Around the Island

 I flew the nest! And then I came back. The end.

That’s the skeleton, but the meat is mildly entertaining if you care to read, but just a warning, it’s long. And so we begin with the weekend.

View from Kohala Volcano

Last Saturday, Mason invited me to go for a hike with him and his eleven year old daughter, Olena in the forest above Waimea. Waimea is a cool little cowboy mountain town that reminds me of any quaint mountain town in everyday America (not that I’ve spent much time in them), save the sweeping ocean views around the occasional corner. It sits at the southern foot of Kohala volcano, the oldest of the five volcanoes that make up the Big Island. At 2,600 feet in elevation, it is much cooler than the beaches, which makes for a great hiking climate.

After loading up on sugary crepes and buying musubi for the hike at the super cute and borderline hip farmers market, the three of us set off on our hike. Mason has lived on the island for 15 years, so I expected him to take us to some really cutty, local, off the grid kind of place. I was mildly surprised when we arrived at the Koai’a Tree Sanctuary, because it seemed so… on the path. Mason has worked in native plant restoration for a long time, so he gave me and Olena a detailed lesson in endemic plants as we hiked. Soon, we hopped over a fence and started up a grassy 4x4 road along a cow pasture.

Olena knee deep in the mud

The views were stunning but the hike itself, two miles straight up a grassy road, was a little tedious. After an hour (felt like more) we arrived at a gate that allowed us to enter the Pu’u O Umi natural reserve. In an instant, we were in the rainforest. Aha, this is what I was waiting for. As we hiked, the terrain got more mushy and muddy, the ferns greener and the moss thicker. Before long, Mason and Olena, who were both barefoot, were knee deep in mud, while I chose the high road and walked on a small path lined with knee high, bright green and yellow moss. We stopped to eat musubi (think a sushi roll, but with Spam and egg instead of fish – gotta eat like the locals) and then headed for what we thought was the summit. The trail ended at a lookout in the forest but we were in the clouds and couldn’t see much, but Mason was pretty sure we were on the backside of the mountain above Waipio valley. On the way back down we slipped and slopped through the mud. We didn’t see one person the whole time on the hike. It was exactly the local experience I was looking for.

The next day was a Kona Sailing Club race day. I crewed for a nice guy named Brad, who recently bought a 40sih year old 38 foot J boat. The wind was surprisingly honking, much unlike the last time we sailed, so it was great to be on a bigger boat. Before the first race, Brad looked down below and said, woah, we’re taking on a lot of water. I went down below and sure enough, there was water coming up through the bilge and sloshing around the cabin. For the next three hours, while we raced, I took it upon myself to go down below and turn on the bilge pump for a few minutes to make sure we didn’t sink, except for the race where he let me drive. I have no idea where the leak is coming from but I hope Brad figures it out. We didn’t sink and we came in second, so I guess that’s a win? It was a fun day anyway.

The next day I packed up everything I thought I would need for a night or two of adventure and camping, and headed (finally!) toward Volcanoes National Park. I’ve been meaning to get down there since I arrived. My first stop was South Point, because I’m not good at planning and basically look for obvious geographical points of interest to guide me. My guide book told me that South Point is the southernmost point in the USA, the fishing is great, the currents are swift and be super duper careful if you snorkel in the crystal clear water because it’s mighty dangerous. Flying solo, I didn’t plan to get in the water because I was kind of spooked (understandably, right?), but after seeing the beautiful, clear water and watching pasty tourists jump off the high jump and survive, I decided to go for a little dip.

South Point

I didn’t jump off the high dive (sorry, Katie, I know you’d do a gainer off it), instead looked for a nice easy entrance at the water’s edge. I had also read in my guide book that the ancient Hawaiians bored holes in the rocks to tie off their canoes because at times the currents and wind were so strong, they couldn’t paddle against them, and at South Point there is nothing between you and say, Alaska or Antarctica. I walked the rocky cliff and scrambled down to the water’s edge where it looked like an easy enough entrance, albeit surgey, and sure enough, right there was a rock with a perfectly bored hole in it. It pleased me that the ancient Hawaiians and I both chose the same ocean entrance, because like I said before, it’s the little things.

I went for a quick snorkel, staying just close enough to shore to not get swept away but far enough not to get washed up onto the jagged rocks. After sunbathing naked on a rock for a few minutes, (it felt remote, although there were tourists milling about, just not where I was) I packed up and drove up into the mountains, where I snagged a chilly campsite on the side of an active volcano, because that’s what you do in Hawaii, but not before drinking a beer at the southernmost bar in the USA, heyyyo! I set up camp and then drove into the park, having no idea where I was going in the dark and the rain, until I came across an outlook, where I could see the glow of an active volcano reflecting in the clouds. It was awe-inspiring and humbling. 

Bad picture of a lake of fucking lava

Next, I drove around the other side of the crater and ended up at the Keanakako’i Overlook, where I watched a real live lake of red hot fucking molten lava spew and spray for an hour or so. It was fairly crowded with people coming and going, and it was fun to hear people’s reactions as they approached the apocalyptic lake, although traveling solo you realize how loud and how much other people talk. 

I went back to my campsite and ate cheese and crackers in the car for dinner, put on pretty much every piece of clothing I brought, wrapped myself in a blanket and realized that I could see the glow of the volcano from where I stood, right before dove into a semi-soggy tent for a rather chilly night’s sleep. I was warned, but I wasn’t super well prepared. Oops, now I know for next time. 

The next morning I spent an hour building a fire from wet twigs and branches to heat water for coffee (dammit Mom, why didn’t you make me do Girl Scouts?!), and after coffee, breakfast and breaking down camp, I went back into the park. I met a wonderful volunteer park ranger, Steve, who invited me on an off the trail informational hike at 1pm, but I wanted to get to Hilo so I told him I’d be back another day and went off on my own hike. I hiked around a small portion of the crater in the lush ferns and endemic fauna, with the bleak, mars-esque terrain of the Kilauea caldera on my left. It was so fucking cool. Again, on the hike I didn’t come across one person. I turned around when I came across a sign on the caldera floor that said, “Land beyond this point is closed to the public due to volcanic hazards,” and felt very badass.

The cool thing about the Big Island is that, while there is lots to do and see, everything is pretty close. So after my hike I headed into Hilo, about a 45 minute drive from Volcanoes. I went to Radio Bay, an industrial area of Hilo that is of absolutely no interest to anyone, except for the fact that it is where my family and I docked when we sailed to Hawaii when I was 8. After snapping a photo and getting weird looks from some locals who were drinking beer on the breakwater, I went to find food. 

The normal, downtown part of Hilo is very cute, with lots of shops, restaurants and a farmers market, and a strong authentic vibe that very much feels like Hawaii. From my limited experience, the Kona side feels a little more manicured and catered more toward tourists. On a bit of a high, I decided I wanted to stay on this side of the island for another night, but didn’t want to pay $80 to sleep in a hammock or camp in someone’s front yard, so I texted Mason and asked him if he had any recommendations. He said you can camp on Laupahoehoe Beach Park for $20 per night and I said, “Perfect!!!” I went online and saw that it was a cute, grassy park on the shore with bathrooms and showers (of which I was in dire need of both), bought a permit to camp, then headed around the island that direction. 

The only picture I took in Laupahoehoe

It was around 4pm when I got to Laupahoehoe, cloudy and squally, with sheets of rain coming down intermittently. I winded down the steep, jungly-lush road to the beach, which was more of a rocky shore line with a boat ramp. I decided to check out my guide book and see what it said about the area. Apparently, this is where, in 1946, 24 people were killed in a giant tsunami. Sure enough, I saw the memorial and read all about the 21 children and 3 adults who were swept out to sea on that fateful day. And yes, there were showers, but they made the Ocean Beach showers look fancy. To be fair, three old men who looked like they might live at the beach park invited me to drink beers with them, but I politely declined. I poked around trying to find some tourists or someone my age (and preferably gender) to talk with about camping for the night, but struck out. Between the weather, the natural past disasters, and the just plain weird vibe that I got from the place, I decided to book it back to the farm. Again, perks of living on a small island.

I had to laugh at myself as I drove back up the winding, jungle path back to the main highway, promising to do more research before booking a campsite and even possibly before I leave on my adventure. It was a good lesson in solo traveling all around. Being alone, I can go wherever I want whenever I want, but I might be hesitant to do things for lack of a buddy or for lack of someone to split costs with. Also, maybe I should travel with someone who is a better planner than me. Ha ha. Still, it felt good to go it alone, and felt like a reconnaissance mission to figure out which places to return to, and which places to maybe not return. 

Needless to say, I got home, had a nice hot shower and crashed in my comfy bed. The end.