1 Lap of the Island and then homeward bound

To help you understand the Big Island of Hawaii, I will explain it to you in relation to my home town of Slough. Imagine for a moment, that Slough (Volcano Village) is composed only of 7 shops and a post office, with a sprawling tropical suburb surrounding it and poisonous volcanic fog (vog) instead of poisonous industrial smog. In one direction, 30 miles away is the city of London (Hilo), vastly reduced to a pile of ramshackle buildings, a tsunami museum, some beaches and a Walmart. In the other direction, around 100 miles away lies Manchester (Kona), if Manchester sold no other snack food than shaved ice and had a sea you could actually swim in without freezing. Only, if the drive to Manchester was more like our road trip today, I think I'd get to see my grandparents a lot more.


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.

Cough it up, Farm Girl

I have a cold. It's July, I'm on an equatorial island, and I have a freaking chesty cough and sore throat. On top of that, today was the first time in days that we got a few solid hours of sunshine and I think I got sunburnt, AGAIN. I kid you not, work this week has consisted of me standing in the middle of a patch of lava rock, shivering and hacking away like a Victorian urchin. We've been making a rudimentary road from locally sourced materials (digging lava rock out of the side of a hill, throwing it into a pick up truck and then throwing it back out of the pick up at the other end). Respect to the Romans- road building is hard work, and I doubt they had pick up trucks.

Some shit hit the fan when I got here. Our awesome 6 wheeled all terrain vehicle (a John Deer Gator) got stolen on July 1st, which sucked ass. It could handle the mud on the land and only needed one person to push it out if it got stuck, and I was learning to drive in that thing. As such, my first week everyone was a bit on edge. And then the pick up truck got stuck in the mud and took 5 hours, 3 strawberry guava trees, a ton of ferns, and a barrel-full of lava rock to get it back out. There are days here when you quickly give up on avoiding the mud, and that was one of them.

Apart from a mongoose we trapped on the land, I haven't seen much wildlife here. Animals on Hawaii basically fall into 2 categories- endangered and invasive. There's nothing else really. We saw some weird pheasant things on the land and they looked tasty so I guess they count as endangered. Apart from that there's a few cardinals and birds that look like starlings. And cats, dogs, rats. Mosquitoes.

I've been made honorary farm girl down on the land, which I like because it means it's my job to sort out the pigs and chickens first thing every day, so all the animals have gotten used to me. The chickens now eat out of my hands (but I don't have skanky callous hands so it kinda hurts) and I can usually distract them long enough with food to grab one. They're getting big so we should be getting eggs soon, and the rumour is that one of our two little spams is getting luau'd next week. I haven't named the pigs, I just collectively call both of them Spam. There's a lot of chickens that look the same (we've got about 15), but 2 of the more distinct ones have earned names- Rammstein and Dreadnought.

There's not much to do in the evenings unless we go to the beach. The beach has black volcanic sand and I can't really swim there because it's pretty ferocious but it's still a fairly good spot to chill out at the end of the day.

Today I finally got to do some yoga with my David and Rebekah and a friend of theirs. They do acro-yoga which basically involves being lifted up by David's feet and spun around upside down whilst being told to keep your legs straight and down, which by then is completely impossible because the concept of "down" has been erased and you now only believe in one direction and that's hitting the floor. It's freaky circ-du-soleil stuff, but you feel good afterwards. Hopefully I'll be much more flexible when I leave.

Anyway, as a last note, here's pics of me before and after the demon barber of Samadhi Village got hold of my hair:




As you can see, David forced me to ride in the back of the truck like a dog because I said I'd never had that experience. I'm on my way to becoming a fully fledged hick (no dermatologist wants to see my neck and shoulders right now).