It's hard to believe we've only been here a bit over 24 hours.
Yesterday, we got up at 6 AM, caught a cab at 7:15, and were at SFO within 25 minutes. Everything went smoothly on the flight to Honolulu. We slept part of the way. At Honolulu it was a little hectic catching 2 shuttles (Wikiwiki bus) from the overseas terminal to the inter-island one. We caught our second flight to Kona with 5 minutes to spare (no time for lunch or bathrooms). Even at the airport, the air was heavy, moist, scented. On arrival at Kona, we decided to eat before deciding what to do about the bike boxes. Everything was cleared up nicely when we went to the United Airlines agent and asked if it were possible to buy boxes from them. Indeed it was! The lady reserved two for us and they should still be waiting when we return to Kailale Airport. After resolving all of this, we changed into riding clothes and went to claim our bikes. They had survived the cargo hold well. We found what we thought was an out-of-the-way planted area and proceeded to unload and reassemble our bikes. The airport is rather small and rather than filling one drab shoebox building, it's laid out in a series of outdoor pavilions with tall, wide sloping roofs. I suppose it's reminiscent of Polynesian style grass huts.
Our ersatz workshop turned out to be right in the stream of arriving tourists. Luckily, we were far enough off to one side so as not to be in the main flow, only small eddies of the curious and young. It was during the reassembly that the humidity and heat began to affect me. I had to work slowly and calmly in order to be comfortable. After about an hour, we disposed of our shipping boxes and headed off for the main highway.
I had almost forgotten how wonderful it feels to be able to take the first steps of a long journey in small simple ways like walking or riding a bicycle. We rode past an old lava field to the road. Highway 11 had wide, smooth shoulders, so that the ride was fairly easy. There was more ground than vegetation visible. Mostly there are tufts of greenish yellow grass and small bougainvillia wines (bushes?). We came across green leafy stuff only when we turned into Kailua-Kona. it was rush hour with many cars. We managed to find our hotel, the Kona Seaside, with no trouble. Our room, though plain, was far away from the road and just across a smaller street from the beach. We walked around after stowing all our gear and added to the steady stream of pasty white mainlanders on holiday. We bought a number of ``Hawaian'' treats (macadamia nuts, pineapple jam, Kona coffee, silk flower leis) for the Meltons. Dinner was simple: deli sandwiches near Hale Halawai park. We sat on the seawall afterward. Then we strolled past a number of shops, got ice cream cones, and went back to our hotel.
This morning, we went to Kamakahomu Beach for a quick swim. The water was not bathtub temperature but not too cold either. We came back tot he hotel, showered and went for breakfast. After eating we walked uphill to the post office and mailed the package of goodies to Lynn et al. The walk left me sweating so I was glad for the air conditioned post office. On our way back, Jacques suggested it would be much cooler to ride in looser shirts than our T-shirts. There was a Hawaiian shirt store near the hotel so we stopped and I bought a pink and white shirt. We then packed in earnest and checked out of the hotel at about 11 AM.
We rode out on Kuakini highway south. Almost immediately, there was much more vegetation, especially beautiful sprawling Bougainvillias in red, purple, orange yellow, and several shades in between. Only a few miles out and we began to see banana and date palms and what I believe are papayas. The road was in good shape, but alas we are not as well prepared as I thought. The ride was long and rather hot. There were grey clouds all day, which kept the humidity and heat high.
As the conditions of the previous pages suggest, we have run into some wet weather. There had been a short rain shower while we ate lunch at the Aloha Cafe in Kaimaliu just north of Captain Cook. The rain ended and we continued the last few miles into Captain Cook. We decided to stop there and stayed at the Manago Hotel. We got the cheapest room with a double bed. It was above the dining room and therefore sort of noisy until after about 7:30 PM when the last of the dinner crowd left. our room was very plain: a bed, a dresser table, chair. There were hooks for clothes and a bar for towels. There were community bathrooms down the hall.
The rain returned in off and on showers during the night. Jacques fell asleep after our picnic dinner (in our room) of french bread, turkey, beer and cookies. I wrote the first entry of this diary, then went downstairs to learn what I could about the weather. Mr. Manago, the manager, said they were expecting another day or two of rain.
The next morning, we ate grapes and the last of our bread, packed and took our bikes downstairs where we sat on the sidewalk out of the rain, hoping for a break in the wet. It's amazing how warm it is even when pouring rain. After about an hour, we made a dash for the supermarket about a mile south. There we bought lots of groceries and a package of plastic garbage bags.
Having eaten, repacked and mulled over what to do, we decided to ride in the rain and make for the Shirakawa Hotel, 45 miles south.
I enjoyed the first part of the trip. Riding in the rain was novel. The scents of flowers and wet earth sometimes blew by in waves. Once I realized wet did not equal cold, I relaxed and enjoyed the ride. As the afternoon wore on, we got more and more tired and hungry, but we wanted to get to the picnic shelter at Manuka State Park. We rode in at about 2 PM. We were absolutely soaked and very hungry. Out of the rain it was warmer, but a slight breeze on wet clothes made us cold. Both Jacques and I changed shirt for our lunch stay, then put on our wet clothes again (ahhh, that's cold!) for the final 15+ miles. There was a slight climb for a few miles ending in a few bigger hills before we dropped down into the valley southeast of South Point.
By now the rain was quite heavy and the wind began to blow. It was getting dark and we had little braking power in the wet. I remember thinking we're almost there if I can just hang on. But the dark and the constant death-grip on my brakes finally did me in. My arms and hands would cramp up every time I squeezed the levers. Once I had them depressed, I was too frightened of the bumps and puddles in the road to concentrate on the pain. Finally, I hollered to Jacques that I was stopping which took close to a 1/4 mile to accomplish by squeezing and yelling at the brake handles and shoes. Knowing I was better off walking the last mile or so, I sent Jacques ahead to the hotel. Once on foot, I felt much more in control again and could even look at the lush valley around me in the fading light. I sang Meg Christensen's Southern Home to calm myself and to keep me moving. Jacques returned on his bike just as it was fully dark. He had checked into the hotel and Mrs. Shirakawa had put on a kettle for coffee. He got me to ride the last half mile. We were soaked, most of our clothes had gotten damp or wet in our bags, despite our plastic bags. The bed rolls were dry since we'd really wrapped those. After a hot shower to warm and soothe, we set about trying to hang things to dry. We rigged a clothesline from our bungie cords in the bathroom, and used every available hook, peg, picture frame, and window lever to drape wet things on. I had no fully dry clothes, so Jacques gave me underwear, pants, and a shirt to wear. We splashed across the driveway to the main house/office to claim those cups of hot coffee.
We learned from two men from Hilo that the road to Volcano was closed in two places from flooding and that there were mudslides blocking other roads further north toward Honukaa and Waimea. The storm was expected to last two days.
Back in our room (which we arrived at fairly dry, thanks to Mrs. Shirakawa's oversized umbrella), we ate bread, peanut butter and cookies. We hung the money and papers from Jacques' drenched wallet over the ribs in the lampshade to dry and we took turn reading Munthe's The story of San Michele while squished into one single bed. The whole night it poured rain and the wind increased. In the morning, it was still raining hard and blowing. We tried out several plans and finally agreed to take our clothes down to Naahelu (two miles further into the valley) and dry them at the laundromat. We managed to get there fairly dry during a short break in the rain.
The little laundry was filled with local women washing and drying mud and rain soaked clothes. I felt like an alien from another planet with my very untanned skin, green and black bike shorts and riding helmet. Ah well, deep breath, plunge in as if everything were somewhat normal. I sent Jacques for change and the absence of a man in this clearly female world seemed to have the desired effect. While washing and drying, a lady commented on my Long Marine Lab T-shirt. We struck up a conversation. She and her husband had moved 6 months ago from Ben Lomond to the Ka'u district. They were living in tents while building a house. Her name was Lee. She offered us a ride back up the valley so we wouldn't have to get wet again. Since we had a while to go while the clothes dried, she went home and came back with her husband's pickup truck. Ironically the sun was shining by the time she came and got us. I, for one, was just as relieved not to have to ride back up the hill.
We had decided to stay one more night at the Shirakawa but since the weather seemed to be holding, Jacques suggested we make a run for it back north to the Manuka State Park shelter where we could camp. I canceled our reservations in Volcano and we were off by about 2 PM. The five miles back up the valley weren't easy, but we were happy to be on the road again. About half way up, it rained again so we were soaked, but at least this time our clothes were dry and carefully wrapped in plastic. The Ka'u coast was very nice once we were out of the rain. Actually, we had a blowing misty rain for several miles. So while we weren't really dry, we were rewarded with a huge, bright rainbow. The wind came up, but the rain died down the further north we rode, so eventually we were almost dry. We pulled into Manuka Wayside about 4 PM on Monday. The shelter is in the lower part of the park, near the road. We even had some sunshine! We put most of our wet things out to dry and set about setting up. It was then we noticed MOSQUITOES!! I changed to long pants and shirt, broke out the bug repellent and hoped it would work. It wasn't that we were attacked by a swarm; it was more insidious: bite, buzz, bite, buzz.
We dined on canned sardines and bread. I was itching by nightfall and covered with bites on my legs. It rained heavily through the night and the wind picked up. Our shelter had a corrugated roof which make quite a racket. We were warm and dry but it was a wild night and neither of us slept very well. In the morning it continued to rain and we puttered about trying to decide what to do. At least the mosquitoes were somewhat subdued by the rain. A little before noon, and I looked out at the road and saw a man on a bicycle. I realized he must be with the Backroads Bicycle Tour group we knew were on a few days behind us. Waving and calling (probably more enthusiastically than I'd like to admit) I said we were also on our bikes. He turned up the drive for the park, and we went up to the picnic area to meet him. A second rider came in then a third. They were indeed with the tour group. We spoke with a couple from Wisconsin and a woman from Sacramento, California. they were headed of course in the direction that we had just returned from. We traded information on weather and road conditions. After a while their sag wagon arrived with news that roads might be closed near Pahala (which we knew) and that if all else failed, they had reservations back at the Kona Hilton. They left and we still pondered what to do. Finally we packed and headed north for Captain Cook and the Manago Hotel once again.
The ride was quite nice. Mostly it did not rain after the first few miles. It was quite nice to actually see some of the scenery we had missed in the rain previously. I had fun and we stopped at the Bong Brothers coffee roasters and had hot dogs and ice cream at Kealia.
Luckily, the Manago had a room available. We were tired, bug eaten and damp. Hot showers and a good meal remedied a lot of the bumps, physical and mental. The next morning brought clear weather and we set out north toward the Mamalahoa highway above Kailua Kona. It was really lovely up there. Very lush and much, much quieter than the main road. It was a hot climb though. We broke for a long lunch and a restocking at Holualoa. It was getting cloudy and really muggy. We set out again at about 2 PM. We decided to stay on the Beltway toward Kamuela (Waimea) and knew there were no hotels, hostels, or campgrounds en route. We ended up camping under a tree behind a lava rock wall up an access road on a private ranch. Illegally. This made us both anxious about getting caught, but it was a nice campsite. This was Wednesday the 22nd. On the road that day, I stopped to talk to a few people. One old man was hard at work clipping vines back from his driveway. He had a lovely hillside garden. I asked about some of the flowers and the weather. He had been a school teacher and had lived on Hawaii with his wife for 50 years. Later, we stopped at a small store for a bathroom (none) and to refill our water bottles (certainly). The lady said the building was over 100 years old; I believe it. It had a fresh green and grey paint and looked like it belonged in a cowboy movie set.
The second half of that day (that ended in our illegal campsite), the road was more rolling and increasingly drier with much more lava showing. Our campsite was about two miles before the village of P-- and we guess was on the property of the -- Ranch.
We broke camp early so as not to get caught. We did have one extra visitor: a gecko found its way into our tent and was quietly sitting inside the zipper for the door when I found it. Being brave and at one with nature, I asked Jacques to remove it, which he did--gently--after as short chase 'round our panniers. Back on the road we had a quick breakfast in a small shade patch before cranking out the 24 miles to Kamuela. We were both pretty depleted and in need of lots of liquids by the time we pulled into town at about noon. 7-11 had Double Big Gulps for $1 (a quart of soda). We had no trouble finishing it. After reviving a bit, we set out in search of a meal--not easy on Thanksgiving. We finally decided on a picnic in the town center behind the Parker Ranch shopping center. I was able to buy a feast at the grocery store: fresh turkey sandwiches, potato salad, papaya, orange-passion juice, and brownies. We didn't even have room for the papaya and brownies. We ate this wondrous spread in the shade of the community center, a one story empty hall with windows on 3 sides. There was a fountain out front where we cooled our feet and rinsed legs and arms. After some postcards, we set out for the last leg of this day's trek: down Highway 19, ten miles to the coast. What a ride! From 2700 ft. to the sea in about one hour. All the way down, I kept thinking: ``savor every foot of this because you earned it, you climbed every foot of this!''
The coast was hot and muggy. We missed the turnoff to Spencer Beach Park and had to ask directions at the port in Kawiahe before turning back uphill for about 1/2 mile.
The campground was pretty well filled; we pedaled around and saw another pair of bike tourists. One of them, a big red haired guy with a beard came up and introduced himself as Jim, his partner as Jeff. After we'd began setting up not far from them, they asked if we would keep an eye on their gear while they went for a walk. So began a friendly foursome that lasted until we left the Islands three days later. As it turned out we couldn't wait for their return before heading to the beach for the first change of clothes and semblance of a bath in two long, hot sweaty days.
We decided to eat our dinner in the big picnic shelter overlooking the sea. Dinner was going to be sardines and crackers, but just as we arrived, a big burly sandy blond man came up to Jacques and offered to have us up in his group for turkey dinner. We couldn't really tell if there was one big group or several smaller ones, so we waffled. We saw Jeff and Jim and they said the food was great, so we went back to the burly man. He introduced himself as Elrond or Bill (``But since there are so many Bills here, call me Elrond''). He said everyone (I never was sure how many people were directly involved) had fixed something and that this was for everyone. We got plates (they were out of forks) and loaded up. Rather than eat away from the group, I sat down at a long table across from a young couple Heather and Richard. They were locals, he from Hilo, she from Waimea. They had been adopted by Elrond though Richard said his dad partied with some of these folks. Richard told us (and showed us the scars from) how some of the men jumped off the roof of the picnic shelter into the water below (a drop of about 20-30 feet into water not more than 6 foot deep at high tide). It was a fun warm night and later we chatted with Jim and Jeff who were on the first leg of a round the world (5 continents, 18 months) tour.
Friday dawned cloudy, rainy. We set up at breakfast on a corner table in the shelter, which more or less served as the center of activity for everyone. I don't quite remember how or why we decided, but somewhere early Jacques and I decided to stay put and make this a rest day, our first in seven days. Jim and Jeff joined us and this table in the corner became our headquarters for the next 24 hours. We chatted about this and that, looked out at the sea and ate breakfast (the papaya, Pilot crackers with guava jelly, fig bars). Soon we saw manta rays not far off-shore on the reef. Jim encouraged us to snorkel out, since we had our masks with us. So after a little coaxing we went for a swim. The water was pleasant not too warm. The visibility was about 10 to 20 feet, somewhat sandy. We had seen about 4 or 5 mantas from up in the shelter. In the water 1 or 2 swam about one body length from us. They were speckled black and white and flapped by without much notice of us. I was a little anxious--the great marine biologist defrocked--not knowing from which direction they might emerge from the murk. After a few minutes they were gone. We explored a bit more and came ashore. Not long afterwards, we saw sea turtles much farther out. I looked at my watch and it was 11 AM! I felt I'd been here for days, getting wet in the rain, drying in the breeze, going swimming, drying off, chatting, watching the sea.
Around 1 PM, Jacques and I decided to brave the current downpour (it had been raining off and on--mostly on) and ride down to the harbor for pizza at a place called Pesto Pizza that was highly recommended in our guidebook. It was worth the soaking and stares from the well-groomed touristas for that pizza! We sat and dried slowly, ate, drank some of the best coffee I had ever had, then finished with a big slab of cheesecake. We rode (more slowly) up to the park after buying some beer and other food. We returned, dried out, went snorkeling again, chatted, ate, drank, and finally went to bed in a somewhat soggy tent on somewhat soggy sleeping bags with wet and damp clothes and gear all around. It was one day but it felt like three.
Jim and Jeff were both engineers from Seattle. They'd been planning their journey for 3 or 4 years. First Hawaii, then Fiji, New Zealand, Australia, Tasmania, Indonesia, Thailand, India, Nepal, Kenya, Egypt, Europe then home. They were very pleasant guys, nice sense of humor, especially Jeff, though I think I was more fond of Jim. Jim gave us his folks address who could forward things on to them at various points. I'd like to send them something in a few weeks.
Saturday arrived much clearer than the day before. We hung much of our stuff to dry (we were only partially successful). We packed up, said our farewells to the boys (who left about 30 minutes before us), then set out back south for Kailua. We'd been wet long enough, it was time to head for the Kona Seaside hotel again and clean, dry clothes and a bed. The road was rolling and dry, no shade. We took a small road to Puako to see some petroglyph. The road, however turned into a series of uneven patches of concrete, asphalt, and potholes. We joggled the mile or two to the ``real'' road and went to find the petroglyph. When we arrived there were Jeff and Jim just leaving. We said our goodbyes again and hiked out to see the ancient figures carved on the lava. On our way back we stopped at the general store only to find Jeff and Jim having lunch on the lanai! We snacked quickly and headed uphill to the main road--where Jeff and Jim overtook us. Farewell again. They were headed north to Hawi.
We rode long and hard all the rest of the day. I felt strong, glad to have spent those days pedaling up and down this island. Altogether we rode 42 miles that day. I was rather sore but very happy. We spent the evening in Kona; it was warm and dry and a welcome change.
The next day we rented a car (a bright red sports convertible!). The next two days we drove around the island twice (about 600 miles!) seeing the places we had missed because of the rain. This morning we left ``our'' island. As I write this we are over the Pacific, about an hour from San Francisco. I know I haven't really captured the essence of the trip, not even all the highlights (standing a few feet away from oozing moving lava; seeing the Backroads turned back at the same point we were; running into Jeff and Jim twice more--on the road to/from Hawi and at the airport; Akaka Falls, etc.). The smells, the feeling of the place kind of sink after awhile. I want to go back and see more of the places we missed. I'm not trying to romanticize the place; in many ways neither Jacques nor I fit in with the rural people there or the way of life. But it's a place to return to, to get to know over a series of visit. So I sit here at 30,000 feet with a plumeria and orchid lei wilting around my neck and hope to come back to Hawaii again.
Lisa Borok 27 November 1990