"Hele"
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Gull Lake to Chicago
Laura was still wearing her bright orange safety patrol belt when she jumped into our waiting Jeep at Ryan Intermediate School. “I have a good idea,” Tam yelped jokingly. “Let’s go to Hawaii!” “Ok!” everyone retorted.
The kids threw in a DVD and sat back for the three hour trip to Chicago. Our plan was to stay overnight at the O’Hare Hilton and leave first thing in the morning for Honolulu (via Delta Airline’s hub in Salt Lake City). We got as far as Benton Harbor before the hungries hit. At exit 28, Tam picked out the La Hacienda Restaurant. At first, it looked a little sleazy, tucked into a seedy strip mall. It turned out to be a great spot – very clean – with excellent Mexican food. Michelle brought in a deck of playing cards and we played euchre for a good half-hour after we finished eating. It was really nice not to be in a hurry to catch a flight.
Once back on the road, the kids sang along to the movie That Thing You Do on the video player. Tam and I enjoyed a lovely, and rare, sunset as we drove west to the Windy City. Tam drove the second leg and artfully avoided several traffic tie-ups along I-94 and I-80. Just before we reached the tri-state thruway, we encountered a green Saturn fully engulfed in flames. We snuck by that problem before the fire trucks arrived.
I knew that I-294 was a toll road, so I conveniently placed several coins in the Jeep coin-holder. At each toll booth, I coolly handed Tam the exact change of 40 cents and she would swiftly toss them into the coin basket and hustle up the road, avoiding the “manual” lanes. However, as we exited the tri-state at O’Hare Airport and we pulled up to the toll booths, we found that they ALL required exact change. There was no booth attendant anywhere! It was at this point that I noticed that we were completely out of change. All four of us scrambled around and all we could come up with was 15 cents. We were in deep trouble! After sitting there for a moment, Tam decided to make a break for it. She accelerated hard, setting off bells, whistles, lights, and sirens. A special camera (with a huge flash) took a photo of our license plate as we whisked into the darkness.
Tam, the criminal, was on the run again.
Only a few minutes later, we were able to ditch the car at the airport and check into the O’Hare Hilton. As usual, the kids got the really cool room overlooking all three airport runways. Tam and I had a nice view of all three parking decks.
Michelle had cut into the minibar for about twenty dollars worth of snacks before the luggage arrived. In an effort to avoid bankruptcy, I quietly locked the cabinet and slipped out with the key.
I had trouble getting to sleep, probably because I was so revved up for our imminent adventure. Some time around midnight I finally nodded off. At 3:09 am, I woke up when I heard a jet arriving at the airport, probably from some far away place – like Hawaii.
"E Komo Mai"
Thursday, April 1, 2004
Flying Out To The Islands
Honolulu
North Shore
Sunset Beach
Kahala Mandarin Oriental
Seemingly without getting to sleep, I was up before the alarm at 5:00 am. We needed to roll out of the hotel by 6:15 am. As we waited for the elevator to get to our floor, Michelle listed for me the items that she had taken out of the minibar before I had locked it up: potato chips, Slim Jims, Gummy Bears, Oreos, apple juice, and two waters. In addition, the girls had watched Master and Commander on pay per view. Obviously, my estimation of twenty dollars was low (by about half!)
After checking out of the Hilton, we walked through underground tunnels to Terminal 3 of O’Hare International Airport. Following a speedy check-in at the Delta counter, we proceeded to the security checkpoint. Laura threw her backpack on the conveyor belt – the screening device went haywire. Two security guards showed up and asked to inspect Laura’s bag by hand. Holy cow! The bag was so full, that when it was unzipped, stuff spilled out all over the table. Inside were two Nintendo Gameboys, a video player, a CD player, two transformers, and three battery packs. All of which was wrapped in ten feet of headphone wire.
Then Laura was asked to remove her large metal heart-shaped necklace. She put it on the conveyor belt and it got stuck inside the x-ray scanner. The inspection line was shut down while a security officer worked to free it.
An hour or so later, we boarded Delta flight 1587 on time and our plane was wheels-up at 7:53 am. The 737 knifed through low clouds and soon burst into a beautiful morning. Once at our cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet, we encountered some chop but it smoothed out once we got past the Mississippi River.
We descended through a thin haze and found ourselves face to face with the gorgeous snow-capped Wasatch Mountains. On a southerly course, we paralleled the range as we passed over the Great Salt Lake. We were presented with a spectacular view of Salt Lake City. Michelle reminded me that the last time we were here, the city was hit by a freak tornado that passed through the center of downtown – ripping the roof off of the Delta Center. Today, however, the city looked at peace. I could spot the towers of the Mormon Tabernacle in the midst of the business district.
Our flight touched down at 9:45 am. We walked up the jetway and found the terminal packed with travelers. Obviously, Spring Break had sprung! We hung out at our departure gate (D-6) until boarding.
Our next flight, Delta 225 to Honolulu was a 767-400 fitted with state of the art personal video screens and airplane GPS. We were wheels-up at 11:47 am and (according to the GPS screen) our take-off speed was 218 miles per hour. We banked hard left, over the Great Salt Lake and disappeared into heavy cloud cover.
Twenty-five minutes into the flight, the kids were playing Blackjack and Battleship on their personal monitors. Twenty-six minutes into the flight, we broke out the oriental snack mix and beef jerky.
Before long, the clouds dissipated and out of our left-side windows, we could clearly see Lake Tahoe. Through the windows to our right, we could see Mt. Shasta in the distance. A few minutes later, we passed directly over San Francisco. Not a cloud in sight. The peninsula was very easy to see and I was able to show Laura the pyramidal Transamerica building, Alcatraz, and all the bay area bridges. The Golden Gate Bridge bid us adieu and the mainland slowly ebbed away into the distance. Ahead of us, four hours of blue water.
A couple of hours over the Pacific, we watched a Fedex DC-10 cruise past us, on a parallel flight path, only a half-mile away or so. Watching that plane reminded me of the movie Cast-away, during which Tom Hanks goes down aboard a Fedex DC-10 in the South Pacific. It wasn’t long before that plane also slowly disappeared into the haze.
The first-class in-flight meal consisted of a cold eggplant plate, with a Portobello mushroom slice, a salami slice, and two chunks of hard Swiss cheese. Pathetic. I remember flights to Hawaii with Lobster, dessert, and all the Macadamia nuts you could eat. Still, it was better than the coach meal, which was handed to the passengers in a bag when they boarded. Then again, maybe the bag meal might have been better. I’m not real sure.
Time seemed to go quickly with the video movies and games that were available. Still, after nine hours of flying, jet lag was sinking in and we were sinking into our seats.
The GPS map on the wall showed our plane closing in on the Hawaiian Islands. For a good forty-five minutes, I scanned the horizon. Then, there it was, just barely peeking above the clouds. Haleakala! The ridge of Maui’s extinct crater was the first visible land. In the distance, the twin volcanoes of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea emerged and glimmered in the distance.
We flew directly over Molokai and then the Koko Head crater of Oahu. A few seconds later, we passed over Diamond Head. From the air, it looks like a perfect circle of dark green rock. Several buildings were nestled inside. Right beside it were the gorgeous blue surf and white condos of Waikiki Beach. Literally hundreds of surfboards were visible in the shallow surf of the beach.
We circled west of Pearl Harbor and made an easterly approach to Honolulu International Airport. In minutes, the airplane door opened and we were hit with a blast of warm and fragrant air.
We walked the outdoor terrace-bridge to the main terminal. I noticed the famous “Aloha” sign on the old airport control tower and we stopped for our first official pictures.
With bags in tow, we jumped into our Hertz minivan and pulled out the Oahu maps. Yes, we were tired – but noooo, we weren’t going to the hotel. It was only three o’clock and there were a handful of hours before sunset. Tam pointed me north and we headed for the big surf of the North Shore. Driving the H2 to route 80 at Wahiawa and then route 99 to Haleiwa, we began to encounter cars with surfboards on them. Then we saw an ambulance with lights flashing – and with a surfboard on top - heading to the local hospital.
Just east of Haleiwa, we saw the original Dole Pineapple Plantation. Here, the Dole Company tells the history of the pineapple, samples pineapple juice, sells and ships pineapples, and offers pineapple trinkets. This shameless tourist spot was packed with hundreds of cars and tour busses.
Just past the plantation, we drove down a long downhill stretch of road which slowly revealed the ocean and then the beach of the north shore. At the bottom of the hill is the old village of Haleiwa. Officially designated a historic cultural and scenic district, Haleiwa thrives in a time warp recalling the turn of the 20th century, when it was founded by sugar baron Benjamin Dillingham, who built a thirty mile railroad to link his Honolulu and North Shore plantations in 1899. The village eroded as the sugar industry faded.
In the 1960s, however, the village was rediscovered by hippies. The laid-back culture attracted many young bohemians, who also discovered the unique and spectacular surf that was available in the area. Today, Haleiwa is known as “Surf City.” Just down the road are some of the fabled shrines of surfing – Waimea Beach, Banzai Pipeline, and Sunset Beach. Here, the World Cup of professional surfing takes place. Renowned surfers such as Kelly Slater paddle out to waves that sometimes exceed forty feet during the months of November and January.
As we came around a corner, we spotted a huge crowd standing at the beach. I pulled into Waimea Beach Park and we all ran out to see what was going on. What we saw was amazing! A twenty-foot wide section of beach had eroded away, allowing a huge reservoir of water that had collected at the base of the mountain to rush out to sea. Several daredevils with boogie boards were jumping into the dangerous rushing water and riding it until they were eventually blown several hundred yards off shore. About half the crowd thought these guys were nuts while the other half thought that it looked like a blast. Laura was among the latter. She really wanted to jump in and get washed out to sea. It did kinda look like fun, but hey, I was being Dad here. “Laura, get back, this is dangerous.”
We climbed back into the car and continued north in search of the big waves. As we turned north on coastal road 83, emotions in our van reached a fever pitch. Virtually every car had a surfboard strapped on top. Sometimes there were two, three, or more boards in or on these cars. Michelle was climbing the walls. She had been obsessed with surfing for months. Her bedroom in Michigan was filled with surf posters, books, and videos. She wore surf-themed T-Shirts everyday. She even got an Indo Board (surf trainer) for Christmas and spent hours on it in preparation for her first big surfing moment.
Kelly Slater. Ah … Kelly Slater. How many times have I heard that name in the past six months. He represented the apex of everything Michelle had obsessed about in her new passion of surfing. Six-time World Champion, unmarried, and on People Magazine’s list of the 50 Most Beautiful People, Kelly was everything that Michelle could possibly imagine in her “pipe dreams.” She had seen on television that the big corporate sponsors – O’Neill, Billabong, Quicksilver, etc. – all provided free housing along the North Shore for the world’s surfing elite. This housing turned out to look more like coastal trailer-trash, but still, Michelle’s head was literally spinning in hopes of catching a glimpse of the current king of surf.
We continued north on route 83. The narrow two-lane highway was congested with cars, virtually abandoned on either side of the road. The word was out – “Surf’s Up!!!” We could actually see people running across the road with surfboards tucked under their arms, sprinting for the beach. A mobile Papa Johns pizza vendor jerked into a parallel parking spot and immediately opened up shop. Dozens of surfers arriving after work suddenly appeared, strapped on their boards, and ran to the ocean as the late afternoon sun glistened on the waves.
Michelle had already opened the door before I could park the car. So for safety’s sake, I dropped the girls off at Ehukai Beach Park (home of the legendary Banzai Pipeline) while I parked the car two blocks away. As I walked to the beach, I spotted two large signs – WARNING … STRONG CURRENTS!! WARNING … DANGEROUS SHOREBREAK!! These signs had been covered with so many surfing stickers that they were virtually illegible.
I found the girls standing on the beach and watching the orgy of surfers on six-foot curls. Literally a hundred surfers were riding wave after wave. It was a hypnotic experience, watching these guys playfully and artfully negotiating the waves. Michelle had her eyes set on one young teenage guy in red surf shorts that was shredding the pipeline. Laura wanted to body surf. Tam was worried that everyone was getting sunburned.
After spending a half-hour in the mecca of surf, we wandered back to the van. I asked a local for a good spot to eat. He pointed up the road and said, “You gotta do Sunset Pizza, dude.” We found a filthy-looking shanty with picnic tables outside. Sure enough, it was the famous Sunset Pizza, where the world’s greatest surfers pig out after a long day of shredding the pipeline.
We parked and walked up to the window. Tam looked at the menu while I noticed that some pretty seedy-looking guys were looking at us. We ordered the “Sunset Pizza” – which had sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, black olives, chunky tomatoes, and garlic. Playing it cool, we sat down and acted like really cool surfer-dudes. After ten minutes, the pizza was ready. Michelle, Laura, and I dove in while Tam cautiously picked her way through her piece. I thought that the pizza was delicious!
On the way to the van, Tam casually mentioned that she saw the cook in the kitchen making our pizza, while sweating profusely into it. Ok, that was something I did not need to know.
Only a stone’s throw north of the pizza joint is spectacular Sunset Beach. This is where the big boys play. Surf exceeding fifty feet in height beckon both the world’s best surfers and insane daredevils. Watching them in the distance, I wondered if there was much difference between the two?
Only a stone’s throw north of the pizza joint is spectacular Sunset Beach. This is where the big boys play. Surf exceeding fifty feet in height beckon both the world’s best surfers and insane daredevils. Watching them in the distance, I wondered if there was much difference between the two?
Today, the surf at Sunset Beach was relatively tame. Waves were maybe fifteen to twenty feet high. It wasn’t as much fun to watch as the Banzai Pipeline, however, because the handful of surfers were way out from shore and not as visible as the dozens of kids playing around along the beach.
Naturally, the girls did the mandatory gauntlet of surf shops that were sprinkled along the coastal highway. From each and every store, they came out with a bagful of something.
Regretfully, we turned south and began the long drive back to Honolulu. Light was fading as we jumped back onto H1. The westbound lanes were packed as we whistled in the opposite direction toward Diamond Head. Somewhere just past the Punchbowl, however, the brake lights came on and we came to halt. After traveling six thousand miles (only six miles from our hotel) we inched our way to the eastern shore of Kahala. We were really dragging when we pulled into the parking lot of the Kahala Mandarin Oriental Hotel.
The Kahala Mandarin Oriental Hotel was first opened in 1964 as the Kahala Hilton. Away from the crowds of Waikiki, it was revered for decades as one of the best hotels in Hawaii. Every president since Richard Nixon has stayed in the hotel. Now under the ownership of the Mandarin Oriental hotel organization, it has reached a new level. It is one of only two five star facilities in all of the islands.
Checking into the hotel was like entering a private club. The entrance and lobby were very understated. Registration desks were quietly tucked in the corner. We were surrounded by lush greenery, authentic antique furnishings, and original Tahitian rugs. The person that checked us in actually walked us to our rooms. That was a nice touch. Our two connecting rooms shared a single door entry that gave us privacy and access to each room via a private vestibule and without having to go into the hallway. When we pulled open the blinds, two bottle-nose dolphins looked up and greeted Michelle and Laura with snorts and clicks as they swam in the adjacent lagoon.
Wow! What a day! It wasn’t long before we were all tucked in bed. I could hear Michelle and Laura laughing as they watched episodes of Survivor and The Apprentice. A few minutes later, all that I could hear were the distant waves washing up on Kahala Beach.
"Kaua"
Friday, April 2, 2004
Pearl Harbor
U. S. S. Arizona Memorial
Waikiki Beach
Kuhio Beach Surfing
The two super-sized Mountain Dews that I enjoyed at Sunset Pizza kicked in at 2:00 am, 3:00 am, and 4:00 am. Tam and I lay in bed and watched television in bed together until 5:00 o’clock.
At 6:00 am, all four of us were walking out to our van. In the pre-dawn darkness, we found it parked in front of our hotel – in a steady drenching rain. We piled in and began the twelve-mile drive to Pearl Harbor on H1. The concierge had warned us about the traffic tie-ups that often occured on the highway, thus explaining our early start. Still, it took nearly an hour to drive those few miles to the Nimitz Highway.
We pulled into the parking lot of the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial in a torrential downpour. The visitor center would not be open for an hour and the only place to wait was on the open sidewalks. Four people had arrived in front of us and stood in the rain. I volunteered to stand behind them, holding our space, while the girls waited in the van. The hour seemed to take an eternity, but I was glad that we got to the memorial early. Within minutes, there were several hundred people lining up behind me. And huge busses were pulling up with hundreds more.
While we waited, important military personnel arrived in full dress. They were escorting families carrying special wreaths, leis, and tri-folded flags. Two military chaplains arrived, with more families in tow. These folks were given priority access to the building. I later learned that they were taken out to the memorial in a special private shuttle boat where they could pay their respects before the tour boats arrived.
We entered the visitor center precisely at 7:50 am and were given tickets – tour group number 1.
The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial is a unique and moving tribute to the two thousand four hundred people that were killed in the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. That Sunday morning, during a Japanese air raid, the U.S.S. Arizona was struck by a 1,760 pound high-level bomb. The bomb pierced the top decks of the ship and ignited the front ammunitions magazine, blowing a huge hole in bow. The battleship sank instantly, without firing a single shot.
One thousand, one hundred and seventy seven sailors were trapped in the ship as it sunk to the bottom of the harbor. They rest there still, for eternity.
Visitors to the memorial must first watch a twenty minute film recounting the events that led up to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In the film was a rare clip of film showing the explosion of the U.S.S. Arizona. The film, as Michelle stated was “very intense.” But that was only the beginning. The side doors to the theater opened up and we boarded a special U.S. Navy ferry boat that carried us across the harbor to where the battleship was located. The heavy clouds and persistent rain added to the somber mood of everyone on board the launch.
As we neared the site alongside Ford Island, both Laura and Michelle stared at the twisted and rusty metal of the ship that reached out of the water. They pointed at the large gun turret that stood six feet above the surface. Both of them were trying to comprehend the carnage that took place here. The ship itself was upright and the top deck was submerged, six feet below the surface of the water.
The U.S.S. Arizona Memorial
The ghostly shape of the entire ship was visible, from stem to stern, just under the ripples.
We circled and then pulled up to the simple white rectangular memorial that straddled the ship. It was designed by Alfred Pries, a German architect (and prisoner of war) interned on Sand Island during the war. In his own words - ”The structure sags in the center but stands strong and vigorous at the ends, expressing in initial defeat and ultimate victory.” Inside the memorial were several viewing areas to see the battleship resting underneath. Also, on one wall, were listed the names of those entombed below the water.
In a light rain, we all stood, looking out at the remains of the ship. Drops of oil surfaced at several locations, forming rainbow-colored slicks that washed out into the harbor and out with the tide. From a few viewing points, the girls could look down into the wreckage through its openings and hatches, imagining what was in the blackness inside.
After twelve minutes, a return launch arrived. The four of us solemnly boarded and rode back to the visitor center in silence, reflecting on what we had just experienced
We wandered back to the gift shop, which by now was packed with hundreds of tourists. Michelle shouted, “Look over there! It’s the Baldwins!” Sure enough, there they were – wandering through the museum and gift shop. They had arrived only forty-five minutes after us but they were in tour group number 11, which wouldn’t go out for another ninety minutes. Timing is everything.
In front of the gift shop a table was set up with an elderly couple signing posters and books. They were Pearl Harbor Survivors Bill and Ruth Cope. Bill was a B-17 pilot stationed at Hickam Field, at the mouth of Pearl Harbor. He and Ruth had been married ten days on December 7, 1941. Bill was Officer of the Guard on that day. He had been given the responsibility of parking all the planes together, in the center of the air field, to protect them against sabotage. This was a bad decision, because it made them easy targets for the attacking Japanese forces. Virtually every plane at the air field was destroyed.
In the hours after the attack, Bill flew search missions around the Hawaiian Islands, looking for other potential attacks or invasions. Ruth became a Women’s Air Raid Defense (WARD) volunteer. Bill flew over forty bomber missions in the Pacific theater of World War II, including the Battle of Midway and Guadalcanal. At Guadalcanal, Bill was credited with successfully bombing and sinking a Japanese heavy cruiser.
Bill and Ruth were also instrumental in providing resource material for the movie Pearl Harbor – starring Ben Affleck, Josh Hartnett, and Kate Beckinsale. Several key scenes in the movie were based on first-hand accounts provided by the Copes.
Seeing a great opportunity, we had the Copes sign a U.S.S. Arizona poster for the Gull Lake Middle School “Words of Wisdom Project.” They signed it and added Remember Pearl Harbor!
We walked out to the van at 9:30 am – right on schedule. The skies were beginning to clear and it was warming up. Perfect conditions for our next adventure. Let’s hope that the surf is still up!!
I drove through unbelievably heavy traffic along the Nimitz Highway, paralleling Honolulu Harbor. We had entered the warehouse district of the harbor and were caught in heavy truck and forklift traffic. It took us half an hour to go five miles. Eventually, the Nimitz Highway turned into Ala Moana Boulevard as we approached downtown. At Kalakaua Avenue, we turned right and drove past store after store of expensive retail shopping - Neiman Marcus, Tiffanys, Cartier, and Versace.
Our plan was to give Tam the car and let her shop while the girls and I went surfing at Waikiki Beach. Tam dropped us off at Waikiki Beach Center (in front of the police station). Standing there on Kuhio Beach, watching us, was a seventeen foot tall bronze statue of the legendary Duke Kahanamoku with his longboard.
Duke Kahanamoku was born in 1890 in Honolulu. A full-blooded Hawaiian, we was an outstanding athlete – Olympic gold medal and world record swimmer. At twenty years of age, he almost single-handedly revived the lost ancient Hawaiian sport of surfing. For decades, he was the greatest surfer in the world. He invented the longboard, using a ten-footer to pick up bigger and longer waves. He rode for the most part in an elegant, straight-backed stance, but played to onlookers at times by standing on his head as he approached the beach. In 1912, while returning from the Olympics, he introduced surfing to the United States mainland, putting on exhibitions in Atlantic City and Southern California. He also traveled to Australia and New Zealand, putting on demonstrations that attracted thousands. He became a world-wide celebrity befriending Charlie Chaplin, Babe Ruth, and John Wayne.
As he became older, Duke surfed almost exclusively on Waikiki Beach. For thirty years, Duke surfed and swam at Waikiki until he died in 1968 of a heart attack at 77 years of age. He was the first inductee into the International Surfing Hall of Fame in 1996. He was also inducted into the United States Olympic Hall of Fame in 1984. Many locals think he was the greatest Hawaiian since King Kamehameha I.
I had surfed the internet back home and set up an appointment with the two most well known surf instructors on the islands – Cowboy and Jenny. Jenny told us to meet her behind the police station. I knew what she looked like based on pictures on her website. Both she and Cowboy were very dark tanned native Hawaiians. However, when we arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. Another dark Hawaiian lady came up to us and introduced herself as Stella. I asked if she knew Jenny and she said, “Yes, of course.” She also told me that Cowboy had experienced a heart attack two weeks earlier and Jenny was still at the hospital to be with him.
I asked Stella if she would be willing to teach us how to surf and she retorted, “Sure. That’s my job!” We all changed into swimsuits at the public bathrooms and ran back to her gazebo. Lessons, including all-day surfboard rental, would be $40 per person. The girls and I greased up with sunscreen and pulled on really tight surf shirts – to protect against “surfboard rash.”
Stella started by laying three nine foot long surfboards on the ground. Then she explained the basics. First, you must stay on the back of the board (behind a line that she pointed to.) Second, you get moving by paddling with the wave. Third, you grab the board with both hands on either side of your chest. Fourth, you push up onto your knees, keeping them spread apart for balance. Fifth, (if you are right handed) you lift your left leg up and place your left foot forward between your hands. Sixth, you plant your right foot where it is on the back of the board, at an angle to your left. Seventh, from a squatting position, you gradually gain balance and stand up – keeping your knees bent. “And den you’re surfin’ bra’.”
She made a few remarks about watching out for other surfers, especially at Waikiki, because there were a lot of novices out there. We were about to add three more.
We strapped tethers to our right ankles and started paddling out to the waves. God, I was pooped before we even got there! It seemed like the harder I paddled, the slower I went. Finally, we were all in position, about three hundred yards from shore.
Michelle went first. Stella found a good wave and gave her a little push. She got up on one knee, lost her balance, and rolled over. So much for visions of Kelly Slater.
Then I was next. With a push from Stella, I pushed up and then immediately augered into the sea.
Stella then gave Laura a push. Laura stood right up and rode a wave almost all the way to shore. Wow! On her first attempt! Even Stella was impressed.
Within seconds, as if determined not to lose to her sister, Michelle was muscling her way past Laura and me, making twice as many attempts. After a while, she was riding the waves like a pro. As for me, Stella said that I had a problem sticking my butt in the air. She worked with me until I was successful about sixty percent of time.
I noticed something interesting while struggling to get up. There is a genuine camaraderie among the surfing community. Everyone is helpful and when someone gets up for the first time, all of the instructors out there cheer and clap. There is nothing more important to them than that moment, getting to know you, and sharing their love and passion of surfing with you. And once you’ve actually caught a wave, you are changed forever.
Before long, Stella passed us off to her assistant, who took us further out to catch bigger waves. For the next hour, we rode wave after wave. It was a blast! I remember at one point, looking around while I was standing on the board and thinking, “THIS IS WAIKIKI BEACH… IN HAWAII! RIGHT OVER THERE IS DIAMOND HEAD! MY KIDS AND I ARE SURFING WAIKIKI BEACH!!!”
“Dude, I was stoked!”
Although we all had fun, we also learned how tiring it was paddling out against the surf for a continuous two hours. My arms felt like rubber. Michelle was getting a sunburn. Laura developed “board rash” on the insides of both forearms. The three of us agreed to take a break and shop for cool surf stuff at the Billabong store, across the street from the beach. Tam somehow found us in there. She was supposed to have been shopping for the last two hours but it took her that long to park the car and make it back to the beach.
We popped over to Cheeseburger In Paradise, where we ate lunch while watching the action at Waikiki Beach. The Kids couldn’t wait to get back to the beach and show Mom their stuff. Laura and Michelle grabbed their longboards and paddled out to catch more waves. Tam and I rented a beach umbrella and watched the girls play in the ocean on a spectacularly beautiful afternoon.
After an hour or so, the kids paddled back in – totally exhausted. They did have enough energy to shop for a couple of hours, however. This included a twenty-block trek that began when I looked for a used surfboard shop but ended in a mile-long family gripe session when I couldn’t find it.
Eventually, we did locate that shop while driving back to the hotel, but the selection of boards was poor. We opted not to buy one.
We spent the late afternoon hanging out at the fabulous Kahala Mandarin Oriental. Tam and I strolled the paths winding around the lagoons and found a beach-side cabana tent where we enjoyed Margaritas in the ocean breeze. On the way back to our room, we were detoured by a large outdoor wedding reception and a private party sponsored by the Golden Nugget casino for its high-roller customers. Honestly, I saw a big Japanese guy in that reception with a solid gold belt buckle that was as big as my head!
Laura decided to spend some of her money on a Hawaiian dress from a designer shop in the hotel. She made a great choice – it was a really nice floral dress. She wore it all night.
With the sliding doors wide open to the dolphin pools, we enjoyed a relaxing family room service meal of sushi, spring rolls, and Japanese soups. A few last games of euchre finished off the day and by 8:30 pm, everyone was long gone … sound asleep.
"Nai'a"
Saturday, April 3, 2004
Dolphin Quest
Island Hop To The Big Island
Mauna Kea Beach Resort
Beach Clambake
We woke up at 5:30 this morning, shedding a little bit more of our jet lag. I got out of bed with soreness at the bottom of my ribcage – obviously from the surfing experience the day before. My shoulders, too, were tight and sore.
At 8:45 am, the Olins walked down in our swim suits to the hotel lagoon for our appointment with some lively dolphins. This hotel was one of two in the islands that hosted the Dolphin Quest program.
After checking-in, our first assignment was to put on flotation vests. For some reason, I was given a XS-S (extra small / small) vest. I struggled to put the thing on and was compressing my chest so much that my pecs were making cleavage. Michelle looked at me with a devilish smile and said, “Hey, it’s Beyonce!” Everybody laughed. Me too ... but I filed that moment away and privately vowed revenge.
We were briefed on how to handle the dolphins. We could rub or pat the dolphins – but not near their eyes, mouth, or blowhole. Then we split into two groups of two. Michelle and I were assigned to Niele, the youngest of the dolphins (six years old). Laura and Tam got Lonestar (nicknamed Lono). He was the oldest in the group at nineteen years old. These two Atlantic bottle-nosed dolphins performed a number of behaviors ranging from rolling over to slapping water. With each behavior, we would feed our dolphin frozen whole fish as a reward.
Our trainer mentioned that dolphins shed their skin continually throughout the day. This keeps them clean and smooth. Indeed, their skin felt like hard rubber with a thin coat of slime. Michelle and I noticed several superficial scratches on Niele. Our trainer said that these were teeth marks made by other dolphins during fraternal play.
Next, the four of us were combined and we met another dolphin named Nianoa (nicknamed Noa). Noa was an eight foot long, eleven year old male. We were given scuba masks and swam out into the center of the lagoon. We were able to watch underwater behaviors and pose for pictures with Noa.
What a thrilling experience it was to swim with the dolphins – especially when they swam underneath us at thirty miles per hour!
The Dolphin Quest program was a special and memorable event. The kids thought it was the highlight of the entire trip. A professional photographer took dozens of pictures and we bought nearly all of them so that those memories might stay fresh.
We all went back to our rooms and showered again before checking out of the Mandarin Oriental. We drove to the airport and ate lunch at a bar and grill in the terminal. Afterward, we hung out at Gate 49 and waited to board Aloha Airlines – Flight 270. Our flight left Honolulu more than one hour late. The trip was short and smooth. Within minutes, we landed at Kailua / Kona International Airport. Located on a bulldozed ancient lava flow, Kona airport sits on a remote peninsula on the extreme western shore of the big island of Hawaii.
Pulling out of the airport driveway, Tam noted that continuing development is changing the look and feel of the area. I noticed that the once barren roads up to North Kohala were now jammed with traffic every inch of the way to the Mauna Kea Beach Resort. The forty-five minute drive passed quickly because the once barren lava landscape is covered with white rock messages. Names, memorials, even political statements are spelled out in these ever-changing clusters of stone.
I think that the panorama here is probably the greatest on earth. The massive slopes of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea run uphill to the right. Huge ancient lava flows, arid hillsides, small but exotic plant growth popping up through the crevices in the chunky chocolate but razor-sharp lava. In the distance to the northwest, the island of Maui rises – shadowy and hiding behind the puffy clouds.
The Mauna Kea Beach Resort is visible at least ten miles away. Its creamy, pyramid shape is tucked neatly into Kauna’oa Beach – considered one of the greatest beaches in the world.
As usual, the kids griped when I made them pose in front of the Mauna Kea sign. They both posed and smiled great! It was a terrific picture.
We pulled up to the gate and told the guard that we were staying in the villas. The man sent us to the main hotel where we checked-in. The hotel is still gorgeous, although I noticed that it looked a little run down. The Mauna Kea resort has been up and down over the years. I hope that the commitment to keep this original Laurance Rockefeller “Rock Resort” continues. In my opinion, it has some of the greatest architecture of any public structure ever designed.
To say that I got lost on the way to our villa might be a bit strong. Lets just say that we drove around a bit before we eventually found it. Villa #3002 is located between holes eight and nine on the famous Mauna Kea Beach Golf Course. In fact, a note was left on the bar warning that errant tee shots from the ninth tee sometimes land in the pool.
Ohhhh, man! The villa was spectacular! Based on the same architecture as the hotel, the villa is an open floor plan of glass, stucco, lava rock, and dark koa and mahongany woodwork. Louvered doors, sunken living room, wooden ceiling, and plenty of indirect mood lighting. There was a definite oriental flair in design but the essence was very contemporary and open. Lots of ceiling height variations and skylights. The villa had two huge bedroom suites – one master and a guest quarters – both with spacious bathroom spas.
The sunken living room featured a custom-carved wet bar. The kitchen had a huge granite island in its center. Fabulous artwork was hanging on the walls. Modern sculpture art sat on authentic antique oriental furnishings.
Tam was in awe! She said it was one of the greatest places she had ever seen. The girls whipped on their swimsuits and jumped into the private pool. Tam and I soon joined them.
After our pool diversion, we all dried off and drove down to the hotel for the Saturday night Clambake on the beach. Here, we were joined by Gloria, Becky, Frank, and the Nemesi family. Everyone at our table watched the moon rise over Mauna Kea and then the sun set in the Pacific Ocean. Michelle claimed that she saw the “green flash” just before the sun disappeared.
After dinner, Michelle, Laura, and I walked over to the manta ray observation point. Sure enough, an eight foot manta ray was circling in the light, eating photo-plankton. We overheard a guest say that this was the first sighting of a ray in nine days. Good timing!
Before we left the hotel for the villa, Michelle climbed the forty-two steps to the stone Buddha where she laid a flower in his palm as a good luck offering and in grateful appreciation for this wonderful day.
"Mauna Kea"
Mauna Kea Golf Course
Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel
Kawaihae
The birds outside our villa woke a little before five am. It was still dark. First, a few tentative chirps. Then a few more. Getting louder too. By 5:30, our garden was alive with wildlife. The sun was rising over Mauna Kea.
Tam, Laura, and I headed down to the Mauna Kea Golf Course at seven. After a few practice balls, the pro came out and told us that the course was wide open and that we could tee off at any time. Playing from the black tees, I scored pretty well but took a couple of mulligans on the front nine – one of them on the famed number three hole, when I hooked a drive into the ocean from the 267 yard island tee. My drive almost hit a couple of the native Hawaiian spear-fishermen that were diving in the inlet. Tam, on the other hand, nearly parred that hole! In fact, she played great all day, scoring a legitimate 48 on the back nine. For the record, I shot a creative 80.
We noticed that the course was in very rough condition. Tees were not maintained; not even cut or leveled in some instances. Greens were slow. Sandtraps were haggard and not trimmed or raked. Even worse, on the famous hole, number three, huge chunks of the green’s lava foundation had been washed away and virtually a third of the green was at risk of falling into the ocean.
The pro shop, bag storage, and cart shack were all in severe disrepair. And the whole operation was understaffed.
In addition, we noticed that no one was out there with us. The girl in the refreshment tent told us that they were expecting only sixty people all day. I remember when this legendary course was packed with six hundred on a busy day.
I thought that maybe the Mauna Kea course had lost favor with serious golfers. Perhaps they had moved down the coast to the Mauna Lani.
Laura, Tam and I ate lunch at the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel at the poolside beach bar. Laura even picked up the tab – gleefully charging it to her room. Michelle, of course, was still lying like a slug in her darkened bedroom.
We went back to the villa and dragged Michelle out of bed and down to the beach. There, we hung out with Gloria and the Nemesis. Laura and Michelle went “boy shopping” around the beach and pools with Jackie Nemesi. I strolled the grounds of the resort, taking two rolls of pictures – for the architecture archive back home. Even in its run-down state, the place is still beautiful!
Some time around three in the afternoon, everybody returned to their rooms to clean up for dinner. We pulled down to the hotel and picked up Grandma Gloria, Becky, and Frank. Frank needed help getting in the van because he had stepped on a sea urchin at the beach and had several spines break off in the bottom of his foot. Owww!! If he only would have let me pee on him, it would have helped. He thought I was kidding.
I drove the two miles up to the coastal village of Kawaihae. One of the nicest little casual restaurants around is located here – Café Pesto. Both the Zagat Restaurant Survey and Fodors Travel Guide named Café Pesto as “best restaurant on the big island”. Honolulu Magazine give it the Hale’Aina Top Restaurant Award in 2002 and 2003. Tam and I shared a great seafood nacho appetizer and risotto dinner. The cocktails were good too!
Afterward, we walked next door to a fun little art gallery that featured lots of Koa wood furniture and 1950s surf poster art.
Gloria returned with us to tour our villa. She was incredibly impressed. Tam, Gloria, and I sat out on the terrace under the starry sky (and full moon) and talked for nearly an hour about our many great Mauna Kea memories. I dropped off Gloria at 9:30 pm and we all turned in – sunburned and full of food.
Lying in bed, watching the news, we learned of a fatal shark attack on a fifty-seven year old surfer just off the coast of Maui. It was the first surfer / shark attack death on the islands in twelve years.
"Lani"
Monday, April 5, 2004
Monday, April 5, 2004
Mauna Loa Helicopters
Ocean Grille At Hapuna Beach
The moon reflected off the calm ocean and into our bedroom, filling it with bright blue light. A stiff breeze blew through the palm trees. A lone bird chirped sporadically, offering nature’s wake-up call at 5:27 am.
The sky along the coast was crystal clear. Lying in bed, I could easily see the lights of Kona thirty miles down the coast. But up in the mountains, heavy clouds were climbing, swirling over the ridge. Seeing this brought some concern. On this day, I was scheduled to do something I had wanted to do all my life.
I got up early, showered and headed toward Kona. The wind was buffeting the van as I drove through the lava fields on the Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway. I pulled into the Kailua - Kona International Airport and followed the signs marked “General Aviation”. I found myself driving through a dumpy section of the airport that most tourists never see. Run down little shanties, and rusted-out hangars. I pulled up to a dented-up trailer home. In front was a small sign – “Mauna Loa Helicopters: Flight Training”. With some trepidation, I swallowed hard and walked up the wheelchair ramp, opened the door, and stepped inside. I noticed three guys sitting at desks, all with their backs to me, busy reading. None of them could have cared less that I was there. I stood around for a few minutes, then finally asked someone if it was okay to sit down. One guy said, “Sure” without ever looking up from his paperwork. Apparently, the person in charge had not arrived yet.
I waited for twenty minutes. I sat there, looking around at the walls, where lots of papers and pictures were thumb-tacked right into the fake paneling. I read all about the latest helicopter crashes, current copter recalls, and new safety regulations. I drop of sweat ran down my arm and dripped onto my leg. I wiped it off and hoped that nobody saw it.
I saw a bulletin board with dozens of pictures of the school’s graduates. Eighty percent of them were Japanese.
Through the window, I watched a rusted-out Mazda pull into the parking lot. It had no muffler, blurting one last blast before it jolted to a stop. The trailer door flew open and a young surfer-dude wandered in. He pulled off his Oakley sunglasses and asked if I was Tom. I nodded slowly, trying not to reveal my shock. He pointed to a small office and led me inside. He introduced himself as Dain Greschok and proceeded to open a gigantic three-ring binder in front of me.
“Let’s start with Section 1” he said, flipping the pages.
Dain explained to me that I needed to know some basic information on emergency autogyration procedures. He said that three essential factors were critical in successful autogyration landings: air speed, altitude, and blade RPM. In an emergency, the pilot is to bleed off altitude while maintaining forward speed to a height of about forty feet. At that point, the pilot would pull back on the cyclic control, flaring the chopper and slowing its speed substantially just before hitting the ground. Ok, simple enough.
Then Dain gave me a serious look and said that with Robinson helicopters, the pilot should absolutely avoid “negative G” push-overs. In other words, do not push the helicopter very hard forward and nose down. Curiously, I asked why. Dain calmly said that due to the Robinson rotor hub configuration, a hard push-over would fracture the hub and the blades would fly off. Ok, point taken. I guess I won’t do that maneuver, then.
“Well, let’s go flying!” Dain announced, slamming the huge binder closed. “That’s it?” I asked.
“Yep.”
We got up and walked out onto the tarmac. There were four black Robinson helicopters parked in a square. Further away, there was a white and blue Robinson 22 Beta near the fence. It had the serial number N209KR. This would be our aircraft. It was a tiny, two-seat chopper with seats no larger than fifteen inches wide.
Dain asked if I wanted my door off. I said “sure” based on the idea that it might reduce flying weight and give me more room. Our helicopter could carry a combined pilot weight of 400 pounds. So at 225 pounds, I was at the limit for two-man payload limitations. I tried to size up Dain. I think he weighed less than 175 pounds.
Dain performed an extensive aircraft inspection which included adding a quart of oil. After a half an hour of vehicle preparation, we were finally able to buckle in and fly. I shoehorned myself inside and buckled my single-clip seat belt. My right shoulder and arm hung out of the cockpit into the open air. Dain fired up the four cylinder 160 horsepower Lycoming engine. Slowly, the rotors began to turn.
Within minutes, the engine was sufficiently warmed up to lift off. The control tower green-lighted our departure to the south. Dain hovered down the runway and swept left and north east toward Kohala.
We reached a cruising altitude of 1,200 feet and then Dain handed the controls to me. I had studied the mechanics of helicopter flight, so I knew about how cyclic, collective, and foot controls worked – at least in theory. Even with that knowledge, my first few minutes at the controls were a bit testy. However, I quickly adjusted, learning that the controls were super-sensitive. Dain calmly recommended that I rest my arm on my right leg – thus providing a stable base for operating the cyclic. He said that Robinsons were very responsive to small movements – more than any other make of helicopter. Dain had gone up with Army chopper pilots and they found the Robinson very difficult to fly.
In the first five minutes of flight, I had a tendency to oscillate the chopper forward and back and side to side. Dain mentioned that there is a delay, of sorts, between control movement and the reaction of the aircraft. The idea was to maintain small movements and keep stable.
The two of us continued north to the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel, where I circled over the resort several times. I could easily see our villa on the golf course.
Dain took the controls for a few minutes and headed up the mountainside while I took pictures. Finding a flat spot, he practiced approaches and landings. On one occasion, we scared up several mountain sheep and they fled across the lava field looking for a place to hide.
I took control of the chopper and drove it to a remote beach north of the Waikaloa Resort. My skills were improving – smooth flight, steady speed, altitude. Dain said that I was doing things that most students didn’t do until into their tenth or twelfth hour of training.
“Yeah, I was becoming a chopper pilot,” I thought to myself. Suddenly, we oscillated again. “Then again, maybe I wasn’t!!”
I asked Dain how long he had been teaching. He said, “Two weeks.”
Then I asked, “Who has the heaviest student that he had ever taken up in the two-man Robinson?” Dain looked at me and asked, “How much do you weigh?” I said, “225.” He retorted, “You’re it!” He said that he could feel the weight when the chopper first took off from the airport.
Dain allowed me to pilot the helicopter back along the highway until we reached the airport, when he took control and approached from the south at an altitude of twenty feet. We landed right where we started. For two minutes, we idled while the engine block cooled to 300 degrees, then he shut the chopper down.
I must say that it was one of the most fun adventures of my life. And it launched an avocation that lasted for many years hence.
We walked back to the trailer where I met the owner-manager, Ben Fouts. He was much sharper than the clods I met when I first arrived. Ben successfully sold me all of the requisite manuals, handbooks, T-shirts, and hats he had available.
I drove away from the airport fantasizing about getting by helicopter rating.
Next, I backtracked to the Kona Walmart, where I had earlier taken film to be developed. I ate lunch in the store, at McDonalds, while I waited.
At 1:00 pm, I returned to the hotel and checked in at the golf pro shop. I cancelled my 2:00 o’clock tee time when no one else showed up to play. It was very possible that Rich, Richie, and Frank were all watching the NCAA basketball finals between Georgia Tech and UConn. So I decided to hit a bucket of balls and then take a dip in our villa pool.
The girls made it back from Hilo Hatties at 4:30 pm. It looked like they brought all of Hilo back with them.
At 6:00 pm, we dropped the kids at the Pavillion Restaurant while the adults drove over to the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel for dinner at the Ocean Grille. Cocktails at sunset and dinner by moonlight. Our outdoor table was the perfect setting to talk about great family adventures.
I pointed out several constellations and two satellites. The bright full moon lit up the sky so much that many stars were obscured by the light.
After dinner, we all returned to our villa, where we sat out on the terrace and enjoyed a perfect evening of conversation.
It was after ten by the time the kids returned and we went to bed.
"Hau'oli"
Tuesday, April 6, 2004
Grass Skirt Making
Waimea
The Famous Mauna Kea Luau
We slept in until 7:00 am this morning. The sun was high in the sky and the day was well underway.
The first ones up, Laura and I found the private trail that ran down from our villa to the hotel. We headed down to the imu preparation ceremony and grass-skirt making class on the hotel terrace. Although the firepit was hot and ready to go, the pig had not yet arrived and no one was there. So we strolled up to the Pavillion Restaurant and I dropped Laura off there so she could have breakfast. I stopped in the gift shop and bought some sunscreen before heading over to the golf course.
Rich and Richie were already warming up on the driving range when I met up with them. After a few warm-up shots, we teed-off from the black (championship) tees. The three of us enjoyed a friendly round of golf on the perfect day for it. I started strong with pars on the first two holes, then I dunked a ball into the water on hole number three but salvaged a fighting four with a great twenty-five foot putt.
At the turn, Rich and I were tied with a pair of 40s. The back nine tightened up a bit when Rich reeled off two straight pars while I struggled to save par on ten and bogey on number eleven. The match was even again after I rallied with a string of pars. On the eighteenth hole, we were all square.
Hitting first, I hammered a great drive 280 yards, right up the pipe. Rich hit right into the scrub then left into the adjoining fairway. Then he lost his ball. I had a tap-in par.
Afterward, the three of us enjoyed a relaxed lunch and casual conversation at the golf clubhouse grill. The service was extremely slow, taking almost two hours from beginning to end. We then returned to our rooms to get ready for the luau dinner.
Tam, Laura, and Michelle went shopping in the mountain village of Waimea. Tam found a nice piece of art that she purchased and sent home.
At the villa, we were all getting ready for the big luau. Laura couldn’t wait to wear the tea-leaf grass skirt that she had made for herself earlier in the day. She stood in the kitchen and practiced the hula, over and over again, making sure that she had it down just right.
Just before heading out, threatening skies marched down from the mountains, spitting drops of rain. As we walked down to the ocean-side luau site, I looked for someplace that we might be able to run for cover.
We posed for family pictures with a professional photographer. Our timing was perfect. The setting sun emerged below the clouds, making a glorious family portrait.
This would be my sixth luau at the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel and I knew that it would be a gorgefest. All kinds of fish, meat, veggies, and fruits were laid out on eight huge table settings. The chocolate macadamia nut cake was out of this world!
The Baldwins finally joined us today. They flew in from Kauai just in time for the luau. Michelle loved seeing David again. The entire family, all fifteen of us, posed with the photographer for a luau portrait.
The program of tropical music and dance was superb – as usual. But they had added some “touristy” bits (one featured tinsel grass skirts) that I thought took away from the program. I also recognized many of the dancers from the last two or three times I had seen the show. Gloria was kinda turned on by one of the muscular male dancers. He had a real thin beard and tattoo on his shoulder.
Laura, Michelle, and Jackie jumped up on stage to perform the “hukilau”. Laura was in her glory – grass skirt and all! A little later, Rich was picked out to do a Tahitian dance. Frankly, he was as good as the dancers. He could really wiggle that butt.
Stuffed with food, everyone waddled up to the hotel. We crawled into our van and drove back to the villa. Tam and I agreed that maybe it was a bit of a hassle, having to drive up to the villa all the time. And we missed the sound of the surf pounding on the beach.
"Pele"
Wednesday, April 7, 2004
Kona Highway
Punalu'u Beach
Hawaii Volcanoes National Park
Na'alehu
Southern-Most Point In U.S.
Surfin' Ass and Donkey Balls
It was a miracle! All four of us were up, in the van, and driving down the Kona Highway by 7:40 am. Our first stop was to drop off film at the Kona Walmart store. We picked up lots of oriental snacks (dried squid, wasabi peanuts, and dehydrated crab crisps) and bottled water for our day-long road trip around the island.
Following route 11 through Holualoa, clouds began to gather on the hills to our left. We hit the McDonalds drive-through so that Michelle could order a hash brown for breakfast.
I was at the wheel, driving the winding Hawaii Belt Road at maximum speed through South Kona County. After about twenty minutes, it started getting real quiet in the back seat. Michelle said that both she and Laura were carsick. Dang it! We were making such good time too! Anyway, it was my theory that the cause was probably too much dried squid.
We stopped at the tiny village of Wai’ohinu, at the local (and only) gas station. Michelle needed to pee and we were praying that we could find a rest room. Yes, there were public rest rooms, but they were in the back of someone’s house!
By popular demand, Tam took over driving responsibilities and we continued around the island’s southern end to Punalu’u Beach, the only accessible black sand beach in Hawaii. The girls were really excited and looking forward to this moment. Bland sand. Cool! Before getting out, Michelle asked if the “curse” really existed. She was talking about the bad-luck curse that follows anyone who takes lava or lava by-products from the islands. I said, “Yes, of course it exists. Didn’t you see the Brady Bunch trip to Hawaii?”
Several signs in the beach parking lot warned Do not take the black sand and Do not bother the sea turtles. But my favorite sign was No Public Nudity. In front of that sign, I posted for a picture with my shirt up and exposing my chest. The kids posed too. Tam had far too much decorum.
We spent twenty minutes exploring the beach and black lava tide pools. Snorkelers swam in the shallow inlet. Beside the beach were the ruins of a public pier that was dynamited by the U.S. Army in December of 1941. The pier was destroyed in an effort to prevent the Japanese from secretly invading the island at the start of World War II.
Michelle and Laura wanted to stay at the beach much longer but we needed to bug-out and move on to our next stop – Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.
As we neared the visitor’s center, hot steam vents were clearly visible on both sides of the road. Laura said that it reminded her of Yellowstone National Park. Precisely at noon, we attended the hourly “volcano update.” The park ranger told us that the volcano was still active but only in one small and isolated area at Pu’u O’o. Lava was not flowing to the ocean as it was four years ago, when we flew over the volcanoes. A twenty-mile trail over difficult terrain could be traversed to the site. Even then, however, all that was visible was an orange glow in the sky at night. A direct view of the lava was impossible at this time.
Hungry, as usual, the four of us walked across the street to the Volcano House Hotel. Tam really wanted a sit-down lunch, so we joined a large Chinese tourist group and went through a truly mediocre buffet line. The food was lousy, but the view – looking out huge windows directly into Kiluea Caldera – was spectacular! We could see hundreds of steam vents billowing white mini-clouds all around the rim of the crater.
We jumped into the van and began the driving tour around Crater Rim Drive. Our first stop was at the steam vents on the northern ridge of Steaming Bluff. The superheated steam was spewing from cracks and holes in the lava. White sulphur buildup smoothed the edges of the openings. Tam said that the steam smelled like maple syrup. I thought that it smelled more like curry.
As you might expect, the kids put their hands over the vent holes and were surprised with the heat coming up from the center of the earth.
We drove to the Jagger Museum, which had some exhibits and gave us a little better view of the caldera. Continuing south, we stopped at the Southwest Rift and then we actually drove down into the caldera to the Halema’uma’u Overlook. At this point, we were in the center of the Kiluea Caldera. We could see and walk up to another “crater within a crater”. This was the Halema’uma’u Crater, which formed during the eruption of 1974. It is still actively smoldering today. Many native Hawaiians come to this spot to offer gifts to the great Madame Pele – the fire goddess who “eats the land”. Special stones, leis, and weavings had been left on a stone altar on the edge of the crater as offerings.
Back in the car, we drove several more miles across the surface of the Kiluea Crater. Every few yards, we would see a sign that demarking “Eruption of 1959” or “Eruption of 1982”.
Eventually, we climbed out of the crater and onto its eastern slope. This side of the caldera has become a rich, green rainforest that receives two hundred inches of rain per year. In the midst of this jungle is the famous Thurston Lava Tube (otherwise known as Nahuku).
Located a few hundred yards into the rainforest from Crater Rim Drive, the Thurston Lava Tube is probably the most visited site in the park. Luckily, we were there between busloads, so we were able to investigate the tube in relative privacy and at our own pace. The tube opening looks like a giant twenty-foot high jungle cave. Once inside, the tube has a smoother look and feel to it than a regular cave. The lava stalagmites and stalactites are well-worn and smooth now too, from the millions of visitors it has endured. It runs for about three hundred yards, with electric lighting and an improved pathway. Beyond that, however, the tube runs for another three hundred yards in its original condition, it was total blackness. Flashlights were required.
Laura skipped into the tube with great excitement and anticipation. Michelle grabbed my arm and came along with great trepidation. Water was dripping on us constantly. We negotiated several puddles too. Laura wanted to grab a flashlight and continue through the other half, but Tam and Michelle bailed out at the tourist exit and were running for the car, shaking their hands through their hair.
Having finished the crater rim drive, we headed westbound on the Mamalahoa Highway to Na’alehu – the southern-most town in the United States of America. In 1972, I posed with my sisters in front of a sign in the town square announcing that fact. I had hoped to find that sign again so I could photograph my daughters, and add that to our state sign picture collection. Stopping to fuel up the van, I asked the gas station attendant if the sign was still around. She said, “Yep. It’s in the Ace Hardware parking lot.” Indeed it was! The girls grouchily got out and posed for another state sign picture – just as I did thirty-two years ago.
Eight miles west of Na’alehu is South Point Road – a one lane wide, coarsely-paved road that leads to the southern-most point in the United States. The drive seemed to take forever, but once there, afforded one of the most beautiful and emotive vistas in all of Hawaii.
The southern tip is a huge, grassy, plain – whipped by ocean winds and beaten by pounding tides. It was here thousands of years ago, that ancient Polynesians first discovered the Hawaiian Islands after traveling thousands of miles in dug-out canoes. Today, there are still centuries-old lava outcroppings that were carved and used to tie up their boats.
Only a handful of stalwart adventurers had come all the way to Ka Lae (South Point). There were also a few native Hawaiian fishermen camped out along the shore.
A large white navigational tower stands naked against the elements, facing south toward millions of square miles of open ocean.
Laura and Michelle spelled their names in white coral stones on the exposed black lava. Tam stood on a knoll staring out over the ocean in contemplation.
The late-afternoon sun warmed and created deep shadows along the hundred foot cliffs that disappeared up the western coast. Our day was getting short and we needed to head north.
Tam drove the curvy Hawaii Belt Road this time. No one was carsick, although Michelle needed to locate a toilet badly. Near the Ka’ohe Ranch, it began to rain again. Clouds rolled in and threatened to storm. The girls were getting restless. Tam was getting testy. This was a recipe for disaster. We couldn’t get to Kailua – Kona fast enough.
At Holualoa, we stopped at the Surfin Ass Coffee Shop where we bought some gifts for friends. We also purchased several packages of “Donkey Balls” for the family party we were planning for Thursday. In case you were wondering, Donkey Balls are chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.
After a quick stop at the Walmart (again) to pick up the photos we dropped off, Tam drove down to Kailua Bay. It was dinner-time and everyone wanted to try Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Shack. After dropping us off, Tam drove around, and around, and around, looking for a parking space. In the mean-time, we were given a premium outdoor table only feet from the surf. Tam didn’t make it to our table until the appetizers were already gone. She also missed the best sunset of the whole trip. I could sense that Madame Tam was not happy. The volcano was beginning to smolder.
Halfway through our meal, Michelle shouted, “Hey, there’s the Baldwins!” Sure enough, they were arriving for dinner. As it turned out, everyone was coming to eat at Bubba Gump’s. This made Tam feel guilty for some reason. So after we finished, we socialized a bit and then hit the local shops. Almost all of them were tourist traps, so we bailed and headed back to the Mauna Kea Resort.
It had been a very long day and everyone was really on edge. The kids argued for twenty miles. And then it came. Tam erupted in huge proportions. Lava was spewing all over the inside of the van. The casualties were horrific!! People were running for their lives. It was Dante’s Peak!!
The last half-hour of the trip was driven in total silence.
We opened the villa and each of us took off in different directions. It was lights out and doors closed.
"Pa'ina"
Thursday, April 8, 2004
Mauna Kea Beach resort
Mauna Lani Resort
Waikaloa Resort
Party At Our Private Villa
Tam and I woke up at 6:45 am, turned on the television, and watched Dr. Condoleezza Rice finish up her testimony before the 9/11 Commission investigating the terrorist attacks that had taken place two and a half years before.
With no sign of last night’s meltdown, everybody climbed into the van at 9:20 am. Tam and I delivered the kids directly to the beach and then we took off to investigate the Kohala coast resorts.
It is not well known, but the oldest volcano on the island is a small one named Kohala. Having last sputtered 60,000 years ago, the volcano formed what we now know as the Kohala coast. Located on the northwestern shore of the big island of Hawaii, the Kohala coast enjoys arid and sunny conditions year-round. Once a remote and lonely part of the island, it is now a playground for wealthy tourists because of the favorable weather and gorgeous beaches.
Forty years ago, visionary multi-millionaire, Laurance Rockefeller built the Mauna Kea Beach Hotel on what some consider the most beautiful beach in the world - Kauna’oa Beach. At that time, it was the only facility of its kind on the Kohala coast.
Nearly a dozen huge resort operations have sprouted up along the big island's northwestern shore, among which are the Hapuna Beach Resort, the Mauna Lani Hotel, the Ritz Carlton Orchid at Mauna Lani, the Hilton Waikaloa, the Marriott Waikaloa, the Outrigger Waikaloa Beach Resort, the Four Seasons Hualalai, and the Kona Village Resort. As a result of this development, the Kohala coast is becoming more crowded, and slightly less beautiful.
The Mauna Lani Hotel is very beautiful and very polished but it lacks the location and visual power of the Mauna Kea Resort. It is a more popular destination than the Mauna Kea, primarily because it is newer and glitzier. Employees are visible everywhere, polishing handrails, floors and walls; just the kind of care that the Mauna Kea used to get. Even so, somehow the Mauna Lani seems cold and sterile – like it lacks “soul”. Perhaps it is the overabundance of marble and travertine.
Laurance Rockefeller, with Robert Trent Jones, Jr. ...
planning the golf course for the Mauna Kea Beach Resort
(circa 1963).
planning the golf course for the Mauna Kea Beach Resort
(circa 1963).
The Mauna Kea Beach Hotel today ...
Nearly a dozen huge resort operations have sprouted up along the big island's northwestern shore, among which are the Hapuna Beach Resort, the Mauna Lani Hotel, the Ritz Carlton Orchid at Mauna Lani, the Hilton Waikaloa, the Marriott Waikaloa, the Outrigger Waikaloa Beach Resort, the Four Seasons Hualalai, and the Kona Village Resort. As a result of this development, the Kohala coast is becoming more crowded, and slightly less beautiful.
The Mauna Lani Hotel is very beautiful and very polished but it lacks the location and visual power of the Mauna Kea Resort. It is a more popular destination than the Mauna Kea, primarily because it is newer and glitzier. Employees are visible everywhere, polishing handrails, floors and walls; just the kind of care that the Mauna Kea used to get. Even so, somehow the Mauna Lani seems cold and sterile – like it lacks “soul”. Perhaps it is the overabundance of marble and travertine.
We had planned to visit the Waikaloa and Four Seasons resorts, but the shopping was so good at the Waikaloa Kings Shops that we never made it. We shopped there for more than two hours. There was a great general store where we picked up supplies for the big shindig that we were throwing at the villa later that day.
We also found a good Chinese restaurant, the Golden Palace, and placed a group order for fifteen people to be picked up at 5:30 pm.
At Dolphin Galleries, I purchased a fourteen carat white gold petroglyph turtle necklace piece for Tam.
Tam and I relaxed under some nice shade trees for a few minutes while we waited for Roy’s Restaurant to open. We shared a cup of bisque, and each had the special shrimp risotto lunch. Wow! Delicious!
We went back to Whaler’s General Store to purchase a few more items for our family party. We returned to the villa to get things ready. Cleaning. Setting up the bar. Getting glasses, dishes and serving plates set up in the kitchen. I spent a good hour loading a custom photo album with more than 240 pictures of our trip. It had really been a fabulous vacation – I could tell from the photographs.
Conditions were perfect for our party. Eighty degrees. Blue sky. While we waited for Sue and Jim to bring the Chinese order up from the Waikaloa, everybody hammered the snack bowls featuring indigenous foods of Hawaii – macadamia nuts, taro chips, and Maui kettle chips. To cool things off, we served margaritas and macadamia nut wine.
For dessert, we rolled out the Donkey Balls.
The villa was the perfect place for a party. Gloria, Beck, Deb, Rich, and Tam sat at the dining table looking at vacation photos. Chris and Richie watched sports on television in the guest suite. Jackie, Michelle, Laura, and David all went swimming in the pool. Frank, Jim, and I sat out on the patio and talked about all kinds of things as the skies darkened and the stars came out. Almost everyone watched one of the final episodes of “The Apprentice”. Nick and Amy were both fired in the episode.
What a great party!
"Kamuela"
Friday, April 9, 2004
Friday, April 9, 2004
More Golf
Parker Ranch
On the local news this morning:
- The U.S. Navy turned over the island of Kahoolawae to the state of Hawaii after spending two years removing ordnance and shrapnel from the target range located there.
- Election polls still showed a neck and neck race between George Bush and John Kerry in the 2004 U.S. Presidential race.
- Tiger Woods shot three over par in the first round of the Masters golf tournament. Justin Rose took the lead at five under par.
Like Tiger Woods, I stepped out onto the Mauna Kea Golf Course and shot four over par on the first three holes. Playing with Tam, Deb, and Rich, I ventured into some brush on the fourth hole and noticed something on my left shoulder. It was a giant yellow and black spider! It was at least four inches long! I swatted it off and then stomped on it several times. Tam was freaking out in the golf cart. Always the good sports, Deb and Rich gave me a free drop – how nice.
The trauma apparently helped my game, as I shot two over par for the next ten holes. Then came the big collapse – bogey, double-bogey, bogey. I was so angry on the eighteenth tee that I swung as hard as I could. Miraculously, it was a magnificent shot of over three hundred yards. Pulling up to the ball, I found it in a sand trap. I clipped a 160 yard six iron from the sand to about ten feet and made a smooth par. It was too late to salvage a mediocre round of 81.
Tam also played an up and down round. She hit some great shots but muffed a few as well.
Laura and Michelle slept in and ate leftovers from the previous nights’ big party. From the villa, they trekked down the private path to the beach to catch more rays … and scope for more boys.
After a leisurely lunch with Deb and Rich, Tam and I returned to the villa and began – slowly – to pack things in our suitcases. The two of us stopped briefly to watch Arnold Palmer play his 50th and final Master’s tournament.
Located ten miles up the mountain from our hotel is the town of Waimea. The town is often labeled Kamuela on maps. That’s because there are two other Waimeas in the state, so the Post Office named the local branch Kamuela – Hawaiian for Samuel (as in Samuel Parker – as in the Parker Ranch!) Waimea is at the crossroads between the east and west sides of the Big Island. At 2,600 feet, it’s air has a un-Hawaiian-like cool crispness and it is often subject to rains that sweep up the mountainside.
Unlike the resort communities along the shore, Waimea is full of pickup trucks and cattle trailers. At the local McDonalds, one would not see tourists in swimsuits. More than likely, they would see blue jeans and cowboy boots.
The Parker Ranch is spread all over the mountains surrounding Waimea. It is the largest cattle ranch in world. Even though it is smaller than at its peak, (it once covered 225,000 acres - almost nine percent of the entire island) its current 180,000 acres is still an active ranch supporting 35,000 head of cattle.
In started in 1815, when King Kamehameha I, hired outdoorsman and adventurer John Palmer Parker to hunt a growing and problematic cattle herd that had grown uncontrollably since Captain George Vancouver introduced them to the island in 1793.
In payment for Parker’s services, King Kamehameha gave him several head of cattle and many acres on which to raise them. In 1816, Parker married Kamehameha’s great grand-daughter, cementing his bond with the royal family. Within a handful of years, Parker and his wife owned 1,640 acres.
Around 1900, John Parker’s grandson, Samuel Parker (who was a playboy and spent money like water) made dozens of stupid investments and almost ruined the business. The family took over the operation and revived it.
In 1990, Richard Smart, the nearest descendent of John Parker, died, leaving his estate of $450 million to his family. But he also, gifted the bulk of the land (139,000 acres) to a non-profit trust. This ignited an explosion. Angry family members hired dozens of lawyers to protect their interests and the future of the ranch looked in doubt. After several years of sibling bickering, the dispute was eventually settled and Waimea was at peace once again.
The fifteen-person Olin caravan marched up the mountain to Waimea as a late-afternoon rain fell on the hillside along the Kawaihae Highway. Laura first spotted a piece of a rainbow on the cloudy ridge. By the time we entered Waimea, a huge double-rainbow followed us into the village.
Pulling into the Parker Ranch Visitor Center and Shopping Center, we window-shopped before arriving at the Parker Ranch Grill. The restaurant, even though it is located in a strip-mall, is very authentic and rustic. Aged woodwork and original hand-made Hawaiian quilts lined the walls. Stone fireplaces burned mesquite, filling the grill with its rich aroma. Shelves filled with books and Remington-style bronze sculptures made us feel like we were on the set of Bonanza. Sitting at a long table, we all ate a leisurely meal, sharing appetizers, and reminiscing about another fabulous vacation.
Through a huge picture window, the parting clouds gave us all a brief and up-close glimpse of Mauna Kea. For only a minute or two, we had a crystal clear view of the snow-capped volcano. Then the rain returned. It felt cold as we walked out to our van in the dark.
By the time we reached Kawaihae, the clouds were gone and we were driving home under the starry skies of Kohala.
All of the adults gathered for one last toddy in the Copper Bar at the hotel Serenaded by Hawaiian musicians and the pounding ocean, we talked about the great times we have had over the years. We also talked about places that we might visit in the future. We agreed on several spots that might be fun – Puerto Rico, Napa Valley, The Boulders … even Australia. But the big winner seemed to be Las Vegas.
Slowly and regretfully, everybody got up said their goodbyes. There were hugs and kisses all around. Shuffling off in different directions, minds were now preoccupied with thoughts of luggage, hotel bills, and flights.
"Aloha"
Saturday, April 10, 2004
Pu'ukohola Heiau
Kings Shops At Waikaloa
Petroglyphs At Anaeho'omalo
Aloha Hawaii
Trying to squeeze every last bit out this vacation, Tam and I snuck out of the villa early. We left the kids, still sound asleep in their darkened bedroom.
We drove a mile and a half north of the hotel to the Pu’ukohala Heiau. “Heiau” is Hawaiian for the word temple. Literally a golf ball-drive away from Mauna Kea’s third hole, the Pu’ukohala Heiau is among the most culturally sacred and significant sites in all of Hawaii.
On the advice of prophet Kapoukahi, who told him that the king could conquer all of the Hawaiian Islands if he built it, King Kamehameha I constructed a massive lava-stone temple overlooking Kawaihae Bay. Following rigid guidelines in order to please Ku (the war god), Kemehameha himself worked alongside thousands of his warriors to complete the structure. The rocks used to construct the heiau were special water-worn lava rocks from the seaside valley of Pololu. Workers formed a chain at least twenty miles long to the top of the temple.
On the advice of prophet Kapoukahi, who told him that the king could conquer all of the Hawaiian Islands if he built it, King Kamehameha I constructed a massive lava-stone temple overlooking Kawaihae Bay. Following rigid guidelines in order to please Ku (the war god), Kemehameha himself worked alongside thousands of his warriors to complete the structure. The rocks used to construct the heiau were special water-worn lava rocks from the seaside valley of Pololu. Workers formed a chain at least twenty miles long to the top of the temple.
By the summer of 1791, the heiau was complete. Kamehameha invited his rival chief and cousin Keoua Kuahu’ula to the dedication ceremonies. When Keoua witnessed the greatness of this achievement, he willingly walked down to the beach where King Kamehameha gored him with a spear. The slain chief was carried up to the altar of the heiau as the principal sacrifice to Ku.
The death of this rival virtually assured Kamehameha’s ascendancy. Thus the words of the prophet were fulfilled and Kamehameha reigned supreme over all of Hawaii.
We could tell that the site was important because it was an official U.S. National Park Service – National Monument. We parked in the small visitor’s center lot and walked into a trailer-sized shanty. The park ranger stepped out of the office to greet us. In what seemed a true moment of karma, we instantly identified the ranger as the big muscular dancer from the luau a few nights ago. He was Gloria’s favorite. He told us that his name was Paul and confirmed to us that, indeed, he was the luau dancer. This sparked a fifteen minute conversation about the Mauna Kea luau and his frustration with recent hotel management changes to make it more “commercial”. Paul’s big gripe was that as luaus of the past were truly authentic and true to the spirit of the Mauna Kea philosophy, the new format was geared toward tourists. Hotel management made them wear tinsel skirts because they were flashier. He also complained about the demand to put a Tahitian “fire guy” in the show.
Paul told us that the Mauna Kea Resort had been slipping ever since Laurance Rockefeller ended his association with the hotel twenty years ago. In fact, Paul told us that Rockefeller pulled out much of his private Pan-Asian art and antiquities collection from the hotel when he left.
Paul, himself, had been a resident of Hawaii for a quarter-century. Before that, he was a National Park Service ranger in the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Yosemite National Parks. He now works as a volunteer and holds down two other jobs as tour planner and luau dancer. He recently purchased a small home in the village of Puako, just south of the hotel. He hopes to open it as a bed and breakfast for gays. You see, this big strapping muscular guy with tattoos is a flaming homosexual.
Tam and I escaped the visitor’s center and strolled down the paved path to the heiau. It is a large flat tapered pyramid structure. It is built on a bluff overlooking the bay. Just below the big temple is Mailekini Heiau – a smaller temple featuring a stone leaning post for the king to sit against when enjoying the favorite pastime of the day…feeding meat to the sharks in Kawaihae Bay.
From Kawaihae, we took the Akoni Pule Highway to the northern tip of the Big Island. This part of the island is very remote. The only sign of life are the signs pointing to various beaches along the coast. As I drove past Ha’ena and Hikapoloa, the clouds gathered and began to spit rain. By the time we made it to Hawi, we were in the midst of a ferocious storm. It was a monsoon; rain blown horizontally by forty to fifty mile-per-hour winds. The ocean was grinding away; rolling and chopping up and down, forming huge whitecaps. We turned onto Upolu Point Road, looking for the Birthplace of King Kamehameha I. We drove down a two-mile long and steep gravel path. The path dead-ended into the ocean. We turned around in a small parking area and spotted a State Historical Marker. It designated the landing point of the first group of Puerto Ricans to sail to the Hawaiian Islands in 1901. There were no signs referring to a Kamehameha birthplace.
We tried another road and stopped at a security gate to ask directions to the landmark. The security guard told us that the birthplace was inaccessible without a four-wheel drive vehicle. We smiled, said “mahalo” and started back toward the hotel.
Conditions began to let up as we continued west and drove out from under the storm. And by the time we made it back to Kawaihae, there was no sign of foul weather at all!. No rain. No clouds. Nothing.
Michelle and Laura were still grubbing around when we returned from our sightseeing trip. Within an hour or so, they were showered up, packed up and ready to head out.
As we opened the gate to the villa to leave, the metal frame holding the whole thing fell apart. On closer inspection, an inch-thick support post had rusted away and come loose. It seems that our villa wore out its welcome during our stay. Tam and I agreed that we missed being closer to the beach and made a mental note that we would stay at the hotel next time.
Looking for a few last bargains, we stopped at the Kings Shops. All four of us enjoyed a delicious sushi lunch in the shopping center. On the sidewalks outside, two elderly women with ukeleles sandwiched an old guy with a guitar. Together, they serenaded shoppers with traditional Hawaiian melodies. A Hawaiian Easter bunny handed out candy eggs to kids.
Michelle and Laura bought trinkets for their friends, Tam looked for a few items for friends too. Me? I was buying T-shirts for myself at all of the local surf shops.
Believe it or not, there is an important anthropological site right beside the Kings Shops. The Petroglyphs at Anaeho’omalu is a large field of ancient etchings and symbols carved into the smooth pahoehoe lava that borders the old Mamalahoa Trail (connecting Kona and Kohala). Even before Christ, fellow travelers etched images into to the lava, telling stories of life in those times. We walked the Mamalahoa Trail and investigated the petroglyphs. The girls found an ancient image of a man surfing.
Having purchased so much merchandise at the Kings Shops, we had to go to the Kona Mailboxes Etc., to send it all back home. Across the street was a big Borders book store. We picked up a few last magazines to read during the flight home. Then we turned toward the airport and began the long road back to Michigan.
Security at the airport was adequate but not too difficult to negotiate. Our 6:35 pm Aloha Airlines flight 289 to Honolulu was on time. We had plenty of time for a nice sit-down dinner at the Honolulu airport. We walked down the concourse and Michelle (once again) shouted out, ”Hey! It’s the Baldwins.” Sure enough, there they were, boarding a non-stop Delta flight to Cincinnati. Tam said, “Tom, how come we’re not on that flight?” I said, “I dunno.” She was not happy. And it got worse when she discovered that our flight to Salt Lake City had to stop in Los Angeles first.
At 9:00 pm, we rolled down the runway on Delta 1852. We climbed into the moonlit sky, the flickering lights of Waikiki wishing us Godspeed. A few minutes later, we disappeared into the clouds. We landed at LAX some time around five am. Due to a crew change, everybody was forced to deplane. We staggered into the terminal and walked in circles for forty minutes. Our flight to Salt Lake City took off in the dark and crossed the San Gabriel Mountains at sunrise.
In Salt Lake City, we slammed a breakfast/lunch at California Pizza Kitchen. Our flight to Chicago, Delta 736, was smooth and on time.
Then it hit me. I had inadvertently packed our Chicago parking claim check in the stuff I mailed home. Preoccupied by the missing claim check, I led another Bataan death march from O’Hare Terminal 3 to the parking kiosk. Actually, we recovered the car without difficulty and were quickly on our way down the tri-state. This time, we made sure to have plenty of loose change.
We stopped for fuel and White Castle hamburgers in Indiana. Somebody was already having bad gas by Benton Harbor. At one point around Paw Paw, with everyone else asleep in the car, I started to doze off, but I caught myself in a few seconds. The event put a scare in me and I was wide awake for the rest of the trip home.
The Olin Family walked into the house at 6:30 pm, just as Phil Mickelson was putting on his green jacket after winning the Masters tournament.
Tired and triumphant – until next time ... Aloha'oe!!
FAMILY TRIP SUMMARY:
BEST DAY
- Tom: Pearl Harbor / Surfing / Waikiki Beach
- Tam: They were ALL best days!
- Michelle: Arrival Day / North Shore / Sunset Beach
- Laura: Surfing Day
BEST EVENT
- Tom: Mauna Loa Helicopter Flight Training
- Tam: Dolphin Quest
- Michelle: Dolphin Quest / Surfing
- Laura: Dolphin Quest
WORST
MOMENT
- Tom: The long flight home
- Tam: Trying to park at Waikiki Beach
- Michelle: Driving in the car around the Big Island
- Laura: The extra flight from LAX to SLC
BEST HOTEL
- Tom: Kahala Mandarin Oriental
- Tam: Kahala Mandarin Oriental
- Michelle: Kahala Mandarin Oriental
- Laura: Kahala Mandarin Oriental
BEST MEAL
- Tom: Dinner at the Ocean Grille, Hapuna Beach Prince Resort
- Tam: The Mauna Kea Luau
- Michelle: Mandarin Oriental room service / Sunset Pizza
- Laura: The Mauna Kea Luau
BIGGEST
SURPRIZES
- Tom: The architectural beauty of the Mauna Kea villa
- Tam: Surprisingly beautiful every time
- Michelle: Pearl Harbor / The Copes – Words of Wisdom
- Laura: That the Fedex plane could fly faster than us