We count to mark time, and days, and years, and decades...
Forty-five years ago today (this evening, to be precise), enduring relationships began, there on the sands of Maniniʻōwali on the shore of the bay known as Kua in Kona ʻAkau.
Childhood friend Tōb and I decided to mark Māhealani, a night of the full moon, by backpacking to the beach with a few friends. Late afternoon, we parked on the shoulder of Queen Kaʻahumanu Highway, not even open a year, and walked the ma uka - ma kai trail to the beach. Nearing the coast, I heard a dog barking. Damn...somebody else is there! Reaching the shore just before sunset, I plopped down on the sand to enjoy the scene. Not long after, a cheerfully curious young woman wandered over from the north end of the beach. We ended up chatting for hours. Maybe warmish beer was involved. HK and Naiʻa were encamped, with dog Brandy, for the night too...
The aerial below was taken by RHolcomb of HVO on January 12, 1974. Accretionary ball-laden ʻaʻā to the left (north), and older brownish pāhoehoe on the right (south). Thereʻs a small old loko iʻa or ʻōpae (a holding pond for fish or bait shrimp) at the edge of the ʻaʻā. The beach was at medium-size. Summertime the sandy shore extends nearly all the way to the right.
Tōb had led me there for the first time in 1972. We drove the ma uka road, parked at the newish Keāhole Airport, and started walking north. No High (or even Low) Security, no fences to scale, we simply walked. And walked and walked over miles (about three) of 1801 Hualālai pāhoehoe to Mahaiʻula, then followed the ala kahakai, the trail along the shore, to Kua Bay in Maniniʻōwali.
By the time we got to Punaloa, the point just before, from which you can see the beach, I was done. I told Tōb: Pau aʻready! He cajoled and encouraged, and so we went.
What a marvel! We were the only ones there. Whitest sand, clear sparkling "Maniniʻōwali Blue" water, lots of fish, plenty ʻopihi. I fell in love. Below, you can see our sandy campsite, tucked into kiawe, left of breaking wave.
Canʻt remember what I wore on my feet that first trip, but not long after, I discovered the tabi at Doi Store in Kawaihae. Doi Store...the one with the monkeys...
Tabi: I still have these...the soles are layers of recycled fabric. Totally comfortable, kinda like lace-up moccasins. Wear ʻem till they puka-through, go lilla bit more, then get new ones.
I returned to that shore countless times. Countless. Park on the shoulder, walk the trail, repeat. Then of course "Progress" happened. More and more folks made their way there. A rough road was bulldozed in to access four privately owned lots, land changed hands, roads paved, houses built, and here we are. I visit very very rarely these days. Memories too fond, people too many.
Naiʻa, alas, has passed, but HK, Tōb, and I are still here. What times weʻve shared! One of the very few tangible souvenirs of those days I keep is:
Very early one morning, maybe August 1982? or not? I camped with Mahina, and this was lying on untrammeled sand. It was and is spectacular. Sitting there all by itself...
Below, from friend Eric Franke, June 3, last year. Lots of footprints on the sand, kumu niu (coconut trees) on the horizon, but Kuili, the puʻu, and Maniniʻōwali Blue waters endure.
So today, 45 years later, in keeping with realities, virtual or otherwise, a lei kou for HK, Tōb, and Naiʻa.
me ke aloha pau ʻole...
ahhhhhhh
And yes, Pelehonuamea continues her work.
The loko ahi slowly deepens, tilt goes up then down, and itʻs oia mau nō-ish.
Some of the Summit Cams have a "Last 24 Hours" loop. TryLook. Kinda fun, informative, etc.
Hereʻs the link. Scroll down a bit to watch.
And after rains and rains and rains, today dawned bluesky breezy. Had 11" at my yard from Saturday to yesterday. Now in intermittent sun. All that ua (rain) and instability of atmosphere allowed snow to fall on Maunaloa and Maunakea. Hereʻs a view of Maunaloa, from an HVO Towercam this morning:
Then up at Mokuʻāweoweo, also this morning:
Iʻll end with another couple mementos of times past. First, puapilo (or maiapilo) our endemic caper, able to prosper in not much more than ʻaʻā. Its lovely-scented flowers bloom in evening, and fade to mauve as they wilt after sunrise (see lower left corner).
Then something I wrote, edited by kumu lk...Language is fairly simple, and a dictionary will assist.
As always, with aloha,
BobbyC
One of my favorite stories from one of my favorite uncles. Mahalo for sharing. It makes today that much more special.
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