Monday, January 21, 2019. Tis a brisk one...

Brrrr.  When I awaken in the morning and Iʻm feeling chilly, I look at the windows.  Theyʻre single-paned.  The amount of condensation on the glass indicates how cold it is outside.  Today, early, the glass was covered.  No wonder:

Yesterday, at sunset time on Maunakea, Māhealani (the full moon), in partial eclipse, rose behind Makanaka, and just over the tip of the shadow cast by our beloved mountain.  Thanks hf for sharing, again.

And 43 years ago this morning, I awoke on the sand at Maniniʻōwali, on the shore of Kua bay.  Friends and I had backpacked in from Queen Kaʻahumanu Highway, it having been opened on March 21, 1975.  We wanted to be at a favorite place to observe Māhealani.  As it turned out, the Full Moon of January 1976, has become a milestone in our lives.  Tōb and I met HK and Naiʻa.  And our friendships endure.  And for that I am grateful.

And this briskchill morning up here is clear...no clouds to hold in the heat...but we get to see and enjoy, albeit remotely, Māhealani on its way down behind Maunaloa.

Weʻll wait for the day (and creaky joints) to warm a bit before heading out for our walk.

I was at Pohoiki yesterday.  For the first time since I canʻt remember when.  My mental files needed an update after The Three Months, and so I ventured down to Puna ma kai.  The lush green vegetation, the narrow roads, the heavy air...all were familiar.  But there was a bit of confusion and perplexments.  Where was that place?  Where was that view?  How come the wind is different?  But the billowing ʻehu kai (sea spray) wafted by the considerable shorebreak was there, a phenomenon seen when large swells pound our shores.

The new sand is coarse, and the topography of the shore is constantly changing as surfs roll in on tides high and low.  You can see the sorting action of the waves above:  heavier bigger pōhaku are closer to the ocean, while the fines are a little ma uka.  When the shore break rolls in, aside from the crashing sound of the waves, if you listen, there is a low rumble...a series of ocean sighs...as boulders and smaller cobbles roll up then down the steep underwater slope.  At Kahanu Garden on Maui, the site of Piʻilanihale, an adjacent shore is blanketed with ʻiliʻili, waterworn pebbles.  They too sigh, but at a higher pitch than the boulders of Pohoiki.

The scene above, as idyllic as it may seem, was quite a bit different than reality.  The breeze, the full parking lot, the many people coming and going, and the tumultuous crashing shore break are all there, but out of sight of the lens.  A different view of reality.  And if you look closely the pele can be seen through the gap in the trees.  

With that, Iʻll leave you today...

As always, with aloha,

BobbyC
maniniowali@gmail.com