Creel Photography

R.I.P. (Roosters In Paradise)

On September 11, 1992, Hurricane Iniki slammed into the island of Kauai packing winds of 130 to 160 mph and waves up to 35 ft. It was and still is the most powerful hurricane to hit Hawai’i in recorded history. While the thousands of damaged houses have been repaired, insurance companies have replaced damaged boats, telephone service and electricity have been restored, the evidence of Iniki’s destruction is still seen and heard thirteen years later in the form of wild roosters. Yes, you read that correctly, wild roosters.

When the hurricane hit, many chickens that once were confined to their coops were set free where they are now free to breed with the smaller population of Filipino Fighting Fowl that was introduced to the island many years ago. And breed they do. They have reproduced in great numbers and now can be found virtually everywhere in this tropical paradise. Upon arrival at the airport, we saw them engorging themselves with fallen fruit and were amused at the novelty, but became suspicious when we saw them lining the road on the way to the Plantation Hale (http://www.plantation-hale.com/) hotel in Kapa’a where we were to stay.

Little did we know that these ubiquitous little birdbrains would become the common thread that linked together everything we did on the island.

Beach

Rachael and I are huge fans of desolate beaches, but as you can probably understand they are not the easiest to come by in this day and age of travel. So, to cut down on the amount of driving in search of lonely stretches of beach, I scoured our guide book to look for clues on possible beaches that would suit our desires (http://www.wizardpub.com/kauai/kauai.html). Several options fit the bill, with a few of them listed by the authors as nearly almost empty, so the first morning we headed out to a promising locale that involved a drive to the west side of the island, a jaunt down a 5 mile dirt road cut through sugar cane, and a few wrong turns on the part of the navigator…me.

Polihale State Park marks the northern end of a section of beach that runs south and west for 17 uninterrupted miles. Once we had driven a few miles down the dirt road, we reached a section of of the road that was bounded by sand dunes on the left and progress forward questionable since the sand ahead was deep. Figuring that the sand dunes were the backing to the beach on the other side, we both lathered up with sunscreen and proceeded to climb the dunes while huffing and sweating, and to our delight, we spotted the Pacific in all it’s glory. Surveying the land, we could see that we were virtually alone as only a few surfers were set up on the beach to the north, so we strolled to the south in search of the perfect bit of beach to be alone (well…as alone as one can be with the wild roosters about…and yes they were present even on the beaches). Actually, strolling probably isn’t the correct term since walking in hot, dry sand is not something either one of did with particular grace.

With the spot identified, we laid out the towels, ate a quick picnic lunch, then plunged into the refreshing waters to cool off. This particular area is not known to be the greatest swimming beach since the waves break right at the shore, but it is also not too popular with the surfing crowd since it takes a bit of effort to reach. We are both fairly strong swimmers so we enjoyed the waters for a few hours, never realizing that between the sweating while walking and the time in the water our sunscreen was rendered useless somewhere along the way.

After several hours, we decided it was time to head back so we managed to stumble our way back to the car. Only after loading ourselves into the car did we realize that we probably should have obeyed the sunscreen instructions and allowed proper time for drying before heading into the great outdoors. This point was driven home later that evening in the shower and the painful condition persisted for the rest of the trip.

Wailua Falls Hike

The first words he said to me were “you can’t get there from here.” The Kauai travel guidebook and the hiking guidebook told me that there was a way there, but that it was treacherous and involved crossing a harrowing and dangerous rock ledge. As Mr. and Mrs. Hiker described to me the routes they had tried to get to the base of Wailua Falls, Mr. Hiker slowly slipped his hiking boot off his right foot, periodically wincing in pain at the ankle he had wrenched on the steep hike down the canyon wall to the river by which he now sat.

Interested in what was lay before me, I continued questioning the couple. They told me the trail ended 30 yards ahead at an impassible rock ledge. In their words, “only an expert hiker” could navigate this ledge, apparently implying from my cheap hiking boots (a pair of tennis shoes that had been relegated to lawn mowing duty), appropriate hiking apparel (cheap wind pants and a shirt from my venerable Old Navy flag T-shirt collection), and the beginnings of a belly that typifies middle age, that I was obviously a novice and should hike right back out of the canyon and write this off as an aborted adventure. They had tried and failed four other routes in hopes of finding a way around the ledge of legend.

I’ve never been big on taking peoples word, especially if it is something I really want to do, so I announced that I would proceed to see this ledge…especially since, in my experience, guidebooks generally are a bit over cautious in their descriptions due to liability concerns. Mr. Hiker, convinced that I would be repelled by the ledge of drama, uttered under his breath that he would see me on the trail back up the canyon wall.

The voyage that led to this point began earlier that day when Rachael and I had decided to take a side trip on a Kauai County road to the overlook at the top of Wailua Falls. The guidebook called this falls one of the most visited on the island since you can simply “drive right up and gawk” from the overlook. As we stood with 20 or so other tourists, a man and woman team of Hawaiian drum peddlers, and of course the requisite wild roosters watching the water cascade over the three individual falls that comprise Wailua Falls, the pool at the base began to beckon me.

This beckoning is nothing new to me since I am impulsive when it comes to activities and adventures in the outdoors. I seldom act on these impulses, mind you, but they are ever present. When I see a mountain, I want to climb it. If I see a trail while driving in a car, I want to hike it. If I see a “do not cross barrier” sign, I want to cross the barrier just to see what danger denies me opportunity to pass the barrier. Some call it being hard-headed, I call it being adventuresome: which is also why I choose to believe that Wailua Falls is a drop of 170 ft.and not the 80 ft. that the less adventuresome believe (depends on which book you read as to the actual drop of this falls).

As we milled about with the other slothful tourists that only experience Kauai from vantage points that can be reached by car, I announced to Rachael that I intended to hike down to the base of the falls in the free time scheduled for that afternoon. So, as Rachael prepared for a nap at the hotel, she told me to be sure and “don’t lose your sunglasses” as I set out to satisfy the beckoning. Which, led me to the ledge of discouragement that now stood before me.

Mr. and Mrs. hiker had not been lying, the ledge did look ominous. The entrance to the ledge is wide enough for walking without fear of falling, but within 10 feet the ledge narrows down to a width that will only accommodate one foot in front of the other, and that with well chosen steps. Choosing hand and foot holds deliberately, I inched my way to the piece of rock that interrupted the ledge making it “impassable” to all but the “expert hiker” in the words of Mr. hiker. I knew that this had to be the “dangerous” and “harrowing” ledge referenced by the guidebooks, but I also knew that the authors of these books had been down this path and successfully navigated to the other side. As I stood at the impasse, I looked into the river below for the evidence of the corpses of those that had tried before me and, to my surprise, found none. OK, so it was only about a 5 ft. drop into 3 ft. of water in a river that was not moving extremely fast at this point. But still, I didn’t want the camera gear in my backpack to get wet since electronic equipment and water tend not to mesh well. Besides, the only way out of the river that I saw involved floating down a ways to a part of the river where the river/shore intersection was not vertical rock of a height that made climbing out of the river impossible for a novice hiker such as myself.

After trying various foot and hand holds searching for a way that would allow me to swing past the vertical rock that interrupted the ledge and establish a hold on the other side, I was at a loss for a way that did not involve the distinct possibility of falling into the river below. Knowing that I would be upset with myself if I were to turn back without trying, and not wanting to face the “I told you so” that was sure to come from Mr. Hiker, I finally made up my mind to attempt the crossing even if it meant getting a little wet. It was at this point where my sunglasses, strategically riding on top of my head, decided it was a good time to fall off. Into the river. Never to be seen again. Contrary to Rachael’s order not to lose them.

Near the vertical rock, there was a small ledge just large enough to hold my camera backpack, so I placed my pack there knowing that if I actually could make it to the other side there was the chance that I might be able to blindly reach back around and grab it. As I swung my body out and towards the vertical rock (now holding on by my left foot and the fingertips of my left hand), I was able to get my head far enough around the vertical rock to see that those who had gone before me had placed a rope strategically at the intersection of the vertical rock and the rock ledge thus giving an essential, stable handhold on the other side. Elated with my “discovery”, I pulled myself back into the wall in order to put the backpack back on, then confidently swung out, grabbed the rope, and crossed to the other side.

Back on track, the trail was now less discernable as obviously the ledge of dread had halted a good number of the people that set out on their own adventure. Honestly, I was happy that the ledge served as an impediment to progress since I figured it meant that I would have the falls all to myself.

About two tenths of a mile down the trail, and after a few mis-turns at a few points where the trail disappeared, I scrambled to the top of a boulder for my first unencumbered view of Wailua Falls, a view I had all to myself. Myself…a handful of wild roosters, and five people swimming in the pool including a woman who was so proud of her cellulite-ridden body that she proudly chose not to wear clothes. Totally nude.

Have you ever seen the over-dramatized double takes of the cartoon ilk? That was my reaction upon seeing a naked woman at a location I had worked so hard to get to, risking life and limb. Come to think of it, that’s probably about the same reaction I would have if I were to come upon a naked woman just about anywhere. After I gathered my wits about me, I proceeded with setting up my photo equipment; An action that convinced Ms. Cellulite to put her swimsuit back on apparently out of fear of digital cameras and the far-reaching tentacles of the internet. I always thought swimsuits were made for swimming…guess I was wrong!

As I photographed the falls, I began to wonder just how it was that this many people had managed to get to the base of the falls when the ledge of danger posed such a difficult obstacle to overcome. As a gentleman passed by, turns out he was from San Jose (and yes, he does know the way to San Jose), I asked him how he got past the ledge of dismemberment. It was a bit disconcerting to me when he said “what ledge?.” He proceeded to tell me that his trek down to the waterfall began just feet away from the overlook on top. This is the same path that my guidebooks said was shut down by the State of Hawaii because it was too dangerous due to the steepness of the descent. In fact, the guidebook said that the ropes once tied between trees to make the journey easier were cut in an effort to discourage people from disobeying the sign that said “do not cross barrier.”

After spending about 45 minutes at the base of the falls, the time had come for me to begin the dreaded hike back up the steep wall. Not wanting to risk the ledge of destruction again, I decided I would hike back up via the way the rest of the people had made it down to the falls. Luckily for me, someone had decided that stringing ropes between trees on the trail actually made it safer and had replaced the ones cut by the state since it was apparent that people would still be using the trail. Fifteen minutes or so later, and after some serious vertical hiking, I arrived at the overlook huffing and puffing, but disappointed that nobody there gave me a standing ovation and a rousing round of applause for having conquered the ledge of death.

Ho’opi’i Hike

In a neighborhood on the mauka (towards the mountain) side of Kapa’a, a trailhead known to the locals but normally spared from tourists due to its relative obscurity leads down to a pair of falls on the Kapa’a Stream. As is common, the government and the locals cannot agree on which of the falls is the true Ho’opi’i Falls as the locals use the name for the upstream falls while the government maps give that name to the falls downstream. Either naming convention one wishes to adopt leaves the other falls unnamed, so I have taken to calling them the upper falls and the lower falls since I am such a fan of naming inanimate objects.

One thing I gathered in my readings on Kauai, is that there is a percentage of locals that don’t really care for the tourist. I can understand this to a point since the average tourist cares nothing about Hawaiian culture (neither past nor present), nor do they particularly embrace the natural things that make Hawai’i different from the lands from whence they came. Instead, the average tourist spends thousands of dollars to get to a place where all they want to do is the same things they do at home: Namely, lay around and get drunk day after day. They want the same food, the same fast food chains, the same TV shows, the same type of people, the same surroundings. I don’t understand that attitude, but at the same time they are perfectly within their rights to be boring. But the locals must also be willing to forego the almighty dollar if they want to keep people off their islands. Unfortunately, the decision that they like the almighty dollar was made long ago and now they can only work to stem the tide of expansion. Other, less law-abiding locals, have taken to petty theft and vandalism to try and convince tourists to stay away..

With this in mind, and checking to make sure there wasn’t any broken glass around to indicate the recent handiwork of hoodlums, I parked my car on the dead end neighborhood street and headed down the trail. After a gentle descent of half a mile or so, the trail arrives at the Kapa’a stream where it gently babbles over volcanic rocks. The surroundings are lush, green, and on this day, lonely as I didn’t see another soul for the entirety of the hike (well, lonely as long as wild roosters don’t have souls).

After an easy downstream walk, I arrived at the upper Ho’opi’i Falls; A cascade that covers a 25 foot vertical drop. I was forced to photograph the falls from the side since there was no way to get to the foot of the falls that did not involve diving into a pool of unknown depth. I’m a chicken, so I was satisfied with the side view. I sat streamside for a while to enjoy the sound of water plunging into the pool below before heading down stream on the trail to find the lower falls.

Half a mile downstream, I found the lower falls and watched the stream disappear over the precipice as it took its 30 ft. plunge. One hiking book said that the only way to really view the falls was from the top, and to get the best view it was necessary to cross the stream. I had prepared for the crossing by packing pool shoes in my camera bag, but as I neared the crossing point I saw a number of paths across that would only involve easy hops from rock to rock. So I left the pool shoes in the bag and attempted to cross in my hiking shoes. Little did I know that wet, volcanic rock is VERY slippery. After a few rock hops, I slipped and landed on my derriere in the middle of the stream. My pride was wounded but no body parts, so after a quick glance to make sure no one other than a few wild roosters had seen my slip, I decided to wade the rest of the way across instead of rock hopping, and did so, falling a number of times more. After all the hard work to get to the ultimate vantage point (so named by my hiking guide book), I was disappointed to find the view less than optimum.

To cross the stream on the way back, I decided I would put the pool shoes on to make the crossing easier, so I sat down beside the stream and took my sopping wet shoes and socks off. After placing them in the plastic sack that housed my pool shoes, I tried to throw them to the other side of the stream to rid myself of a bit of weight. Unfortunately, my aim was a bit off and my throw only resulted in getting the bag to the edge of the stream where the rocks held the bag…for a while. As the stream began to take my shoes downstream toward the falls, I quickly pulled my pool shoes on and, looking like a complete fool, tripped my way across the stream toward the bag while trying to keep my camera equipment from drowning. Needless to say, I didn’t make it across the stream in time and the last time I saw my shoes they were waving bye-bye and taunting me as they disappeared over the falls. My apologies to the good people of Kauai for, believe me, if you had seen the entire episode you would have been too busy rolling with laughter to be upset with my littering.

I worked my way a bit further downstream to see if I could get to the bottom of the falls and possibly rescue my shoes, but only found one treacherous path down. Knowing that I was expected back at the hotel for previously scheduled activities, I pulled out the camera and took a few photos of the lower falls, then administered last rites to my shoes and headed back to the car hoping that neighborhood vandals had left the rental car alone. They had.

Waimea Canyon & Kalalau Valley

Mt. Wai’ale’ale looms large at the center of Kauai, and like the larger mountains of the other Hawaiian islands, serves as a barrier to passing clouds and trade winds which causes a build up of rain on the north and east side of the island. In fact, because of the relatively long ridge that marks the edge of the ancient crater, and Kauai’s position north of the other Hawaiian islands, it receives more rain on average than any of the other islands. One thing I’ve noticed in my travels, is that wet spots love to stake claims on being the “wettest spot on Earth.” I read hints while on Maui that the Hana Rain Forest is the wettest spot on Earth, I read that there is a spot in Alaska around 10,000 feet in the Coast Mountains of Southeast Alaska that claims to be the wettest spot on Earth (though this is a dubious claim since it is a remote area without a way of measuring), and then there is a spot in India that has a bit higher average than Kauai when averaged over X amount of years. Regardless of where the wettest spot on Earth might be, the north and eastern sides of Kauai are wet; averaging 460 inches a year.

In stark contrast to the lush, rainy areas of the north and east, the western side of Kauai is dry. Nowhere is this illustrated better than in Waimea Canyon. Formed by the deep incision of the Waimea River, this ten mile long canyon (nicknamed the Grand Canyon of the Pacific) is nothing short of breathtaking and colorful. Besides the draining of the river through the canyon, this area sees little rain as is apparent by the lack of vegetation. The steepness of the canyon walls plays a part as well with only a few species of low-growing trees, shrubs, and plants such as cacti dotting the red, orange, brown, and green tinged walls. With an overlook of nearly 3000 feet, a number of topside lookouts offer spectacular views of the canyon where one wrong step could lead to the ultimate free-fall experience.

We stopped at several lookouts on the 18 mile drive along the rim of the canyon, each offering completely different but equally spectacular views of this geological oddity. We shared these views with other equally awed tourists and the obligatory handful of wild roosters that didn’t seem nearly as impressed with the views as we. A number of lookouts offered views of waterfalls including the incredibly large Waipo’o Falls on the Koke’e Stream which has a drop of 800 ft. Looking down on the tops of, and hearing the echo from the helicopters touring the canyon, we were a bit jealous of the views they must have been enjoying.

The Waimea Canyon region is littered with hiking trails leading into the canyon (the hike back up has to be strenuous) on the east side, and on the west side trails that follow the ridges that descend toward the Pacific that comprise the rugged Na Pali coast. At the upper end of the Waimea Canyon road lies Koke’e State Park, a park that includes 45 miles of hiking trails. (http://www.hawaii.gov/dlnr/dsp/brochures/TrailsOfKokee.pdf) (http://www.aloha.net/~inazoo/kokee.htm). Passing up the opportunity to hike at least one of these trails gnawed at me, but I was able to overcome knowing that we had plans for that evening and that I must resist the urge.

At the end of the Waimea Canyon road lies a lookout area overlooking the Kalalau Valley, an absolutely gorgeous vista over a steep cliff leading to the Pacific some 4000 vertical feet below. As we stood and marveled at the view, we could hear the sounds of a helicopter booming off the sides of the valley (along with the ever present crowing of the wild roosters), but could barely make out the outline of the helicopter because it was so far below us in the valley. The helicopter certainly leant a perspective to the immensity of the Kalalau Valley. The Kalalau Valley is truly one of the more amazing locales on this orb we call Earth.

Fern Grotto Tour and Spouting Horn

One of the most unique Kauai landmarks is the Fern Grotto, a bend in the Wailua River that is a natural amphitheater covered with native ferns. On the short boat ride up the river where we were serenaded with live Hawaiian music, we met a family that lived in Arkansas but were originally from Ohio. I could tell they weren’t native by the fact that they had all their teeth and wore shoes. Upon disembarking at the grotto, we were greeted by the ever-present wild roosters, which prompted me to remark to the Arkansas family that they could have saved themselves some money and just stayed home if they wanted to see a bunch of chickens. Luckily, they took my sarcasm in stride.

The fern grotto is a neat natural oddity, but the truth is it is only a shell of what it used to be before Hurricane Iniki leveled it in 1992. We have been told by people that saw it before the hurricane that it was truly an impressive locale, but today it is nifty but certainly not awe inspiring. Perhaps it is better to say that it doesn’t live up to its hype as a must-do for every Kauai visitor. It is still a popular spot for weddings. (http://www.hawaiiweb.com/kauai/html/sites/fern_grotto.html)

Spouting Horn, on the other hand, does live up to its billing in my estimation even though it is overrun with tourists. Spouting Horn is a lava tube located in Po’ipu where each wave forces water through the narrow channel in the lava to form a “geyser” that sometimes tops 50 ft. in height. Years ago it was more impressive until a brilliant sugar cane field manager sent a crew to throw dynamite into the hole to enlarge it. He was tired of the saltwater spray hitting a portion of the field and stunting the sugar cane growth. This was all done on a Sunday when nobody was around to stop them of course. Their idiocy enlarged the hole and effectively reduced the pressure going through the spout thus reducing the height of the spray.

Spouting Horn also used to be a more memorable experience when people were allowed to walk down to it from the observation deck. Unfortunately, a few dunces couldn’t see that the height of the water spewing through the lava tube meant extreme pressure was forced through the hole and equal pressure reversed the process and sucked air and water back into the hole. Several people have been sucked back into the hole and deposited into the sea below with several of them perishing (including an idiot on crutches).

At the parking lot for Spouting Horn, there is a miniature outdoor market selling goods from local artists and artisans, including a local photographer named Kerry Oda from which I purchased a gorgeous print of Ke’e Beach on the north shore (http://www.odazone.com/). We also used the picnic tables located near the parking area to eat a quick lunch while gawking at Spouting Horn and watching wild roosters peck away at the food remnants others had dropped on the ground.

Dining Experiences on Kauai

I must confess. I have eaten pupu. And, it tasted good! In fact, pupu is served across the Hawaiian islands and fine eateries readily advertise that they serve pupu in various forms. They are proud of their pupu.

Now, get your mind out of the toilet and learn a bit of the Hawaiian language since the word “pupu” means “appetizer.” Pupu’s are nice, but seafood is the name of the game on Kauai. Surprise, huh? This suits my palette just fine, but it makes finding food a bit of a challenge for seafood-averse Rachael. In sympathy with her dilemma, I have devised an ingenious plan that involves a limitless supply of a seafood alternative for the people of Kauai to begin to promote: Wild roosters. This would solve the issue in giving seafood haters something to eat on the island, plus anytime a local was hungry they could just go for a bit of a walk and undoubtedly would quickly happen upon a wild rooster that they could quickly convert into frying pan fodder. An additional benefit would be a reduction in the wild rooster population since they have no natural predators on this island. If the state were really smart, they would begin selling chicken hunting licenses thereby tapping into another source of revenue (although I’m sure PETA would call “fowl”…pun intended). Sounds like a culinary plan doesn’t it?

At any rate, we were able to identify restaurants that were able to meet both of our dining tendencies, and that served wonderful pupu’s.

The day of arrival on the island, we searched for a waterfront restaurant reminiscent of our beloved Lahaina Fish Company on Maui. What we found was JJ’s Broiler in Lihue. It was located on the waterfront, overlooking a small inlet where local children swam and local teens surfed. It offered dining on the patio where we could feel the gentle sea breeze tussle our hair, smell the salt-laden air as it tickled our nostrils, see the locals tropical sun glimmer across the water, and hear the sound of the waves soothe our ears. It’s a good thing that four of the five senses were stimulated since the food failed to do the same for the sense of taste. I had the Mahi Mahi sandwich while Rachael had the teriyaki chicken sandwich. Neither dish was too impressive, but it was filling to our travel-weary tummies. We should’ve just settled for some pupu’s.

In keeping with a vacation tradition of attending at least one dinner show, we attended the Radisson’s production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific which was accompanied by a “Hawaiian-style” buffet. (http://www.radissonkauai.com/). Our history with dinner shows is that the show is generally better than the food. This was no exception, although the food wasn’t bad. Passing by the poi that I once tried, which we noticed had a consistency ranging from water to mashed potatoes depending on the restaurant, we headed for the authentic Hawaiian house salad which looked remarkably like the house salads from Chili’s back home with its iceberg lettuce and choice of thousand island (with a name like that it has to be authentically Hawaiian), French, Italian, or ranch dressing. A selection of Hawaiian vegetables such as broccoli, cauliflower, and mashed potatoes were offered along with sweet and sour pork, chicken breast, and the only truly Hawaiian dish besides poi, Mahi Mahi. For dessert, a number of types of cheesecakes were on display: All bought at Sam’s Club according to my taste bud’s memory.

The show, however, was actually pretty good. Given the limited space in which the actors and actresses had to operate, and the need for people to play two or three roles, it was actually an entertaining production. To much of the audience, most of them being a part of the “greatest” generation, it offered a chance for a big sing-along as the play obviously was a nostalgic memory trigger. The actress that played the role of Bloody Mary stole the show, hands down. She was funny, used her Hawaiian accent to her advantage, and obviously enjoyed her role tremendously. The playbill had a statement from her that said the reason she loved the role is because the character reminded her of the way the older women in her village on Kauai talked and behaved when she was a small keiki (that’s Hawaiian for child in case you were wondering).

In contrast to the food at the South Pacific show, the food at the Smith’s Luau that we attended one evening was very good. Perhaps you are asking the same question I asked when presented with the opportunity to go an authentic luau called “Smith’s” Luau? I bet you never knew that “Smith” was of Polynesian origin did you? In fact, it’s not, but there is a good story behind how a prominent family on Kauai got the name of “Smith.” A few generations ago, a young Englishman fell in love with a local lady while on a visit to Kauai. He remained on the island, married to the woman of his dreams, and then established a business that continues today that caters to tourists by offering boat tours of the Fern Grotto, Garden Tours, and of course the luau we are presently discussing. (http://www.smithskauai.com ). Looking at the family today (many of which work in the various Smith enterprises), you will not notice much English influence and would expect them to have a more fitting Hawaiian surname with more vowels.

Getting back to the topic at hand, the Smith’s Luau experience began with a tour of the gardens where the tram driver gave names, legends, and usages for a variety of endemic plants as well as a few imported ones. The flora of Kauai is certainly colorful, as would be expected on “the garden isle.” With a few minutes to kill before making our way toward the imu (underground oven) for the unearthing of the pig that had been slowly simmering for nearly 24 hours, we amused ourselves by watching tourists take photos of the wild roosters running around the grounds…mingling with the store-bought peacocks. As the pig unveiling ceremony began, our host explained how the pig is prepared, cooked, and some of the traditions that surround the imu. Two young men sounded the conch shells by blowing into them like a trumpet and then went to work with the shovel. After a few minutes the simmering pig was in view, and in reverence to the noble pig that gave its life for our dining enjoyment, the audience gave the pig a rousing round of applause. Or, maybe it was for the young Hawaiian men that performed the ceremony?

The crowd was then asked to move to the Dining Hale (house) where a trio was playing and singing Hawaiian favorites such as “Sweet Home Alabama” and “New York, New York.” OK, so they weren’t playing those songs but I can’t pronounce the really authentic names of the songs in question so that will have to do. After a few songs, the entertainment was interrupted by a Smith family member that stepped to the microphone to offer a blessing over the meal we were about to consume; undoubtedly infringing on the “rights” of a whole host of liberals from the American Northeast that believe that private enterprises should not have the option to pray over a meal or mention God in any manner. Then, the real action began as the Smith family somehow managed to get about 200 people through the buffet line in an orderly manner…a real feat in less than an hour. Unlike the South Pacific buffet, this buffet had a range of Hawaiian foods including the aforementioned pig, poi (which I skipped once again), Mahi Mahi, and some less adventuresome foods to satiate the appetites of people that go to faraway lands to eat the foods they eat at home. Also unlike the South Pacific buffet, the food at the luau was good; Especially the Kalua pig which was absolutely tasty with a hint of smoke.

Following the meal, we were all invited to the Performance Hale (again, that means house) where the history of the luau and hula would be explained in a performance that dwelt on the influence of the many cultures that have invaded the Hawaiian lands or have immigrated to work the land. After a quick stop by the Leki-leki Hale (you figure that one out…and it could have something to do with pupu and drinks), we located seats near the front, but not so near that we were in danger of getting “volunteered” into participating in the show. The show began as darkness began to set in and as brief rain shower moved across the gardens. The show was entertaining, well-done, and used live music which I found particularly pleasing. If I had the vocabulary to describe the dancing I would, but since I don’t I will just say that the hula dancing was slower-paced and much more tame than the version we saw while on Maui.

On yet another night, we drove to the northern side of the island in hopes of catching the sunset at Ke’e beach at the end of the road on the north side. Prior to hitting the beach, we stopped by Hanalei Bay Resort to eat at a restaurant for which we had heard good reviews, Bali Hai. (http://www.summitpacificinc.com/bali-hai-restaurant.html). With a romantic view of Hanalei Bay as the backdrop, this open air dining experience is certainly second to none on Kauai when it comes to setting and food quality. Fortunately for us, we arrived early enough in the evening to cover up our mistake of not making reservations. We were also fortunate that the greeter didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to my challenging of the dress code by showing up in jeans and yet another T-Shirt from my Old Navy flag collection.

I have a theory that there are a handful of foods that when used in conjunction with other foods, always make the dish better. One is bacon. Think about it, have you ever eaten anything that you said “this would be better if it didn’t have bacon in it?” Me either. I also feel this way about macademia/pecan crusting of just about anything, for example trout or even eggplant. This point was driven home with my meal at Bali Hai, the macademia nut crusted fish of the day (which happened to be Mahi Mahi this day). Served over a bed of white rice, I had one of the finest meals of my lifetime. Rachael, on the other hand, chose the pesto linguini with grilled chicken and was neutral on the dish mainly due to the generous portions of basil included in the pesto. All-in-all, it was a fine experience. Oh yeah, the sunset later that night was very nice as well.

Throughout the stay on Kauai, we heard about a hole in the wall burger joint called Bubba’s Burgers where the burgers were rumored to be next to none. We are not frequent burger eaters, but when faced with the possibility of leaving Kauai without participating in a truly Kauaian (if that’s a word) experience, we decided to stop by the Bubba’s location in Kapa’a. We both ordered a teriyaki burger and then pulled up a couple of chairs on the rail of the porch and waited for our food while watching the occasional car cruise by…temporarily drowning out the sounds of the sea that emanated from just across the street. The burgers were outstanding and for once the entire experience lived up to the legend. We were glad we broke with routine and indulged in a greasy hamburger.

Daytrip to Oahu

I have always wanted to visit Pearl Harbor, specifically the USS Arizona Memorial, but I have never had the urge to spend a great length of time on the highly populated island of Oahu. (http://www.nps.gov/usar/index.htm). A few years ago we were not able to make the quick jaunt to Oahu from Maui, but we did take the 30 minute flight from Lihue to Honolulu on this trip.

We had scheduled our visit to the USS Arizona Memorial for a Sunday reasoning the lines would most likely be minimal. Combining that with the fact our early morning flight would put us at the memorial around 8AM, we felt confident that we would be able to saunter right up to the front of the line and enjoy the memorial in the company of only a handful of visitors. Perhaps that would have been true if the directions printed off of the internet (I will leave the website address nameless here, instead choosing the pseudonym of oohay.com) were anywhere close to being accurate. At one point, we ended up at the entrance to the Navy base where I tried to have a conversation with the sailor at the guard shack but had much trouble getting the window from the rental car to roll down. Actually, I couldn’t find the button to roll it down and eventually had to open the door to ask for directions. I hate rental cars.

When we arrived at the memorial, we were greeted by a long line that ended up being an hour long wait. Unfortunately, the wait in line only resulted in a ticket that told you what time to come back for your boat trip out to the memorial. Having a period of time of two hours between when we picked up our tickets and when we were scheduled to board the shuttle boat, we decided to take a quick tour of the USS Missouri (The Mighty Mo), a very impressive ship indeed that served in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, and Gulf War I. Recently decommissioned, this mighty ship with its wooden deck is being restored by a dedicated group of ex-sailors that once served onboard the Missouri. (http://www.worldsfinestnavy.com/mightyMO.html)

Before boarding the shuttle that took us out to the USS Arizona Memorial, we were treated to a brief talk by a USS Arizona survivor who described the fateful day of December 7^th, 1941 from a first hand perspective. As he described the attack on Pearl Harbor, it became clear that the men onboard the Arizona, as well as the other ships that were at anchor in the harbor, epitomize the word “bravery.” The men manned their battle stations in the midst of hell on Earth; Fire, heat, smoke, torpedoes, shrapnel, ocean, and fear. We all owe a debt of gratitude to the men, dead and alive, that were present at this defining moment of American history. Once the survivor had finished talking, and the twenty minute film had completed, we all silently boarded the shuttle trying to grasp the immensity of the disaster at Pearl Harbor.

Positioned astride the Arizona, the memorial itself is simple in design, yet elegant and appropriate for the purpose. The clear waters of Oahu allow viewing deep into the waters below the memorial to see this once mighty ship in its torpedo-induced, sunken state. It is a moving experience. In keeping with tradition, many visitors removed the fragrant flowers from their leis and dropped them overboard in a show of respect. Over sixty years later, drops of oil still float to the top of the water atop the ship keeping fresh the memory of the 2390 men that lost their life in a span of a few short hours. Nearly 1200 of these stolen futures were on board the Arizona. To many of these, the Arizona was a watery grave and as such the memorial is as much a cemetery as it is a history lesson. To many more who survived that fateful day, they chose to have their remains spread across the water, making their final resting place the same as those they served alongside.

What drove home the bravery of these men to me was the fact that the anchored ships (including the Arizona) were only about 100 yards or less from shore. Surely many of the men on board could have saved their own lives had they abandoned battle stations and leapt from the ship in order to swim the short distance to shore, but they obviously chose not to do so. Bravery personified.

A wall sits at one end of the memorial in which the names of the men that lost their lives at Pearl Harbor are engraved. Different groups had placed wreaths and bundled flowers at the base of the wall in memoriam. A veteran on our tour placed his belongings on the floor, removed his cap, and saluted the wall with tear-filled eyes. All was silent. Even small kids could sense the somberness and immensity of the sacrifices made on December 7^th, 1941.

After we left the Arizona memorial, we had a little time to kill so we drove to Waikiki Beach just so we could say we’d been there. We were thoroughly unimpressed as it had no feel of a Hawaiian beach to us with its throngs of people and high-rise condominium backdrop.

Oh yeah, we didn’t see a rooster during out time on Oahu!

Red Dirt Shirts

A gentleman by the name of Robert Hedin calls Kauai home and owns a business called “Paradise Sportswear” that is a custom screen printing business (mainly on T-shirts). When Hurricane Iniki hit, his business was wiped out but Hedin vowed to start over. He did so, and about a year later disaster struck again when, following the recent sugar cane harvest, high winds whipped the red, volcanic dirt that is so common on the west side of Kauai into a frenzy and into his silk screen machines and even into the ink. Devastated and about ready to give it up for good, a friend of Hedin suggested that he print red dirt shirts. Intrigued, Hedin decided to do just that and thus birthed a brand new industry on Kauai; a company that was literally started from dirt.

The process is really simple as it involves taking white shirts, washing them in washers with a tiny bit of red dirt thrown in as dye, then silk screening one of many prints on them after drying. By the way, three cubic yards of Kauai’s red dirt is enough to dye 50,000 shirts. Powerful dye.

Since 1993, the business has grown by leaps and bounds with a number of retail stores established throughout the Hawaiian Islands and scores more wholesale clients across the world. From T-shirts, the company expanded to hats, bags, and plans to expand to even more items in the near future.

Always the sucker for rags to riches stories, we determined that the red dirt shirts would make great souvenirs for family, as well as a token T-shirt for me. We shopped in a number of retail stores and distributors across the isle searching for the perfect T-shirt for all. The last day of the vacation we had made our final decision and selected an “Older Than Dirt” design for Rachael’s dad, and for me…a lovely design that features a wild rooster and words describing the wild rooster as Kauai’s official “unENDAGERED species.”

Roosters have truly overrun paradise in every sense of the word.