living

Spouting Off For All to See

At the traffic circle in the road, an arrow pointed in one direction guiding curiosity-seekers to Spouting Horn. The scenic byway south of Poipu hugged the coastline for a short distance, passing impressive condo developments, sandy beaches, botanical gardens, and a golf course. Near the end of the road, Nature takes center stage, fueled by Hawaiian legend. Before the car door is slammed, the sound of crashing waves and heavy surf are heard. People are congregating along a chain link fence with digital cameras, cell phones, and selfie-sticks in hand. Beyond their shoulders is a water plume that could be nicknamed “Old Faithful #2” by the oohs and aahs ringing upward on the mist. If one snapshot isn’t enough, wait a minute for the next big swell. Take another photo; they’re free. When ocean salt water crashes into impenetrable lava rock, the natural blowhole produces a roaring sound with a hissing geyser that has been known to shoot 100 feet into the air. Awestruck like the others, snapshot after snapshot was taken. Down below, a tour boat could be seen drifting in on the tide for an up-close-and-personal experience worth writing home about. It seemed conditions were perfect for spouting off for all to see. The legend continues:
“Ancient Hawaiians believed this coastline was once guarded by a giant moo (lizard) named Kaikapu. Everyone was afraid of the moo because it would eat anyone who tried to fish or swim in the area. One day, a young boy named Liko entered the ocean to outwit the lizard. Kaikapu attacked him, but Liko thrust a sharp stick into her mouth, swam under the lava shelf, and escaped through a small hole to the surface. The moo followed Liko and got stuck in the lava tube. To this day, you can hear the lizard’s roar and see her breath spraying from the blowhole.” *

*Reference m.gohawaii.com 

Dustin Hoffman Was Here

“We closed at 5:00,” said the slender guy operating the outrigger canoe hut on the secluded bank of the Wailua River. He and his two buddies were already swigging back a couple of cold brews in the vacant dirt parking lot. “Do you mind if we look around?”, Gerald asked. “Sure, as long as it’s right in this area”, he responded as he swirled his arm in a circular motion. I walked up to the thatch-roofed hut to snap a shot of the resident cat stretched out on the steps. About that time, a frisky rooster crowed and began chasing a hen in hot pursuit before giving up and heading for an easier target. The off-duty guide came over and began to explain about these ancient cultural grounds known as Kamokila Hawaiian Village. “The natural habitat reflected island lifestyles from centuries ago.” He coaxed us beyond the bamboo fence topped with several pairs of walking shoes, pointing out the primitive structures on the horizon. Two flamboyant peacocks strutted across the grassy area while we were told, “This is where the film, ‘Outbreak’ was shot. Dustin Hoffman starred in it.” “I remember that movie”, I said with enthusiasm. “A lot of movies have been made on Kauai.” He went on to say, “In my younger years, I was an extra in ‘Jurassic Park’. I played one of the soldiers who crouched during the scene where the actors were running from the dinosaurs.” “Younger years?” I marveled then teased, “You aren’t allowed to say that when you’re not over the age of 30”. He blushed and admitted he was 34 years old, but it seemed a lifetime ago when he was only 16 living up the mountain in the Wailua homestead. On impulse, he graciously took us over to the river where its indescribable beauty reflected like an artist’s rendering of a priceless masterpiece. Not wishing to intrude any longer, we expressed our thanks for the private tour, got back in the car, and headed out. Wanderlust is a key element in the quest for adventure. One never knows what opportunities lie in the next turn in the road. Or who you will meet and the stories they will share. Mahalo. 

The Welcome Wagon Whale Watchers

At first the white caps in the surf lure you into believing you see the curve of the massive sea creature flipping backward into the breach position before disappearing underwater. But it’s just a wave, you’re told by a native islander. “See that water spout on the horizon? That’s one. There’s another because they travel in pods this time of year. The species swim all the way from the icy waters of Alaska to mate, breed, and give birth in these warm cerulean waters. The males actually fight over a female until she chooses her mate. Then they become inseparable.” I learned to visually scan the open waters back and forth for signs of activity. I dared not glance away and miss something worth witnessing. The humpback whales did not disappoint. For an hour and a half, they frolicked near the surface as if performing for a group of tourists at Sea World. I saw an occasional breached back flip, storybook mermaid tail waves, and several fountain-like water spouts. It was as though the whales communicated in a sign language all their own. I learned a lot that day on the cliff. My new island friends, Lexi and Randall, appreciate the hypnotic lure and ancient history of this magical island called Kauai. Thanks to them and the stories they shared, I can appreciate it a little more as well. 

Dining Outside the Home: Joe’s on the Green in Kōloa, Kauai 

Dining Outside the Home: Joe’s on the Green in Kōloa, Kauai. Located at the Kiahuna Golf Club, this casual open-air restaurant offers upscale taste with a picturesque view overlooking the challenging 18-hole golf course and an extensive gourmet menu that can almost leave you undecided. Almost. The Crab Cake Eggs Benedict is a decadent choice since the crunchy bite of seafood compliments the buttery lemon hollandaise sauce. A splash of hot pepper sauce gives two soft-boiled eggs a jumpstart that feels like a celebration in your mouth. Slowly savor each luscious bite. Then smile and nod in approval as Joe passes your table to greet all the guests. 

Puff is Alive in Shangri-La

Across a single lane bridge, where posted signs kindly ask vehicles to limit seven at a time in one direction, is a mystical land where time stands still for peace and love to thrive. Some refer to it as a Shangri-La with lush green valleys, cascading waterfalls, and towering mountain peaks. Others recall a 1960’s tune about Puff the Magic Dragon living “by the sea in a land called Hanalei”. Islanders simply know it as the North Shore where some of the best waves make surfing a daily ritual. Main Street is quaint and laid back with organic eateries, specialty shops, and barefoot hippies everywhere. Rustic galleries feature hypnotic psychedelic art inspired by creative painters. Multi-faceted crystals, beaded pearls, and hand-crafted jewelry complement tie dyed sarongs and loose fitting fabrics that flow like mist with every step. And people are happy, in a carefree-sort-of-way. Who wouldn’t be content in a place where sandy beaches are sun-warmed, pebbly soft, and white as powder? Brief rain showers are followed by vibrant rainbows that light up the sky before dissolving into radiant sunbeams. Is it a magical place? Listen to the song lyrics, then plan a visit to Hanalei and decide for yourself. 

Mythical Mermaid in the Mist

Every girl’s dream, in my opinion, is to live the fairy tale life of Princess Ariel, The Little Mermaid. And I found proof on the beach one morning as I walked along the shoreline. Three young girls, around the age of eleven, were dipping their painted toes into the salty sea waves. One girl had long blonde hair the color of corn silk and wore a yellow bikini. Another had wavy auburn hair, the rosy shade of the sky moments before sunset. Her two-piece halter was the shade of violet flowers. The third girl could have been mistaken for an islander with dark waist-length hair. One strand was tucked neatly behind her ear, held in place by a white plumeria blossom. She giggled as she handed the redhead what appeared to be a sleek and luxurious green finned mermaid tail. When the Ariel-like preteen wiggled her tiny hips into the waterproof snug-fitting sheath, I heard an exclamation, “Careful, don’t tear it”, as two pairs of hands automatically offered balance. While hobbling on one foot in the monofin, with a final tug she pulled it over her hips and snapped the elastic waist into place. Admittedly, the image was a striking transformation. She had the realistic appearance of a live mermaid. Unable to take a step, a voice above the surf commanded, “Just lay down and roll into the surf!” With the grace of a princess, she plunged into the sea and began to propel through the water like a mythical creature. It must have taken a bit of practice to become surprisingly buoyant with natural swimming movements. Or perhaps she was a mermaid in everyday life. 

Maybe Alice Had the Right Idea 

Like Alice down the rabbit hole, the car slid south on a narrow road to a destination unknown. It became enveloped by a tunnel of ancient eucalyptus trees with heavily gnarled trunks and towering limbs that appeared to darken the cloudless sky. Beyond the tunnel…long thick grasses, fragrant blooming shrubs, and massive monkeypod trees finally revealed Old Koloa Town when the rough winding road finally came to a “T”. Before us lay a vibrant past of plantation life now transformed into enchanting art galleries, unique gift shops, and charming eateries specializing in cultural foods. Maybe Alice had the right idea after all. 

The Little Rascals 

“Boys will be boys” is often quoted to give kids a green light to be loud and rude in public. There comes a time, though, when immature actions are simply unacceptable. For instance, disrespectful behavior, intentional bullying, and obscene language are visible signs of bad manners, especially in the presence of someone old enough to be a grandmother. This afternoon, at the resort, there were three boys I would guess between the ages of 8 and 12. They were congregating around the public showers made available for rinsing the sand off your feet at the edge of the beach. I could see they were on task at first, so I waited patiently for my turn at one of the four nozzles. Soon it became apparent they had no intention of leaving and had gone from rinsing the sand off their feet to playing in the water streams. I inched my way around to one side and asked if they would mind me using the water for a moment. The oldest boy began to spit at the other two boys, which resulted in some horseplay that involved boogie boards. Still, I rinsed my feet. At that point, this same kid dropped the “F” bomb, proving to himself he was one tough cookie. The smallest boy immediately responded by saying, “Watch your mouth.” As you can imagine, it only inflamed the culprit into toughening up with more shoving, spitting, and swearing. As I finished my task, I looked at the young brown-eyed boy, smiled and said, “Thank you.” His face broke into a smile. How refreshing it was to see such respect and manners coming from the boy who clearly should have seen the older boys as role models. 

Lighthouse Treasure Trove

The night the moon was full from dusk to dawn, the ocean seemed black as coal and restless as a cat. Across the bay an amber-tinted beacon of light on Ninini Point flashed methodically, enough to mark the coast for the landing strip at the edge of the cliff. On the ground two or three sets of faint headlights indicated a road must lead to the old lighthouse. The next afternoon we were on a quest to find out. Like a treasure hunt, signs promised shore access to Ninini Point. However, at the end of a paved road the trail became difficult to navigate. Pick-up trucks and SUVs climb over the rough terrain with ease. Not so much the rented Mustang convertible. Clay ruts and lava boulders made the ride bumpy at best. Around each impassable turn I wondered what lurked beyond the thick wall of yucca spikes and swaying grasses that smacked against the car door. At the end of the road, we finally arrived in one piece. Finally. With the lighthouse towering above us, an unexpected eerie feeling crept in. At the foot of a low gnarled tree was a collection of memorial paraphernalia including beverage bottles, dried flowers, good-luck charms, and religious statues. Messages scrawled on a broken surfboard, suspended across a tree branch, indicated heartache and loss of love. Such a tragic sight to behold. I wondered what other disappointments this old lighthouse had witnessed. Life could not have been easier to face in 1897. An isolated existence of lighting the lamp daily and maintaining the structure against nature’s ferocity had to prove challenging. In time, the government would intercede and rebuild the current seventy-two foot concrete tower, dated 1932. Like others, Nawiliwili Lighthouse became automated. A cliffside view of the cobalt waters and crashing waves afforded us the perfect spot for whale watching, six-man canoe races, swirling water spouts, and landing planes. A treasure trove, indeed.