Aloha, Sweet Kauai

Heavy rain pounded down on the corrugated red roof of our little B&B bungalow and the ocean steadily rose, too, increasing the intensity of waves rolling in at every beach.  Kauai's rivers and waterfalls became muddy torrents for a while, but nothing close to flood stage.

Once we made our way east to Hanalei for breakfast, a distance of about six miles, the heaviest showers had moved on and we were able to stay dry, although beach fun was off the list.  As we sat at Paradise Deli eating our French toast and coffee outdoors on a lanai, another heavy shower angled down.  Not much changed; people were still walking around in their shorts, summer beach wear and flip flops.  Okay, maybe a couple of folks kind of squinted as the water pattered on their heads, but that was it.

After considering a few options, the most adventurous thing we wanted to do in such weather was to go see Waimea Falls, which entailed driving out of Hanalei Valley east past Princeville, Kilauea, then down to Kapa'a to get to the highway that leads up to the falls.  On the way, we drove to a pretty overlook above the Waimea River where kayakers were making their way upstream.  On another trip here, I'll be doing that for sure.  There are lots of rivers on the island and kayak rental companies are everywhere.

I had read about a Hindu temple that's situated on the lava rim high above the river not far from the overlook.  The temple is made of 40,000 stones transported from India, each one hand carved.  Each stone is said to have taken seven years to carve to its correct dimension.  The temple is only open to the public on certain days, and today was not one of them.  Further up the road, we saw a small sign indicating the area enclosed within a fence was a small forest sacred to the Hindu followers.  A small shrine greeted us at the entrance to the forest area.  The trees within had been planted and have a peculiar fin-like root shape that winds and curves away from the tree's trunk.  Soon enough, a young Indian man showed up and greeted us, asked us questions politely and tried to give us information, but his accent was heavy and hard to understand. The gist of it was that the temple was not open; try another day.

On we went to find the road to Waimea Falls and found it easily.  The falls were held sacred by the early Hawaiians, as was the headwaters on Mt. Wai'ae'ale.  Since it had been raining heavily all night and probably was still pouring up high there, the falls were in full roar.  A busload of Russian tourists was lined up along the overlook railing, so we joined them and admired the pounding water and its beautiful rainbow.  We've seen at least one rainbow every day we've been on Kauai, a pretty good streak to be proud of.  I can't say that about any other vacation I've ever been on.

We found Mark's Place in Puhi, a small community on the way to Koloa Town.  Mark's Place sells "local grinds," the pidgin term for good honest down-to-earth food that locals love.  I bought the Mark's Special Plate that included:  Beef Katsu, a large scoop of brown rice, two pieces of Teriyaki Beef, green salad, and beef stew, all piled high in a take-out box.  Other choices for sides alternative to green salad are macaroni salad, potato salad, or white rice.  Seven bucks; that's it.  I ate half and was stuffed and saved the rest for dinner tonight.  (We split that and added fresh pineapple and grapes and were stuffed again.)  It is known to be the best local food on the island, end of story.  The staff are - as so many servers and staff have been everywhere - polite, eager to please, very generous and thoughtful in attitude.  It's the aloha that used to be everywhere in Hawaii.  Sweet.

Roosters, who are evident everywhere on Kauai, began crowing right at our feet as they re-established territories in the yard next to the eatery.  In 1992 when hurricane Iniki whacked Kauai, the roosters' forebears were sprung from cages and began to breed like rabbits.  Something like that.  They're handsome and foolish but harmless.  I think a few good coyotes could do some good around the island, but that's what someone said who introduced mongoose to Oahu as well as cats, geckos, kokee frogs, mice, rats (well maybe not rats; they sneaked off ships), English sparrows, pigeons, and on and on.

On to Kaloa, the home of a large sugar plantation started in 1835.  It became the center of business in that area, the third largest port in Hawaii, and remains a quaint town with many plantation-style buildings still standing.  It's cute.  We shopped around for gifts, looked at a huge monkeypod tree overhanging a creek that gurgles on its way to the sea, and ate some haupia ice cream (a local coconut dessert we'd had at the luau last night).

We drove all the way back to Tunnels Beach to try to see one more sunset.  Missed it but saw larger waves than we'd seen before and felt the drive was worth it.  Besides, we got to listen to surfers talking story about Duke Kahanamoku at Disneyland while we drove.  KKCR plays Hawaiian music and local info, so we tune in when it's within signal reach.  Duke is a legendary hero all over the islands, introducing surfing to the world once he'd won Olympic gold in swimming.

This is our last night in Kauai, and it's hard to believe.  From the time I was about 10 or so, I formed ideas about what Hawaii is like and imagined myself living here, surfing, swimming and being out in the natural beauty.  In many trips to the islands - about six or seven or more now - I'd caught glimpses of what my imagination had conjured as a child.  Now, here it is, that lovely, soft place.  It really exists.

Has it changed me? I'm not sure yet.  I'll know when I get home and contrast my new self to my old hometown, Pacific Grove.  I'm bound to be changed; it always happens.  It's why I travel, to push change and transformation in myself and see the world.  What I do know is:  Aloha lives, and Kauai is its home.