This is Kyle. He's my roomate. He's from Seattle, allergic to anything with fur, lost about 30 pounds since he got here and is the owner of this laptop (THANKS KYLE FOR MY LAPTOP PRIVILEGES I GREATLY APPRECIATE THEM). As a side effect of his allergies, he likes looking at fish and geckos and other non fluffy crap animals. There's a beach in Hilo called Richardsons with awesome rock pools where you can see lots of little fishies swimmin' about and being about as adorable as fish can be. The plan, formulated on Friday night, was to take the car early on Saturday morning, head out to Hilo, pick up some sea-worthy footwear, get to Richardsons and stare at fish all day. This all quickly got flushed down the drain when we discovered our housemate and his girlfriend wanted the car to go to the nudie beach and Rainbow Falls on Saturday. We got stuck with Sunday. Bugger.
Reformulate.
KONA ROADTRIP.
With a laptop in hand so we could burn CDs for the pick-up truck as we went, Kyle and I headed out on Route 11 with the windows down and the stereo blasting. We would spend the day in or around the truck. We would see the sights. We would explore.
The first stop we swung into was a little beach park called Whittington (or something similar, who knows, I'm tired, leave me alone). It was a lava rock beach with little to no sand, and were it not for the darkness of the rocks, you could be forgiven for thinking we were in Wales. Look at that sky. Just look at it. Now guess the temperature. Now remember where we were. 27 degrees C people. It looks about 13. The sea pounded relentlessly against the rocks, causing tiny waterfalls around the strange sci fi landscape inhabited by monstrous looking black crabs. And hermit crabs (soooo cuuute).
As we reached the ruins of what looked like a pier, Kyle pointed to something against the backdrop of the cliffs. A large monarch butterfly was fighting against the wind, its poor wings no match for the warm Pacific gusts streaming over the water. It was magical to watch. Brian, as I had instantly named the creature, flapped back and forth trying to work out whether he wanted to risk a journey across the sea or into land. His fate was decided as soon as he paused to sun himself on a rock. In a instant, a 4 metre wave had splashed over the side of the rock and dragged him into his watery grave. And with that, all the divine glow of watching a tiny creature battle against the elements was washed out of me into the Pacific ocean, along with a very soggy monarch butterfly.
The scenery of Hawaii changed as we rolled the 100 miles to Kona, from Wales to New Zealand, Mongolian desert landscapes, chocolate brownie lava rock, ranchland and through to Peruvian mountain jungle. More than once we passed a village that looked as if it had been scraped out of Mexico and flung across the ocean on a spatula. There were several baptist churches that seemed smaller than my bedroom, one boarded up with "Save Us" and "Help Me" sprayed on the boards like something out of a zombie film. We stopped at a market and got tasty organic chicken Pad Thai.
On the way to Kona we came across a pet shop selling kittens for $15 but stupid Kyle wouldn't let me get one :(
Down at the Kona beachfront, populated by a spray of tiny shops, I considered getting a hula girl tattoo but realised I hadn't got any ID and wouldn't be allowed. I got a regular sized shaved ice- the size of my head- for 3 bucks in three flavours (cherry, bubblegum, mango) and went and sat on the concrete levy wall next to some fishermen giving us the "urgh, tourists" eye. Much tiki-taki browsing was done, with less than desirable results. Sorry guys, but there's surprisingly little cheap tat in Hawaii that you might actually like. Everything was pretty expensive. Kyle got shouted at for moving a surfboard to get a photo of the Star Wars one behind it and then pointed out that as there was no "don't touch the board" sign that exactly the same thing would happen as soon as the next fat nerd came along. Kona was pleasant. It was touristy. It was too freaking hot and muggy, so we bought some Aquasocks for paddling in sharp rocks, and left.
By now Kyle had realised that we could drive around the highways of the Big Island in a huge circle and end up back at Volcano. I approved this message and added that sunset over Richardsons would be gorgeous. Unfortunately, the sun had different ideas about which time to set. I pointed out that a gas station would probably sell flashlights and we could use them to look at fish. They didn't have any flashlights, but as Kyle looked around the store I noticed some beach bums hanging out the front of the forecourt trying to score a ride. They wanted to go the same direction as us. They knew where Richardsons was. One of them was called Kyle and was from Seattle. No, I am not making that up. They hopped in the back of the truck, Mexican style, and were very grateful for the lift.
If there's something I've learnt from the Discovery Channel, the film Jaws and decades of reading shark attack stories, it's that beaches at night are a stupid place to be. For some reason, this didn't fully stop me getting my ankles wet. Sure, the fish were asleep, apart from the sharks Kyle reminded me, but without the screaming tourists and skeletal methheads; Richardsons was just as beautiful. Without a flashlight we could see fuck all, but it didn't matter. The lights from across Hilo bay flickered like fairies in the distance and reflected off the dark water. The sound of Coqui frogs filled the air. Warm water washed over my ankles. It was a monochrome heaven for the senses.
Until I got reminded of the possibility of horrendous shark attack and lack of cell phone, freaked out and got out of the water.
But we'll be back...
Distance travelled: about 200 miles
Money spent on fuel: $30. No, I'm not joking. This is with nearly half a tank of the stuff left too. And Americans complain about gas prices. Pah.
No comments:
Post a Comment