Days 2 & 3: Push/Pull
There is a central tension that occurs on any vacation; it is the desire to see and do everything, to push oneself to check things off a list as to not miss anything important, and the appetite to do nothing, to pull on the reins and spend time relaxing and enjoying the emptiness of an unplanned day.
The balance between the push for excitement and the pulling back for relaxation is elusive, here. There is much to do on the Big Island, with an abundance of sites of historic significance and natural beauty, but there is also the opportunity to sit and enjoy the seemingly-never-ending sunshine and intense-but-just-bearable heat. We do our best to remained balanced as we are pushed and pulled in every direction.
I pushed L to wake up early on the second day of our trip; she had told me that snorkeling is best in the morning, so we walked across the fishponds again to the beach club about a mile away, where the sand was soft and the surf was gentle and the fish swam abundantly. She snorkeled as I read on a beach chair nearby — a common occurrence, you have probably already noticed, on our travels — until we were pulled back to the resort restaurant by our grumbling stomachs. There was breakfast waiting to be eaten, and malasadas, hot and fresh out of the oven, ready to be consumed.
The Hawaiian Lomi Lomi massage is different than the Swedish massage, mostly due to its flowing motion across the body. Instead of putting pressure downward into the muscles, the masseurs push and pull across the muscle fibers, lengthening each strand. We discovered this technique at the spa following our lava sauna, which sounds as oddly wonderful as it is: inside an outdoor room made of lava rocks, you strip naked and cover yourself with clay, and then bake for about an hour. The ensuing softened skin is perfect preceding the Lomi Lomi massage; we left the spa, after the baking and the pushing and pulling, feeling relaxed and rested.
Our subsequent visit to Pu’ukoholā Heiau National Historic Site was mostly forgettable but for the sun beating down on us, pushing us away from the park trail and towards the shade of the visitor center. We didn’t stay long, but lingered long enough to marvel at the stone wall structures made hundreds of years ago, without the aid of machines, by pushing and pulling heavy lava rocks up massive hills.
Just thinking about it all made us hungry. It was a perfect time for a snack.
Our self-guided tour of the Hamakua Macadamia Nut Factory was more a snack-stop than a tour. We sampled every kind of macadamia nut, watched a quick video, stared at the machines, and then sampled some more. We pulled on levers that would exert three hundred pounds of pressure on the fallen nuts, pushing on the shells until they cracked and revealed the delicious nut inside. And then we snacked on that. We left the factory with some gifts for family, and some gifts (read: snacks) for ourselves.
The drive to the Pololu Valley took us through Hawi and Kapa’au, little towns full of cafés and galleries, and most noticeably, a ton of solar panels. Every second house that we passed seem to have some kind of rooftop method of pulling the sunshine and pushing it into energy; solar panels were abundant throughout the island, in fact.
The Pololu Valley lookout is breathtaking, with waves crashing against the cliffs, pushing against the land with ferocity. A light rainfall began a few minutes after our arrival, and we opted not to hike down into the valley this time. Instead, we admired the rocky shore and the pounding surf from above.
After a quick stop to visit the statue of King Kamehameha in Kapa’au, we headed off onto the Kohala Mountain Drive, ready to capture some vistas of the island from 5,000 feet above sea level. Some parts of the road were steep — I pushed the gas pedal hard to make our way up the curving roads that led to the peak, and we were pulled down with frantic speed on the downward slopes of the mountain — and the entire road was narrow and winding, but the views were worth the drive.
The mountain road took us to Waimea, where we found ourselves having dinner at the Big Island Brewhaus, watching taps being pulled for beer flights and huge plates of fish bites and burgers being pushed towards us on the table. We left Waimea with full bellies, and returned to our hotel for a deep slumber.
Waking up to the sound of waves crashing against the rocks just outside your balcony is a wonderful way to start the day. The sound of the water and the birds pushes you to start the day early, pulling you out of bed as the sun is rising. We started our day with Kona coffee and delicious baked goods, as had now become the custom, at a local café in Kailua-Kona. From there, we hopped in the Jeep and drove south.
There was, for many years, a system of kapu on the Big Island; kapu dictated rules and norms, specifically what was forbidden to certain people, lest they anger the gods. For example, commoners were not allowed to step on royal grounds; women were not allowed to eat bananas. Breaking kapu meant instant death by the hands of your fellow villagers — if they let you live, the gods would take out their wrath on the entire village — or a quick escape to a heiau, a temple where a kahuna could absolve you of your sin.
Pu’uhonua O Honaunau was one such of these heiaus, and we visited it and the royal grounds surrounding it on our third morning in Hawai’i. The park ranger (after pushing information about dengue fever on all the visitors, just to be safe), pulled us into the amphitheater to tell us tales of kapu-breakers who would swim across the shark-filled waters to seek absolution. Those that survived and were absolved were able to return to their villages; the others would be pulled out to sea.
A hike from the heiau to a neighboring village drew us and pulled us in its direction, but we were woefully underprepared for the heat; we pushed on for a mile before deciding to double back.
Steps away from the the historic site was a collection of seaside black rocks, fairly crowded with people stepping in and out of the water. It was a popular snorkel spot, Two-Step, so as was our custom, L put on her mask and hopped down the two steps into the water, while I stayed on the rocks, pulling in some sunshine and pushing through my library book.
Our post-snorkel/reading lunch came at a roadside stop called Super J’s, a small shack that served a steady stream of local Hawaiians as we were sitting inside. It was our first time trying poi (neither of us were fans), and the standout dish was laulau chicken, succulent strands of poultry pulled off the bone and wrapped in a taro leaf. It was immense amount of delicious food; we pushed ourselves to finish it all.
At the coffee farm where we ended up after lunch, we spent an hour discovering just how Kona coffee was made. Until then, I had no clue how arduous the coffee-making process could be; our hour-long tour of the farm and processing plant, where we pulled coffee cherries off trees and pushed the beans out, gave me a newfound appreciation for my morning beverage of choice. (I was constantly distracted by a gorgeous rooster that was running about the farm. L jokingly said that she thought I was more interested in that rooster than the coffee.)
Here’s where I make an admission: while I love the sea, I’m much more comfortable by the water (on a beach) or above it (in some kind of boat) than I am inside it. I’m a fairly competent swimmer, so it isn’t fear that holds me back from immersion; I’m just more at ease working the sails of a catamaran or paddling a kayak than I am being submerged.
L, as is probably evident by this time, loves being in the water. When she suggested that we go snorkeling at night with manta rays, I had to put aside my apprehension and join her: this promised to be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and her excitement was palpable.
I am so glad that she pulled me in that direction, and that I pushed myself to take a leap into Keauhou Bay that night. Seeing the manta rays swimming directly beneath us, so close that we could lick them, was like nothing I had ever experienced, nothing I will probably ever experience. It has left an indelible mark on my memory: that evening was one I will surely never forget.
The lesson resonated as we ate our guava-glazed ribs and mochiko mahi mahi later than night: life pulls us in many directions, but it is up to us to push ourselves to go where we are pulled. The results, especially when venturing outside our comfort zones, can be truly magical.
