still, cool, and clear freshwater stream. It's like a lazy river without the current. A large cliff shades part of the stream and hides a network of tunnels underneath.

Beyond the stream are perfectly curled waves that rise, crest, and crash in a calming rhythm.

The water is like glass. At its crest, you could clearly read a sign through it, if you were so inclined.

We had hours to leisurely enjoy this setting while the other crew were sweating it out and I felt grateful for this time. The kids built castles, tried to catch silver minnows, and played Spinosaurus in the stream. There was a ten-minute period of time where we were the only three people on this beach. It felt like ours.

Several hours later, the rest of the team arrived back at the hidden beach and took a dip in the ocean before packing up and returning the two miles from which we'd come. On the way down, I was reminded of Kip and my trip hiking three days to Machu Picchu many years ago. While the uphill is always grueling, it's the downhill that wreaks havoc on the knees. Pounding on the uneven, and sometimes slippery rocks, sent shockwaves through my kneecaps and I limped my way to the car. I'm glad I didn't do the 8-miler! Exhausted and happy to be back in the car, we stopped in Hanalei to have the most well-deserved pizza imaginable.

One of our last days in Kauai brought just the adults to Koloa Rum Plantation for a safari tour and rum tasting. The guide sat on the top of the windshield of the open-air truck and gave us a history of the farm, its plants, and the rum.

He then proceeded to go on about how inebriated we should prepare to get on this tour. The word inebriated was thrown around one too many times and I started to get nervous.

We stopped the truck and followed our guide who carried a clinking tray of glasses, mixers, and rum along a boardwalk through a rainforest of exotic plants.

The boardwalk ended at a large, wooden gazebo with a monkeypod wood bar. He explained the samples we would taste and we were free to come up and grab our shots of Coconut Rum, Chocolate Rum, Gold Rum, and Dark Rum. Taking several sips of each one, I surreptitiously tossed the rest over my shoulder into the foliage. The birds could get drunk on straight liquor. Not I. Next, he made delicious Mai Thais and we walked back through the forest, drinks in hand, to admire at a slower pace, the interesting plants.

One more stop to another gazebo setting on top of a taro marsh to have another sweet cocktail. I'm guessing Courtney didn't toss her first shots over her shoulder like I did, considering she spilled her second drink (twice). I know, I know. It's slippery. 😂 A lovely happy hour meal of dumplings poké, edamame, fries, and sliders were necessary before the sleepy drive home to Kalaheo.

I woke up two days before our departure, with a back so stiff I could barely stand up. I'm guessing it was the hike back down the Na Pali Coast that did it. I knew that in my condition, a flight home, carting bags and backpacks, would be unimaginable, so I opted for a massage to loosen up the muscles. Amy's Traveling Masseuse came to Courtney and Drew's farm in the early morning. The rain had just begun in earnest as the masseuse erected a bed under the ceiling fans on the open lanai and went to work on my back. The sound of rain on the roof coupled with the soothing flute music was enough to put me to sleep had it not been for the "hurts so good" deep tissue massage that had me breathing audibly through my pain. At the end of it, I stood up (fully) and, like an evangelist, felt like proclaiming, "I am healed."

Our flight out on our last day was late in the evening so we opted to take one last scenic drive to Waimea Canyon - the Grand Canyon of the Pacific, where, yes, chickens still roam.

We'd stop the car on occasion to peek at an overlook or to get a better view of the shocking contrast of a white waterfall that divides deep brick-colored earth.

"Well kids," Kip said, "this is the closest you'll get to Mars."

Our long flight home was just that...long. But, it could have been much longer. We arrived in Phoenix and were alerted that our flight to DC had been canceled. After customer service questions and phone calls, we were quickly booked on a flight to Dallas Fort Worth, and yet another flight to DC, delaying our initial arrival time by 7 additional hours. Ugh. Starving, we ordered egg and cheese biscuits from a Chinese restaurant, of all places, and the meal came with a fortune cookie. "All the news you receive will be positive and uplifting."

I credit this fortune cookie for the remainder of our trip. Five minutes before boarding the flight to Dallas, we were informed that American Airlines had created a new direct flight to DC and were boarding promptly, thereby avoiding the trip to Dallas altogether.

We are home and happy to be here, dealing with the remainder of jet lag and a few kinks in the air conditioning system but nothing we can't handle. A huge thanks to Courtney and Drew being wonderful hosts, having lovely dinners, and for allowing six of us to descend on your home for almost two weeks. We are excited to see your progress and ideas come to life! Aloha!