Ten is the Luckiest Number

I love slipping into a house and a space created by a stranger. Designed as a special retreat, the best ones are furnished in a way that reflects the locale, the natural surroundings and the general vibe of the environment. But it’s a delicate balance–how to make a house of your own but used by others feel at once homey but without making guests feel like they’re living amongst your own stuff. Personal but not too domestic. I have found that in all instances the best of these places are defined by their selection of books.

And so I thumbed through the creaky bookshelf at the end of the wall of slouchy punee (couches) that was generously stocked with well-used retro board games — less retro maybe and more just old — and fell upon a well worn book destined for me to find. Hawaii Trails: Walks, Strolls and Treks on the Big Island by Kathy Morey. A vintage perspective on this constantly evolving island, it’s also filled with information on geology, history and language. While thumbing through, I found mention of a landmark and surrounding hike that seemed doable from my location along the ancient Ala Kahakai trail at Beach 69. Looking for something of a distance less than yesterday’s ten miles, I decided to set out to the north just after morning coffee.

Pu’ukoholā is a temple built by Kamehameha who, as one of three rivals vying for control over all the islands in the Hawaiian chain, was urged to do so by a powerful kahuna (priest) from Kaua’i. The kahuna told the warrior of his vision of Kamehameha’s success as king over the islands if he were to build a heiau (temple) to honor the war god Kū. This sounded good.

The first .59 mile of the trail which started just outside the gate of our Hale (house) went by with ease. The view across the golden plains to the right and up to Mauna Kea showed off a view free of vog to the point I could see the domes of the observatories some 14,000 feet up. Crossing over the wide, smooth sandy beach of Hapuna, the challenge was to keep track of the jumping path of the trail. It is broken up here and there by resorts, public beaches, private homes and an always aging and moving shoreline. I had hoped for a more rugged jaunt than yesterday with more time on the trail and I got it. I scaled down steep, sharped edged cliffs, ignored “Danger Flood Zone” warnings (twice) and huddled along the outside of a back yard fence suspended over the forest floor just to keep to the trail. I hiked past remnants of the long-ago homes of warriors carved into the cliffs above the Pacific. With a beautiful view of Mauna Kea beach, a huge washed out lava tube below seemed the perfect spot from which to launch a canoe for fishing or defense.

It became redundant–the small bays revealing secret black beaches or snorkeling spots filled with calm turquoise blue water. More and more never-ending breathtaking beauty. Maybe it was the sky, but the water had a particular iridescence that reminded me of Jolly Rancher candies. As I moved up the coast, the sharp cliffs fell more gently into the ocean. By the time I reached Spencer Beach, the digital companion mapping my walk gently announced “5 miles”. Oh well, so much for the shorter hike. It seems Ten is my lucky number on this trip.

I walked up off the beach and onto the surrounding slope. In the clearing above, I saw it. Resting above on a high, flat plateau the temple looked other-worldly…so obviously man-made in the midst of the most organic and wild surroundings. Here, along Kawaihae Bay, the land rises gently and seemingly forever toward the dormant Kohala. It is here, for the first time perhaps, that I am uniquely aware that I am standing at the foot of a volcano.

It’s incredible that this enormous temple was completed in just one year from lava rocks, not from here, but from Pololu Valley — miles to the north — selected for reasons unknown. So determined was Kamehameha to complete Pu’ukoholā and, therefore, the prophecy of his reign that he helped lay the stones himself. But this spot is more than just the temple. It lies at the very heart of Hawaiian history which lives on today in the hearts and traditions–the Mahalo–of everyday Hawaiians. Surrounding this temple are the foundations of buildings and a small cove which were part Pelekane, of a royal compound at the base of Mailekini, a second, less preserved temple that pre-dates Pu’ukoholā.

The cove here is home to the Hale o Kapini Heiau, a submerged temple dedicated to the akua (sharks) who still frequent this cove (note to self: resist the urge to cool off here). In short, this quiet spot is literally the Times Square of Hawaiian history. Yet there are only a handful of people here. My favorite part of the story of Pu’ukoholā is based less on fact and more on conjecture.

To set the plot of the prophecy in motion, Kamehameha invited his last remaining rival, Keoua, to the dedication of the temple. Now any decent temple of the day required a human sacrifice to make the warrior God satisfied. Knowing this, Keoua, with whom Kamehameha had been battling with no clear winner emerging, accepts the invitation. Why would he do this? It is said that following the last battle between these two rivals in the southern desert of Kau, Kīlauea–the volcano causing all of today’s troubles–erupted and mysteriously took a single group of Keoua’s men on their journey home, leaving them mysteriously dead in their path. Perhaps he felt then, as now, that Pele had spoken and directed him to do what is right by his people. So he glided into this cove in his canoe to what was his own certain death. After his assassination, Kamehameha became king and gradually united all the islands of Hawaii together as one. Now I know King Kamehameha was an extraordinary leader. But the self-sacrifice of his rival at the behest of the voice of Pele seems pretty amazing to me. And so while Pele is awake once more on the other side of the island, I have to wonder what her message is today. What are we missing? And as I turn for the long walk home, I think –maybe– that it is to walk quietly, take time see the life in all things around you and to take care of it.

Hawai’i: You’ve got to Want It.

It’s an uneasy beauty that’s carved out of the remnants of hot oozing lava. The black plains around me are filled with both the smooth, ropey pahoehoe and the rough & tumble broken chunks and boulders of a’a lava. The landscape, on its surface, looks less like paradise and more like that of the moon after being obliterated by a cyclon raid. But tucked along the shores far across these black expanses are idyllic, unmarked hideaways waiting for those who dare seek them out.

And so I packed my gear and left the house at Beach 69 before 7:30am to beat the heat. The goal for the day is to follow the Ala Kahakai trail south to just outside the Mauna Lani resort and the Puako Petroglyph Preserve. My days in South Africa visiting the San (Bushmen) paintings in the Cederberg Mountains instilled in me a fascination with man’s long-held desire to commemorate and preserve their current life in print.

About 1 1/2 miles into the hike this ancient trail fell away. Or I fell away from it—not sure which. I ended up trekking a good bit of the rest of the journey along the closest beach road that hugged the contour of the shoreline south. While a bit less exotic than I had hoped, this did allow me to explore several different beach access points along the way, each with its own personality and beauty. The water, in every case, was turquoise blue that stunned as it crashed against the black, rugged shoreline with its frothy white caps. Black sand, white sand, lava tubes with little “swimming holes” carved out from age within them lined the shore. One a place for quiet reflection, another a popular snorkeling and scuba spot and many more spots for quiet, unpopulated swims staying close to shore. But you’d need to seek out this long road — a road that leads to no where — to find these secret spots. But like everything else on this island, these spots are not for the faint of heart. Without bathrooms, lifeguards or easy access points, the daring are rewarded with secluded places to connect with nature in the rough-hewn paradise that is Hawai’i.

On the map, this road curved forward uninterrupted to an area near my destination. In reality, the road is bisected by a large fence that says PRIVATE PROPERTY with large metal gates to reinforce the message. I turned and looked back along the l o n g road back. I was determined not to walk back without making it to those glyphs. Luckily the last beach access point led to a stretch of beach strewn with large black lava and white coral pudding stones that stretched, unimpeded, to the Mauna Lani Resort. I made my way finally to the Petroglyphs and was mesmerized and relieved by the cool shade of its small forest of Kiawe trees. The trees looked dark — like so much of what the surface here looks like — hard and black, seemingly burnt or long dead….craggily, bent over and exhausted. But among the darkness were bright green stems sprouting randomly from the abandoned branches. And look up…more life. Birds of every color, rays of glowing sunlight and paths of amber colored decayed wood spread across the forest floor. At the end of the forest, the path opened onto a field of golden hay colored fountain grass and the bright green of the native Rhodes grass and then finally to the Petroglyph field.

The signs posted said that historians don’t know why people came to this place. The journey was difficult and the land across which they traveled was unforgiving. The drawings are simple forms of mostly humans — there are a few animals preserved in these drawings—and they are all oriented toward the mountain. Now I know nothing about ancient drawings and I know less about Hawaiian history, but this place feels sacred. And my own journey here was less than easy — I definitely had to want to get here — but would pale when compared to the effort required back in time without the benefit of my beach road or the previously carved out path along those pudding stones. So it seems that this was a place to come with a higher purpose. Perhaps to honor someone special who had died. And maybe these carvings are likened to carving a grave stone — a monument if you will. And maybe from time to time, someone’s most special person was an animal.

Before turning around for the long journey back the way I came, I realized that all of the beautiful places in this Hawai’i are found only if you want to find them. They are so well-protected by Pele and her pahoehoe and a’a, that to take it all in and feel like you’ve shared in the true Hawaiian energy, you have to be willing to work for it.

I am so glad I did.

Walking in Pele’s Shadow

The first time I came to Kona I peered out the window of the airplane just as it rounded Upolu Point. I glanced out the window, ready to take in the full view of “Hawaii” and was ready to be amazed. What I saw was shocking. Instead of the verdant green of lush vegetation, I saw miles and miles of vacant, shiny black tar. Accented by sunburnt flatlands easing slowly up to, what I assumed, was a centuries old volcano. I am not going to lie. I was disappointed.

The Big Island is not for the faint of heart. The typical traveler looking for the songs of sweet rum playing into the night, decorated with flaming torches and goddesses handing out blooming leis should bypass this place for Oahu. This island is rugged and quiet. It asks as much of its visitors as it does of itself .

But for the real adventurer—not the modern age type who plow through landscapes in tricked out SUVs or those for whom “glamping” is really roughing it—the secret beauty of this place is more than rewarding.

Follow along as I share my favorite places and keys to this islands magic.