The Big Island

From our lanai

Before this trip, we'd been to Hawaii only once, back in 2003, when we spent a week in Kauai. It was a tropical paradise, but Frieda’s not much for water sports, and there weren’t any classical ruins there, so we didn't go back. But our friends Bill and Becky bought a place on the Big Island a few years ago and invited us to visit them there, so we decided to change it up this year instead of taking our usual trip to Indian Wells for the tennis tournament.

We landed early Friday afternoon, rented a Jeep Renegade with less than 400 miles on it and drove into Kona to stroll along the waterfront. Alaska Airlines hadn't provided lunch so we stopped at The Fish Hopper to nibble some fish tacos and fried calamari on their open lanai while relaxed, happy people, some tanned, some not, wandered by in bathing suits as the surf smashed against the seawall on the opposite side of the street. One attractive but inattentive couple got well splattered by a perfectly timed wave, but as they were in their bathing suits they laughed it off, unfazed. After filling our stomachs, we headed on out Ali´i Drive to our hotel, the Kona Tiki, a small, charming establishment where the surf pounded a seawall barely 20 feet from the lanai at the back of our unit. The only issue was the parking lot, which had exactly one compact space for each unit and was thrown into gridlock if anyone showed up in an over-sized vehicle. You had to back into your slot to be reasonably hopeful of exiting successfully, and there was no other parking available in the vicinity. We decided to keep things simple that night by walking to the nearby Jackie Rey Grill for dinner, where the marlin was delicious.

Hapuna

 In the morning we pointed the Jeep north through the barren, even bleak, black lava flows of the Kohala Coast, a radically different landscape from anything on Kauai, to Hapuna Beach, a beautiful, immaculately maintained state park with clean rest and changing rooms. Here we broke out the bathing suits and found a shady nook under some thorny little trees to set up camp. The crystal clear water washing the beige sand was refreshing without inducing a chill. That's the advantage beaches in Hawaii have over California: the water is a lot warmer. The sandy bottom was a bit uneven, so you could occasionally step in a hole or stub your toe against a sandy mound whilst wading around, but there were no hidden rocks, no real harm in the offing. Occasionally a fairly substantial wave would roll in, big enough, if you weren't paying attention, to knock you off your feet. On the whole, a quite pleasant experience and we would've stayed longer but for a hoard of invasive teenagers. At least a hundred of them, no exaggeration, appeared all at once and, cackling like a flock of chickens, overran the area. On the way out we saw 4 empty school buses parked in the lot. 

Thermal vents

  Once under way we noticed some squealing and clanking sounds coming from the left rear of the Jeep, despite it being virtually a brand new car, but we continued north anyway, all the way to the end of the road at the Pololū Valley Lookout, where a series of headlands jutted out into the blue distance, before turning around and heading back to the tiny town of Hāwī where, as we looked for a parking space, the noises from the Jeep escalated. Over lunch at a restaurant called Bamboo I wondered if the car was going to strand us there but it proved functional and we made the airport where we exchanged it for a Chevy that was noise-free despite having 27,000 miles on it. On the way we spotted some humpback whales playing offshore, blowing, breaching, and rolling on their sides to slap their fins on the surface. They seemed to be having a jolly good time with each other. 

That night we were awakened about 2 AM by a violent rainstorm. The waves were crashing on the seawall with such fury that the splatter was landing on our lanai. We wondered it one of them would clear the wall entirely and break into our room. If so would we be sucked out to sea? But the rain stopped after a half hour or so and by the time we ventured out for breakfast everything had dried out and there was no sign of the storm. 

Lava tube

After breakfast we headed south out of Kona to Ho´okeana Beach, more of a homespun affair without the spectacular vistas and fine facilities of Hapuna, dark sand scattered with the black debris of lava flows. We put on our suits and got wet, but didn't stay long because we had to push on to the Punalu´u Bakeshop in Nā´ālehu where we were to meet Bill and Becky at noon. The 4 of us had lunch there and then went to a nearby black sand beach and saw sea turtles sheltering in the tide pools before pushing on to Volcano National Park, where we explored the steam vents and prowled the dim, damp, colonic Thurston Lava Tube, before deciding we required alcoholic beverages at Volcano House. We were given a table right by the windows facing the crater, but unfortunately a wall of gray fog blocked our view. After cocktails we ordered a bottle of wine and dinner. It was well past dark by the time we found ourselves navigating the dirt roads into the Hilo hinterlands were they had staked their claim. 

Banyan tree

Tuesday morning, after a walking tour of their lovely property when I was amazed by the extent of what Bill had accomplished, we headed for Hilo to cruise Banyan Drive through Liliu´okalani Gardens. The gardens feature lush lawns and ponds, in addition to the awesomely strange banyan trees, which dangle roots from their branches. We parked and strolled leisurely through them to a fish market where we picked up some ono (aka, wahoo, Bill's favorite fish) for dinner, stowing it in a cooler he'd brought for the purpose. Then we headed north along the coast to check out some choice surfing spots (he is a surfer, among other things) and ended up having lunch in Pepeekeo (love that name!) at a place called What's Shakin', where they served some delicious guacamole made from avocados grown on the property. Then it was up to Akaka Falls, where we found the park littered with scores of fallen logs. Bill explained that they were clearing an invasive species to allow native trees to be replanted. There were 2 waterfalls there, Akaka, at 442 feet, being by far the higher. From there we descended into Hilo to explore the downtown on foot.

  

 

Akaka Falls

The next day we packed a lunch and headed to Coconut Island, a great vantage to survey Hilo Bay connected to Liliu´okalani Gardens by a footbridge. After lunch we set out for Richardson Ocean Park for a quick dip before checking out Rainbow Falls and Boiling Pots. There wasn't enough water coming through the Pots to get them really boiling, nor was the rainbow at the Falls on duty, but these minor absences didn't faze us. We went back to the homestead for dinner but later got the idea to return to the National Park to see if we could get a glimpse of the caldera, which we had completely missed from Volcano House. We got to the lookout on Kīlauea about 10:30 PM and the place was nearly deserted. We could clearly see the lava lake bubbling in the caldera and spewing ropes of molten lava into the air, along with twisting, roiling clouds of gas illumined from below. We could even hear gurgling and belching, and the whoosh, whistle, and occasional blast furnace hollow roar of escaping gas. It was an awesome, elemental sight. We felt we were witnessing something truly primordial, the ongoing birth of our planet.

 

Kilauea caldera

The next day we set out to see Puna. First we went to the recycling plant where a lava flow, a huge 10-foot-high blob of black rock, had stopped just before engulfing it, pushing up against and in some places through a chain link fence along the road next to it. It reminded me of the movie “The Blob.” Though it was frozen in place, you could easily imagine the terror of seeing it on the move. From there we drove down to Alalanui Beach Park, which features a thermal tidal pool large enough for swimming, and tree-shaded lawns. The park is short on amenities, despite its popularity. After a couple of hours there we drove south along the coast through some gorgeous, lush rain forest with plants we hadn't seen elsewhere on the island, to Kalapana, the town that was destroyed in 1986 by lava flows. It's an easy hike from there over lava beds to the ocean, where it's said the air is the cleanest on the planet. On Wednesdays, which it happened to be, an event called Uncle Robert's Awa Bar and Farmer's Market is staged there. Just about every variety of comestible you can imagine is available from booths and trucks, along with liquor and live music beneath a canopy, and as the sun sinks people pack into the place and it turns into a huge, festive party. At one point a woman wearing an Obama mask jumped onto the stage and danced, flashing victory signs with both hands, which sent the crowd into a paroxysm of wild screaming and clapping. 

The best air

Hilo is known as the rainy side of the island and one of the wettest places in the USA but it stayed dry for us. The only rain we had on the whole trip was the 2 AM deluge our second night in Kona and a couple of brief overnight showers in Hilo. Thursday morning we set out for the airport in Kona, taking the northern route through the ranch country of Waimea, a land of rolling green pastures inhabited by horses and cows tended by Hawai´ian cowboys. We stopped for lunch at a place called Village Burger and had the most delicious burgers, made of local grass-fed beef, that we had ever tasted. The flight home was only a bit over 4 hours, since we caught the jet stream as a tail wind, but seemed longer.

Despite its charms, I wouldn't want to live in Hawai´i. It's too humid, for one thing. I prefer dry air. Also too isolated; both the islands as a group and each island from the others. But I was impressed by how different The Big Island was from Kauai, as well as by how much variety it offered in a small area, and this made me a little more interested in seeing Maui. On the other hand, I seem to like flying less every year so....