Maui and Kauai
After dropping the dumplings off at the bird house, we took Mokulele to Kauai where Adam and I met two of his friends, Margie (the blonde), and Katie. They knew a guy on the island who picked us up, refueled our vagabond stomachs, and slingshot us into the Kalalau trail along the Na Pali coast. This trail is for no confessing sinners, you gotta pack your elephant gun to survive the 13 mile hike to Kalalau valley. Since we had a late start, the first night was spent in the wet coffee grove of Hanakoa. This place was so humid we couldn’t get a fire going with fuel as kindling. I made a little shelter out of sticks and ferns and in the middle of my sleep it decided it wanted to snuggle, I awoke thinking a wild boar was upon me and yelled at the top of my lungs. Kalalau, like Waimanu, is a place where mother nature is doing a good job of letting man in the door. These lush valleys used to be home for some 5,000 Hawai’ians, and there terraces serve the new community of some 150 hippies, living off the land. We ran into a caveman in his garden, planting taro naked as the day his mother shot him out. He had a sun died beard that, like his hair, had been worked into a nappy blob over the years. He looked at us and smiled and went about his business.
After our exploration of the noni cliffs, and unworldly waterfalls. We flew to Maui, where Margie and Katie lived. This taste of civilization gave us the burning desire to run back into the moss of the wild. The surf competition off of front street kept us entertained until a vortex by the name of, well I don’t quite remember her name, but she took us in her camper-truck to a beach party, that was about 5 people strong. A fairly un-normal night ensued, and the next morning at 4 am the last palate burnt out and it was time for us to take our island flea back to the Big I. Our pilot weighing in at 350 easy was sweating heavily as he loaded us and two others’ luggage into the small Cessna. Shortly after takeoff there was a buzzer that I was sure was his heart monitor, warning of Cardio-infarction, it instead was a warning of a ajar door, right behind me the door then flew open. We had an interesting jump, and after radical Rob brought our luggage, it was off our separate ways.
