I talked some about our choice for a nearby beach yesterday, but the beach we really wanted to check out was way further down the coast, “Two Step” next to Pu'uhonua O Hōnaunau National Historical Park, on Hōnaunau Bay, about 50 miles down the coast in South Kona. It seemed from researching it that this would really fill the bill for an intermediate snorkeling expedition, be not too crowded, and have good places to sit and rest in the shade. And it was right next door to a National Park that we really wanted to visit.
Another morning of (inadvertently frozen) yogurt on the balcony, watching amusing birds, and drinking coffee that Sarah whipped up in the bathroom. By now we were hitting our vacation stride, as much as we ever did on that vacation, and we had the snorkeling gear, sunscreen, hiking shoes and sandals, beach towels, lunch, bug repellent, maps, rope, lots of water bottles, and whatever it took stowed away in our packs or on our bodies with a good degree of efficiency. As with other days, we then walked out the door and into the interior plaza of the Ocean Tower and were instantly knocked over by the heat and humidity.
Many people were waiting for the tram, as they were every morning. Where were they going? Possibly down to Big Island Breakfast to drop $40 per person. Did they not know that the tram would get them there in 20 minutes and they could walk in 5? And they could see the morning’s array of poops on the way!
Oh well, we reached the gilded fish at the end of the Museum Walkway and filled up our assortment of water bottles once more. We had picked up two liter bottles of water in the supermarket on our first day and they were very good to keep in the car so we could refill our other bottles after we drank them dry.
Out the front lobby into the blazing heat, down the walkway, jumped in Hector, and then blasted our way out onto Waikoloa Drive, only slightly slowed by the balky gate. I’d been researching the best route to Hōnaunau Bay that morning and suddenly realized that Google Maps was telling me a secret way to get out of the damn Resort area, Maintenance Road. We took a left out of the parking lot, took a right at the first stop sign, and we were out of there faster than two shakes of a goat’s tail, and on the Queen K highway headed South (again). This was even better than Michigan Hill Road!
It was another brilliant blue day on the Kohala coast, driving past morning traffic with Maui’s Haleakalā lurking behind us, its bottom and top lost in clouds. The Pacific Ocean gaped to our right, looking strangely like an endless field of clouds out your plane window at 30,000 feet, but blue and spotted with fishing boats to belie the illusion.
We’re nuts about National Parks, as you know, and we were really looking forward to enjoying a cultural, natural, and recreational experience. But one thing was missing: we badly needed another cup of coffee, especially as we navigated the stop and go traffic through the many lights of Kailua-Kona, the biggest city on the Big Island. Note that even though we were on the most traveled highway on the Island, this was not a multi-lane Interstate. It was kind of like route 1 in Ellsworth Maine. We broke free finally and started going uphill (again!), as the city dropped behind us and the beautiful Kona coast really started. And what is the Kona coast known for? Coffee!
Just as all these thoughts had coalesced in our heads (and right after a stoplight where we saw Billy Kreutzmann waiting on a bike), we saw a sign on the right for Kona Joe Coffee and we turned in, and were very glad we did. We dropped down a steep driveway into their lot, got out, and adjusted our pace to the heat and the altitude.
A little digression here. It had taken us more time than we would have liked to adjust to the Hawaiʻi time zone (6 hours different from Eastern Time). And more than that, to adjust to the climate and the rapidity of elevation changes. A few days into the vacation and we were still waking up early and having to force ourselves back to sleep, and then being whacked by the heat and humidity when we went outside. But this was well worth it, and by that Tuesday I’d say we were pretty well acclimated at last. When we got out of the car at Kona Joe that morning we all slowed right down to fit the setting, and it was an incredibly lovely setting.
Kona Joe is perched on a hillside in the middle of the Kona coast and has a tasting bar/gift shop, a café, and some pretty gardens and a small lawn. Beneath it on the steep hillside are their trellises of coffee plants (with a couple of example ones bordering the parking lot). We’d never seen an actual coffee plantation and in some ways would have liked to have stayed for a tour, but we had other things to do that day. Even so, it was a great stop. They welcomed us in and urged us to try samples at the tasting bar, then let us browse around their shop with no hassle and no pressure. Dave and I had a few samples (excellent coffee, though perhaps not as acidic as I like), and then went out to the lawn and just gawked at the incredible view from their perch on the hillside down to the shore and over the wide Pacific. You could see Fiji out there, almost.
Sarah did some serious shopping and picked up three bags of Kona coffee, one dark and two regular blends. Thanks Joe, but gotta go! We jumped back in the car, rejuvenated, and continued up the hill and then down the coast.
About 10 miles later we got off the Hawaiʻi Belt Road (route 19 had turned into route 11 in Kailua-Kona) in Kēōkea and took route 160 down some severe switchbacks toward the shore. Finally made it to the entrance of the National Historical Park and I had forgotten my Lifetime Senior Pass! I swear I put it in my wallet, but it wasn’t there (it was back in the hotel, right where I left it … I mean, I am a “senior” after all). Most NHPs don’t charge admission, but this one did because otherwise they would have been overwhelmed by people parking in their lot just for the beach next door, and also because they had some great interpretive facilities and a lot of artifacts to preserve. As I told the gate Ranger after she gave me a break to look for the pass, and then I went back to her with the cash, I support National Parks and was glad to pay my admission fee.
Oh boy, we were there! There was some back and forth to the car as we realized the exhibits were all outside, even the gift shop (the VC was just a shelter for Rangers). But we got the footwear, glasses, and gear we needed, put on more sunscreen, and then set off on their self-guided tour. Of course we soon realized we were doing it backwards, but that was fine. It actually had more meaning that way, and this meant we could avoid some crowds. Not that there were that many. The lot was only a quarter full and many of the people there were apparently just paying to park and then going to the cove.
I can’t emphasize enough how appealing this place was to all the senses. It was an alarmingly hot day in some ways, but the Northeast trade wind coming down the mountain and out to sea, while strong, was gentle and mitigated the heat. And also when you were in the shade and the edgy sun was not in your face, it was so temperate it was amazing. And the light and colors were astounding. There were yellow fish schooling in the blue sea between white breakers, which gushed over the black rock. The temple was enclosed by an amazingly wide wall built from the lava, a thick black line running inland. And the greens of the trees, the browns of the bark and the thatched roofs, and the multiple colors of the flowers were set against the brilliant white sand of the complex. The sounds of the wind and the waves were only slightly interrupted by people’s chatter, and it smelled fresh, though salty in the wind, and spicy in the huts. I’m sure it tasted good too!
Pu'uhonua O Hōnaunau was a “place of refuge” in the Hawaiʻian religion. Until Hawaiʻi was introduced to Western ways by Captain Cook, and then this transformation was accelerated by the whaling trade, etc. in the 19th century, people were bound by a strict protocol called kapu. If a person broke these sacred laws, he or she was subject to strict punishments, including death. If you escaped the people trying to enforce these punishments and made it to the place of refuge though, you’d be welcomed by the priests there, made to say a few Hail Marys (or something), and after a few days you could re-join society as if nothing had happened. I have to say, this made as much sense as most religions do.
The compound we were touring, bordered by that incredibly thick wall of piled up lava stones, housed many holy men and kings, aliʻi. We toured their fishponds, the rocks they liked to hang out on, thatched royal/sacred mausoleums, and some great carvings called kiʻi, representations of their gods.
Again, this was a beautiful natural experience. The sky was blue, the fishes in the lagoons were yellow, the Pacific was lapping at the edges and spewing up over the black lava to thrill our hearts. The sun was merciless, but we were armored with sunscreen and hats and dark glasses.
And it was an inspiring cultural experience too; though this was very alien to us, we could feel the spirituality of the place, and understand to a small degree what this meant to people. Though the kapu laws seemed harsh, I’m sure they derived from enforcing a closeness of community, a conventionality that bettered the odds of survival. I wonder how often it happened that people broke the laws and went through this ritual of contrition? Maybe this kernel of forgiveness at the heart of a strict culture was a safe outlet that was rarely actually used, but made people feel better to know was possible.
I was intrigued by the kiʻi, the relatively raw carvings that somehow seemed grand. We had seen a carver working on one in one of the tents we stopped at and (to jump ahead) when I asked at the VC later about what they represented I was advised to ask him. He was a very nice guy and a knowledgeable NPS interpreter. I wondered if the kiʻi represented specific gods, and if these gods were associated with specific natural forces, as (e.g.) Poseidon is with the sea or Thor is with thunder. He went on for a long time in his response, checking that we were following him and ready to stop and let us move on if we weren’t (like a good interpreter should).
He told us that the Hawaiʻian gods were definitely associated with natural forces, but in a non-specific way. Each of the 4 major gods (Kū, Kāne, Lono, Kanaloa) had many embodiments, such as the embodiment of Kū that was the lightning over the water after a storm. But this was not exclusive; other gods could be embodied by the lightning after a storm as well. It was the same thing with kiʻi carvings, they could represent (e.g.) Kanaloa if the temple was dedicated to that god. But the Hawaiʻian priests had a way of changing dedications regularly. So what had been a temple to Kāne one year, might be rededicated as a temple to Kū the next. And in this case, the kiʻi that represented one god would change to represent another. It wasn’t that the images were made to imitate the gods, it was that they were vessels for the gods to fill.
Please excuse me if I recount this inaccurately. There’s lots available on the web about the Hawaiʻian religion. But we were all uplifted by this story of a different kind of religious imagery, though it came from the same place in the human soul.
We also got an answer to Sarah’s question of how they carved pictures in rock. Up near the top of Mauna Kea is a basalt mine, where bursting lava forced its way through the snowcaps of early ice ages and was tempered by the thick ice into a very hard rock. This was used as chisels by Hawaiʻians. These chisels have been found throughout Polynesia, upsetting theories of trading routes not being established until relatively recently.
We also saw several rocks marked for Kōnane, an ancient Polynesian game that’s a lot like checkers. Looks like fun. We also saw several tree trunks (here and elsewhere) carved into cubes, that were maybe meant as Kōnane game boards?? Never got a good explanation of this.
OK, it was time for lunch, and it was really hot out of the shade. This NHP actually has a beach (though you can’t swim from it) and some hiking trails. We made our way down the main trail towards the beach, where they had another small Ranger shelter/VC and some picnic tables in the shade. We had a marvelous lunch there (PB&G (guava) and lots of water may not be considered marvelous often but sure tasted good there) under a pretty tree with some teeny birds.
And then we had a fun time walking out on the black pāhoehoe to check out the tidal pools formed by the incoming sea. Again, when those waves that had been storing energy since the Straits of Malacca finally crashed onto the shore, they sometimes overflowed tidal pools (some way above sea level), kept on running and running up over the rocks, and filled other crevices and rivulets way, way towards the beach, before draining slowly back out to sea until the next wave came in. This was another thing we could have watched all day. It seemed like we spent a half hour just hopping over the rocks and watching the waves, though it may have been more or less than that. We were on vacation.
What next? At the far end of the beach the trail started up again, and led us back inland past some plots that the ancient Hawaiʻians used to farm, ultimately joining up with the Ala Kahakai National Historic Trail, a.k.a. the 1871 trail, used by settlers in the region. Though close to the coast, we were back in rain forest, though precipitation here was usually low. We were following a straight trail of lava boulders for a few miles back to the VC, with old agricultural plots, burial grounds, and tortured landscapes to our left and right, under a bright, hot sun. We saw no one else on this trail, we were all alone on the Hawaiʻian coast.
But we soon realized that there were plenty of goats, and they thought this was their space. We’d seen wild goats on the golf courses, on the highways, up on the mountain pastures, in the parking lots, and pretty much everywhere. They were perhaps the most common animal we saw in Hawaiʻi, especially when you count biomass (lots of mynas, but they were small). By my estimate, these goats got up to 120 pounds or so. That is, they weren’t huge, but some of the alpha males in particular were big enough to put a hurt on you if they wanted to, especially since they all had pretty big horns.
So there were the three of us, a long way from anywhere else, picking our way among lava boulders and trees on what was supposed to be a trail, somewhere in Hawaiʻi, on vacation. And then we came upon a group of goats blocking the path. They moved away slowly when they saw us coming and we kept on going, perhaps a little slower and more cautiously now. And then there was another group of goats, who grumbled but moved away slowly, and then another. And then there was a dell by the side of the path where a couple of alpha males were knocking horns (this encounter was over pretty quickly, another goat refereed and called it a TKO). We left the trail and picked our way around this scene, trying to look unobtrusive and whistle nonchalantly.
Then we rejoined the trail, went a bit further, and then there it was, our goat Armageddon. Again, these weren’t grizzly bears. But 50 feet away was a scenario that didn’t look good for us. There were three or four alpha males standing guard (*big* ball sacks) and in dells on either side of the path were groups of moms with their kids. And they weren’t about to move, in fact most of the moms and kids had no idea we were there, some were probably asleep. And there was no way to get around them without leaving the trail entirely and going deep into the woods, where more goats waited. The males flashed their horns at us and tried to stare us down.
Geez, what were we going to do?? We all turned around to assess our escape route and saw that the goats we had already passed (including lots of males) had cut off our path back. We were stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. What did they want from us?!?!?!?!
OK, time to calm down and think about who actually owned the Anthropocene. A few goats, hah! But being proper tree-huggers we had to calculate the best way to give them their space. We were the least important creatures here, we were the intruders, but they needed to give us a way out. Luckily, Bob Weir came to our rescue.
We’d retreated a bit and so that saved the males some face. They had made us stop, and they were waiting for our next move. Sarah called it, go out singing! We bunched together and suddenly started up again down the main part of the trail, singing a cacophonous round of Weir’s One More Saturday Night. This made them move.
The funny thing was that what changed their inertia was the young kids poking up their heads and saying, what is that Catholic Radio Beat (famous Clash mondegreen)? As soon as they did that the moms had to get up, and then the males could usher them off the path without getting their ball sacks all in a bunch. We were very glad to get past this encounter, and soon after that the trail headed slightly downhill and we were back in the place of refuge! What a relief.
Well, that had been a full day already, but we still had possibly the best part to go. We hit the bathrooms, had some confusion about wearing bathing suits and sandals or what, and then finally got our act together and walked on over to Two Step, the beach in Hōnaunau Bay. Again, even though it was a Tuesday in the shoulder season, there seemed to us to be a lot of people there … I’d hate to see it in high season.
We found a good base camp under a large tent, where Sarah could take some pix but be out of the sun. Some real Hawaiʻians were there too, enjoying the day. Out on the shore, it was mostly black lava. The tide seemed to be in and the rocks were covered with people, some relaxing but most staging their own snorkeling expeditions. Dave and I were newbies, but bravely took our stuff and waded into the water next to the boat ramp.
We had seen a good number of yellow fish, as mentioned, schooling in the coves a bit down the shore. We put on our masks and flippers and barely had to swim out at all before those yellow fish surrounded us. It was not a calm day on the water, though not furious, and the swells were coming in and out with a lot of strength. We maneuvered into position and followed some swells out, past the rows of low rock blocking entrance to the deeper water out in the bay. We never got a long way from shore, but at one point I realized we were out farther than most, and we agreed to head back. As they say, if you get caught in a rip tide there you might end up in Antarctica.
Where we were it was really beginning to get deep, but varied considerably with the huge boulders and reefs of coral. Probably the deepest was 20 feet or so, but suddenly you were trying to crest a ridge that was only 4 feet deep; you had to keep your wits about you. We hung out on the surface and then dived down and it was absolutely magical. The lava rock was coated with many types of coral, and infiltrated with thousands of sea urchins, each nestled in a little pocket in the lava. The rock was arrayed in rows and corrals, with deep caverns between them that we could dive into. And these sheltered not only the yellow fish, but beautiful tropical fish of all colors of the rainbow and expressions of face. Some were tiny, and some were pretty big. I saw one fish suddenly eat another, snapping him up like this was routine.
In Mexico we had snorkeled with pelagic fish taking a break in a river-mouth, and also snorkeled within a lagoon defined by the reef outside our Resort. This was a much different experience. There are no real river-mouths on the Big Island and any beach is really not that far from the wide ocean. This was a much more raw experience; the wind was whipping up chop in the bay and the swells suddenly shifted everything, even under water. It was incredibly fun but required constant awareness of where you were, what direction you were headed in, and what you were doing, or trying to do!
This was a very intense experience. I had had corrective lenses jammed into my face mask but soon realized this was not working well and put them in the pocket of my bathing suit. Even that close to shore in a bay on the coast, the water was incredibly clear and shot through with the sun. It was bright even under water. A young guy later told us that he had seen dolphins in the bay and, as young as he was, he was obviously affected by that. We were pretty affected ourselves, though we were getting exhausted quickly. What a privilege it was to see life in this unbridled way. In some ways we could have stayed there for a long time, forging farther and farther out to sea. But in other ways we realized we were reaching our limits and should not press them.
In fact, coming back into shore, I got raked over rocks a bit by a swell and sustained some abrasions. But Dave and I swam as buddies and made it back to the boat ramp, where it was embarrassingly calm and sheltered. I’d love to go back there again, knowing a bit more about where the rocks are and where the magical canyons are. But we were aliens there and were blessed to see what we did, and to survive. Of all the places we saw in Hawaiʻi, this is most what I would like to do again with a little more knowledge, and maybe become one of those fish, hunting in the canyons. Or maybe swim with dolphins in the wild.
Ack! We were toast already. I would have loved to dive back into the Pacific Ocean, but that was probably it for this trip. We rejoined Sarah and learned that the Bruins were up 1-0 after one period, and here I was just enjoying myself instead of fretting. Dave and I hopped around on the rocks some and came to the conclusion that we might have been better off snorkeling there, or there. But this was data for another time, it might have spoiled the special experience we’d already had to try to bring it to another level.
I think Sarah was a little shocked when we told her we were ready to go, but again, Dave and I realized that we had a long road back and the afternoon was already reaching an end. We got all our gear together (some of it was very salty), waved goodbye to the chickens perched nearby, and made it back to our car in its parking space at the NHP. We took full advantage of the facilities, changing into shorts in the bathrooms and trying to dry off. Of course, the incredibly hot sun helped, we were caked with dried salt before we could do anything about it.
So finally we took off and went the wrong way! Well actually we didn’t, there is no right way or wrong way into or out of Hōnaunau Bay, just a bunch of choices. We took a different choice than we had coming in and at first it looked pretty ominous. Route 160 became a very narrow road with alarmingly big ditches. And we passed a couple of very dead and decomposing cars, upended in those ditches. One looked like it had been there since the 40s but was probably much more recent. We finally reached a contorted junction in the middle of the rain forest and turned right and soon were rocketing up into the sky once again, leaving the Kona coast behind.
We had the chance to get back on route 11 after we’d climbed the hill for a few miles, but instead took Bypass Road [sic], which led us back way downhill again into valleys of rich Resorts, hugging the beautiful Kona coast and blocking it off from locals. It was time for dinner, and Sarah was consulting the guidebook and working the web. And again, she came up with a gem: Jackie Rey’s Ohana Grill.
We pulled into Jackie Rey’s parking lot in the outskirts of Kailua-Kona sometime around, oh I don’t know … we were on vacation! It was still Happy Hour (so it must have been just before 5, Happy Hour seems to be 3-5 in those parts). They were delighted to host us and showed us to a great table next to a shutter open to the evening breeze, watching the fading light over their parking lot. And we had a seafood dinner that might even have topped what we had at the Seaside the other night.
We were hungry and thirsty and ready to eat, and I think that made them like us even more. We got beer and drinks, then amazing appetizers (still Happy Hour), and then a main course. Sarah and I again got variations on the catch of the day, which was ahi, prepared in a couple of different ways. Dave got the Ahi Poke Tower. Ah, this was just perfect. It was even more perfect when we were alerted that the Bruins had won 2-1 to take control of the series with Carolina!
Jeez, we didn’t want to leave Jackie Rey’s (though the citranella candle hadn’t dissuaded the flies coming in through the open window). But we knew we had to get back on the road at some point, just like the idiots from Washington State who finally managed to pull out of their parking space and gave Dave the finger. I mean, how did they get there from Washington State in the first place??
Anyway, back on the road and we snuck around Kailua-Kona and finally emerged right by our old stomping grounds, the Old Kona Airport. There was an incredible contest of the cloud gods going on over Hualālai, but we ducked on by. We motored up the coast and suddenly there it was on our right, a silver and gold city floating on the clouds way above us and off to the East. It was the telescopes on the 14,000-foot summit of Mauna Kea reflecting the setting sun, underlined by a swath of gray clouds that obscured most of the mountain.
Our Elantra steed knew the dusty trail home from there and we were soon back in the Hilton Waikoloa. Oh jeez, the Museum Walkway *again*? I can see how decent people are tempted to lay random poops there.
Back to the room, and we had a little, little energy left. This was just enough for a vicious round or two of rummy, in which Dave massacred his parents. Oh well, we were distracted. Soon to bed!
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