February in Maui is a nice time and place to be. For one, the whales are kicking offshore. They’re everywhere. When I look out towards the ocean I don’t see ocean anymore. All I see is an immense playground, where whales are jumping, splashing, slapping their tales, and having a blast. You don’t even have to try and see them now. Just glance out towards the beach and you’ll spot them. It’s amazing, and I’m really glad to have the privilege of witnessing it every day.

On Sunday my family and I went to Maluaka Beach Park with a pizza and watched the whales playing offshore. At first I was freaking out because we saw nothing. But as the sun sank closer to the horizon, they came out for one last round of the day. I can’t tell you how many whales we saw. But we were still waiting for one of them to launch straight up into the air and come down with a powerful splash. Suddenly it happened, and my wife and I shook our heads in amazement. My daughter wasn’t so blown away. She was preoccupied with the pizza crust she was polishing off.

Another point of excitement is, surprisingly, the presidential election. Suddenly Hawaii has an important say in who the Democratic nominee will be, now that the race Between Obama and Clinton is so close. Normally candidates aren’t too worried about Hawaii’s delegates. But not this year, when every delegate counts. Here’s a hint to the native Hawaiian population - this would be a great time to make sure that both Democratic nominees commit to passing the Akaka bill if elected.

Want some more big news? OK… I got a bike. How’s that? It’s practically brand new, and I got it for a steal off of craigslist. This guy was selling it after shipping it over here (along with everything else he owned) from San Diego. Poor sucker. He didn’t know the golden rule of moving to an island… DON’T BRING ANYTHING! Well, a car is OK, but nothing else! So he ended up selling most of his stuff because he didn’t have any room for all of it. And that resulted in me taking advantage of another person’s relocation ignorance and getting his bike for practically nothin’. And the best part? I actually use it!

Well, that just about sums it up for now. A hui ho, baby.

For those who were interested in my ongoing failure as an aspiring surfer, I have an update. I tried the Dramamine experiment this past Friday. I took two pills before I went surfing with a friend from work. They didn’t work. I puked behind a rock, right in front of a family of 4. Sorry, kids. And on top of it… real surfers laughed at me in the distance. But on the bright side, I stood up on the board for about 2 seconds. Naturally I’m asking myself right now if those two seconds were worth the vomiting and public humiliation. Sadly, the answer is obvious… I don’t think I was meant to be a surfer. Three strikes and I’m out.

This realization isn’t all bad, though. It means that I’ll have more time to explore land-based adventures, like my discovery of Oneuli Beach… a near-deserted black sand stretch where you can enjoy a little solitude. Walk a little further down, and you literally have an entire beach to yourself. Take a look at my video podcast of Oneuli Beach. For those with a slower internet connection, it may take a minute or so before beginning.

 

 Oneuli Beach Tour: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

(For those that need to read the first part of this story, click here.)

Like a voodo child, I’d been banished from the distant and isolated town of Kahakuloa. As I drove back up to the elevated bluff overlooking the mysterious town, I looked back one more time. And I promised myself that, when my confidence on this island got to sustainable levels, I would return again to Kahakuloa to crack open the mysterious draw at the heart of this unique and guarded town.

But for the time being, my focus was redirected to the quantum blowhole. I’d heard from talks with coworkers that the blowhole was, without a doubt, worth my time to visit. Its features were the stuff of legend… crashing waves surround you… water launching hundred of feet into the air through an underwater lava tunnel. I was expecting big things.

The one problem, though, was that I had no idea where to find the blowhole. Like an experienced geo-whiz, I had decided to leave my guidebook at home, thinking that it would add too much weight to my backpack. I never even thought of the possibility of leaving the book in my car instead of lugging it around with me. So the book stayed at home, and I found myself without a clue. It would be one thing if Maui had big signs pointing to the island’s coolest natural gems. But here on the islands, they don’t make it easy. You gotta make the effort to find them. And that’s the way it should be.

One easy way to find popular destinations is to follow the rental cars. So I stopped everywhere I saw a collection of PT Cruisers and Mustang convertibles on the side of the road (the 2 most popular rental cars on the island), hoping that they would point me to the blowhole. My first stop was a dead end. It was a remote section of trails that meandered through green fields to the rocky coast. From a distance, the crashing waves looked like blowhole activity. But as I got closer, I realized that I was chasing after a rubber goose.

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I hiked back to my car and continued towards the famous golf resort town of Kapalua. I spotted another group of rental cars, and pulled over. After 10 minutes of hiking to the rocky cliffs, I found nothing. So I continued. There was one last place I wanted to look. I saw it driving to Kahakuloa earlier that day, and I was sure that it had to be the location of the elusive blowhole. It was a marked trail that lead over a bluff towars the ocean. If there was a maintained trail there, then chances were good that the famous blowhole would be at the end of it. I saw the trail sign from the road and pulled into the dirt parking area to the side of the road.

It wa the Ohai Trail. There weren’t many cars parked there, but I was convinced that it had to be the right place. If I continued looking further west, I would be getting too close to Kapalua, and civilization. I knew that the blowhole location was remote, and I was sure it had to be here. Either that or I somehow missed it.

I confidently started up the bluff, getting my camera ready for the long-awaited photo op. I reached the top of the bluff and found more trail… and more trail… and more trail… until I reached a bench looking out towards the ocean.

There was more trail to the right. I thought about taking a rest, but brushed it off. I pushed on until I reached the edge of the seacliffs, and found nothing. I was then faced with defeat on all fronts; no blowhole sightings, no photos, and a long, humiliating uphill hike back to my car. My wounds were open, and salt was being vigorously applied. I slinkered back from where I came; tired, hungry, and nugatory.

When I got back to my car, I sat down and pulled my Ziplock lunch out of my backpack. I found food that was in worse shape than I was in. My juicebox had mysteriously exploded all over my pbj and pretzels. My granola bars were spared, but they were Kashi brand. I might as well have been eating dirt. I forced the sandwich down and lapped up unabsorbed puddles of juice in the Ziplock bag.

Not even close to being satisfied with lunch, I dug out my car keys and slid the master into the ignition, ready to put this sorry excuse for an adventure behind me. I turned the key… and nothing. My eyes widened, thinking back to my dead battery earlier in the week. I tried again… and nothing. No sounds, no dashboard responses, no lights, nothing. I clawed through my backpack looking for my cell phone. I looked at how many bars I had… nothing. Not even a mini-bar. I panicked. I was stranded in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by unhelpful PT Cruisers and Mustangs, with no way of getting help. I started swearing, laughing, shaking my head all at the same time, realizing how hilarious the day had been. Then I got angry. I started banging on the steering wheel, and suddenly a strange grinding noise started coming from behind the wheel. I waited silently, studying the sound. It disappeared like a shot. I slammed the steering wheel again, looking for the same result. And it happened again… a long, grinding buzz coming from somewhere behind the steering wheel. Not knowing why, I turned the ignition. The car came to life. There was glorious radio static filling the air. There were beeps and dings coming from the dashboard. Lights were flashing, scolding me for not having a seatbelt on. The car was back from the dead, and so was I.

There have been a few times that I have honestly thanked God for helping me out. This was one of those times. I don’t know what I believe in, but I’m hedging my bets by thanking an entity that may or may not exist.It can’t hurt, right? So I pointed to the sky and thanked The Big One upstairs. Then I tore out of the dirt parking area faster than politicians run from the truth. I then vowed not to stop the car for 45 miles, until I reached my homebase of Kihei. I think I even ran a few red lights, afraid to stop.

Finally I got home to Kihei town. I decided that I would chance a stop at a nearby beach to unwind and absorb the events of the day. I figured if the car didn’t start, I could walk home from the beach. I parked the car and ran across the street to a nearby convenience store to purchase 2 beach bum essentials: a bag of Doritos and a can of cheap beer. Then I parked my tired body on the slope of a sand dune. And as I watched the sunset unfold, I mentally plotted a return to Maui’s Pailolo Channel to accomplish two things; track down the quantum blowhole, and find out more about the secretive and fascinating town of Kahakuloa.

This week was a strange week on the island. First of all, it’s the beginning of a new year, which brings the pressure of resolutions. And as always, there are lots of resolutions I’ve committed to. OK, maybe a few resolutions. Actually I’ve only made one resolution… SAVE MONEY. But in a place that makes you hemorrhage cash, it’s not as easy as it sounds. So that’s adding to my stress level. Then there’s my car. I tried to start it after work this past Thursday, and it wouldn’t turn. It wouldn’t even make a sound, like somebody had lifted my hood and stolen my battery, which is something that’s been known to happen around here. But alas, the battery was intact upon inspection. So I got a guy from work to help me with jumper cables. It did its thing and the car started right up, and I figured I must have drained the battery by leaving a light on or something. Then there was Saturday, which was about the single craziest day of my 161 days living here. For those that are keeping track, that’s 5.62% crazy days, 94.38% relatively normal days.

It all started because my wife was kind enough to give me the entire day to myself . She was meeting up with some friend at the park, who’s children are friends of my daughter’s. Then later my wife was babysitting, again with Charlotte in tow. That meant I had the entire day to myself, to spend however I pleased. So what did I do? Well, I spent about half the day trying to figure out what to do. Then I almost got stranded 45 miles from home… on a search for a blowhole.
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Just to the northwest of Maui is the legendary island of Moloka‘i, best known for the old leper colony of Kalaupapa. The town was the forced destination for many that were afflicted with the disease, but is now a national park. I bring all of this up because I was introduced to my first Hawaiian inside joke the other day, and it had to do with the town of Kalaupapa.

I was at work reading a script when out of nowhere a local woman from work raised her fist towards my direction and declared “Kalaupapa shaka”.. I knew what a shaka was; the traditional Hawaiian sign that translates into a friendly greeting. But I had never heard of a Kalaupapa shaka. My coworker dropped her fist in frustration, and began explaining the town of Kalaupapa. She told me that from the mid-1800s to the mid-1900s the town was used as an exile destination for those with that famous disease. She reminded me what happened to people who suffered from leprocy… limbs falling off and such. Then she repeated her raised fist and declared again, “Kalaupapa shaka!” This time I got the joke, and could barely contain my hysterical laughter.
Is it wrong of me to laugh at the past victims of such a horrible disease? In a purely moral sense… probably. But if the locals can laugh at it, then I figure its allright for me to.

All of this does reminds me about how much I would like to visit Moloka‘i, including the old leper colony. From what I hear, the island is about as “Old Hawai‘i” as you can get.
The few people who live there have learned the lessons of Maui and Oahu, and strike an amazing balance of tourism and isolation. They’ve had the advantage of looking across the narrow channel to Maui to see how development has ruined much of what was once so special about the island. As a result, Moloka‘i has resisted a lot of change, without scaring off the tourists. Visitors come, but they’re mostly adventure seekers and cultural preservationists that tend to respect local culture a bit more than the average tourist family. And the island locals like it like that. They like the fact that there is essentially one road on the entire island, stretching east to west. They like that the resorts that have taken over Maui’s coasts have avoided Moloka‘i for the most part. And they really like the desolate beaches and million-dollar views without the million-dollar homes.

All of this makes Moloka‘i my kind of island. You can bet on me making it over there in the near future, especially considering that its only a short boat trip from Lahaina town on Maui’s westside. And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll run into somebody that’ll appreciate my “Kalaupapa shaka”.

Here’s a link to my most recent photocast collection, taken from a day spent at Palauea Beach in South Maui. This has become one of my favorite beaches on the island because it’s virtually unknown to the tourists, and the majority of visitors are locals. Just click on the link below and enjoy…

Palauea Beach In 8 Photos (click here)

Wintertime is an amazing time on the islands, but particularly here on Maui. The winter months bring cooler weather and much-needed rains. But this time of year also brings a special tourist to Maui… the humpback whale. And that means it’s time to witness the incredible sight of humpback whales and their newborns splashing in the warm azure waters of the Pacific. Read the rest of this entry »

Here on Maui, we have over sixteen golf courses. And many of them are world famous names like Kapalua, Ka‘anapali, Makena, and Wailea. If you want to walk in the footsteps of golf’s greatest players, these are the places you go. Even with the history and splendor of Maui golf, I still didn’t understand why people would want to spend four hours hitting a ball when there’s so much more to do on the island. But now I know… Read the rest of this entry »

Since I set foot here on Maui, my stomach has been looking for its breakfast home. Actually, my stomach has been very patient with me while I try to get by on coffee and a cinnamon roll in the morning. But after months of that tired routine, my stomach is fed up (no pun intended). So lately I’ve made it my highest priority to finally discover a suitable place to sit down and eat a good breakfast. But withe so many mediocre offerings on Maui, I thought I would have to go to a resort or hotel to get a good breakfast. Until I heard about The Gazebo. Read the rest of this entry »

I learned something very important today… when I surf, I throw up. It happened the first time I tried riding the waves, and it happened again today. Read the rest of this entry »