DENNIS WOOD

Picnic lunch on the beach near Lahaina

Molokai from Maui

Maui, Day 5

“The Road to Hana,” or “The most beautiful drive in Hawaii” or “The road to hell, and ‘maybe’ back...” Whatever you want to call it, it’s nearly legendary. This is 50 miles of road, including 657 hairpin turns, nearly 50 one lane bridges, and enough blind alley turns, and single lane stretches to raise your hair, plus a requisite number of heavy duty trucks, road machines, recalcitrant locals, and a few tourists who shouldn’t even be driving a car (and a few other pedestrian tourists who consider standing in the middle of the road to take pictures a privilege which motorists must yield to). It climbs like crazy over ridges of Mt Haleakala, then drops like a rock right back to nearly sea level.

We start off in the rain. As our narrator on the travel CD tells us, “if it’s not raining as you listen to this, it will be soon...” (At over 200" of rain per year in Hana, and much much more up higher, there’s rain coming down somewhere most all the time!) This creates a tropical rainforest, gossamer waterfalls, and mud. Flowers are everywhere, as is nearly every kind of fruit you can imagine, most of it growing wild. The bark of “rainbow eucalyptus” is a multi-color enchantment, and the leaves of huge philodendrons scale up over-large trees. Orchids bloom along the roadside, and whenever you get close enough, you hear the surf. This is the north and northeast side of the island, the “windward” side, the “wet side,” —that 10,000 foot mountain combs all the moisture out of the humid trade winds, and it comes pouring down the shoulders of the mighty one, “the place of the sun,” as the local word means. Some of the vistas are enormous: the road snakes up the sides of cliffs at an almost unprecedented grade, and at the top, you see more than 180-degrees of ocean.

Hana itself is a smallish town—once more historic and larger, but still revered by Hawaiians. We drive past to a huge waterfall, and just beyond where the road is closed because of a rock fall years ago; perhaps never to be re-opened. In any case, this area is REMOTE! The road just gets narrower and narrower. There are a few houses scattered along the road: it’s hard to imagine just how anybody manages to live so far away from anything: any possible work, shopping, food, etc. We come back and eat at a lovely park in Hana Bay, then travel back to Ke’nai, one of the two last truly Hawaiian villages on Maui, where Taro is still grown. Visitors are strongly encouraged to respect the privacy of these Hawaiians. We see Taro paddies glistening in the sun, but really can’t get much closer to the small houses or farms. However, we encounter a lava-strewn bay where the waves are crashing. The colors are pretty dramatic: black sand, black lava, emerald green and chartreuse plants, far off red cliffs, and everywhere else the most intense turquoise sea, in this case breaking wildly over the black lava, sending plumes of white surf into the air.

But the day is extremely tiring. Carveth and I trade off driving, but it’s daunting. 4 hours each way, and if you stop anywhere, even longer. We do stop for fresh banana bread—excellent; plus some hand made palm leaf bowls which local crafstmen turn out readily. They are quite beautiful, really. Supposed to be durable.

Maui, Day 4

Three of us take a free snorkeling lesson in the condo pool. (I didn’t—too many memories of difficult times to want to do it again). Afterwards we head off for Lahaina again. We stop at a roadside park for lunch, this one directly on the ocean. Dark blue ocean, distant Lanai, gentle waves, palm trees, canopy trees of oak or ??, red soil—it’s right off the postcard. The cars whizzing by add nothing to the ambience, but oh well.

Lahaina holds two destinations for us today. One is the trial or “demo” of the Segway which the operator promised us yesterday. “Two for one,” preceded by a regular “promo” lecture of how great the new electric car company was that this particular fellow had started up. (Most of it frankly unbelievable). He stood on a Segway while he pontificated: coming forward, going back, moving side to side. I was much more impressed by the machine than by him. Finally he quit talking and we were able to try out the much fabled machine. A real blast. It’s hard to ride it without feeling a big grin coming onto your face. Minus a small collision at the end, I thought I did pretty well.... If they didn’t cost so blasted much, it would definitely be great to own one.

Then off to the harbor to find “America II” (the winner-but-one of the America’s Cup in 1989). It’s a 60 foot speed yacht, extensively modified to carry tourists—that’s us—but still a pretty racy boat. Alas, it’s the quietest day (wind wise) of any since we’ve been here, and we have to motor out at least 40 minutes before we hit the “wind channel.” So, boring, boring, boring. Nothing quite like being on a sailing ship with the diesel providing all forward motion. But then we get to the wind, and the seas open up, and it’s pretty sublime. Waves crashing all around, big ones sending spray over the bow, tilted at a wild 45-degree angle. While I wouldn’t want to cross the Pacific on one, I could definitely ride a few more hours. Soon enough we have to turn around, though, and then it’s boring, boring, boring again. Worth it, though for the experience of sailing in the deep blue sea. (Plenty of lake sailing exposure, but it’s very different).

Maui: the road to Hana in three views

Maui, day 3

Day three:

Our “Lahaina” day. This is an historic old town strung along the most western part of the island, facing the other islands of Lanai and Molokai. Both of these latter islands are much smaller , and very lightly settled. A single volcano rises up in the middle of each, and looking across at them, we see no visible sign of human occupation—though it does exist. I’d like to travel across to Molokai, but a ferry ride is 2 hours, $89 each person each way, and word is, “very rough” on the return trip.

We drive up around the bend and over onto the northern edge of the smaller volcano. The trip takes us past unbelievably posh resorts, hotels, and golf courses, scattered with some multi-million dollar beach homes which overlook a stretch of ocean of the deepest blue imaginable, and then another island jutting upward into clouds. It’s pretty heady stuff. Also pretty unimaginable what it must take to own one of these homes set into such lavish landscaping that it beggars your belief.

Pretty soon the road tapers, narrows, and becomes crowded for two lanes. A lot of switchbacks, and some VERY steep sections lead you into wetter and wetter conditions. One can see what tropical forest looks like. We exit out onto high cliffs, covered with spring-green grass, wildflowers, lava fields, rock cairns (and even a maze), the combination of which is unusual. It feels almost like a visit to Easter Island, but strangely, the feeling is of “spring in the midwest.” Both Carveth (our traveling companion) and myself immediately commented: “It feels like, and smells just like, spring back in the midwest.” A very powerful, almost nostalgic feeling. Of course, nothing back there really looks much like those thousands of miles of blue ocean. We’re looking for the apocryphal “blow hole,” which is not marked, and which hundreds if not thousands of tourists drive a long ways to see, but miss. Well, we did, too. But we were treated to a section of island that feels completely different than what we’d seen so far.

On the way back, we stick to the coast: it leads us through small towns, all “marred” if you will, by the presence of high rise luxury and effete golf courses. In one place, we stop to view the “largest Buddha outside of Japan,”----this is a joke, since it’s smaller by far than the sitting Buddha up on our hillside near Aguanga. But the small Buddhist retreat is pleasant. Right nearby is a Japanese cemetery. The stones are higgly-piggly scattered around barren sand. Reminds you, I suppose, what this whole area would look like before landscaping. Different, but not nearly as nice.

Lahaina is obviously the epicenter of one sort of Maui lifestyle: the tourist shopper. It’s an old place with narrow streets, impossible parking, and throngs of folks strolling up and down the sidewalks. A cruise ship is offshore, it’s hordes being ferried back and forth in small craft. Sailboats are everywhere, but strangely, despite the stiff offshore wind, not one is to be seen with sails up. They do motor around. We eat lunch in a fish-house, this one open air, balcony style, right over the water, and with a stiff wind blowing through, which mostly tames the wild humidity. We order Oh-no, and Poa—both local fish, both excellent. Coconut shrimp accompany each order, the best I’ve ever tasted. Another “win” in the Maui food experience. We’ve found that food is almost unconscionably expensive, but also better than most food we get back home.

We have time to waste before our show at 6 p.m. Unfortunately, the gals decide that clothes shopping fills the bill. Yawn! After a bit we go to see the big banyan tree. “The largest Banyan tree in the U.S.” Well, I didn’t expect much, but it IS huge. It has 16 full-sized trunks stretching to the ground over an area almost the size of a city block. A whole park is nestled under it’s expansive arch. We’ve seen some big trees: this one is bigger than big.

Right across the street is a “toy store.” This one specializes in “toys” for rent, the kind of thing us guys would go for: exotic sports cars, Harley-Davidson motorcycles (to rent one of these beauties, you have to leave a deposit of a cool $1000, plus pay $99 for 3 hours). But also Segways! For $20 you can get a “demo” ride of 20 minutes. Both Carveth and myself step right up to the line. “Where else?” we ask ourselves. But the proprietor tells us we’ve arrived too late; we’re to come back tomorrow, and to compensate us for our delay, he’ll give us a “two for one” experience. The man in front of us has just returned his rental Harley. In moments, the owner of the shop discovers that the man has pocketed his key. He jumps onto his Segway and heads out after him—rolling down the sidewalk at a pretty nifty clip.

The show is “Ulalena,” meaning reddish yellow rain—the soft rain falling at sunset in Maui. It’s set in a theater reminiscent of what Cirque-du-Soleil has, and the who has some common features with that famous venue: excellent sound effects, dramatic lighting. It’s a cultural enactment of Hawaiian legend. The drummers drum, the dancers dance, the lights are mesmerizing, the overall effect very powerful. We’re sitting up high very near the balcony where the musicians play from. They are a young crew, and quite gifted. They smile at each other, and when they catch us watching them, they smile and nod at us as well. Their instruments are very sort of percussive drum, often played powerfully, as well as strange flutes, big and small ones, and some of them played through a nostril! Well, go figure!

After the show, we ask the nearest musician whether he ever grows tired of it. He says, “no, after 8 years, it just gets better and better!” They learn the music, and the more they know it, the more possible it is to just get into the performers and the whole experience, he says. The other percussionist is a veritable one man symphony—as much fun to watch as the actual show: racing, dancing, kneeling, stroking, banging, almost prayerfully drumming.

Though much of the symbolism is lost to us, we know a little bit of the legend from the Luau of last evening, and it is beautiful, as well as bitter-sweet: us Europeans have virtually destroyed it, just like very other culture we touched.

I have to note that Maui is uncommonly beautiful and so diverse as to beggar your imagination: we’ve seen winter, summer, and spring in the small course of two days, and been at sea level and mountain heights, dryness and tropical rainforest, beautiful flowers, dead sand, incredible red-black lava flows, turquoise and deep blue oceans. The greenest grass, reddest rock, and strangest flowers anywhere. But it’s also the big “tourist destination” par excellence—it could be a big amusement park, for all the planned activities they design for you. And they drain your money away from you with almost astonishing rapidity.

The Enchanted Floral Garden features more than 9000 species of tropical flowers plants, and we're not only amazed, but enchanted. Here the Dutchman's pipe has got the award for the strangest 6" flower anywhere. I don't know the orange ones name. The unique silvery plant below is the endangered "Silver Sword" which grows nowhere else than the frigid top of Mt Haleakala (Hah-lee-AH-ka-la). It grows slowly for 50 or more years, then shoots up a 6" dramatic flower stalk, then dies.

MAUI....day 2

sunrise, Haleakala volcano --->

Day 2:

Maui stretches from sea level to just above 10,000—atop Mt. Halakeala. We’ve heard sunrises are spectacular from up there, but it means getting up at 3:30, leaving the condo by 4:15 and driving some 50 miles to the top of a very cold place. Oh well. The ride is supposedly one of the steepest roads “anywhere,” (so says a placard)—whether true or not, it’s replete with switchbacks and goes on “forever,” while we labor to the top. We can see the sky lightening in the west. At the top, it’s out of the car, and the wind hits us full force. The temps might not be so bad otherwise, but the combination is frigid. But the view is all that was promised: you look down on the clouds, which are puffy cumulous things, eventually to be lighted from beneath by the fiery orb of the sun, at about 6:15. The changing lighting is spell-binding, never mind your face and fingers are stiff from the cold. The ocean is everywhere, “way down there,” and the valley between the volcanoes stretches with green cane fields. Lights from the small cities dot the landscape.

People clear out quickly once the deed is done—it’s just too cold. We’re told snow frequently falls up there. There is a group of observatory domes, mostly run by the Air Force to detect some 8,000 objects floated into space by us earthlings. There are also “silver sword” plants—unique to this mountain, and once an endangered species. Truly silver, they are enormously slow growing: after 50 or more years, they shoot up a flower sprout some 6 feet tall, then die. The caldera of the volcano is redundant with oranges, browns, and blacks, heightened by the sudden light of the sun. You can see “the big Island” from up there, as well as Molokai and Lanai, and some smaller islands dotted around.

After a few hours, we head back down. The new-fangled transmission on our semi-SUV just isn’t up to engine braking our descent, so it’s a bunch of braked corners. After we get almost all the way down, we find a private botanical garden featuring blossoming plants. It doesn’t impress us the first 25 feet or so into the gate, but after that, we’re all fairly amazed by the lushness and diversity of what we see. It’s dense, there are mosquitoes, and strange birds calling out. But all of this fades in light of flowers, flowers, flowers, some so unusual and amazing that we’ve never seen, nor can scarcely imagine them. Whole trees crested with splendid reds, oranges, yellows. Our cameras are never still—I don’t even bother to turn it off between shots. Between it and the sunrise, I’ve taken 244 pictures.

Finally, it’s back down to the condo for a quick reprieve and then a short trip dead south, to the tip of the road. It turns from a beautifully lush, landscaped, pristine real-estate section (with the most gorgeous golf courses and golf-course-homes you’ve ever imagined), to a single lane which must alternate between cars going both directions. Soon you’re in “lava” country where lava flowed down Haleakala some 200 years ago. It’s the “a’a” variety of lava: all foamy, rough and jagged. It would be impossible to traverse. The bay at the end is all high wind, waves, and aquamarine water with whitecaps. Kind of wild, really.

On the way back we stop at “Big Beach,” the longest undeveloped sandy beach in Maui. It has its fair share of cars parked, plus people lounging, playing in the surf, walking the sand, or having picnics. We under-estimate a wave almost from the beginning and are soaked. Nevermind: we’ll just take off our shoes and enjoy it. The water seems crystal clear, but there are no stones, few shells even, just brown sand, steeply canted into the surf.

Then we finished up a too-busy day with a classical “Luau” at the tropical plantation. It’s an obviously big production set up to serve hundreds. We’re in the “in between” season right now, and so tourism is at its lightest. Nevertheless, even right now, between 4000-5000 tourists fly in each day! (To an island with roughly 110,000 population). The plantation is a lush thing, set on the shoulder of the smaller volcano. A tram tour shows you all sorts of wondrous plants that can only grow in a tropical climate: avocados, mangoes, guavas, pineapple, macadamia nuts, ginger, blue ginger, and tangerines. Strangely, oranges, grapefruits, and lemons (which thrive in California) aren’t big numbers here. In between all the edibles are gorgeous flowers. The tram returns us to a grassy field; by now the sun is setting. The “Hawaiians” are demonstrating some of the games villagers used to play, and then we gather around to hear a narration and enactment of some of the original legends of the origin of the islands. Poetic at times, and even though very touristy, still rather moving, as the “Hawaiians” (really Polynesians way back “when”) had, at times, a very idyllic life, though in the latter centuries, inter-island warfare took its toll.

The dinner is pretty darned good. Much, much better than the luau we had in Kauai years ago. There are still a few strange things: purple sweet potatoes, and “poi” that snotty textured stuff made out of taro roots. Even that tasted better than we remembered (but anything would!) The pig cooked 6 hours underground was tasty with different spices, and there was a salad made our of “mountain ferns,” which was so unusual I had to have a bunch more. But, of course, we all ate way, way too much, and our stomachs groaned as we started the after-dinner show.

These young dancers are not only handsome (or pretty), but incredibly facile. If I could move any part of my body as rapidly as they did, undoubtedly I’d be a happier (and much younger) man! Lots of powerful drumming, good singing, and throughout it all, a sense that the performers were really enjoying themselves. They not only smiled at us, but at each other. The grand finale was a Samoan fire dancer, who led us out to the lawn where he performed his magic with fire-lit batons. Whew. The narrator, a smooth, deep-voiced Hawaiian, managed to give a strange sense of dignity and honor to the rich tradition. I have the feeling that this is a growing urgency amongst native Hawaiians—to preserve a culture that well deserves it.

Maui Day 1_2

"The Iao Needle"--->

Maui... day 1

If I thought the big time change would change my sleeping habits, the answer is “not much.” I’m still awake and playing solitaire in the middle of the night, but in this case, my sleeping hours stretch out over a full 12 hours. Just three hours shifted can really set your system amiss.

The condo puts on a concierge talk about the island in general, things to see and do, and of course, a full menu of “big activities” for which you can pay huge bucks. Of 20 or so mentioned, we find three or four “can’t miss” ones we have to do. The concierge has a “system” set up: she can reserve for about anything, tell you something about each, print vouchers for each, and sit with you at your table and explain the way to each venue, the cost, the “rules,” what to expect, even where to park. Way to go!

Then it’s off to IAO valley park. It’s a winding road going up to a notch valley in the side of Pu’u Kukui, the “second” volcano of Maui. It’s 5708 feet tall and receives more than 400" of rain per year! As soon as we turn off the road, you can tell we’re entering a different world—rainier, more precipitous, greener, rushing stream at the bottom; the IAO needle dominates the right hand view: a slender spire some 2500' high, it is surreal.

On the way down, we stop at the Bailey House museum—filled with pre-white-man Hawaiian artifacts. Quite a life they had, but not a peaceful one. As noted, the Polynesian settlers originally were quite content and peaceful, but as their prosperity grew, and their numbers increased, the leaders coveted the land, the money, food, and prestige of neighboring tribes and made war in order to increase their own holdings. The museum “ain’t that much,” but is pleasant enough, and it has huge—really huge “canopy” style—trees which turn out to be loaded with mangoes, some of which fall off and split open on the ground: what a great waste!

Then off to Kahului (KA-hu-luey), main town, and through it, down the coast a bit to see Paia, the “hippy” village of the island. Some surfers are gathered around, not doing much. On the way back, we pull into an organic health food store, offering a “hot deli” bar—all vegan stuff, and quite a variety; all of it quite excellent! Sun setting, beautiful clouds over Haleakala, and darker ones back the other way. A delightful breeze blowing off the ocean at our condo.

MAUI

Getting there AIN'T "half the fun...."

We get up before daybreak and drive to San Diego. It’s cold out, dark, but the traffic never ceases on the big freeways. The airplane is full. The trip is a long 5 hours. We exit the plane and it feels like we’ve walked into a wall of water! After living in the desert for months, this air is, well, pretty wet! Thank heavens, there’s a breeze. And the scent of flowers in most places. No doubt about being in the tropics, none at all.

We're here because our traveling companions, Luella and Carveth Kramer, have so kindly invited us to share in their timeshare in Kihei (KEE hay).

We get our car. This is an unpleasant experience, all around. The price we think we’re getting of course is nowhere near what it’s really going to cost. And if we wanted to insure ourselves, it’d cost 50% more again. What a giant rip off! The car is pretty good, though, a mini-SUV which comfortably holds us and mountains of luggage.

We drive to our condo. It’s 20+ minutes. Maui is two volcanoes, a smaller one west, much larger one east, and where the two shoulders have abutted, lies the central “neck” or valley. This is now towns, or farms, sugar cane fields, ranches. Very green, low-lying, and somewhat hot. Perhaps high 80's during the summer, only about 5 degrees cooler in the “winter.” We land in Kahalui (KA hah LOO eee) which is on the north shore of this neck, but our condo is on the southern shore. Just below our location is one of the two "prime" sites for multi-million dollar homes.

We can’t check in for hours, so set about for lunch. It’s “Big Daddy’s” barbecue. We expect food prices to be high; this one isn’t too bad, really, and the food is just great. I get a watercress salad with my pulled pork, cornbread, and mac-and-cheese, and it’s memorable. Some sort of Asian dressing really sets it apart.

Then it’s into the grocery for staples for our condo kitchen. Again, rather shocking after our usual experience at the big discount grocer back home.

When the wind stops blowing, it can get pretty steamy. With the offshore breeze, the "tropical" flavor comes through strong and fast. Nights don't cool off much.