Hawaii Trip Reflections

Wrapping up some loose ends from our recent Hawaii trip. This is a lengthy post, so please be patient...

The first thing that struck me was the gas prices. When we left Texas it was around $2.69 per gallon. When we landed in Oahu it was $3.73 per gallon. I understand that it's an island and everything has to be shipped there, but damn ... just DAMN.

My wife scheduled us for a number of different activities while we were there. In my mind I divided them into two categories: one where we were responsible for ourselves (e.g., boogie boarding, snorkeling, hiking, surfing) and one where we were dependent on others for our safety (parasailing and ziplining). This really hit home during the parasailing, when my son and I were dangling a few hundred feet above the ocean while being towed by a speedboat crewed by a couple of surfer dudes.

As we boarded the boat I noticed the name on the stern - "Lucky Lady." It looked like it was hastily painted over something, kind of like those paint patches you see covering up gang graffiti. I didn't give it a second thought, as we were busy getting fitted for harnesses, briefed by the crew on what to expect and what to do in the case of a malfunction or emergency, and sightseeing as we left the harbor and set sail for the open sea.

We were strapped into the harnesses, hooked up to a steel bar that was connected to the parachute, sat on the rear deck of the boat, and before I knew it we were whisked off and up. At first it was fun and enjoyable, but then...

By nature and training I almost always inspect any gear I'm going to rely on in a potentially dangerous situation. For some reason, in this case I was lulled into a false sense of security. I did take a quick look at the D-rings and carabiners that connected us to the steel bar, and the steel bar to the parachute, but I overlooked the line that connected the steel bar to the boat. As we were sailing through the air, I noticed that the line was faded and frayed, probably as a result of the sun and salt. I also noticed that the knot used to fasten the line to the steel bar looked more like a series of half-hitches than any sort of seaman's knot. 

Of course at this point it was too late to do anything about it. I consoled myself with the thought that if the line snapped or the knot came undone we would basically just be parachuting into the ocean. We're both pretty strong swimmers, and we had on life vests, so I wasn't too worried, but still...

About this time the speedboat turned and I could see some artwork on its side. It was the original name of the boat: "Classy Bong."

At that point a couple of remarks the crew made snapped into focus. Something about leaving Mexico and going to the Caribbean, and then having to leave the Caribbean and moving to Hawaii.

Still, everything went well. We had a great time, made it back safely, and enjoyed the crew's company. But the next day, when we went ziplining, I did pay a lot closer attention to the gear and the staff.

I mentioned earlier about the long, high zips we did. Here's an example. The picture was taken from the platform we left from. There are two parallel lines faintly visible in the top center of the picture. Those are the ziplines. If you look very, very closely on the right side of the picture, slightly less than halfway down, you can see the platform we landed on. It's about 1/4 mile away. (You can click to embiggen any of these pictures.)

We spent most of our time on the island of Kauai. The very first thing we noticed leaving the airport was that the place is overrun with chickens - lots and lots of chickens. There are a couple of stories that purport to explain them. One is that when Hurricane Iniki hit Kauai in 1992 it blew the roofs off all the chicken coops on the island and the birds escaped. Another explanation, and one I put more stock in, is that the sugarcane plantation laborers imported from the Philippines in the late 1800s brought chickens with them, both for eating and for cockfighting. Over the years a number escaped and multiplied, lacking any natural predators. I tend to believe this one because the wild roosters are brightly colored - usually a nice-looking bright red, banded with other colors.

The chickens are wild, tough, and wary. They'll let you get close, but not too close. They're also tough, both figuratively and literally. A local story states that the best way to cook a wild chicken is to place it in a pot of boiling water with a lava rock. Keep it boiling until the rock gets soft, then throw away the chicken and eat the rock.

Feral chickens - go figure.

Speaking of eating, we fell in love with a local desert call Hula Pie. It's a big hunk of Lappert's macadamia nut ice cream (Lappert's is to Hawaii as Blue Bell is to Texas) covered with chocolate sauce and crushed macadamia nuts, and buried under a mound of whipped cream. One serving satisfies a family of four.

Hula Pie - before.

Hula Pie - after.

After chowing down on several Hula Pies it was time to work off some of those calories. So my darling bride dragged us off to hike up and down (and up and down and up and down and up and down...) Waimea Canyon. As previously reported, a gorgeous view of the canyon

was followed by a disappointing view of Waipoo Falls, probably because we hiked to the top of them. In the picture below, the people you see on the edge of the rocks are right next to the 800 foot dropoff over which the falls flow. (Again, click to embiggen.)

I posted earlier about the insensitivity of some people in demanding that special accommodations be made for them, in spite of the fact that they are visitors in a different land/culture, and in the minority. I saw a perfect example of this one afternoon in Hawaii. I was sitting in a bar watching Arkansas play Ohio State in the Sugar Bowl (As an aside, Hawaii time (HST) is 4 hours ahead of CST, my usual time zone. This means that football games scheduled for noon CST (1:00 p.m. EST) start at 8:00 a.m. HST. As a result, the bars open early in the morning to accommodate fans. This requires a little getting used to, but it's a surprisingly easy adjustment after the first beer or two).

Anyway, this particular bowl game started around 3:00 p.m. HST. There was a pretty good crowd in the bar watching it, including some of those obnoxious Hog fans, all dressed in red and making those ridiculous sooie pig noises (the hillbilly equivalent of the vuvuzelas from the World Cup). In the midst of all this hooting and hollering a Canadian walked up to the bar and asked the bartender if he could switch the TV to the Canadian junior hockey championships.

There was a stunned moment of silence, and then the hogheads surged to their feet as one. I'll give the bartender a lot of credit. He eyed the crowd and very smoothly said "I'm sorry, but we don't get that channel." The Canadian, very politely as is their wont, thanked him and wandered off in search of another bar that would accommodate him.

Those of us watching the game just looked at each other and asked "Was that guy really serious?" The bartender said they get a few Canadians in from time to time, and have their stock "We don't get that channel" reply ready. But how oblivious was the Canadian? I understand that hockey is a national obsession with them, but was he blind to the crowd in the bar? And for the junior nationals? Maybe the Stanley Cup, but the junior nationals? What was he thinking?

Speaking of people oblivious to their surroundings, there are some people that should be prevented, under penalty of law, from appearing in public in a bathing suit. 'Nuff said. (For God's sake DO NOT click to embiggen.)

Bottom line - great people, very warm and friendly; great place, beautiful with lots to do. We're already planning a return trip.

I'll describe the Great obama Birth Certificate Search in a later post...