Conflicts of the Heart
On this journey through life everyone, regardless of who they are, where they are from, or what they do, will be faced with decisions that will tug at their heartstrings. These soul-searching resolutions are not to be taken lightly, for they are life altering. Every aspect must be considered and accounted for, the pros and cons carefully weighed. In the end, a final verdict must be reached, one that wants for nothing other than to attempt to satisfy the needs and desires of all parties involved.
Change, so I’ve heard, is a good thing. In making change happen, decisions need to be made, and making decisions has never been easy for me, even if I know they will make my life better in the long run. Being forced to make a decision is one thing, but making a decision willingly is quite another.
~Sarah
Having lived all my life in New England, almost all of it in the New Hampshire seacoast area, I could not have imagined ever living anywhere else. What New England has to offer is immeasurable; from the miles of rocky Atlantic coastline, weathered mountains, scenic lakes, rolling hills and valleys, to the four distinct seasons, each astoundingly beautiful in its own right. Nothing can match our picturesque seaside villages or charming mountain towns that preserve and detail almost 400 years of history. New Englanders are said to be a proud people; determined, strong-willed, and hard working. When faced with adversity, they prove to be resourceful in finding solutions. Family units are generally close-knit and highly valued. Although family members may not always see eye-to-eye, they are always and forever there for each other.
Generations of my husband’s and my families have lived here in New England since the 1600’s. They weren’t the first off the Mayflower, but they were pretty close. With this cultural heritage behind us, many of our relatives still live in the area, having not traveled far from where our ancestors settled so many years ago. For us, New England has always been the place we’ve called ‘home’.
Home, to me, represents the memories of growing up, enveloped by extended family. The only home I’d ever known was built on land that had been owned by my father’s family dating back almost three centuries, a slate-gray clapboarded cape, surrounded by stone-walled gardens and a wooded forest beyond. I treasure the memories of my childhood: playing hours on end with my sister in our tree house at the edge of the woods, constructing intricate fairy houses in the warm summer sunlight, exploring the tide pools on Basket Island during the day and playing flashlight tag by night. ~Sarah
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When our daughters made the decision to go to college in Boulder, Colorado, we embraced the idea, as our desire to see them investigate the world beyond the borders of their New Hampshire home far surpassed our need to have them close by. As each experienced life in the west, they pushed the boundaries even further than the Rockies. Suzanne spent a semester abroad in Samoa and spring breaks in California, while Sarah, after falling in love with Greg, enjoyed summer vacations with his family in Hawaii. Now they have chosen to live in California and Hawaii, respectively, and we are still abiding here in our beloved New England.
New England has never held the same importance for me as it has for my parents. Although I will always love New Hampshire, the most difficult aspect of leaving was in knowing that once I moved to Hawaii, I would be separated from the family I loved by great distance and time. Being so far apart can cause that powerful feeling of being homesick to creep in, knowing that generations of family members are gathering together, enjoying the company of one another, sharing stories and fond memories. When we connect over the phone, my heart aches to hear the laughter and familiar voices from the background conversations, drawing me emotionally back to my roots…making me wish, if only for that moment, that I was there.
~Sarah
Leaving Honolulu after this, my third visit to Hawaii, I felt the pangs of sadness at leaving Sarah, Greg, and his family behind. Feeling somewhat surprised, I also discovered that I had developed a deep affection for my daughter’s adopted home, definitely comparable to the love I have for my native New England. I am captivated by the strikingly diverse landscape at every turn, and the cobalt blue ocean and shimmering beaches offer absolute perfection. I love the history, the music, the art, the culture, and most of all the people who live there. Hawaii is not unlike New England in many of the aspects I hold dear and this is, perhaps, why I am drawn under its spell, having become enchanted with its inner beauty.
I fell in love with Hawaii as soon as I set foot on its shores. Everything I do, everything I am is a reflection of my desire and need to breathe the fresh air, feel the warm tropical breezes as I hike and surf, and savor the mellow lifestyle. I take great joy in the simple things here, I lack for nothing. ~Sarah
So the question ultimately becomes, where do I belong? I know this query is faced by many a parent whose children have moved away. As our children establish their own homes and families, the definition of home changes for them…and for us. Their home is no longer the family homestead they knew as children; instead, it will become the place where they will nurture their own children as they grow.
With our own parents and extended family on the East Coast, and our daughters beginning their lives on the West Coast, therein lies the conflict: the strong sense of duty to our families, our jobs, and our long-established roots versus transplanting ourselves to a new environment in which our primary family is the focus.
After living here I cannot imagine ever moving back to the mainland, much less New Hampshire. I know that my decision to stay is made with no second thoughts, no reservations. In this beautiful island community, Greg and I are making a life for ourselves, becoming our own family. It is as it should be.
Hawaii has become my home.
~Sarah
Considering the eventuality of both daughters living on the Pacific Rim, my husband and I have resigned ourselves to the prospect of three possibilities: 1.) Living here in New England and dropping in for the occasional visit, 2.) Moving west for six months out of the year, or 3.) Uprooting and heading west permanently. Option number one only works until we have grandchildren, and then that, of course, changes everything. Option number three is a consideration, however I don’t believe either one of us can let go of our ties to New England for years on end. We have too much invested emotionally to leave it entirely… at least not right away. At this juncture, option number 2 appears to be the optimum choice, as it gives us the best of both worlds without having to give up on either.
Life changes can create chaos, but from the turmoil comes the contentment of knowing that the final decision has been made for the right reasons and without reservation. Although the ultimate decision remains in the near future, it is one that is destined to run a wide spectrum of emotions. Ultimately, when the time is right, my heart will tell me all I need to know.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
One with the Sea
The sea has always held me securely in its grasp. I never tire of the sound of the endless waves as they roll onto the shore and slip back, slowly receding into the tumbling surf. I find myself filled with wonder at the mystical strands of silvery moonlight that ripple across the ocean’s wide expanse, illuminating the surface covering the fathoms below. The pungent smell of the changing tide fills me with a sense of comfort, knowing that the sea is always close by, its allure ever-present, quietly summoning me to its shore.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Island Life
Living on an island, even if only for a short time, is a unique experience to say the least. The uniqueness of the experience tends to be dependent on the dimensions of the island, its population, and what it offers for amenities, opportunities, and lifestyle. Being the most populated island in the Hawaiian chain, parts of Oahu offer anything and everything that can be found on the mainland, and more, especially on Waikiki and downtown Honolulu. My experiences in Hawaii have proven to be in sharp contrast to spending summer vacations on Basket Island off of Hills Beach in Biddeford, Maine.
Basket Island is bit of an enigma. At high tide it is an island, and when the tide is low, it is connected to Hills Beach by a long and sometimes rocky sandbar that appears when the bay empties of water. This tiny windswept outcropping is dotted with a handful of gray-clapboarded cottages, weathered by the ocean’s spray and the beating summer sun. Being at Basket Island is like stepping back to another place in time.
Summer days on Basket Island are taken in stride. The pace is slow, laid back, and relaxed. Daily routines alternate between lying on the beach, enjoying the views from the wrap-around porch, taking the Sunfish out for a sail, or playing kickball in the center of the island with the other island families. Because there is no running water, one is faced with the challenges of heating rainwater collected in cisterns to wash dishes or take baths. With no electricity, our children needed no encouragement to take advantage of what the island had to offer.
In my more wistful moments, my thoughts drift back to those warm days, watching my daughters investigate the tide pools embedded in the layers of rocks surrounding the island, listening to them hum to the periwinkles as they tried to coax them to poke their heads from their shells, and walking with them along the golden beach as the ocean’s waves covered the sandbar slowly erasing our footprints. Basket Island is a place where memories are etched into the heart and mind for all eternity.
Basket Island is bit of an enigma. At high tide it is an island, and when the tide is low, it is connected to Hills Beach by a long and sometimes rocky sandbar that appears when the bay empties of water. This tiny windswept outcropping is dotted with a handful of gray-clapboarded cottages, weathered by the ocean’s spray and the beating summer sun. Being at Basket Island is like stepping back to another place in time.
Summer days on Basket Island are taken in stride. The pace is slow, laid back, and relaxed. Daily routines alternate between lying on the beach, enjoying the views from the wrap-around porch, taking the Sunfish out for a sail, or playing kickball in the center of the island with the other island families. Because there is no running water, one is faced with the challenges of heating rainwater collected in cisterns to wash dishes or take baths. With no electricity, our children needed no encouragement to take advantage of what the island had to offer.
In my more wistful moments, my thoughts drift back to those warm days, watching my daughters investigate the tide pools embedded in the layers of rocks surrounding the island, listening to them hum to the periwinkles as they tried to coax them to poke their heads from their shells, and walking with them along the golden beach as the ocean’s waves covered the sandbar slowly erasing our footprints. Basket Island is a place where memories are etched into the heart and mind for all eternity.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Conflicts of the Heart
On this journey through life everyone, regardless of who they are, where they are from, or what they do, will be faced with decisions that will tug at their heartstrings. These soul-searching resolutions are not to be taken lightly, for they are life altering. Every aspect must be considered and accounted for, the pros and cons carefully weighed. In the end, a final verdict must be reached, one that wants for nothing other than to attempt to satisfy the needs and desires of all parties involved.
Having lived all my life in New England, almost all of it in New Hampshire seacoast area, I could not have imagined ever living anywhere else. What New England has to offer in immeasurable; from the miles of rocky Atlantic coastline, weathered mountains, scenic lakes, rolling hills and valleys, to the four distinct seasons, each astoundingly beautiful in its own right. Nothing can match our picturesque seaside villages or charming mountain towns that preserve and detail almost 400 years of history. New Englanders are said to be a proud people; determined, strong-willed, and hard working. When faced with adversity, they prove to be resourceful in finding solutions. Family units are generally close-knit and highly valued. Although family members may not always see eye-to-eye, they are always and forever there for each other.
Generations of my husband’s and my families have lived here in New England since the 1600’s. They weren’t the first off the Mayflower, but they were pretty close. With this cultural heritage behind us, many of our relatives still live in the area, having not traveled far from where our ancestors settled so many years ago. For us, New England has always been the place we’ve called ‘home’.
When our daughters made the decision to go to college in Boulder, Colorado, we embraced the idea, as our desire to see them investigate the world beyond the borders of their New Hampshire home far surpassed our need to have them close by. As each experienced life in the west, they pushed the boundaries even further than the Rockies. Suzanne spent a semester abroad in Samoa and spring breaks in California, while Sarah, after falling in love with Greg, enjoyed summer vacations with his family in Hawaii. Now they have chosen to live in California and Hawaii, respectively, and we are still abiding here in our beloved New England.
Leaving Honolulu after this, my third visit to Hawaii, I felt the pangs of sadness at leaving Sarah, Greg, and his family behind. Feeling somewhat surprised, I also discovered that I had developed a deep affection for my daughter’s adopted home, definitely comparable to the love I have for my native New England. I am captivated by the strikingly diverse landscape at every turn, and the cobalt blue ocean and shimmering beaches offer absolute perfection. I love the history, the music, the art, the culture, and most of all the people who live there. Hawaii is not unlike New England in many of the aspects I hold dear and this is, perhaps, why I am drawn under its spell, having become enchanted with its inner beauty.
So the question ultimately becomes, where do I belong? I know this query is faced by many a parent whose children have moved away. As our children establish their own homes and families, the definition of home changes for them…and for us. Their home is no longer the family homestead they knew as children; instead, it will become the place where they will nurture their own children as they grow.
With our own parents and extended family on the East Coast, and our daughters beginning their lives on the West Coast, therein lies the conflict: the strong sense of duty to our families, our jobs, and our long-established roots versus transplanting ourselves to a new environment in which our primary family is the focus.
Considering the eventuality of both daughters living on the Pacific Rim, my husband and I have resigned ourselves to the prospect of three possibilities: 1.) Living here in New England and dropping in for the occasional visit, 2.) Moving west for six months out of the year, or 3.) Uprooting and heading west permanently. Option number one only works until we have grandchildren, and then that, of course, changes everything. Option number three is a consideration, however I don’t believe either one of us can let go of our ties to New England for years on end. We have too much invested emotionally to leave it entirely… at least not right away. At this juncture, option number 2 appears to be the optimum choice, as it gives us the best of both worlds without having to give up on either.
Life changes can create chaos, but from the turmoil comes the contentment of knowing that the final decision has been made for the right reasons and without reservation. Although the ultimate decision remains in the near future, it is one that is destined to run a wide spectrum of emotions.
Having lived all my life in New England, almost all of it in New Hampshire seacoast area, I could not have imagined ever living anywhere else. What New England has to offer in immeasurable; from the miles of rocky Atlantic coastline, weathered mountains, scenic lakes, rolling hills and valleys, to the four distinct seasons, each astoundingly beautiful in its own right. Nothing can match our picturesque seaside villages or charming mountain towns that preserve and detail almost 400 years of history. New Englanders are said to be a proud people; determined, strong-willed, and hard working. When faced with adversity, they prove to be resourceful in finding solutions. Family units are generally close-knit and highly valued. Although family members may not always see eye-to-eye, they are always and forever there for each other.
Generations of my husband’s and my families have lived here in New England since the 1600’s. They weren’t the first off the Mayflower, but they were pretty close. With this cultural heritage behind us, many of our relatives still live in the area, having not traveled far from where our ancestors settled so many years ago. For us, New England has always been the place we’ve called ‘home’.
When our daughters made the decision to go to college in Boulder, Colorado, we embraced the idea, as our desire to see them investigate the world beyond the borders of their New Hampshire home far surpassed our need to have them close by. As each experienced life in the west, they pushed the boundaries even further than the Rockies. Suzanne spent a semester abroad in Samoa and spring breaks in California, while Sarah, after falling in love with Greg, enjoyed summer vacations with his family in Hawaii. Now they have chosen to live in California and Hawaii, respectively, and we are still abiding here in our beloved New England.
Leaving Honolulu after this, my third visit to Hawaii, I felt the pangs of sadness at leaving Sarah, Greg, and his family behind. Feeling somewhat surprised, I also discovered that I had developed a deep affection for my daughter’s adopted home, definitely comparable to the love I have for my native New England. I am captivated by the strikingly diverse landscape at every turn, and the cobalt blue ocean and shimmering beaches offer absolute perfection. I love the history, the music, the art, the culture, and most of all the people who live there. Hawaii is not unlike New England in many of the aspects I hold dear and this is, perhaps, why I am drawn under its spell, having become enchanted with its inner beauty.
So the question ultimately becomes, where do I belong? I know this query is faced by many a parent whose children have moved away. As our children establish their own homes and families, the definition of home changes for them…and for us. Their home is no longer the family homestead they knew as children; instead, it will become the place where they will nurture their own children as they grow.
With our own parents and extended family on the East Coast, and our daughters beginning their lives on the West Coast, therein lies the conflict: the strong sense of duty to our families, our jobs, and our long-established roots versus transplanting ourselves to a new environment in which our primary family is the focus.
Considering the eventuality of both daughters living on the Pacific Rim, my husband and I have resigned ourselves to the prospect of three possibilities: 1.) Living here in New England and dropping in for the occasional visit, 2.) Moving west for six months out of the year, or 3.) Uprooting and heading west permanently. Option number one only works until we have grandchildren, and then that, of course, changes everything. Option number three is a consideration, however I don’t believe either one of us can let go of our ties to New England for years on end. We have too much invested emotionally to leave it entirely… at least not right away. At this juncture, option number 2 appears to be the optimum choice, as it gives us the best of both worlds without having to give up on either.
Life changes can create chaos, but from the turmoil comes the contentment of knowing that the final decision has been made for the right reasons and without reservation. Although the ultimate decision remains in the near future, it is one that is destined to run a wide spectrum of emotions.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Every Quilt Tells a Story...
Although quilting throughout the world is a universal art form, Hawaiian quilts are unique in their design, reflective of family history, symbols of the past, legends, and beautiful surroundings. Before fabric was introduced to the Hawaiian Islands, women prepared tapa cloth by pounding on the bark of the wauke tree. Gathering to work, they would share ideas, and learn from one another in the same way quilters join together in quilting circles today. These women would stamp designs and symbols of old Hawai’i onto the tapa clothing. When the missionaries first arrived on the shores around 1820, they brought with them different types of cloth and proceeded to teach the Hawaiian women to make clothing and patchwork blankets. However the task of piecing became tedious and the Hawaiians chose to adapt the quilting to their own individualized style, thereby effectively preserving their heritage, culture, and historical legends.
Today, the legacy and preservation of Hawaiian quilting continues in the capable hands of master quilters who are well versed in old style and tradition. Inspiring quilters worldwide, they teach the techniques of appliqué and quilting, as well as share the history and symbolism interwoven within the design. Each Hawaiian quilt tells a story, conveying special meaning, desires, or representation of beliefs. It takes thousands of stitches to create Hawaiian quilt, therefore to receive a Hawaiian quilt from someone is to know that you are truly loved.
Ever since I can remember, I have always held an affinity for quilting. The intricate arrangement of the fabrics, the complexity of techniques, and the interesting history of quilting held a fascination that propelled me to challenge myself to learn this alluring art form. When I began quilting at 17, my first attempt was a simple multicolored patchwork quilt, created using 4x4 squares. Despite the fact that the lines did not meet exactly, and the sewing was marginal at best, this quilt wove a story in the variety of fabrics I chose from my mother’s scrap bag and from my own sewing. It told of brightly colored blouses and petal pushers (capris) that my sisters and I had worn in the summer heat, of trendy dresses that were the latest wrinkle, and of the stylish prom gowns I had sewn for myself. Although I had no way of knowing, this quilt turned out to be a time capsule of sorts, capturing the composition of colors, textures, and styles of that particular period in time. Thirty-five years have passed and the once vibrant colors have faded, but the patterns woven into the fabric still chronicle the days of my childhood through teenage years, marking both significant events and the passage of time.
It is with heartfelt desire that I embark on one of my greatest challenges - the making of a wedding ring quilt for my daughter, Sarah. This quilt, like the Hawaiian quilt, will tell the story of memorable events from her own childhood, reflecting family holidays, plays, and school days. From the time that I knew Sarah would be arriving, I had planned this quilt, carefully saving and documenting fabric scraps from everything I had sewn for her through the years; from her christening outfit, kindergarten first-day-of-school dress, holiday dresses, costumes for plays and Halloween, to blankets, and stuffed animals. These bits of fabric will be lovingly sewn into this quilt to create her story, the one that Sarah will someday share with her own children, and know that she was and is truly loved.
*The information about Hawaiian Quilting was taken from the following resources:
Serrao, P., Serrao J., Correia, R., Serrao, C. (2007). The Hawaiian quilt: the tradition continues. Honolulu, HI: Mutual Publishing.
Serrao, P., Serrao, J. (1999). Poakalani Hawaiian quilt cushion patterns and designs: volume 1. Honolulu, HI: Mutual Publishing.
Today, the legacy and preservation of Hawaiian quilting continues in the capable hands of master quilters who are well versed in old style and tradition. Inspiring quilters worldwide, they teach the techniques of appliqué and quilting, as well as share the history and symbolism interwoven within the design. Each Hawaiian quilt tells a story, conveying special meaning, desires, or representation of beliefs. It takes thousands of stitches to create Hawaiian quilt, therefore to receive a Hawaiian quilt from someone is to know that you are truly loved.
Ever since I can remember, I have always held an affinity for quilting. The intricate arrangement of the fabrics, the complexity of techniques, and the interesting history of quilting held a fascination that propelled me to challenge myself to learn this alluring art form. When I began quilting at 17, my first attempt was a simple multicolored patchwork quilt, created using 4x4 squares. Despite the fact that the lines did not meet exactly, and the sewing was marginal at best, this quilt wove a story in the variety of fabrics I chose from my mother’s scrap bag and from my own sewing. It told of brightly colored blouses and petal pushers (capris) that my sisters and I had worn in the summer heat, of trendy dresses that were the latest wrinkle, and of the stylish prom gowns I had sewn for myself. Although I had no way of knowing, this quilt turned out to be a time capsule of sorts, capturing the composition of colors, textures, and styles of that particular period in time. Thirty-five years have passed and the once vibrant colors have faded, but the patterns woven into the fabric still chronicle the days of my childhood through teenage years, marking both significant events and the passage of time.
It is with heartfelt desire that I embark on one of my greatest challenges - the making of a wedding ring quilt for my daughter, Sarah. This quilt, like the Hawaiian quilt, will tell the story of memorable events from her own childhood, reflecting family holidays, plays, and school days. From the time that I knew Sarah would be arriving, I had planned this quilt, carefully saving and documenting fabric scraps from everything I had sewn for her through the years; from her christening outfit, kindergarten first-day-of-school dress, holiday dresses, costumes for plays and Halloween, to blankets, and stuffed animals. These bits of fabric will be lovingly sewn into this quilt to create her story, the one that Sarah will someday share with her own children, and know that she was and is truly loved.
*The information about Hawaiian Quilting was taken from the following resources:
Serrao, P., Serrao J., Correia, R., Serrao, C. (2007). The Hawaiian quilt: the tradition continues. Honolulu, HI: Mutual Publishing.
Serrao, P., Serrao, J. (1999). Poakalani Hawaiian quilt cushion patterns and designs: volume 1. Honolulu, HI: Mutual Publishing.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Kilauea - Hawaii's Active Volcano
Few sights are as fascinating and awe-inspiring as the raw power of molten rock flowing from the Earth's interior. Therefore, three summers ago it was with great anticipation that I traveled from Oahu to the island of Hawai'i with our two families (Walker and Rocheleau) to visit the active volcano, Kilauea in the Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park. We flew into the Hilo Airport on Friday afternoon and after a wonderful dinner at a popular restaurant in downtown Hilo, we drove an hour to the Kilauea Military Camp where we were to stay for the weekend.
Within 20 minutes of our arrival, we were at the Volcano House. This old hotel overlooks Halema'uma'u Crater, located in Kilauea's summit caldera, which is three miles across and five hundred feet deep. Feeling dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the caldera, I stood at the overlook (a great distance away from the actual edge of the crater itself) and imagined what a tremendous sight it must be to observe an explosive eruption. The last massive eruption at Halema'uma'u had occurred in 1952, and at the moment things were very quiet within the crater. However, there was plenty of volcanic activity occurring along Kilauea's rift zone, and I, for one, was very anxious to see it, so we drove down the Chain of Craters Road and although we were at a distance, the golden yellow bands of lava were easily seen. Being twilight, these streams glowed in the semi-darkness against the pitch black Pali as they flowed toward the ocean below.
Early the next morning we drove the 11 mile Crater Rim Drive which takes in the circumference of the summit caldera, stopping at the Jaggar Museum to explore. For a small museum, the Jaggar certainly offers an incredible wealth of information, data, and photographs on the history of Kilauea and Hawai'i's volcanoes. Along the drive we were able to stop at the Halema'uma'u Overlook which is a fenced-in area at the edge of the crater. The view into the caldera was amazing, the walls of the sulfur-encrusted crater led to a wide, flat-bottomed floor. To the side of the overlook, outside of the fence, were fruit and flower offerings left for Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. Three Nene geese were happily nibbling on the fruits, and apparently we were very fortunate to have seen them as they are a bit elusive.
We decided to hike into Kilauea Iki, a smaller crater next to Kilauea crater. The trail leading through rain forest vegetation into the crater was steep and full of switch-backs as it wound its way down the crater wall. Walking single file, as the trail was only wide enough to allow, we finally walked out onto the crater floor. The blackness of the hardened lava swallowed the sunlight and radiated the heat in waves. The scene we witnessed reminded me of a parking lot that had been blown up. Huge slabs of lava jutted up at odd angles and chunks of a'a lava (rough, sharp, jagged lava) were strewn everywhere. In other areas pahoehoe lava (fluid, rope-like, smooth lava) formed beautiful patterns that could have passed for artwork. This was an amazing place, unlike anything I'd ever seen.
After climbing up out of the crater, we ventured on to the Thurston Lava Tube. The tube, located in a lush, tropical rain forest bursting with color and life, was at one time filled with hot, molten lava that rushed through on its way to the sea. Once the lava stopped flowing, the walls of the tube hardened. Walking through the tube is like walking into a large cave that leads deep inside the earth. The tube is not long, but its opening is fairly large and wide. Exploring this is an adventure to be sure.
Late in the day, we packed a picnic dinner and drove back to the Chain of Craters Road. The road itself ends where the lava has swallowed it up, sealing it off forever. We checked in at the ranger station and learned that there was indeed lava flowing into the ocean further down the coast. After eating our dinner, we began hiking across the lava. The full moon was just beginning to rise as we made our way across the barren flows. Being a fairly accomplished hiker, I assumed that this would be no different than a hike up Mount Washington in New Hampshire. I couldn't have been more wrong. Hiking across lava is treacherous. The hardened lava is a disheveled, uneven terrain, making it difficult to cross. Its blackness throws off one's depth perception, and makes it almost impossible to determine distances. As we walked along, there were beacons at every mile, guiding our way. We had flashlights, but the going was still rough. Finally, we came to a roped-off area and we followed it along the perimeter until we came to a large cliff section where there must have been about 35 people perched in small groups, observing the lava flowing into the ocean. This was the highlight of the day for us. What an incredible moment, it literally took my breath away! I found that I couldn't take my eyes from the sight, it was absolutely mesmerizing. The bright, fiery liquid gold poured out of the black cliff as if it were flowing full force from a faucet. At times when it hit the cold ocean waters, small littoral explosions would occur, sending a spray of water and steam upward. We sat for about an hour, watching the gorgeous display of volcanic fireworks, and then began the arduous 4 mile trek back. We had the full moon with us, bright enough that it lit the path. Although we were exhausted when we finally got back to the car at 1:30 AM, we felt that it had been one of those 'once in a lifetime' moments that we just couldn't have passed up, and we were so glad that we hadn't.
Sunday morning we took a ride into the tiny town of Volcano. We found a little gem of a restaurant, tucked back away from the main road. As we were waiting for breakfast, I became enthralled by a quilt that hung on a large wall. This had to have been one of the most interesting and beautiful quilts I'd ever seen. The quilt depicted Kilauea erupting and flowing into the sea. Each individual square had been sewn by a talented quilter and when the squares were joined, the scene fit together perfectly. It was just gorgeous, a perfect tribute to Kilauea.
Before we left that afternoon, we traveled to Punalu'u Black Sand Beach, Akaka Falls and Rainbow Falls. Arriving at Punalu'u, we happened upon an enormous sea turtle resting on the sand. He was magnificent, the curves and designs of his dark shell blending in with the black sands of the beach. The beach itself was a mixture of contrasts - the whitecaps on the waves, the royal blue waters of the ocean, and the jet black sands - making it take on an almost mystical, fairy-tale like appearance. The Rainbow and Akaka Falls were set in a rain forest outside of Hilo. After a short hike in, we were treated to the falls, one a small drop, and the other a long drop off of a cliff. A beautiful finish to an outstanding adventure!
"Jets of lava sprung hundreds of feet into the air and burst into sky-rocket sprays that returned to earth in a crimson rain; and all the while the laboring mountain shook with Nature's great palsy, and voiced its distress in moanings and the muffled booming of subterranean thunders."
Mark Twain, commenting on Kilauea in his book, Roughing It
Within 20 minutes of our arrival, we were at the Volcano House. This old hotel overlooks Halema'uma'u Crater, located in Kilauea's summit caldera, which is three miles across and five hundred feet deep. Feeling dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the caldera, I stood at the overlook (a great distance away from the actual edge of the crater itself) and imagined what a tremendous sight it must be to observe an explosive eruption. The last massive eruption at Halema'uma'u had occurred in 1952, and at the moment things were very quiet within the crater. However, there was plenty of volcanic activity occurring along Kilauea's rift zone, and I, for one, was very anxious to see it, so we drove down the Chain of Craters Road and although we were at a distance, the golden yellow bands of lava were easily seen. Being twilight, these streams glowed in the semi-darkness against the pitch black Pali as they flowed toward the ocean below.
Early the next morning we drove the 11 mile Crater Rim Drive which takes in the circumference of the summit caldera, stopping at the Jaggar Museum to explore. For a small museum, the Jaggar certainly offers an incredible wealth of information, data, and photographs on the history of Kilauea and Hawai'i's volcanoes. Along the drive we were able to stop at the Halema'uma'u Overlook which is a fenced-in area at the edge of the crater. The view into the caldera was amazing, the walls of the sulfur-encrusted crater led to a wide, flat-bottomed floor. To the side of the overlook, outside of the fence, were fruit and flower offerings left for Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. Three Nene geese were happily nibbling on the fruits, and apparently we were very fortunate to have seen them as they are a bit elusive.
We decided to hike into Kilauea Iki, a smaller crater next to Kilauea crater. The trail leading through rain forest vegetation into the crater was steep and full of switch-backs as it wound its way down the crater wall. Walking single file, as the trail was only wide enough to allow, we finally walked out onto the crater floor. The blackness of the hardened lava swallowed the sunlight and radiated the heat in waves. The scene we witnessed reminded me of a parking lot that had been blown up. Huge slabs of lava jutted up at odd angles and chunks of a'a lava (rough, sharp, jagged lava) were strewn everywhere. In other areas pahoehoe lava (fluid, rope-like, smooth lava) formed beautiful patterns that could have passed for artwork. This was an amazing place, unlike anything I'd ever seen.
After climbing up out of the crater, we ventured on to the Thurston Lava Tube. The tube, located in a lush, tropical rain forest bursting with color and life, was at one time filled with hot, molten lava that rushed through on its way to the sea. Once the lava stopped flowing, the walls of the tube hardened. Walking through the tube is like walking into a large cave that leads deep inside the earth. The tube is not long, but its opening is fairly large and wide. Exploring this is an adventure to be sure.
Late in the day, we packed a picnic dinner and drove back to the Chain of Craters Road. The road itself ends where the lava has swallowed it up, sealing it off forever. We checked in at the ranger station and learned that there was indeed lava flowing into the ocean further down the coast. After eating our dinner, we began hiking across the lava. The full moon was just beginning to rise as we made our way across the barren flows. Being a fairly accomplished hiker, I assumed that this would be no different than a hike up Mount Washington in New Hampshire. I couldn't have been more wrong. Hiking across lava is treacherous. The hardened lava is a disheveled, uneven terrain, making it difficult to cross. Its blackness throws off one's depth perception, and makes it almost impossible to determine distances. As we walked along, there were beacons at every mile, guiding our way. We had flashlights, but the going was still rough. Finally, we came to a roped-off area and we followed it along the perimeter until we came to a large cliff section where there must have been about 35 people perched in small groups, observing the lava flowing into the ocean. This was the highlight of the day for us. What an incredible moment, it literally took my breath away! I found that I couldn't take my eyes from the sight, it was absolutely mesmerizing. The bright, fiery liquid gold poured out of the black cliff as if it were flowing full force from a faucet. At times when it hit the cold ocean waters, small littoral explosions would occur, sending a spray of water and steam upward. We sat for about an hour, watching the gorgeous display of volcanic fireworks, and then began the arduous 4 mile trek back. We had the full moon with us, bright enough that it lit the path. Although we were exhausted when we finally got back to the car at 1:30 AM, we felt that it had been one of those 'once in a lifetime' moments that we just couldn't have passed up, and we were so glad that we hadn't.
Sunday morning we took a ride into the tiny town of Volcano. We found a little gem of a restaurant, tucked back away from the main road. As we were waiting for breakfast, I became enthralled by a quilt that hung on a large wall. This had to have been one of the most interesting and beautiful quilts I'd ever seen. The quilt depicted Kilauea erupting and flowing into the sea. Each individual square had been sewn by a talented quilter and when the squares were joined, the scene fit together perfectly. It was just gorgeous, a perfect tribute to Kilauea.
Before we left that afternoon, we traveled to Punalu'u Black Sand Beach, Akaka Falls and Rainbow Falls. Arriving at Punalu'u, we happened upon an enormous sea turtle resting on the sand. He was magnificent, the curves and designs of his dark shell blending in with the black sands of the beach. The beach itself was a mixture of contrasts - the whitecaps on the waves, the royal blue waters of the ocean, and the jet black sands - making it take on an almost mystical, fairy-tale like appearance. The Rainbow and Akaka Falls were set in a rain forest outside of Hilo. After a short hike in, we were treated to the falls, one a small drop, and the other a long drop off of a cliff. A beautiful finish to an outstanding adventure!
"Jets of lava sprung hundreds of feet into the air and burst into sky-rocket sprays that returned to earth in a crimson rain; and all the while the laboring mountain shook with Nature's great palsy, and voiced its distress in moanings and the muffled booming of subterranean thunders."
Mark Twain, commenting on Kilauea in his book, Roughing It
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Home Again, Home Again...
The flight coming home from Hawaii always seems much longer than the flight going, even though it is basically the same amount of time. Sometimes we catch a tail wind that pushes us along, but technically, it's the same number of hours to and from. The difficulty lies in the time change. Going to Hawaii, we pick up 6 hours and going home, we lose them.
I left Honolulu at 8:10 last evening and arrived in Boston at 2:08 this afternoon (or 8:08 Hawaii time). After precious little sleep during the overnight to Denver, I slogged my way through the airport to catch my connecting flight to Boston. When we boarded, I found myself striking up a conversation with the enchanting, lovely college student sitting beside me. Once we began talking, we discussed her aspirations to become an elementary school teacher, the classes she was taking at college, and the field of education in general. Come to find out, she was originally from Deerfield, NH and knew my principal, who also hailed from that tiny community. It truly is a small world, and the world became a little smaller when she introduced me to her dad, who was heading to New England to go on a canoe trip in upstate Maine with Jim, my principal. Apparently, they were the best of friends and had been for many years. I had a long conversation with Jeff that was filled with a lot of laughs over things he and Jim had done 'in the old days'. Turns out that when Jeff lived in Deerfield, there was a woman in his neighborhood who had been on my field hockey team in high school and her mom had been one of my teachers.
You never know who you are going to meet when you travel, and I believe there really is some truth to the theory of six degrees of separation!
I left Honolulu at 8:10 last evening and arrived in Boston at 2:08 this afternoon (or 8:08 Hawaii time). After precious little sleep during the overnight to Denver, I slogged my way through the airport to catch my connecting flight to Boston. When we boarded, I found myself striking up a conversation with the enchanting, lovely college student sitting beside me. Once we began talking, we discussed her aspirations to become an elementary school teacher, the classes she was taking at college, and the field of education in general. Come to find out, she was originally from Deerfield, NH and knew my principal, who also hailed from that tiny community. It truly is a small world, and the world became a little smaller when she introduced me to her dad, who was heading to New England to go on a canoe trip in upstate Maine with Jim, my principal. Apparently, they were the best of friends and had been for many years. I had a long conversation with Jeff that was filled with a lot of laughs over things he and Jim had done 'in the old days'. Turns out that when Jeff lived in Deerfield, there was a woman in his neighborhood who had been on my field hockey team in high school and her mom had been one of my teachers.
You never know who you are going to meet when you travel, and I believe there really is some truth to the theory of six degrees of separation!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lanikai, Sandy Beach, Hawaii Kai Marina Boat Ride Under a Full Moon
Lanikai is a small community sandwiched between the towns of Kailua and Waimanalo on the eastern side of Oahu. It's quaint, but gorgeous homes with their manicured lawns and gardens reminded me of Rockport, MA. After taking a walk along the tree-lined streets we, Debbie, Suzanne, Marissa, and I, followed a tiny ally pathway that led us down to the beach, a lovely stretch of soft sand and sapphire blue waters. This was very obviously a family beach, as there were many young families with children just enjoying the morning sunshine and surf, and definitely the sort of beach you'd want to visit again.
Later on in the day after Sarah and Greg had finished work, we decided to take a ride down to Sandy Beach, not ten minutes from Debbie and Rick's home. Sandy's was quite a change from the quiet Lanikai shore line. Sandy Beach is reputed to have the most dangerous shore break on the island. The waves at Sandy's today were sloshing around like a giant washing machine and crashing onto the shore, warning flags and signs about the strong currents were posted along the beach. Swimming under these conditions was not high on the list, so we were content to just lie on the sands, enjoying the wild show the ocean was putting on.
Our last night in Hawaii was beautiful and balmy. After dinner we went out for a long boat ride around the marina at Hawaii Kai. Under the gaze of a full moon that sparkled across the water, we slowly made our way around the inlets and under the small bridges that connected the waterways. What an enjoyable way to spend our last evening together!
I find it extremely difficult to leave Hawaii. Not only do I leave my daughter behind but our soon-to-be extended family as well. Getting on the plane, I know that I won't be seeing Sarah for a few months, and although my rational side argues that living in Hawaii with Greg she's the happiest she's ever been, my emotional side rules because I know how much I will miss the face-to-face contact we have when I am here. What is even more difficult is not being able to share in the events that happen in her daily life, no matter how small or insignificant they may be. Watching her deal with the inner conflict of living away from her entire family has not been easy by any stretch, but knowing that if I am supportive of her, this helps both of us cope with the time away from each other.
Later on in the day after Sarah and Greg had finished work, we decided to take a ride down to Sandy Beach, not ten minutes from Debbie and Rick's home. Sandy's was quite a change from the quiet Lanikai shore line. Sandy Beach is reputed to have the most dangerous shore break on the island. The waves at Sandy's today were sloshing around like a giant washing machine and crashing onto the shore, warning flags and signs about the strong currents were posted along the beach. Swimming under these conditions was not high on the list, so we were content to just lie on the sands, enjoying the wild show the ocean was putting on.
Our last night in Hawaii was beautiful and balmy. After dinner we went out for a long boat ride around the marina at Hawaii Kai. Under the gaze of a full moon that sparkled across the water, we slowly made our way around the inlets and under the small bridges that connected the waterways. What an enjoyable way to spend our last evening together!
I find it extremely difficult to leave Hawaii. Not only do I leave my daughter behind but our soon-to-be extended family as well. Getting on the plane, I know that I won't be seeing Sarah for a few months, and although my rational side argues that living in Hawaii with Greg she's the happiest she's ever been, my emotional side rules because I know how much I will miss the face-to-face contact we have when I am here. What is even more difficult is not being able to share in the events that happen in her daily life, no matter how small or insignificant they may be. Watching her deal with the inner conflict of living away from her entire family has not been easy by any stretch, but knowing that if I am supportive of her, this helps both of us cope with the time away from each other.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Wedding details - The Wedding Cafe, Boating out to the Bay at Hawaii Kai
As my days in Hawaii draw to a close, a bit of panic ensues. I do not have all of the information about the wedding I need and am running out of time in which to find it. So the goal for today was to investigate and locate as many of the missing pieces as we could.
As mothers of the groom and bride respectively, Debbie and I took off for a powerwalk in the early morning hours, determined to walk off the cheesecake we had devoured during last night's dinner at Cheesecake Factory. Didn't work for me, but I figured that there was still time with our marathon search for the wedding information that would help tie up those loose ends.
Our first stop mid-morning was to The Wedding Cafe. We weren't sure what to expect, but we figured it was worth the try. We certainly weren't disappointed! This little shop offered brochures and business cards for anything and everything connected with weddings. The knowledgeable staff members were so very helpful, letting us pick their brains for ideas and information. When we left, Debbie and I felt far better than when we'd walked in.
My favorite stop was to a little hole in the wall called the East Asian Basket Company. This tiny store was literally filled from floor to ceiling with baskets of every size and shape. Having been a basket weaver (back when I had time to weave), I was enthralled with the hundreds of baskets. Before I could do some serious damage to my wallet, Debbie and I found the baskets I was looking for and we escaped with minimal setback.
Finishing our business in town, we returned to Hawaii Kai to work on obtaining prices for tents, lighting, and other necessities for an outdoor event. It was a long afternoon, to be sure, but we got a lot accomplished.
Later this afternoon, Greg took Suzanne and I with him to drop Sarah at paddling. She had practice with her paddling team just outside the marina at Hawaii Kai. After we'd left Sarah, Greg headed the boat out toward Portloc. As we rode away from the shore line, the waves became larger and more dense. We slammed into a few large waves that made the small boat rise and fall over the thick swells. After flying up into the air on a particularly large wave, I informed my future son-in-law that he may have been looking at the ride as an easy way to get rid of a potentially problematic mother-in-law. Ha! It's just not going to be that easy, he's stuck with me now. I didn't spend half my day working on wedding plans for nothing!
As mothers of the groom and bride respectively, Debbie and I took off for a powerwalk in the early morning hours, determined to walk off the cheesecake we had devoured during last night's dinner at Cheesecake Factory. Didn't work for me, but I figured that there was still time with our marathon search for the wedding information that would help tie up those loose ends.
Our first stop mid-morning was to The Wedding Cafe. We weren't sure what to expect, but we figured it was worth the try. We certainly weren't disappointed! This little shop offered brochures and business cards for anything and everything connected with weddings. The knowledgeable staff members were so very helpful, letting us pick their brains for ideas and information. When we left, Debbie and I felt far better than when we'd walked in.
My favorite stop was to a little hole in the wall called the East Asian Basket Company. This tiny store was literally filled from floor to ceiling with baskets of every size and shape. Having been a basket weaver (back when I had time to weave), I was enthralled with the hundreds of baskets. Before I could do some serious damage to my wallet, Debbie and I found the baskets I was looking for and we escaped with minimal setback.
Finishing our business in town, we returned to Hawaii Kai to work on obtaining prices for tents, lighting, and other necessities for an outdoor event. It was a long afternoon, to be sure, but we got a lot accomplished.
Later this afternoon, Greg took Suzanne and I with him to drop Sarah at paddling. She had practice with her paddling team just outside the marina at Hawaii Kai. After we'd left Sarah, Greg headed the boat out toward Portloc. As we rode away from the shore line, the waves became larger and more dense. We slammed into a few large waves that made the small boat rise and fall over the thick swells. After flying up into the air on a particularly large wave, I informed my future son-in-law that he may have been looking at the ride as an easy way to get rid of a potentially problematic mother-in-law. Ha! It's just not going to be that easy, he's stuck with me now. I didn't spend half my day working on wedding plans for nothing!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Hike Around Hanauma Bay, Ni'i Nurseries, Waimanalo Beach
There's nothing that starts the day off better than a good hike, and Debbie and I found a real gem early this morning. We began our hike at the road entrance to Hanauma Bay and continued upward at a fairly good clip. As we ascended, the views from either side of the ridge were spectacular. To our left, Hanauma Bay in its entirety, the sun glistening on the rippling waves as the wind skipped across from the open ocean. On our right, the view opened out onto the ocean, all of Hawaii Kai, Diamond Head, and the magnificent skyline of Waikiki. How's that for a great beginning?
After our hike, Debbie and I took a jaunt over to the Ni'i Nurseries. For a gardener, I was just in my glory! Ni'i Nurseries is located in the back valley of Hawaii Kai and is owned by a team of siblings. The nursery itself was, at first glance, in varying states of dilapidation. However a closer glance revealed section upon section of pots, large and small, filled to the brim with luscious, green plants, some bursting with colorful buds and flowers, while others looked to be gargantuan versions of leafy foliage. Debbie and I wandered aimlessly among the hundreds of tropical plants, vines, and trees, mesmerized by this treasure trove of greenery. After inspecting all the nursery had to offer, Debbie selected some hardy plants that would grow in her gardens, while I, unable to haul them onto the plane back to NH with me, was left only to dream of the possibilities.
Sarah and Greg stopped in after lunch to grab Suzanne and I for an afternoon at the beach. Waimanalo Beach is a long, thin stretch of straw-colored sand and turquoise waters, with views of Rabbit Island and Makapu'u Lighthouse in the distance. Many of the trees along the beach had had the dirt washed away by the surf, exposing the gnarled roots to the sun and surf. A walk along the shoreline turned up small Portuguese Man of War stranded on the sands. Although they were only the size of a dime, these venomous little guys would still pack a punch if stepped on. We decided that going into the water was not to be an option, but instead enjoyed the onshore breezes and warm sunshine.
After our hike, Debbie and I took a jaunt over to the Ni'i Nurseries. For a gardener, I was just in my glory! Ni'i Nurseries is located in the back valley of Hawaii Kai and is owned by a team of siblings. The nursery itself was, at first glance, in varying states of dilapidation. However a closer glance revealed section upon section of pots, large and small, filled to the brim with luscious, green plants, some bursting with colorful buds and flowers, while others looked to be gargantuan versions of leafy foliage. Debbie and I wandered aimlessly among the hundreds of tropical plants, vines, and trees, mesmerized by this treasure trove of greenery. After inspecting all the nursery had to offer, Debbie selected some hardy plants that would grow in her gardens, while I, unable to haul them onto the plane back to NH with me, was left only to dream of the possibilities.
Sarah and Greg stopped in after lunch to grab Suzanne and I for an afternoon at the beach. Waimanalo Beach is a long, thin stretch of straw-colored sand and turquoise waters, with views of Rabbit Island and Makapu'u Lighthouse in the distance. Many of the trees along the beach had had the dirt washed away by the surf, exposing the gnarled roots to the sun and surf. A walk along the shoreline turned up small Portuguese Man of War stranded on the sands. Although they were only the size of a dime, these venomous little guys would still pack a punch if stepped on. We decided that going into the water was not to be an option, but instead enjoyed the onshore breezes and warm sunshine.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
July 4th in Hawaii!
Any beach on the island will be crowded on July 4th, and Waikiki is no exception. We opted to head for Diamond Head this morning, where we knew the surf was good and the beach would not be as packed. The beach at Diamond Head sits well below the road and the well-traveled path down to it has a fairly steep pitch. Once we'd descended, we could see the many surfers dotting the wide expanse of ocean. Rick, Debbie's husband, took off for the break, while Debbie, her son, Andrew and his wife, Marissa, walked with me along the beach. Suzanne stayed behind to bask in the sun.
The olivine sand sparkled in the sunlight as the waves brought in wildlife from the sea in the form of a spiny sea urchin, sea cucumbers, and most interestingly, a large monk seal. Concerned for their survival, we rolled the urchin and sea cucumbers back into the ocean waters. As we neared the end of the beach, we encountered the hulk of a beautiful seal lying in the sun, resting. She rolled onto her back, her rotund belly sticking up into the air and her flippers out at her sides like angel wings. Her adorable face reflected serenity; her eyes closed and her mouth had almost a smirk-like look to it. We watched her for quite a while as she didn't seem to have any desire to leave. She was magnificent, how fortunate were we to have had the opportunity to observe her. She outlasted us, and we returned to the spot we'd taken for our towels and chairs, where we were joined by Sarah and Greg. We sat there in the sun, soaking up it's warmth and enjoying the ongoing conversations. It was a gorgeous day to be on the beach, any beach, but especially to be on the beach at Diamond Head.
Later, back at home, we had a cookout on the back deck overlooking the waterway. With all the makings for the meal on the table, everyone dove in, polishing off hamburgers, salads, and fruits. After being on the beach all morning, there was nothing more thirst quenching than the sun-kissed watermelon and yellow cherries from Washington state. Late in the day, Sarah, Greg, Suzanne, and Andrew put the surfboards into the boat and headed out toward Turtles, a surf break right outside of the marina.
In the early evening Deb, Rick, Sarah, Greg, Suzanne, and I walked to the Hawaii Kai marina where there was to be a fireworks display to celebrate the fourth. As we walked through the neighborhood on our way, many of the teenagers were already celebrating with sparklers and firecrackers. Once we reached the marina, we found tents set up with food, activities, and information. We found a group of rocks to perch on overlooking the barge where the fireworks would be sent from, a perfect spot. Once the fireworks began it was apparent that the town of Hawaii Kai would do itself proud. It was an impressive presentation, full of color and variation, definitely rivaling the displays put on in much larger towns.
As I sat at the Hawaii Kai Marina this evening with my family I felt perfectly and totally content. There was no place else I'd rather be at that moment in time. The ambiance was completed with a brilliant full moon, tropical breezes, and beautiful Hawaiian music playing softly in the background. It was one of those nights that you wished could go on forever...
The olivine sand sparkled in the sunlight as the waves brought in wildlife from the sea in the form of a spiny sea urchin, sea cucumbers, and most interestingly, a large monk seal. Concerned for their survival, we rolled the urchin and sea cucumbers back into the ocean waters. As we neared the end of the beach, we encountered the hulk of a beautiful seal lying in the sun, resting. She rolled onto her back, her rotund belly sticking up into the air and her flippers out at her sides like angel wings. Her adorable face reflected serenity; her eyes closed and her mouth had almost a smirk-like look to it. We watched her for quite a while as she didn't seem to have any desire to leave. She was magnificent, how fortunate were we to have had the opportunity to observe her. She outlasted us, and we returned to the spot we'd taken for our towels and chairs, where we were joined by Sarah and Greg. We sat there in the sun, soaking up it's warmth and enjoying the ongoing conversations. It was a gorgeous day to be on the beach, any beach, but especially to be on the beach at Diamond Head.
Later, back at home, we had a cookout on the back deck overlooking the waterway. With all the makings for the meal on the table, everyone dove in, polishing off hamburgers, salads, and fruits. After being on the beach all morning, there was nothing more thirst quenching than the sun-kissed watermelon and yellow cherries from Washington state. Late in the day, Sarah, Greg, Suzanne, and Andrew put the surfboards into the boat and headed out toward Turtles, a surf break right outside of the marina.
In the early evening Deb, Rick, Sarah, Greg, Suzanne, and I walked to the Hawaii Kai marina where there was to be a fireworks display to celebrate the fourth. As we walked through the neighborhood on our way, many of the teenagers were already celebrating with sparklers and firecrackers. Once we reached the marina, we found tents set up with food, activities, and information. We found a group of rocks to perch on overlooking the barge where the fireworks would be sent from, a perfect spot. Once the fireworks began it was apparent that the town of Hawaii Kai would do itself proud. It was an impressive presentation, full of color and variation, definitely rivaling the displays put on in much larger towns.
As I sat at the Hawaii Kai Marina this evening with my family I felt perfectly and totally content. There was no place else I'd rather be at that moment in time. The ambiance was completed with a brilliant full moon, tropical breezes, and beautiful Hawaiian music playing softly in the background. It was one of those nights that you wished could go on forever...
Saturday, July 4, 2009
North Shore, Ted's Bakery, Haleiwa, Sea Turtles
An absolutely perfect day at the North Shore has to include a trip to Ted's Bakery, there is no question about it. This is as crucial to anyone who lives in Hawaii as Mike's Pastry in the North End of Boston is to New Englanders. This little piece of heaven is located across from Sunset Beach (near Pipeline) Haleiwa, and the sweet smell as you drive by just reaches out to grab you and drag you in. Once inside, it only becomes more difficult as you struggle with way too many delectable choices - coconut cream cake or key lime pie, or maybe even their specialty, chocolate haupia pie - to die for! This morning our visit to Ted's was short, but sweet. I ended up with a cinnamon roll which was three times the size of any cinnamon roll I'd ever had in New Hampshire, and three times as delicious! Made my day!
After leaving Turtle Bay, we drove to Shark's Cove where we snorkeled on the outer edges away from the crowds of people who had come to spend a beautiful sunny day at the beach. We made our way carefully out over the lava rock tide pools to reach the open waters. Donning our snorkel gear, we slid into the waves and swam out over the massive reef. Vibrantly colored tropical fish darted about, swimming in and out of the rocks below. A small sea turtle sidled over to feed, then paddled lazily along the outer edge of the reef as we swam. The bright sunlight played among the waves as we enjoyed the views of life down under for the better part of the morning.
Continuing our way down the North Shore, we passed Waimea Bay. Incredibly gorgeous in photographs, but pictures can not begin to illustrate the raw beauty of it. We wove our way along the shoreline until we finally reached the sign for Haleiwa. Driving through the town of Haleiwa is not unlike driving through any small, New England seaside village. Lined with quaint shops and unique spots, we were compelled to stop and investigate. So many things to see, so little time!
Once we were on the road again, we drove out to the point where we stopped at Sarah's favorite surfing spot. This beach did not disappoint as it was also a favorite hangout for sea turtles. Walking along the shore, I could see the turtles in pairs or small groups gliding along in the waves, feeding along the surf line. When the waves curled up over them, they would just dive in and ride all over again. They were so magical to watch, a true Hawaiian treasure!
After leaving Turtle Bay, we drove to Shark's Cove where we snorkeled on the outer edges away from the crowds of people who had come to spend a beautiful sunny day at the beach. We made our way carefully out over the lava rock tide pools to reach the open waters. Donning our snorkel gear, we slid into the waves and swam out over the massive reef. Vibrantly colored tropical fish darted about, swimming in and out of the rocks below. A small sea turtle sidled over to feed, then paddled lazily along the outer edge of the reef as we swam. The bright sunlight played among the waves as we enjoyed the views of life down under for the better part of the morning.
Continuing our way down the North Shore, we passed Waimea Bay. Incredibly gorgeous in photographs, but pictures can not begin to illustrate the raw beauty of it. We wove our way along the shoreline until we finally reached the sign for Haleiwa. Driving through the town of Haleiwa is not unlike driving through any small, New England seaside village. Lined with quaint shops and unique spots, we were compelled to stop and investigate. So many things to see, so little time!
Once we were on the road again, we drove out to the point where we stopped at Sarah's favorite surfing spot. This beach did not disappoint as it was also a favorite hangout for sea turtles. Walking along the shore, I could see the turtles in pairs or small groups gliding along in the waves, feeding along the surf line. When the waves curled up over them, they would just dive in and ride all over again. They were so magical to watch, a true Hawaiian treasure!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Mini-vacation at Turtle Bay!
Located in Kahuku on the eastern shores of Oahu, Turtle Bay is one of those places that is enjoyable to escape to. My daughters, Sarah and Suzanne, Sarah's fiance, Greg, and I drove over the Pali and along shoreline to this beautiful resort for a two-day get-away. The meticulously cared-for grounds of the complex stretch out along a peninsula into the bay. Surrounded by surf and sand, this ocean playground is lined with stone pathways, and a series of pools and hot tubs. Pretty spectacular spot!
Walking along the beach this afternoon, I couldn't help but be amazed by the striking beauty of the ocean as it spread out before me, waves of blues and green weaving and intertwining themselves to blend seamlessly. Maybe I'm just so used to the waters of the Atlantic, but something just feels different when I look out over the immense Pacific. The ocean itself seems so much larger, more powerful, commanding a strong presence. I can understand how one can become enchanted with the sea, it's lure is spellbinding.
Walking along the beach this afternoon, I couldn't help but be amazed by the striking beauty of the ocean as it spread out before me, waves of blues and green weaving and intertwining themselves to blend seamlessly. Maybe I'm just so used to the waters of the Atlantic, but something just feels different when I look out over the immense Pacific. The ocean itself seems so much larger, more powerful, commanding a strong presence. I can understand how one can become enchanted with the sea, it's lure is spellbinding.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Hanauma Bay in the Daytime
Our adventure of the day was a return visit to Hanauma Bay in the daylight. Arriving on site first thing in the morning afforded us the opportunity to snorkel in clear waters that had not yet experienced the throngs of visitors to this gorgeous marine sanctuary.
As Suzanne, Debbie, and I walked the long path down to the beach, the multi-hued dense blue water sparkled in the early morning sunlight. We quickly donned our snorkel gear and lumbered awkwardly into the waves slapping against the shore. Once in the water, the sense of weightlessness took over as we floated along, kicking our way out over the surf above the reef and rock. Below us, the most interesting wildlife came into view as we paddled along. Schools of fish of various colors and sizes moved away from us as we swam, seemingly curious and cautious. Spotted, box-like puffer fish scooted along the bottom, while plate-sized blue/green parrot fish swam in front of us as if to lead us to better areas. Foot-long sea cucumbers blended in with the sandy bottom as sea urchins peered from their holes in the lava rock. Debbie and Suzanne stopped to investigate a baby moray eel, but being terrified of snakes, I had no interest at all. Traveling on, we came across a significant section of brain coral that stretched out across the rock.
Although we stayed along the perimeter of the enormous cove, as the morning wore on the ocean swells became larger and the water a bit murkier. The bottom sands became churned by the many snorkelers who had come to this reserve seeking to see firsthand the beauty of the world under the surface. Leaving the warm ocean surf, we trudged to our beach blankets to relax in the sun before reluctantly making the long trek back up the hill and out of the bay. This was definitely an experience to remember!
As Suzanne, Debbie, and I walked the long path down to the beach, the multi-hued dense blue water sparkled in the early morning sunlight. We quickly donned our snorkel gear and lumbered awkwardly into the waves slapping against the shore. Once in the water, the sense of weightlessness took over as we floated along, kicking our way out over the surf above the reef and rock. Below us, the most interesting wildlife came into view as we paddled along. Schools of fish of various colors and sizes moved away from us as we swam, seemingly curious and cautious. Spotted, box-like puffer fish scooted along the bottom, while plate-sized blue/green parrot fish swam in front of us as if to lead us to better areas. Foot-long sea cucumbers blended in with the sandy bottom as sea urchins peered from their holes in the lava rock. Debbie and Suzanne stopped to investigate a baby moray eel, but being terrified of snakes, I had no interest at all. Traveling on, we came across a significant section of brain coral that stretched out across the rock.
Although we stayed along the perimeter of the enormous cove, as the morning wore on the ocean swells became larger and the water a bit murkier. The bottom sands became churned by the many snorkelers who had come to this reserve seeking to see firsthand the beauty of the world under the surface. Leaving the warm ocean surf, we trudged to our beach blankets to relax in the sun before reluctantly making the long trek back up the hill and out of the bay. This was definitely an experience to remember!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Morning Adventure at Cockroach Cove, Halona Blowhole, Afternoon at Waikiki
Good swimming spots are a dime a dozen on the mainland, but some of the ones on Oahu offer adventures the likes of which only Disney can provide. A visit to Cockroach Cove is one such adventure. The first thing that hints to what lies ahead is the yellow sign stating not to climb over the wall. Well, we didn't, we went around it. Climbing down the steep rocky embankment, my daughter, Suzanne, and I reached the bottom, no worse for the wear, and set out our beach towels on the small, sandy beach surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs.
As the turbulent ocean waters crashed against the rocks with a ferocity New Englanders see only after a hurricane passes our coastline, the residual waves broke onto the shoreline uprooting and churning the sand in its wake. As I dutifully read the assigned chapters for my class, I kept an eye on the foaming waves, a bit wary, but at the same time hoping for some large ones as I knew we were due for incoming swells to arrive. I watched as a few swimmers braved the waters, bobbing up and down as the waves rolled on by.
Suzanne was first to test it out, sauntering into the white water while the waves broke around her. Finally up to her neck, she began to pop up and down as each swell carried her like a roller coaster. Thinking this looked like fun, I decided to follow. The force of the exiting wave pulled at my legs as I walked into the surf, so I quickly moved into deeper water. I began bobbing around as if I were inside of a large washing machine. As I paddled, I tried to stay clear of the massive rock walls on the sides of the cove. I happened to catch a glimpse of a sea turtle swimming alongside me. As the big waves curled one after another, the little turtle swam through, avoiding the rocks jutting out just under the surface.
Finally, after treading water until my arms had had enough, Suzanne and I decided it was time to head back up the cliff. When we arrived at the top, we walked over to the Hanoma Blowhole overlook. The Hanoma Blowhole reminds one of a whale's blowhole in that the water rushes in underneath the rocks, and spurts out of the top in a 20 - 30 foot spray. As the waves approach the lava rock shoreline, they enter underwater tunnels that lead to the blowhole with a force that jettisons the water high into the air. It's really quite amazing to watch, as each occurrence changes with the amount of force in the wave that causes it. Old Faithful couldn't be more exciting than this!
Later in the day, Suzanne, Sarah, Debbie, and I drove into Honolulu to do some gift shopping. Strolling along Waikiki Beach is a unique experience, to say the least. On one side is the beautiful beach with the waves rolling in, lined with tall, lush palm trees, fountains, and bronze statues. Beach front stores and hotels occupy the other side, while tourists and local folk travel up and down the sidewalks. It is common to see surfers of all ages walking along with their surfboards tucked under their arms, or businessmen in their colorful aloha shirts. Waikiki is a study in culture and diversity, as people from every corner of the world arrive on these shores to enjoy all that Hawaii has to offer. It is not like any other place I've ever been to, and that is one of the things that I appreciate and love about this island.
As the turbulent ocean waters crashed against the rocks with a ferocity New Englanders see only after a hurricane passes our coastline, the residual waves broke onto the shoreline uprooting and churning the sand in its wake. As I dutifully read the assigned chapters for my class, I kept an eye on the foaming waves, a bit wary, but at the same time hoping for some large ones as I knew we were due for incoming swells to arrive. I watched as a few swimmers braved the waters, bobbing up and down as the waves rolled on by.
Suzanne was first to test it out, sauntering into the white water while the waves broke around her. Finally up to her neck, she began to pop up and down as each swell carried her like a roller coaster. Thinking this looked like fun, I decided to follow. The force of the exiting wave pulled at my legs as I walked into the surf, so I quickly moved into deeper water. I began bobbing around as if I were inside of a large washing machine. As I paddled, I tried to stay clear of the massive rock walls on the sides of the cove. I happened to catch a glimpse of a sea turtle swimming alongside me. As the big waves curled one after another, the little turtle swam through, avoiding the rocks jutting out just under the surface.
Finally, after treading water until my arms had had enough, Suzanne and I decided it was time to head back up the cliff. When we arrived at the top, we walked over to the Hanoma Blowhole overlook. The Hanoma Blowhole reminds one of a whale's blowhole in that the water rushes in underneath the rocks, and spurts out of the top in a 20 - 30 foot spray. As the waves approach the lava rock shoreline, they enter underwater tunnels that lead to the blowhole with a force that jettisons the water high into the air. It's really quite amazing to watch, as each occurrence changes with the amount of force in the wave that causes it. Old Faithful couldn't be more exciting than this!
Later in the day, Suzanne, Sarah, Debbie, and I drove into Honolulu to do some gift shopping. Strolling along Waikiki Beach is a unique experience, to say the least. On one side is the beautiful beach with the waves rolling in, lined with tall, lush palm trees, fountains, and bronze statues. Beach front stores and hotels occupy the other side, while tourists and local folk travel up and down the sidewalks. It is common to see surfers of all ages walking along with their surfboards tucked under their arms, or businessmen in their colorful aloha shirts. Waikiki is a study in culture and diversity, as people from every corner of the world arrive on these shores to enjoy all that Hawaii has to offer. It is not like any other place I've ever been to, and that is one of the things that I appreciate and love about this island.
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