First, for what they are?, here is a good link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derivative_(finance)
"Derivatives are financial instruments whose values change in response to the changes in underlying variables. The main types of derivatives are futures, forwards, options, and swaps.
The main use of derivatives is to reduce risk for one party. The diverse range of potential underlying assets and pay-off alternatives leads to a wide range of derivatives contracts available to be traded in the market. Derivatives can be based on different types of assets such as commodities, equities (stocks), bonds, interest rates, exchange rates, or indexes (such as a stock market index, consumer price index (CPI) — see inflation derivatives — or even an index of weather conditions, or other derivatives)."
As for how big the market was in 2005-2007, the same above link reports:
"Broadly speaking there are two distinct groups of derivative contracts, which are distinguished by the way they are traded in market:
Over-the-counter (OTC) derivatives are contracts that are traded (and privately negotiated) directly between two parties, without going through an exchange or other intermediary. Products such as swaps, forward rate agreements, and exotic options are almost always traded in this way. The OTC derivative market is the largest market for derivatives, and is unregulated. According to the Bank for International Settlements, the total outstanding notional amount is $596 trillion (as of December 2007)[1]. Of this total notional amount, 66% are interest rate contracts, 10% are credit default swaps (CDS), 9% are foreign exchange contracts, 2% are commodity contracts, 1% are equity contracts, and 12% are other. OTC derivatives are largely subject to counterparty risk, as the validity of a contract depends on the counterparty's solvency and ability to honor its obligations. [Here is a good link about the OTC derivatives market: http://www.bis.org/publ/otc_hy0805.pdf]
Exchange-traded derivatives (ETD) are those derivatives products that are traded via specialized derivatives exchanges or other exchanges. A derivatives exchange acts as an intermediary to all related transactions, and takes Initial margin from both sides of the trade to act as a guarantee. The world's largest[2] derivatives exchanges (by number of transactions) are the Korea Exchange (which lists KOSPI Index Futures & Options), Eurex (which lists a wide range of European products such as interest rate & index products), and CME Group (made up of the 2007 merger of the Chicago Mercantile Exchange and the Chicago Board of Trade and the 2008 acquisition of the New York Mercantile Exchange). According to BIS, the combined turnover in the world's derivatives exchanges totalled USD 344 trillion during Q4 2005..."
More recent figures this year, though, show the derivatives markets are substantially larger in 2008. From: http://whatreallyhappened.com/content/derivatives-trade-soars-record-681-trillion
"Derivatives Trade Soars To Record $681 Trillion"
"The Bank for International Settlements [BIS] is reporting Derivatives traded on exchanges surged 27 percent to a record $681 trillion in the third quarter of 2008.
The amounts are based on the notional amount underlying the contracts.
Interest-rate futures, contracts designed to speculate on or hedge against moves in borrowing rates, led the increase with a 31 percent increase to $594 trillion.* Trading in stock index futures and options rose 19 percent to a record $81 trillion in the third quarter, as investors speculated on whether the credit-market losses would spread to the equity markets.* Trading in currency futures and options increased 18 percent to $6.4 trillion, the BIS said.
Investors may have shifted some trading to exchanges from the over-the-counter market to reduce the risk of counterparties defaulting on deals, the BIS said."
How about more specifically, how much in derivatives do American commercial banks hold?
From: http://www.occ.treas.gov/ftp/release/2008-74a.pdf -- Executive Summary --
"1) U.S. commercial banks generated first quarter 2008 trading revenues in cash and derivative instruments of $1.13 billion, compared to $9.97 billion of trading losses in the fourth quarter of 2007.
2) Net current credit exposure increased 50% to $465 billion from the fourth quarter, and is 159% higher than a year ago. The rapid increase in credit exposure results from sharply lower interest rates and higher credit spreads, which created a large increase in derivatives receivables.
3) The notional value of derivatives held by U.S. commercial banks increased $14.7 trillion, or 9 percent, to $180.3 trillion in the first quarter.
4) Derivative contracts remain concentrated in interest rate products, which comprise 79% of total derivative notional value. The notional value of credit derivative contracts, 99% of which are credit default swaps, increased 4% during the quarter to $16.4 trillion."
Here is a generally accurate quote from the net to put it into perspective:
"The total value of the existing global gargantuan globular glut of derivatives is estimated to be about $700 trillion! Compare that stupefying figure to the associated fact that total annual global GDP (the economy) is only about $60 trillion!"
And lastly, an interesting letter to the editor in Salon.com a couple days ago:
http://letters.salon.com/5f7f11d736c610ebb46262c7bca7764b/author/index252.html
"My bank is gone. Long live the new bank"
"Until that one is gone too. Do yourself a favor and consider finding a credit union and some gold.
It wasn't over when Chase took over Bear Stearns, and it's still not over:
Bear Stearns had total positions of $13.4 trillion ... Under the rescue deal, JP Morgan Chase will take over Bear Stearns' $13.4 trillion contracts - lock, stock, and barrel. But JP Morgan is already up to its neck in this soup, with $77 trillion of contracts. It will now have $90 trillion on its books, a sixth of the global market.
Risk is being concentrated further.
This weekend's meeting of four heads of central banks communicates the size of the OTC derivative disaster. It is a system that is broken. A bailout will require the printing of trillions of dollars worth of monetary stimulation making Bernanke's helicopter drop look like chump change.
The dollar number of pending derivative bankruptcies is the size of the mountain of garbage paper issued by just those who are to be bailed out. That number is greater than the total world economies.
There simply isn't enough money in the world for central banks to buy up the mountain of worthless paper sold by those who need bailouts; all of which made fortunes for their directors, officers and key people.
When an OTC derivative fails to perform, notional value becomes real value.
Naturally, Chase's acquisition of WaMu only increases its exposure to the credit derivatives market.
That's bad. Let's talk about that.
"It's the derivatives, stupid!"
“The point everyone misses,” wrote economist Robert Chapman a decade ago, “is that buying derivatives is not investing. It is gambling, insurance and high stakes bookmaking. Derivatives create nothing.” They not only create nothing, but they serve to enrich non-producers at the expense of the people who do create real goods and services. In congressional hearings in the early 1990s, derivatives trading was challenged as being an illegal form of gambling. But the practice was legitimized by Fed Chairman Alan Greenspan, who not only lent legal and regulatory support to the trade but actively promoted derivatives as a way to improve “risk management.” Partly, this was to boost the flagging profits of the banks; and at the larger banks and dealers, it worked. But the cost was an increase in risk to the financial system as a whole.
Since then, derivative trades have grown exponentially, until now they are many times larger than the entire global economy. The Bank for International Settlements recently reported that total derivatives exceeded [$680 trillion worldwide].
Warren Buffett famously described derivatives as "weapons of mass financial destruction." A complete failure of the...house-of-cards derivatives market could easily overwhelm the 60-trillion-dollar global economy.
And now that the profits and assets of derivatives speculators have been exposed as accounting fictions, they want you to make up their losses for them, using as much of the 60-trillion-dollar real economy as necessary.
The sheer size of the derivative market shows why all the previous hundreds of billions in bailouts have had no effect - and why additional hundreds of billions will not and cannot solve the problem.
The problem with the Bush Bailout 'plan' is that it still attempts to salvage the [multi]-trillion-dollars derivatives market and tries to push the inevitable catastrophe into the future. A proper plan would be to systematically analyze and dismantle the derivatives market while minimizing the damage to the real economy..." September 26, 2008
I think the above writer has it correct, the Bush-Paulson bailout plan just "tries to push the inevitable...into the future," to somebody else's watch. The $700 billion plan will not be able to control almost $700 trillion in derivatives.
Aloha, Brad
Sunday, September 28, 2008
LIBOR and TED Spreads
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Click on above chart to enlarge TED Spread rise since Aug. 2007, when the credit crunch began. Current TED Spread at: http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/cbuilder?ticker1=.TEDSP%3AIND
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"Money Market Crisis Deepens; Dollar Spreads Hits Record"
Reuters September 25 2008
By Jamie McGeever
LONDON, Sept 25 (Reuters) - The crisis engulfing money markets deepened on Thursday, with key measures of dollar funding strains hitting record levels as nervous market participants awaited developments from Washington on a $700 billion U.S. financial bailout plan.
The bank-to-bank premium for borrowing three-month dollars over anticipated official policy rates or Overnight Index Swaps, known as the Libor/OIS spread, blew out to 200 basis points, while the cost of borrowing euros and sterling also jumped.
That dollar Libor/OIS spread was around 164 basis points on Wednesday, and around 80 basis points at the start of September.
Other measures of stress in the banking system, such as the premium paid for three-month eurodollar deposits over Treasury bill yields, known as the TED spread, were also near historic highs.
These developments reflect the extent to which banks are hoarding cash and are loath to lend, as they await a resolution from the U.S. Congress on Treasury's proposals to take troubled assets off banks' books.
This is seen as critical to restore confidence between banks in each others' solvency and to encourage them to resume lending to each other.
"These Libor fixings (and spreads) are all a bit artificial - they could be 200 basis points, 150 or 225 basis points -- no one is trading anyway," said Peter Schaffrik, rates strategist at Dresdner Kleinwort.
"But the fact they (spreads) are widening is reflective of the stress that's under way. There's literally nothing beyond overnight that's trading," he said, noting that the paralysis is being exacerbated by the looming turn of the third quarter and with benchmark three-month funds maturing and needing refinancing in Christmas week.
On top of t
he three-month Libor/OIS spread hitting 200 basis points on Thursday, the spread of three-month dollar Libor over three-month Treasury bill yields rose to around 325 basis points, tripling since the start of the month.
The closely-watched TED spread, meanwhile, was last indicated around 430 basis points on Reuters screens, edging back up toward the near 500 basis points struck last week, the widest in over a quarter of a century.
The three-month sterling Libor/OIS spread, meanwhile, widened to almost 160 basis points, more than doubling since the start of the month.
These spreads are seen as a key indicator of financial market stress and risk aversion, reflecting the true cost of funding for banks and financial instututions. Some 60 percent of corporate lending is tied to London interbank offered rates (Libor), according to Credit Suisse.
For more on Thursdayu's Libor fixings from the British Bankers Association, see.
IMPLEMENTATION RISK?
News filtering out from Washington on Thursday suggested Congress is close to signing up to the Treasury's $700 billion proposal, or at least a version of it.
The plan's details remain sketchy and last-minute political wrangling over the size, terms and reach of the bill is intense. For the latest on the bailout, see and.
Analysts said the absence of interbank lending activity makes it difficult to assess the accuracy of funding rates posted by banks and there has also seen big discrepancies between reported costs of funds and daily Libor fixings.
Some analysts say banks are deliberately overstating London interbank offered rates (Libor) so as not to lend, and some suggest others may be understating Libor rates to help reduce exposure on Libor-related liabilities such as swaps contracts.
The stress is spread well beyond rates for borrowing U.S. dollars, where there has been an acute shortage in Europe and elsewhere due to the scale of banks' dollar liabilities.
"European banks don't want to borrow or lend from each other," Bank for International Settlements chief economist Stephen Cecchetti told Reuters late on Wednesday.
"The people who are left with extra would rather deposit it than lend it out, and the people who are short can't borrow."
Overnight money market rates have started to recede toward official target levels amid a flood of liquidity pumped into the banking system by central banks around the world.
But over the last week in Europe, banks have been making heavier use than usual of the European Central Bank's overnight deposit and lending facilities rather than circulating cash around markets.
Euro-zone banks deposited just over 3 billion euros at the ECB overnight on Wednesday rather than lending it on the wholesale money market. On Monday, the figure was 5.965 billion.
Banks are also borrowing from the ECB's overnight loan facility, which attracts a punitive 5.25 percent interest rate, although lending dropped below 1 billion euros on Wednesday for the first time in a week.
Benchmark one-week, three-month and six-month euro rates all continued to rise on Thursday despite ECB liquidity efforts.
Key three-month Euribor rate jumped to a new near eight-year high of 5.119 percent from Wednesday's level of 5.066 percent.
The one-week equivalent increased to a seven-year high of 4.779 percent from 4.741 percent, while the six-month rate, which crucially covers the period over the end of the year, again hit a record of 5.296 percent.
http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/libor-jump-ted-spread-show/story.aspx?guid=%7B3632A7B4-4B54-4AF5-86C2-78EFA350E927%7D
"Three-month Libor marks biggest jump in nine years;
TED spread widens to level not seen since Black Monday 1987"
By Lisa Twaronite, MarketWatch Sept. 17, 2008
SAN FRANCISCO (MarketWatch) -- A closely watched measure of global borrowing costs made its biggest jump in nine years Wednesday and another lending risk gauge rose to a level not seen since Black Monday in October of 1987, as banks grew increasingly wary to lend to each other and sell-shocked investors sought refuge in safe-haven short-term Treasury bills.
Three-month Libor in U.S. dollars jumped 19 basis points to 3.0625% -- the biggest jump since September 1999. The London Interbank Offered Rate, known as the Libor, measures the interest rate at which banks are willing to lend to each other overnight or for longer periods.
"The Libor rise is simply the result of continued concern over the health of the banking system. Banks are demanding higher rates to lend to each other. In fact, the term Libor markets have effectively seized up with very little trading happening," said Joe Burke, fixed income market maker at Interactive Brokers Group.
According to some estimates, loans and derivative contracts totaling roughly $150 trillion -- more than $20,000 for every person on Earth -- are indexed or tied to Libor in some way. As a result, big changes in the Libor rate have major global implications for the cost of borrowing...[rest of article here]
In the end, I don't think it will matter whether the $700 billion plan is passed by Monday or not,
Aloha, Brad
Reuters September 25 2008
By Jamie McGeever
LONDON, Sept 25 (Reuters) - The crisis engulfing money markets deepened on Thursday, with key measures of dollar funding strains hitting record levels as nervous market participants awaited developments from Washington on a $700 billion U.S. financial bailout plan.
The bank-to-bank premium for borrowing three-month dollars over anticipated official policy rates or Overnight Index Swaps, known as the Libor/OIS spread, blew out to 200 basis points, while the cost of borrowing euros and sterling also jumped.
That dollar Libor/OIS spread was around 164 basis points on Wednesday, and around 80 basis points at the start of September.
Other measures of stress in the banking system, such as the premium paid for three-month eurodollar deposits over Treasury bill yields, known as the TED spread, were also near historic highs.
These developments reflect the extent to which banks are hoarding cash and are loath to lend, as they await a resolution from the U.S. Congress on Treasury's proposals to take troubled assets off banks' books.
This is seen as critical to restore confidence between banks in each others' solvency and to encourage them to resume lending to each other.
"These Libor fixings (and spreads) are all a bit artificial - they could be 200 basis points, 150 or 225 basis points -- no one is trading anyway," said Peter Schaffrik, rates strategist at Dresdner Kleinwort.
"But the fact they (spreads) are widening is reflective of the stress that's under way. There's literally nothing beyond overnight that's trading," he said, noting that the paralysis is being exacerbated by the looming turn of the third quarter and with benchmark three-month funds maturing and needing refinancing in Christmas week.
On top of t
he three-month Libor/OIS spread hitting 200 basis points on Thursday, the spread of three-month dollar Libor over three-month Treasury bill yields rose to around 325 basis points, tripling since the start of the month.The closely-watched TED spread, meanwhile, was last indicated around 430 basis points on Reuters screens, edging back up toward the near 500 basis points struck last week, the widest in over a quarter of a century.
The three-month sterling Libor/OIS spread, meanwhile, widened to almost 160 basis points, more than doubling since the start of the month.
These spreads are seen as a key indicator of financial market stress and risk aversion, reflecting the true cost of funding for banks and financial instututions. Some 60 percent of corporate lending is tied to London interbank offered rates (Libor), according to Credit Suisse.
For more on Thursdayu's Libor fixings from the British Bankers Association, see.
IMPLEMENTATION RISK?
News filtering out from Washington on Thursday suggested Congress is close to signing up to the Treasury's $700 billion proposal, or at least a version of it.
The plan's details remain sketchy and last-minute political wrangling over the size, terms and reach of the bill is intense. For the latest on the bailout, see and.
Analysts said the absence of interbank lending activity makes it difficult to assess the accuracy of funding rates posted by banks and there has also seen big discrepancies between reported costs of funds and daily Libor fixings.
Some analysts say banks are deliberately overstating London interbank offered rates (Libor) so as not to lend, and some suggest others may be understating Libor rates to help reduce exposure on Libor-related liabilities such as swaps contracts.
The stress is spread well beyond rates for borrowing U.S. dollars, where there has been an acute shortage in Europe and elsewhere due to the scale of banks' dollar liabilities.
"European banks don't want to borrow or lend from each other," Bank for International Settlements chief economist Stephen Cecchetti told Reuters late on Wednesday.
"The people who are left with extra would rather deposit it than lend it out, and the people who are short can't borrow."
Overnight money market rates have started to recede toward official target levels amid a flood of liquidity pumped into the banking system by central banks around the world.
But over the last week in Europe, banks have been making heavier use than usual of the European Central Bank's overnight deposit and lending facilities rather than circulating cash around markets.
Euro-zone banks deposited just over 3 billion euros at the ECB overnight on Wednesday rather than lending it on the wholesale money market. On Monday, the figure was 5.965 billion.
Banks are also borrowing from the ECB's overnight loan facility, which attracts a punitive 5.25 percent interest rate, although lending dropped below 1 billion euros on Wednesday for the first time in a week.
Benchmark one-week, three-month and six-month euro rates all continued to rise on Thursday despite ECB liquidity efforts.
Key three-month Euribor rate jumped to a new near eight-year high of 5.119 percent from Wednesday's level of 5.066 percent.
The one-week equivalent increased to a seven-year high of 4.779 percent from 4.741 percent, while the six-month rate, which crucially covers the period over the end of the year, again hit a record of 5.296 percent.
http://www.marketwatch.com/news/story/libor-jump-ted-spread-show/story.aspx?guid=%7B3632A7B4-4B54-4AF5-86C2-78EFA350E927%7D
"Three-month Libor marks biggest jump in nine years;
TED spread widens to level not seen since Black Monday 1987"
By Lisa Twaronite, MarketWatch Sept. 17, 2008
SAN FRANCISCO (MarketWatch) -- A closely watched measure of global borrowing costs made its biggest jump in nine years Wednesday and another lending risk gauge rose to a level not seen since Black Monday in October of 1987, as banks grew increasingly wary to lend to each other and sell-shocked investors sought refuge in safe-haven short-term Treasury bills.
Three-month Libor in U.S. dollars jumped 19 basis points to 3.0625% -- the biggest jump since September 1999. The London Interbank Offered Rate, known as the Libor, measures the interest rate at which banks are willing to lend to each other overnight or for longer periods.
"The Libor rise is simply the result of continued concern over the health of the banking system. Banks are demanding higher rates to lend to each other. In fact, the term Libor markets have effectively seized up with very little trading happening," said Joe Burke, fixed income market maker at Interactive Brokers Group.
According to some estimates, loans and derivative contracts totaling roughly $150 trillion -- more than $20,000 for every person on Earth -- are indexed or tied to Libor in some way. As a result, big changes in the Libor rate have major global implications for the cost of borrowing...[rest of article here]
In the end, I don't think it will matter whether the $700 billion plan is passed by Monday or not,
Aloha, Brad
Couple of funny videos
Kudos to the Kauai hippies. They found a couple of funny videos:
Onion News Network political coverage McCain and Obama solutions for the American economy
Aloha, Brad
Onion News Network political coverage McCain and Obama solutions for the American economy
Aloha, Brad
Obama extends lead following 1st debate
Just so you know, the following links are of all of the major national and state polls in the country. They are a very good, accurate sentiment of where things currently stand.
Obama has had a very good past week, culminating with the debate. He is extending a lead following the debate that began before the debate probably based on economic news. Obama is doing particularly well in the swing states over the past week.
I'll make a prediction, this election will be about: 1) The Economy, 2) Iraq, and 3) Renewable energy and oil, in that order. McCain is at a distinct disadvantage on the economy, and Obama is strong on that issue, and solid on the others.
Here are the polls:
National: http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/2008/president/us/general_election_mccain_vs_obama-225.html
By State: http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/maps/obama_vs_mccain/
Aloha, Brad
Obama has had a very good past week, culminating with the debate. He is extending a lead following the debate that began before the debate probably based on economic news. Obama is doing particularly well in the swing states over the past week.
I'll make a prediction, this election will be about: 1) The Economy, 2) Iraq, and 3) Renewable energy and oil, in that order. McCain is at a distinct disadvantage on the economy, and Obama is strong on that issue, and solid on the others.
Here are the polls:
National: http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/2008/president/us/general_election_mccain_vs_obama-225.html
By State: http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/maps/obama_vs_mccain/
Aloha, Brad
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Kalalau Trail and "The Beach" of Paradise
A few weeks ago I helped a couple, one of whom fell a hundred feet off the Kalalau Trail and broke her lower leg. She could not be airlifted out of there until the next day. Her companion told me about Kalalau Valley, the history of the valley, and about Ron Saya and current goings on there.
This got me off onto a research project on Kalalau Valley and the trail there. I came across a really neat blog story written by David T. Lurk about the trail, valley, and Ron. And I have David's permission to share/repost that. I was told Ron makes, plays, and sells flutes to help the people in the valley. And I also found that Ron has recorded a CD of music with those handmade flutes, and the CD is for sale on the Internet, I bought a few of them. The CD is nice music:
Listen to it at:
"Kalalau Stew"
© 1997 Ron Saya
Bamboo flute virtuoso recorded live in Hawaii, on Kauai's Napali coast and accompanied by fellow jungle dwelling drummers, guitarists and singers.
tracks:
1 Dreams With The Fish
2 Don't Go Back To The City
3 The Sun She Sets
4 Time Is Money
5 Space Junk
6 Dream Flute
7 Echos At Last Cave
8 Over The Rainbow
9 Long Haired Kalalau Kid
10 Rockin' To The Riverside
11 Heliport Jam
12 Kalalau Stew
There is a dangerous side to Kalalau. The hike in is very difficult and dangerous in places. Even in Kalalau Valley there is always the danger of falling. If you fall in there, you could fall 1000 feet to your death, or if you are lucky, maybe only a 100 feet and not get emergency help for the better part of a day.
But, the real story of Kalalau is truly that of the closest thing to Paradise that we still have on Earth. It is this combination of danger and paradise that reminded me of the movie staring Leonardo DiCaprio and the book "The Beach," written by Alex Garland. I almost think Alex Garland knowingly put the setting of "The Beach" at Maya Bay Koh Phi Phi, Thailand, but that "The real Beach" setting is actually Kalalau Beach and Valley.
Day 1, March 24, Wednesday
I Awoke at the Garden Island Hotel at 06:00 AM. It had rained all night and was still raining. I walked into the town of Lihue to the Department of Natural Resources for my camping permit. The permit allowed for a maximum of five days of camping within the Na Pali Coast State Park. At ten dollars a day, the total cost for my permit is fifty dollars. The ranger warned me about high rivers and dangerous trail conditions. Returned to the hotel, filled my single burner gasoline stove, and reserve flask. I paid for a second night at the hotel for after my journey and put all extra gear such as snorkel and flippers in their storage room.
My taxi arrived at 10:00 am. The cab driver’s name was Jim. He hailed from Sullivan, Missouri, my home state. Taxi driving paid his bills but his background is Botany. I immediately recognized Jim as being a great source of info on the Kalalau trail and all things nature. Every minute of the hour drive to the “end-of-the-road” was spent asking him questions about the flora and fauna, edible plants, dangers, and anything else that might give this Midwesterner a leg-up.
The rain stopped for just an hour or so and the drive counterclockwise around Kauai proved to be beautiful. Several white, veil-like waterfalls could be seen way up in the mountains. Jim mentioned how rare it was to see so many waterfalls. He also mentioned I would not be able to cross any rivers on foot any time soon. He said the roads might be closed due to flooding. That the rivers were up was obvious. One river lapped within a few inches of one of the bridges we crossed. Jim was obviously excited about the flooding and didn’t seem to worry. I, however, was worried I’d never get to Kalalau with these high rivers.
We discussed the very real fact that several people have died on the Kalalau trail trying to reach that beach. Jim asked, “Why do you want to do this thing?” I told him that after hiking that grueling eleven miles through a steamy jungle and stepping onto that glorious beach, a naked, Polynesian woman is going to step out of the rainforest and hand me a mango. “Fair enough,” he said. Jim then added, “If you survive, I’ll buy you a cold beer next week when I pick you up.”
Jim dropped me off at the trail-head at Ke’e beach in the Haena State Park. I set my pack down and began reading the trail-head bulletin board. There was an ominous report of a woman drowning trying to cross the Hanakoa River, and a picture and ten-thousand dollar reward paid by the family of Brad Turek for information leading to the recovery of Brad. He’s been missing from the trail since January.
The locals joke that the national official bird of Kauai is the Helicopter. Helicopter tours fly regularly along the Na Pali coast. They were very annoying, perhaps a flyby every fifteen minutes all day long. The sound of their blades began thumping the air at 8:00 am and finally stopped at 5:00 pm. I’m sure the view from those things is gorgeous and maybe one of these days I’ll take a flight. But for my whole trip, I and everyone I met hated them and wished they would just go away.
It began to rain again. I carried my pack over to a water faucet near the bathrooms and filled my two quart-canteens. A man of about 25 asked me if I was hiking to Kalalau. I said, “I sure hope so.” He said the Hanakapiai River is too high for a river crossing, that I should camp on the beach somewhere and then hike the two miles to the river tomorrow. He also asked if I had any pizza making supplies. I said, “No, not really,” “I do have some dried mushrooms though.” “Cool,” he said, “we make pizza in the valley, you should drop by, and we could always use any help we can for pizza ingredients.” Wow, I thought, pizza. To think I was worried about how I was going to survive on my meager rations and now I find out I could eat a slice of pizza in a wilderness.
The pizza guy was obviously pulling my leg. He knew he couldn’t deceive me with the old “snipe hunt” story so instead he taunts me with that most basic of human needs, pizza.
I hoped this guy was also pulling my leg about river conditions so I sat on a bench at the end of trail and asked anyone coming off what the river conditions were like. “Impossible” everyone said. I would also get word that the park service had been choppering some day-hikers out who had been stranded on the other side of the river.
Crap! OK, fine, I thought. I’ll find a campsite along Ke’e beach and wait until tomorrow.
I hiked along the beach a few hundred yards and decided to hide my pack until late in the afternoon when I would decide on a camping spot. I left the beach and walked into the jungle to stash my load. Millions of mosquitoes began attacking with terrible vengeance. Bastards! I turned right around and went back to the beach. I dowsed myself with Deet and went back into the jungle. The mosquitoes left me alone. Deet, I thought, is the greatest thing since sliced pizza.
I dumped my pack where I could easily find it, and covered it with banana leaves, and began to explore the area.
I visited some “wet” caves. These are caves that had been gouged out by the ocean, thousands of years ago and now have deep lakes at their entrances. I also hiked one mile of the Kalalau Trail. It was very crowded with day hikers and hopeful backpackers. I asked several of the serious looking backpackers of the river conditions. All reports: Too high to cross.
I also saw the first of “Spook.” Spook was the name I would eventually name a character of the area. He looked of Middle Eastern extraction, perhaps Moslem. He wore a bright white robe with a hood and sandals. He seemed overly dressed for the conditions. The bottom of Spook’s robe was matted with dirt and grime. He was meditating or praying on the bench at the trail-head. He was not facing Mecca. Actually, he was facing a Lexus in the parking lot. He had several coconuts at his side. A machete poked out from the front of his robe, he seemed crazy.
Finding my pack right where I left it, I went back to hiking east along the beach and found a pleasant camping spot a quarter mile from the trail parking lot.
I set up my tent on the edge of the beach and the forest. The forest floor was covered in pine needles dropped by the tropical evergreen tree common to the island.
The tent I used was brand new. I had only set it up once, in my backyard at home. It’s a one-man tent and of ultra-lightweight design. It has the bare minimum fabric required to get the job done and not weigh more than three pounds. The tent has a footprint shape like a coffin, and has just enough head space to sit up on one end. The tent looks like a fighter plane cockpit because the top of the tent slopes down to the feet.
I made a dinner of Ramon noodles, and watched the fiery sunset. I wondered if a cell phone might work so I dug through the top right pocket of my backpack. In that readily available pocket, I keep all my emergency equipment. Besides a cell phone, the pocket holds my first aid kit, medicine and spare prescription glasses.
The cell phone display confirmed that I was out of range of a cell tower. I turned it off. I wasn’t ready for bed but it began to rain-like-hell, so I hit the sack.
My sleeping bag was not the usual thick and insulated variety. It was a summer bag that is simply a sheet with zippers. Zipping it up produced a bag to sleep in.
The sleeping pad I use is a “Thermarest.” It’s basically an air mattress with a thin insulative foam core. When its nozzle is opened, the foam expands and it fills with air automatically. To give it more loft, you can blow into the nozzle to add air. It never needs more than six breaths to do the job.
I fell asleep with the sound of rain pounding my tent and waves crashing into the shore.
Day 2, March 25, Thursday
Awoke at 05:30 AM. Broke camp immediately and filled canteens at the water fountain. I also drank as much water as I could. I also began the bad habit of not eating breakfast because it seemed a waste of time to cook it up and scarf it down. All trail meals usually took about 40 minutes to cook and eat. I never really had to cook food. I usually had freeze-dried meals that only required heating a cup or two of water to boil then pour into the freeze-dried food pouch and wait ten minutes. I did have some ready to eat meals but not much. Ready-to-eat food is great but they always have some water in them and water is heavy. For instance, deer jerky or gorp (a mixture of nuts, raisins, and M&M’s) contain enough water that if I carried enough for every meal I’d end up with a 60 or 70 pound pack.
My pack weighed in at 55 pounds and my goal, at first, was to keep it under 50. Keeping my pack under 50 pounds turned out to be impossible. I would eventually go a full day just by eating what the land provided. Had I known that, I could have gone in with a 40 pound pack. But then again, had I known about the pizza parties, I’d have filled my pack with Italian sausage and mozzarella cheese bringing my pack back up to 55 pounds.
I saw a hippie couple breaking their camp near the beach. We traded what little information we new about trail conditions.
These hippies, like so many others I met along the Na Pali Coast, were actually just young couples of early twenties. It seemed they were all just taking a break from college before going back to school or getting a job. They all seemed intelligent with lots of worldly experience and travel. The male of the species always had long hair and sometimes dreadlocks. The females wear dresses with a high waist that made them look pregnant. It seemed to me that a dress would hinder bodily functions out there in that environment but I was later told that a dress makes it easier to go to the bathroom.
I agree with such logic. During my hike, I would wear swim trunks. Swim trunks came with their own underwear; they had several pockets, are lightweight, and dried out quickly after getting wet. I also had my hair cut so short that I wouldn’t need a comb or brush.
I stepped out on the trailhead at 07:00 and immediately started sucking air hard. I stopped at every grand vista, resting and gazing in wonder at the magnificent views of the cliffs, valleys, and coast. It wasn’t raining but I could make out the downpours falling from the gloomy clouds in Kauai’s interior.
At 8:00 am, the helicopters started their tourist flights back and forth along the Na Pali coast.
Averaging one mile-per-hour, I arrived at the first obstacle after two miles.
It is the Hanakapiai River. It was raging. I spotted some heavy one inch diameter ropes fastened to both sides of the stream, but these seemed useless in that kind of whitewater. The noise was deafening.
I really wanted to get across and continue my journey. I imagined what it would be like to wade across that violent torrent. Dipping the very tippy-tip of my toe into the water, the river grabbed my foot and pulled me in. The angry current ripped my glasses off, my knee exploded with pain as a hidden rock smashed it; sucked under the torrent, I rolled and twisted, I was running out of air when it finally occurred to me to take the damn pack off. By this time, another bolder had smashed my left arm, rendering it useless. Carried out to sea, and just alive enough to feel the teeth of the tiger shark, I realized I made a bad decision.
Ok, maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow to cross.
Dumping my pack, I hiked a trail to the left and upstream, but it ended at a shear cliff at the rivers edge. Hiking downstream to the right, scrambling over some boulders and getting my feet wet near the slower moving rivers edge, I came to where the Hanakapiai discharges into the Pacific Ocean. I was one hundred yards downstream of where the trail crosses the river.
I was unhappy about the river conditions. However, the camping conditions were perfect. I had just found one of the greatest campsites of my life. Looking out to sea, the campsite was located just to the right of where the Hanakapiai River entered the ocean. Not only did I have a great view of the sparkling whitewater rapids but of the ocean and beach too. The area was shaded by twenty foot tall pineapple trees; the fruit of which were light green in color. The vicinity was flat and so strewn with boulders that there was only room for one tent. The smooth round boulders also made great spots for sitting. It was perfect. It was loud. The din would be part of my conscious and unconscious world for the next twenty-four hours.
I quickly sloshed my way back to the river crossing to retrieve my backpack. On the way, I saw a barefooted Polynesian crossing the river. I watched with interest, quickly realizing that I didn’t have to worry about seeing someone die. At first glance the surefooted Hawaiian looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Unencumbered by a pack, he was leaping from boulder to boulder, making his way across the river. The dark haired Hawaiian looked puny compared to the raging turbulence surrounding him on his tiny island boulder. Leaping over five feet to another rock, the man landed and absorbed the impact by going down into an immediate squat. He quickly placed his hands tenderly around his landing pad boulder. It gave me the impression he had landed on the back of an elephant and was regaining his balance.
The young Hawaiian was stripped to the waist and barefoot. He wore long rugged work shorts. A knife that could also be called a machete hung from his belt.
I got to the crossing and there was another Polynesian guy eating some food, relaxing, and watching his partner cross the river. They were park rangers, or in their professional description, Trail Technicians. Saying hello, I noted the ranger crossing the river had made it safely to the other side. He was now untying the rope. I wondered why he didn’t cut it with that big knife of his but quickly realized the rope was of high quality and it could be used for some other project.
“What’s up with that?”! I yelled above the roar of the whitewater. The ranger had to shout back, “That rope gives people a false sense of security; people who wouldn’t normally cross the river during these conditions think the rope is the answer, it’s not.”
The ranger was very personable and he was just loaded with information, including the weather. The rain would stop this afternoon. No rain tomorrow. He told me about the woman drowning at the Hanakoa River. I asked if he thought it was ok to camp at the point next to the rivers mouth. “Great spot”, he said, “but if you see the river turn chocolate, get out of there fast.” I told him I’d keep an eye out for such a thing, and strapped my pack on. As I bid adieu, the first of several dozens of people arrived at the river only to turn back or look downriver towards “my” campsite. I immediately got down there and set up my tent. Then the people began to arrive by the dozens.
Confluence of the Hanakapiai River into the Pacific Ocean. This is the best campsite on the Planet Earth.
It turned out to be a fairly nice day. The rain alternated on and off. However, it was mostly sunny even while raining. Generally the clouds hung over the interior of the island.
I observed a unique looking boulder on the bank of the river. The river lapped at its middle. I would use that boulder as my gage for a rising or receding river. The river’s level became my greatest concern. The river was receding, but ever so slowly. It did appear that the rate of the lowering water level might allow a crossing during mid-afternoon.
I took photos of several birds in the area. Two that came close enough to my camera were the Myna Bird and Red-Crested Cardinal. The two birds are introduced birds. The birds were brought in from other countries intentionally or by accident several years before. I saw several indigenous birds but they were too far away to photograph.
Myna Bird
Red-Crested Cardinal
At three o’clock the river had receded enough for a crossing. I watched several day hikers make the trip across.
I thought for a moment that I would make a move to cross the river but decided that I had a great campsite with a good view of the world. Besides, I knew I’d end up camping in a dark and still dripping jungle instead of the open and airy spot I had.
At five o’clock, the crowds and the helicopters gave my little point of land some solitude. Across the river there was what in the summer time would be a beautiful sandy beach but that was a month away. Right now it is a bolder beach, with all the boulders the size of basketballs. In just a few more weeks, the angry waves crashing into the northern coast would deposit enough sand that children could build sandcastles. With the summer, and the change in the direction of the trade winds, the rough surf will move to the southern shores of Kauai, and Hanakapiai beach will be a real sandy beach.
Before the sun set at 6:45, I began making dinner. The smell of cooking food was wafting through the air. Across the river, I could hear an animal calling. Could it be some tropical bird? Maybe it’s a cat bird. It kind of sounded like a cat. There it is, a cat, and it’s looking in my direction. The little critter was across the river from me, just 50 feet above the river’s entry into the Pacific Ocean. The cat is hungry and a mere creek is not to stand in its way. Great! This is the part where I have to watch how Mother Nature allows no mistakes and is a cruel mistress.
But trying to stop the varmint was like trying to stop the tide. The animal was going to go to my side and that was that. The cat began hopping from rock to rock, each rock, or boulder with an inch of water flowing over the top. No cat! No! If you fall into the whitewater, you won’t drown before the tiger sharks get you! I’ll have to watch the whole nightmare! I won’t be able to look away! I won’t be able to enjoy my dinner.
It’s a typical human peculiarity to continue to stand and watch, helpless, as calamities unfold. The cat took one last leap and splashed into the fast moving water. I watched in frozen horror. Oh, cat!
The river’s swift current pushed the cat down-river faster than its traverse across the river. It was heading for the Pacific Ocean. Tiger Sharks where waiting. Cat swam like hell. Cat swam like it was a retriever dog swimming across a lake.
The Cat, after all my terror, made it…stepping out of the water it shook and scattered water in all directions. It’s damp, spiked hair made it look like it stuck its paw in a light socket.
It meowed. It meowed some more and wouldn’t stop meowing. It just meowed and meowed. It meowed and only stopped meowing when it was eating. I fed it and fed it. Then it meowed and I fed it some more. I named the cat Oscar for no other reason except that it looked like an Oscar. It finally stopped meowing, went over to some sand, dug a hole, and took a massive dump that a big retriever dog would be proud of. I realized that I wasn’t the only tourist that felt sorry for the thing.
A flooded Hanakapiai and Oscar the cat.
After chow, I hung my wet clothes. The rain stopped and I watched the sun setting on the pacific. A marvelous sight, I continued to watch the ocean and the waves coming in. The ocean just glowed.
Where the river entered the Pacific Ocean, it formed a deep “V” pointing inland. Waves hitting the sides of the “V” bounced towards the center and slammed into each other shooting explosive geysers several feet into the air. I thought of what it would be like as a castaway washing up on the shore and imagined that it would be impossible to survive the pounding of the surf into those basketball boulders.
Turning my attention back to the waves rolling in, I wondered how old they were. They might have been created by a large chunk of glacier breaking off and falling into Alaskan waters, weeks before.
The Hanakapiai River and the best campsite ever.
I longed to stay awake and watch the show but decided to turn in. The bed inside my tent was waiting for me but first I needed to cinch down the pockets and openings of my pack and secure it next to my tent. There is no room inside so it would have to lie outside within easy reach in case I wanted something during the night.
With my headlamp on, hunkered down over my pack, preparing for a night of rain, concentrating on cinching down flaps, when, “Hello!” a voice boomed from just six feet away.
The roaring river, the pounding surf, and my concentration on my gear had allowed the interloper to completely sneak up on me. Looking up, startled, and letting out a half “waaa!” my headlamp illuminated a man in white robes and a hood. It was Spook! I quickly scanned for that machete but didn’t see it. He immediately apologized.
Feeling sheepish about my overreaction, I asked him if he was alright. “Yes, good, thank you, I am sorry I frightened you,” he said. His white robe and hood made him appear to float like a ghost as he walked. He made his way to the river, bent over, drank. I pretended to concern myself with my tent. He finished his drink and floated back the way he had come.
I crawled into my tent, reading a little before turning out the light. Before I fell asleep, I thought about the morrow. I began worrying about the next morning’s expected river crossing. Everything revolves around that river. What if it rains tonight and makes it impossible to cross? I reminded myself, the river can hold a hiker up for days. I thought, after all the preparations, after all the hoopla, only to be held up by a river. Then I thought, “What do I know about river crossings?” I’d never crossed a tropical river before. In the morning I’ll be alone in my decision to cross and alone in my crossing. I could end up like some; dead and body not recovered.
Then the silly thoughts began. I could just camp out here for the coming week. It’s such a great campsite. I’ll never find a campsite like this again. It’s really an excellent home. I even have Oscar to keep me company.
No that’s foolish. Sometimes you have to leave security to appreciate what you’ve left behind. I must get across that river.
Day 3, March 26, Friday
After a worrisome sleep, I finally awoke at 06:00. The first thing to do, even before going to the bathroom, a look at my boulder. It was high and dry. Time to get moving.
Broke camp and packed my pack. I would skip breakfast. I would have breakfast on the other side. A full stomach would just hinder the crossing. I also emptied my canteens. I could fill them on the other side and I didn’t need the extra pounds raising my center of gravity. I found a good spot to cross and strapped myself into my pack. Cinching the straps tightly.
What little I know about river crossings, I do know this. The pack should be tight against the hikers back. You don’t want the load to shift, throwing off an already precarious footing. If I loose my footing and the river carries me away, I would have to keep my composure and extract myself from the straps.
I then saw some hunters. I would see a lot of those guys. They were looking for a good place to cross so I joined up with them. I followed them across. I figured if they or I had trouble, we could help each other. We splashed across at 07:30 with no mishaps. The water came up almost to my waist.
The hunters crossed the river barefoot and put their boots back on after the crossing. From past experience and soft-footedness I cross with my boots on but no socks, putting dry socks on after the crossing. The dry socks pull moisture out of my boot getting damp in the process. After an hour on the trail, I’ll replace the damp socks with another pair of dry socks and hang the damp ones on my pack. By this time, my feet and boots are dry. I’ve made dozens of river crossings in Missouri and this system works just as well in Kauai.
I talked to the hunters; they said the weather report calls for blue sky and no rain for two days.
I asked about their hunting methods; they were looking for pig and goat. They said they can only use bows on that portion of the island. They quarter the animal’s carcass and carry it out to their trucks back at the trailhead. Pigs and goats are introduced species and hard on the environment. Pigs dig holes making small puddles, which lead to mosquitoes. The feces of both pollute the streams with a dangerous virus called leptospirosis.
I filled my canteens and put two water purification tablets in each quart canteen. After five minutes, I shook the contents of each canteen, opened the caps a full- turn, and squeezed the plastic canteens to force the purified water through the cap threads to sanitize them.
I bid the hunters good luck and stepped out on the trail leading out of the Hanakapiai valley and toward my goal. It was good to finally get some miles behind me. After a half hour of climbing out of the valley, I stopped to change the damp socks and drink some water.
Still wanting to burn up some miles I skipped breakfast and kept moving. The weather was perfect. The Na Pali coast, along which, the trail traversed was beautiful. The trail was wet and difficult. After the long climb out of the U-shaped valley, perhaps an hour of hiking, I rounded a turn on a ridge. The view and scenery was just unbelievable. I would regularly stop along the trail and stair at this strange-new-world around me. A cobalt blue sea, green tropical valleys, strange new plants, and weird bugs, caused me to stop and study these things to the point were I had to remind myself, I didn’t have all day.
There are two types of valleys, high valleys and low valleys. The high valleys have small streams running through them with sharp drops in elevation, marked with plunging waterfalls and plunge basins. It is not possible to reach the sea via the high valley because of the steep cliffs that would have to be decended to reach the beach.
The other type of valley, the low valley, are wide and much less steep. They have large rivers flowing through them, like my previous Hanakapiai valley. The low valleys show the signs of farm cultivation of the ancient Polynesians.
I had two more low valleys, thus two rivers to negotiate, but there were seemingly hundreds of the high valleys. The trail wove in and out and up and down these high valleys. The trail was cut into the sides of the ridges with endless switch backs.
Hiking deep inside these high valleys toward the heart of the island, brought thick jungle forests and valleys inside of valleys. On one side of the trail arose steep fluted cliffs a thousand feet high; the other side of the trail, inches from my foot, a steep slope and a terrible tumble, bouncing off trees like a pinball, if such an accident should happen.
At openings through the jungle foliage, I could gaze across the valley and see where I would be, once I hiked the seeming endless miles into and out of the valley. If I could just walk on air, I could cross the whole thing in a matter of seconds. On arriving at the inside of these valleys, deep in the rainforest, a beautiful waterfall and plunge basin always greeted my eyes and filled my canteen.
The trail out of these valleys brought me closer to the coast finally rounding a point on a ridge providing overwhelming views of the precipitous cliffs on the island. These steep ridges, jutting out to sea, also provided shear drops of hundreds of feet to a rocky shore and pounding surf. This place is teeming with beauty and crammed with danger. Reminder to self: Come to a complete stop before ogling the scenery.
The exposed ridges provide a 270 degree view of the world. Turning, right to left, I could view the valley I just exited, then the sea; still turning I could examine the whole of the next valley that I would hike through.
I could also see along the coast. I could view where I’d been at Ke’e beach and where I was going, although I couldn’t see Kalalau beach. It was still perhaps seven miles away and hidden by a ridge jutting out into the ocean.
Erosion presented another great danger. Because it was winter, and late winter at that, trail maintenance and improvements cannot be carried out. The rain washed out portions of the trail that had originally been cut into the sides of steep hills with slopes of 45 degrees or so. Some of these eroded sections were twenty feet long. A fall, in some places, might be stopped by grabbing or slamming into trees. Sometimes there were no trees to stop a sliding fall, just a long fingernail-ripping slide towards a cliff. This provided my first, very real, moments of terror.
If I was going to get to Kalalau Beach, I would have to traverse through these eroded areas. In most cases, a previous hiker had helped those who followed by hacking out a flat step on which to tread.
I saw where one of these steps broke away and a hiker slid ten feet down to the trees below. I could also see were the faceless hiker had scrambled back up to the trail, leaving only embarrassing scratch marks as he/she pawed their way to safety.
At another eroded section, I spotted a very expensive looking canteen that had dropped, rolled down, and left abandoned near the edge of a cliff. I conjectured that maybe the canteen is the last trace of poor Brad Turek before he tumbled to his death. The canteen is probably still there, waiting for someone with more grit than me to retrieve it.
As I stepped gingerly across these horrendously frightening passages, I could hear my own shaky internal voice cajoling me “don’t look down, be cool, be very cool, concentrate, don’t do nothing stupid.”
Upon reaching the safe confines of the trail, the relief was intoxicating. “I made it!” I heard myself say, followed by “I sure as hell hope that’s the end of that.” Another hundred yards of happy hiking would bring another one of those damn things. Will it never end?
No, it doesn’t. Keep moving. Don’t look down.
The endless climbing and descending added to the nonstop toil of the trail; up one hundred feet, down three hundred. Shuffling and plodding, up three hundred feet, down one hundred, all the while sucking in air. Relentlessly up and down.
Going down hill was only slightly better than climbing uphill. However the downhill slope jams the feet into the toes of the boots and the fifty pound pack causes a dull ache in the thighs. Plus, you know that a descent is only a “loaner” from the “Hill,” eventually the “Hill” wants a payback with interest; now a climb of four hundred feet.
I began to give names to the hills I climbed. The first hill I named Misery; the second, Agony; the third hill, Torture. I could only come up with three names, so other hills were named the same, but not always in that order. Sometimes it was Misery followed by Torture and then Agony. The worst was an agony followed by no less than three tortures. I started to look forward to Misery.
I believe I was stumbling up my favorite hill, Misery, when I heard, “excuse us please!” Stopping and allowing to pass me, was a man and a woman. They moved by me with such determination and speed, I didn’t want to hold them back with anything other than the usual pleasantries. Both carried small day packs. They evidently were on a daylong power hike. I would see them later that day, going back the way they had come. In one day, they would hike twenty-two miles; of course, they carried ten pounds of gear to my fifty-five pounds.
At every two miles of the trail, a mile marker was posted. Those mile markers enlighten on how slow I was moving. I was averaging one mile per hour on my way to Kalalau, still seven miles to go.
I stopped to examine a giant centipede sitting in the middle of the trail. It was seven inches long, brown colored, with lots of legs. I had read and heard about them and knew that it can pack a wallop with their bite. It feeds or defends itself by implanting its venomous fangs deeply and firmly into the victim. The prey is held by the centipedes other legs until it dies from the fast-acting venom.
When humans are bit, two puncture wounds will be evident. Reaction to the injected venom can range from a slight redness in the bite area to massive swelling of the whole limb.
I took a photo of the thing and harrassed it with the tip of my walking stick, finally flicking it off the trail, scolding it with, “You ain’t so tough!”
Poisonous Centipede
I drank quart after quart along the trail. There were so many waterfalls that I allowed myself to run out of water knowing I could refill in another couple hundred yards.
Instead of filling both quart canteens, I’d fill only one. A quart of water weighs two pounds, so why lug all that water when a stream or waterfall is available every quarter mile or so.
I found myself stopping to drink all the time. It could only slow me down if I drank every time I was thirsty, which was all the time. I’d give myself little goals, for instance, when I get to the top of this hill, I can take a swig, when I get to the next waterfall I can guzzle the whole canteen. When I drank, I drank with the delight and enthusiasm of an alcoholic after a long dry spell.
It was after one of these dry spells. I was about to award myself with a long pull from my canteen when I saw it; a beautiful, ripe, guava fruit hanging plump and inviting directly over the trail and awaiting my arrival. It was as if the great God of Na Pali was offering a gift just for me. Guava: A yellow sweet succulent fruit.
At first, I was in doubt as to whether I should eat it. I’d seen pictures so I was pretty sure it was safe. But you never know. I took a bite and held it in my mouth. I looked inside; it was pink and juicy with lots of seeds. I chewed the morsel and my mouth exploded with happiness and delight. Wow! A shiver went up my spine. There were several more that I picked and ate leaving plenty for other hikers. The guava fruit had quenched my thirst.
Invigorated and continuing onward, I noticed I had been descending into a large, low valley. It’s the Hanakoa valley. A beautiful place with hand built, rock walled terraces that the ancient Polynesians built thousands of years ago for the growing of the “potato of Kauai,” taro. Also in the valley; the Hanakoa river.
I could hear it before I saw it. Whitewater and another river to cross. When I first saw it I thought, “I can’t cross this!” I dumped my pack, took my socks off, and replaced them with just my boots. I roamed up and down the river looking for a place to ford. After a half hour, I found a suitable crossing site seventy-five yards downstream. I conducted a little test run by crossing it without my pack. No problem. I crossed back, retrieved my pack, cinched the straps down, and had no problems in the crossing.
Now I had to hike up and out of that valley. A mile marker said I had five miles to go. My watch said it was noon. At this rate, I’d reach Kalalau beach at 5:00, an hour before sunset. No time for lunch. I kept marching.
I briefly met several people hiking out. Each group asking me how the Hanakoa River looked. “Great,” I said, “it’s a little high but move downstream and you should find a place to cross.” I, of course asked about the Kalalau River, and that’s how it always went when meeting people on the trail. Nothing is more important than the condition of the next river.
Continuing on, I noticed a change in the environment. The jungle slowly changed to small scrubby plants and cactus-like succulent flora. The ground became more exposed showing intense reds. The red volcanic hills made me imagine I was walking on the red planet Mars.
I still had the high valleys to hike through. In and out, up and down. Trail damage from erosion still causing great worry. There were still plenty of small streams and waterfalls to replenish from. The miles slowly receded behind me.
I then came upon the most frightening aspect of the trail. A steep walled cliff trail, ten inches wide. I just stood and stared. You know, I read about this on the internet. People have turned around at this point never to return. Now it’s my turn. It looked formidable and frightening. It’s called Crawler’s Ledge.
I took a drink, got myself motivated, and made my way into the place. I started out fine. No big deal. But it gradually got worse. I found myself leaning away from the abyss on my right, yet the cliff wall on my left forced me to stand up straight as I negotiated through the cliff trail.
Then it got worse. My pack was wider than my body and was rubbing the cliff wall, and eventually forcing me to lean out towards the abyss. Panic started to set in.
Crawler’s ledge
Most people can easily walk on a 2-by-4 when it sits upon the ground. Move that 2-by-4 up five feet and it becomes a struggle to cross without some trepidation.
I was receiving some serious trepidation at this point. I stopped and thought about how I could pull this off without having to lean towards the drop off. I thought about getting down on all fours and crawling. No way. I thought about removing my pack and holding it in my arms as I sidestepped my way with my back to the wall. No, that’s stupid. I could turn and face the cliff wall and step sideways with my backpack hanging out over the precipice. Ok, I’ll try that.
I made my way in this manner a few yards but the cliff face forced me to lean back. Severe terror struck me, and vertigo. I began to shake uncontrollably. No way! I retreated.
I then wondered that maybe I could remove the contents from the left pockets of my pack and hang my bed roll vertically on the back. No, that’s silly. I just have to do this thing. This is that 2-by-4 business. Just do it.
I tried again. I turned slightly to face the wall moving my pack slightly over the edge. In this manner, I could not make a regular step. I could only shuffle my right foot along and follow it with my left. I did this for several shuffling steps with some success but again the irrational thoughts bombarded my reasoning. The tension built up and I began to shake uncontrollably from the stress.
Finally, after prevailing over the ridiculous thoughts, I began to move. Slowly, shuffling my feet, I made some headway. My face was so near the wall, I couldn’t see too far ahead. The most I could do was watch where I placed my right foot and hope that the left followed. A snails pace.
Time had no meaning. It was just that wall and my right foot. Gradually the wall started to lean away from my face and I was able to rest. It still wasn’t over but the worst seemed behind me. The cliff edge was still just inches from my foot but at least I could take a regular stride. I rounded a corner and had just a little real-estate to stop, relax, and observe the trail ahead. It wasn’t as bad. There was still the long drop to the breaking surf below but at least the incline of the cliff wall tilted away from the trail.
Grinning, the knot in my stomach loosened and I relaxed a little. This country humbles you. Something could happen in an instant. I could really get killed. It made me feel insignificant. This is the way it has to be. I took a drink and continued on.
I thought that I should have some food but I felt that I had squandered way too much time negotiating the previous nightmare. It was late afternoon and I still had three miles to go. I pressed on.
Climbing a hill, I began to stop and rest every few dozen yards. I was becoming listless. At this rate, I would never get there. I was so tired. Resting did not bring relief.
Could it be I’m running out of energy? “No! Just keep moving, don’t dawdle, daylights burning fast.”
My pep talk did no good. I had no energy. I hadn’t eaten anything except for the guava. It finally dawned on me that I needed to eat or I would never make it to the beach.
I stopped at a scenic spot that curved around a ridge. I dumped my pack. It was five o’clock. I only had an hour before the sunset. No time to prepare anything so I ate some jerky, marshmallows and freeze dried strawberries.
A man and women came by during my dinner. They were backpacking to Kalalau. I was actually glad to see them. Mostly I was glad that I wasn’t the only one pushing the daylight. After some reassurance from both parties that, “it can’t be too much farther.” They moved on. I waited a few more minutes to give them some room and I set out too.
The simple carbohydrates seem to have saved the day. I was refortified, and my morale had improved considerably. It was very short sighted of me to skip eating for a whole day. I have learned.
Trudging over the top of a very red hill, I could finally see a little stretch of beach in the distance. It was Kalalau beach. At long last, I am almost there.
The view up the Red Hill
I had spring in my step. Heaven and accomplishment have been glimpsed. Thanks to the little rest and to the “Carbs,” I would not be walking into the valley dragging ass. I would march into Kalalau in a dignified manner.
I was walking down an awfully eroded hill toward some woods, with the beach beyond, and beyond that, a glorious sunset. Stopping to look around, I looked back up the hill I had descended from. The red hill I was climbing down turned out to have the unique name “The Red Hill.” It is so red that it seems impossible to be so red.
The view down the Red Hill toward Kalalau Valley. The Green Field is in the lower right.
Leaving the Red Hill, I plunged ahead into a thick forest. A hundred yards further the forest came alive with bird song. My ears were greeted with the pleasant music of birds twittering and tweeting away. I spied a figure standing left of the trail gazing up into the trees and whistling to the birds as they flitted around. It was a young woman. She was barefoot and wore a flowery dress that reached all the way up to her waist.
I didn’t want to startle her so I called out hello. She responded in kind. I stopped and asked if there is a river ahead. She gave me instructions on where to cross.
I said thanks and while turning towards the river she called after me, “welcome to Kalalau!”
The hopeful prediction that I told Jim, my taxi driver, about how a bronze skinned Polynesian woman would hand me a mango nearly came true. Mangos must not have been in season.
Welcome to Kalalau! My reception to the valley was nothing short of fantastic, a magical preamble to this wonderful valley. The pain of a moment before had flitted away with the birds. I moved quickly to the river, found the easy crossing just as “Eve” described, and crossed.
A moment later, I was standing on the beach, the last rays of the sun revealing the rationale of what I’d done as not so crazy an idea after all.
There was no time to lollygag; I needed to find a suitable campsite in the waning sunlight. I walked along a trail that bordered the beach and the woods. The more I walked, the better the campsites became. I hiked the entire half mile long beach, seeing various potential campsites. I found an excellent waterfall that would make a great shower and bath, at the farthest end of the beach where it ended abruptly at a sheer cliff.
Hiking back the way I’d come, I found what would be my home in this Eden. The campsite was on the edge of the forest where there would be plenty of shade yet I could see the ocean. The camp was a hundred yards or so from the waterfall or “showers.” Moreover, I wanted to be near the beach to catch the shore breeze that would drive the mosquitoes away. There were several boulders for seats and a well built fire-ring for bonfires. The camp was perhaps fifteen feet above the beach, on a slight hill sloping down toward it. The perfect patio.
The couple I’d met during my simple-carb dinner walked by. Somehow, I’d passed them and then they had trouble crossing the river. I gave them directions to a campsite right next to the waterfall and that’s where they camped. We were the only people camped on the whole beach.
I setup my tent. Every task being a struggle. I was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing but a shower and to relax.
Kalalau Showers
It was mostly dark now so I donned my headlamp, grabbed some soap and a towel, and headed toward the “showers.” My neighbors had beaten me to it so I just waited, only now realizing there were billions and billions of stars to see. I noted that Orion’s Belt was very high in the sky and I could see all of Orion’s dog Toro. Back in Missouri, Toro is usually too close to the horizon to see and Orion is visible only in winter. Being south of the Tropic of Cancer, Orion and Toro are visible year round. I had to lean way back to observe, straight overhead, Orion’s foe Taurus.
The couple exited the plunge basin wrapped in towels. I feigned anger and quipped, “I hope you didn’t use up all the hot water!” They feigned amusement and laughed.
The water took my breath away. I recovered and stood under the cascade, rinsing the trail dust and the day’s worries away. It was good.
I was beat. Even my eyelashes hurt. I stumbled my way back to my camp. Stared at the stars and luminous ocean and went to bed. The breeze kept me cool and I drifted off quickly.
Day 4, March 27, Saturday
Awoke at 08:30. Other than one bout of charlie horse at “o-dark-thirty” in the morning, I had a good ten hours of sleep.
Kalalau beach camp
The view towards my campsite. The ribbon of waterfall is the “showers” and water supply.
I made a breakfast of jerky, granola, and coffee. The choppers began making their assaults along the coast. After a while, you forget about them but the first few of the morning makes an old veteran wish he had a rocket launcher.
Taking all my dirty clothes to the falls and washing them, I also filled my canteens and an extra water bladder and returned to camp. While hanging the cloths on a cloths line, the couple from the evening before hiked by and said hello. They were both weighed down by their backpacks. “You’re leaving already?” I asked. “We have a flight out tomorrow night, gotta get moving.” Incredulous, I couldn’t believe they would just hike to this wonderful valley, look at it, and just leave. I bid them good luck.
I was excited to get started and explore this strange new land. I set out by walking down the hill on a path from my campsite to the beach. I walked straight to the water. Wearing my water shoes, I stepped into the sea. There, I accomplished the critical requisite of getting my toes wet in the Pacific Ocean.
I took a right and walked east, occasionally an aggressive wave forced me to run wildly up the beach. The surf was rough. It’s always rough in the winter. There wouldn’t be any dips in the ocean for me. I walked to the extreme east of the beach and turned around when the sand turned to basketball sized rocks.
Walking west, I passed my campsite on my left. A bit further I came to where the stream continued on from my waterfall and flowed into the ocean.
From here on, this shower stream will be officially designated the “Shower Stream.”
The funny thing, the Shower Stream never arrives at the sea, not in a direct route anyway. The stream, with all its thousands of gallons of flow per hour, seeped into the beach sand. It just turned invisible. The beach could drink all the water the Shower Stream could pour into it.
Continuing west, I came to a large cave or cavern. It was a wet-cave. It went back thirty feet and could provide an uneasy shelter from rain. I say uneasy because the high water mark from an incoming wave had marked the sand recently. In the summer, with the gentler surf, the cave would make a safe camping shelter. I studied it, took a picture, and got out of there before a rogue wave tried to get me.
Wet cave
The beach ended at the dry cave so I exited the cave, and I kept the cliff to my right and followed it around to my waterfall.
Walking upstream I noticed, what I thought was some taro growing in the middle of the stream. I also spotted a bunch of banana’s hanging within easy reach. They were all green. Some had already been stripped from the stalk by tourists seeing their first wild banana.
Seeing my first wild banana, I removed a specimen for closer examination; I noted it was very hard. It was a cute little thing, only four inches long. I kept it, thinking I’d sauté it in olive oil and sugar.
While rinsing the sand off my feet at the falls I met some dude with some serious dreadlocks, a resident. Like most residents, he was barefoot and looked perfectly comfortable in that environment. We exchanged pleasantries, his name, Robbie, about twenty years old. He said he was on sabbatical before going back to school in the fall. Realizing a great source of knowledge, I asked him if the plants growing in the stream are Taro. “Yes,” he affirmed. He then described how to harvest and prepare it.
Taro is identified by a large elephant-ear sized arrow-shaped leaf that grows waist high in wet ground near streams. The sweet-potato like tuber must be dug out of the swampy ground. Taro must be cooked in a rolling boil for one hour. If eaten raw, there are small sharp crystals that can cause serious inflammation of the mouth and throat and can stop breathing.
Polynesians, after cooking the tuber, would pound it with stone hammers making a paste. Water is then added and mixed producing thick gravy. It is now called poi. Traditional methods of eating it are to simply dip two fingers into the poi and eating directly from the fingers or to scoop some up with a piece of dried fish or fruit.
Robbie lived off the land. He described how he occasionally harvests a goat or a pig. He admitted that he had a lot to learn and that he had attempted to tan the pelt of a goat but had failed and instead of a soft pliable pelt, it turned rock hard.
Since there is no refrigeration, meat must be distributed and eaten quickly. There’s too much meat for one person, so he shares it with the neighbors.
He mentioned the library. The library was situated in a couple of tents and was located in the Kalalau Valley across from the big pool but not the biggest pool and near where the mango tree used to be. How else do you give directions in a jungle?
The library was made up of mostly donations from parting residents. Robbie said it contained a wide range of books like any other library but no dewy decimal system.
Robbie provided a plethora of good survival information on: Tropical almonds, nooni, guava, ti, mango, fig, bread fruit, and bamboo. I told Robbie thanks for the info and, “I’ll see yea around the valley.”
I walked back to my campsite to check on things. I decided that today I would just take-it-easy and explore the valley near the beach.
The full length of the beach is bordered by a shallow forest. Moving west the forest gradually comes to a point with the cliff on the left and beach on the right, culminating at the falls. Moving east, the forest widens into the Kalalau Valley with several branch streams draining the valley and eventually forming the Kalalau River.
Setting out again, this time I walked away from the beach toward the cliff wall that paralleled the beach forest. Walking along it toward the valley, I came upon a drycave. It was more of a cavern much like the wetcave I had just explored at the beach, only far enough away from the beach to be dry. The drycave was the perfect shelter from rain and other people thought the same. It obviously was a place where the residents meet and have a party. There were several sealed “food-grade” buckets placed around. The buckets held flower and various spices and sugar. It looked like the buckets had a second function as seats around the fire ring. Leaning against the cliff wall were a couple of guitars and a ukulele waiting to be played.
I continued on toward the valley but didn’t get very far before I spotted someone stoking a fire at his campsite. “Hello,” he called to me, “I just put some coffee on, you care for some?” “A cup of coffee sounds great,” I called back.
I hiked up a slight rise to his campsite. The camp consisted of a very large rain fly with a good sized campfire ring under it. The fire ring had all the amenities for campfire cooking, Dutch ovens, pots and pans, heavy grill etc. A backpacker’s tent was nearby. My new social contact was definitely a resident.
His name is Taylor. Taylor has lived in the valley for a year and a half. He plans to stay there for another year and half for a full three years before getting back to the “world.” He was from North Carolina and spoke with a slight southern twang.
The coffee was excellent. It sure beat the instant stuff I had for breakfast. We had a good conversation, talking mostly about living in the valley. I also picked Taylor’s brain for the foraging of food in the valley, a subject dear to my heart and stomach. Many of the things he told me added to, and confirmed the things Robbie told me. I just ate up all wilderness survival information and at that moment decided to spend all the following day exploring the valley and eating only what the land provided.
The author having a cup of coffee at Taylor’s camp.
I broke out my deer jerky, took out a piece, and tossed the bag to him. He liked the stuff and that moved the conversation to how to make smoked jerky.
I believe I had some expertise in the subject since we were eating my own creation.
With the information I gave him, Taylor got fired up to kill a goat and smoke the meat. With what I told him and his determination to get it done, I wish I could be there now and taste some smoked goat jerky.
The conversation was abruptly interrupted by Taylor, spotting some people walking on the beach. He and jumping to his feet to view them. Taylor then jogged, barefoot, to the forest edge to peer out and observe the people.
I thought that perhaps he was concerned that the people might be park rangers conducting a bust to remove the outlaw residents.
He came back to the campsite and said that it was a couple resident women, Nova and Heather. He then supposed they were going to take showers at the falls and that one of the girls, Nova, preferred to stay away from Taylor’s campsite because of the previous night’s altercation with her.
I didn’t have to ask. Taylor told me, “I made some guava wine and took it to a party last night.” My ears perked up when I heard guava wine. But the story must continue.
He said, “I was sitting with my girlfriend and Nova and drinking the wine. Nova was messaging my feet and my girlfriend was rubbing my shoulders. We all three had a buzz goin’ and I started thinking a three-way might happen. Nova kept refilling my cup to the point where I passed out. She had it all planned. I woke up and Nova and my girlfriend were gone. I went out to the green field and broke up their party. I told Nova if you were a man you’d be eating my fist!”
I knitted my eyebrows together and said, “Hmmm.”
Taylor then said, “I don’t care what she’s into but don’t mess with my girlfriend!” He then followed up with, “she tries to pick up every girl that comes down off the red hill, telling them, Ooooh! That pack must be heavy, let me rub your shoulders, goddamn, she’s got the sexual drive of a seventeen year old boy!”
I thought, even in this Garden of Eden, there’s a soap opera.
I described my “magical introduction” into Kalalau to Taylor and described the girl I’d met. Taylor drawled, “Yep, that’s her.”
We talked a little more then I handed him my empty coffee cup and said I’d better get moving and see some of this valley. Taylor said, “A friend came into the valley today and he brought pizza making supplies, you should drop by.” He then described where the party would be. I told him, “I’ll see you tonight” and left.
Cool! I thought. It would be nice to hang out with the natives. After all, I hadn’t had any real conversation for the last four days and the coffee klatch reminded me that I missed it.
I then walked toward the Kalalau River, observed it, and thought I shouldn’t have any problem crossing it when I go to visit those people tonight. I also reminded myself that it could rise from a far away rainfall.
Turning left, I made my way downriver toward the beach. The trail then took me away from the river and a hill arose between me, the river, and the sea. A path led up the hill. I followed the path upward. The path culminated at a flat grassy plateau. Actually, the ground vegetation was a tundra-like grass. It made the plateau look like a golf green. The place had a “feeling” about it. I realized I was standing on a Heiau (Pronounced hey-ou). The Heiau had a commanding view of Kalalau Beach. It provided a beautiful vista.
A Heiau is a place where the early Hawaiians conducted ceremonies and rites to insure the fertility of the crops grown in Kalalau. It may have also been a luakini heiau, dedicated to success in war, with structures erected on top.
I took my shoes off (it just seemed like the right thing to do) and walked around. The “tundra” felt good on the old dogs. What a neat place! It would have been sacrilegious to do so, but the heiau would make a great place for a campsite.
It was also a great lookout spot too. I could see the whole beach from my vantage point. Walking to the other side of the Heiau, I could see the Kalalau River emptying into the ocean. Another hill arose on the other side of the river along a sea cliff. Somewhere over that hill was where the pizza party was to take place; beyond that, the Red Hill.
I found a place to sit, angling myself to view the mountains, beach and sea, all without having to turn my head.
View of Kalalau beach from the Heiau
A thousand years ago, people lived here. They also died here. They were born, lived and perished on the ground I tread upon. They worshipped, prayed, and maybe even sacrificed lives for a God on the spot that I sat. I reckoned those same people had their own soap opera’s too.
I imagined going back into time and being their god. I’d be a damn good god too. I wouldn’t end up like the English explorer Captain Cook in 1779. The Hawaiians thought he was a God, but alas, he wore out his welcome and they killed and dismembered him.
Sitting, the breeze and sun tiring me, an afternoon catnap descended upon me and I dreamed about nothingness. Awakening and still tired, I rolled over on my side and slept the sleep of dead Polynesians. After a couple hours, feeling rested, I went back to my camp. It was time to get ready for a party.
Walking back along the beach trail to camp, I met three residents. We introduced ourselves and shook hands all around. My new acquaintances were named Ron, Heather, and Nova.
Nova, whom I had met on my arrival to the valley, was carrying several Noni fruits. They were heading back to their camp on the bluff across the river. All three were solely dressed in shorts.
Ron appeared to be in his sixties. He had a beard and mostly gray hair. At that moment I guessed, and was later proven correct, that he’s the Mayor of Kalalau. Mayor is a term of endearment. Ron’s other nickname is the Pied Piper of the valley. He’s well known for making excellent bamboo flutes.
They seemed genuinely happy to see me and invited me to their camp. “Sure,” I said, also mentioning that Taylor invited me. We parted, and I made my way to my camp.
I figured I’d be coming home late so I brought in my dried laundry from the line and prepared my small backpack for the evening essentials. Since I heard we were going to make pizza I tossed in a bag of dried mushrooms. I also hunted for dry firewood and tied together a large armload with twine. The twine being scrounged from abandoned clotheslines.
I spotted a couple of newcomers with backpacks on the beach near my camp. They had that ten-thousand-yard-stare like they had just come in off the trail. Since I was now a regular and full of aloha spirit, I went over to great them. “Welcome to Kalalau,” I said. They were two dudes, Bob and Doug, from San Diego. I gave them directions to where the best campsites were and where they could go for a shower.
Parting, I battened down my tent, threw on my pack, grabbed the wood bundle, and headed to the party.
It was a long hike. I crossed the river and was just about to head up the hill when I saw Robbie coming down the hill to collect water. In answer to his questioning look, I said I got invited to some campsite up on the hill. I also added that I wasn’t sure exactly were it was. Robbie said, “I’m going up there myself, I’ll fill my jugs and I’ll show you a shortcut.”
After following Robbie up the main trail, toward “Nova’s” forest and the Red Hill, he veered off to the left. This brought us along a cliff side path; another trail with pounding surf one hundred feet below my left elbow. I thought, “great, you can’t go anywhere around here without risk of life or limb.” This time I had a heavy bundle of sticks to haul. The bundle was suspended from my shoulder by a strap that I had affixed to it. The load gave me the sensation of wanting to pull me toward the abyss. I couldn’t carry it on the other side, away from the edge, because the waist high wild flowers could catch on my bundle.
Ah those wild flowers! Later on, when I was a well seasoned cliff dweller, I would stop and smell those flowers and take pictures of the magnificent view. For now, I had to quell my terror because Robbie was waiting for me and I didn’t want to look like a candy ass.
Continuing on, we passed two campsites on our right. Tents and rain flies were hidden amongst the trees perhaps twenty feet from the trail and cliff. The campsites looked camouflaged and well shaded. “What a great place to have a campsite,” I thought, once you got used to the hazardous conditions of the trail.
The trail opened up into a boulder strewn green field. As soon as I stepped onto it I new it was a heiau. The boulders were big and round and covered in lichens. Each one looked like a great place to sit and view the sea, sky, clouds, stars, moon, sunset, or whatever. Green, plush “tundra” covered the ground wherever the boulders weren’t. If I wasn’t certain of the heiau nomenclature, Robbie confirmed it. He said, “This is a holy place, not holy in the christian sense but in aloha spirit.”
We turned right, away from the cliff, stepping on and over various boulders. There was no sign of trail anywhere, just boulders and tundra. Fifty yards from the edge of the cliff, we stepped into a forest of small twenty foot trees. Hidden amongst the trees were several rain flies overlapping each other. To the left, a well stocked kitchen and fire ring with a small fire burning under a pot. Near the fire, Taylor strummed a guitar. He nodded when I flipped him the peace sign.
Near the fire, also beneath a rain fly, I spotted the firewood stores. My little bundle of sticks didn’t seem very large compared to what was already there. Someone had foraged plenty of wood for the evening.
Robbie began showing me around. He showed me the garden which was located near the “Heiau campsite.” He showed me the various produce cultivated there; green beans, papaya, squash, tomatoes, peppers, and lettuce. The garden was located wherever there wasn’t a boulder. Robbie told me it’s extremely difficult to build gardens here because of the boulders. He said when you do find a nice open spot to plant something, you never know if it’s a good spot until you dig. More often than not, there’s a big boulder underneath that great spot. He pointed to some boulders that had been removed from the ground. They were the size of 32-inch televisions. Robbie said removing the boulders required a group effort with poles used as levers.
Robbie asked for the time. “Five forty-five,” I reported; time for the sunset. We went out to the heiau. Taylor followed us, still strumming the guitar.
Like most of the sunsets I would witness, low clouds hung on the horizon, preventing a clear view of the sun. Instead, the sun set into the clouds, creating various hues of red, orange, pink, and yellow.
While Taylor played some classic rock rift, Robbie and I discussed living off the land. He said, “I have some poi that I made. Do you want to taste some?” “You bet I do,” I responded.
He rummaged around his pack and pulled out a plastic jar that once held peanut butter. Running a finger through the gray paste, I tasted it. It was ok. No explosions of happy taste buds like the guava. It was obviously high in starch. I could only describe it as tasting like mashed potatoes without the cream, butter, and salt. He did mention that molasses and/or salt can be added to improve the taste.
The sky was starting to darken so we went to the living area under the rain fly. Taylor was stoking up the fire when various people began to arrive. I recognized Keith from the trailhead. Keith was the “pizza” guy who asked if I was bringing any pizza ingredients with me on the trail. At the time, I thought he was just messing with the “green cherry.” Other arrivals were Ron, Cathy, Nova, and Heather.
I still thought the pizza thing was just a mean trick played on me, until Keith and several of the party went to work on the project. It soon became apparent that Keith would be the pizza boss. Robbie volunteered to make the dough. Keith asked for donations, mentioning that he had pepperoni. He then asked if there were any vegetarians in the group; just one, Nova. It would be a vegetarian pizza.
The pizza donations came flooding in. My donation was a zip-lock baggy full of ultra-lightweight ingredients that I originally intended to add to ultra-lightweight ramen noodles. This mixture was a handful each of dried mushrooms, dried onions, and basil.
I didn’t take part in the project. I was strictly an observer. Taylor was getting the fire going to get a good supply of embers. I didn’t know it yet but I was about to experience an epiphany. The first of many I would have on this expedition.
E·piph·a·ny n. pl. e·piph·a·nies a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.
Setting some straw-like sticks on some very weak embers, Taylor picked up a bamboo stick. The stick was about thirty inches long and two inches thick and, like all bamboo, hollow. He positioned one end to his lips and the other, he placed near the very dull embers of the fire. He blew through the bamboo, forcing a swift current of air directly onto the coals. The embers liked this treatment and responded with glowing approval. Another blast of air brought more approval.
The sticks began to catch fire. This whole time Taylor did not leave his boulder/seat, performing this feat by just leaning forward a little. There were now weak flames. Another air blast produced the sound of a blowtorch. We had fire! On the seventh blast of air, Taylor sat back and rested.
Well, I’ll be danged. It’s called a blow stick, and it sure beats the hell out of getting down on all fours to blow, spit, burn your face, and eventually pass-out over an uncooperative fire.
The whole thing just amazed me. Until this moment, I felt I knew all there was to bonfire building. If my fire was failing, a can of gasoline or Napalm would set things right. But now; now, I could see things with a clarity I never could before. Looking over at Taylor, he just sat there, as if miracles happen all the time.
Taylor did call out to everyone, “who wants guava wine?” “Sure,” I said, breaking out my canteen cup. He filled it to the brim. The stuff was definitely the nectar of the Gods. It was sweet but not sickeningly sweet. The elixir had a hint of carbonation. It was like soda pop. Well, maybe even more like a slightly effervescent fruit punch. A nice Hawaiian punch. Sorry, it had to be said.
Actually, if not for catching a pleasant buzz, I would have thought there was no booze in it at all.
After the pizza dough had risen, Robbie greased up a large, twenty-four inch diameter, cast iron skillet, and pressed the dough into it. He coaxed the dough around and up the sides two inches. Keith took my mushroom concoction and added some water, reconstituting the mushrooms. Keith then took some pureed tomatoes and poured it onto the dough. Next, came the onions and squash, followed by the mushrooms. Cathy sliced the mozzarella and Keith added that. He then sprinkled some oregano on top and the pizza was ready. Keith put a second skillet of the same size and proportion on top of the skillet with the pizza making a kind of clamshell. He than set the clam shelled skillets on top of the grill over the hot embers. Next, he shoveled most of the coals from beneath the grill and piled them on top of the clamshell. It was basically how a dutch oven works. The main goal is to keep most of the heat on top of the dutch oven.
Now we had to wait. During the wait, I brought out a bag of deer jerky. That did it. All carnivores of the group became extremely interested in my jerky making methods. It was good to be looked at as an expert on something, not just someone from the mainland dropping in and mooching off them. I hope I gave such good instructions that they’re sitting around the fire now, nibbling on jerky of their own creation. Besides, in that warm environment, that kind of skill would go a long way in providing a good protein months after the animal is killed.
Taylor mentioned that he had caught a seventy pound fish a month earlier by surf fishing. But a seventy pound fish goes a long way. They had to eat it within a day or two before it would go rancid. They prepared it dozens of ways. The first thing they did was eat some as sushi and sashimi with that green horseradish stuff called wasabi. They also had it: breaded and deep fried, sautéed, filleted, cut in steaks, cut in pieces, and added to soup. Apparently, it was always delicious but a person does get tired of the same thing all the time and of course, it had to be eaten within two days. Drying and making fish jerky would be the answer. A person does get tired of the stuff but you can save it for later, in fact, a year later and it would still be good.
It seemed that most discussions centered on food; food and the preparation of food, the best food, food the way Mom makes it, food of different countries and cities, and of course, food you could never get in the valley. The conversation turned to two impossibilities of the valley, cold beer, and ice cream.
Ron was listening to the discussion about food; he laughed and exclaimed, “You guys are foodists!” I asked, “What do you mean?” Ron said, “Everybody’s a foodist. Wherever you go, whatever country you’re in, whether you’re friends or enemies, food is the language everyone speaks.” Ron was right, we are all foodists.
Every few minutes Keith would ask the time and I’d tell him. I was the only one in the group with a watch. After a half hour, the embers on top started getting dull so he asked me to grab some sticks. Obtaining several handfuls of quarter inch thick sticks, I set them on top of the Dutch oven. Now I get to use that great invention, the blow stick. The thing worked as advertised.
My newfound tribe didn’t believe in watches and clocks. I suppose it was an affront to their freedom, yet I was always asked for the time. Occasionally someone would ask what day it was. I thought that if anyone asked me the month, or worse, the year, I’d really start to wonder if I was in an oddball crowd.
I asked Nova about her life in the valley. She reported that she arrived the previous summer via kayak. Nova stated that she would stay for a year then go back to school in the fall.
Everyone was fairly young. Ron the Mayor was the oldest at sixty. I’m next at 41, then Taylor at 29. The rest, early to mid twenties.
Ron was fun to talk to. He was an all around good Joe who hailed from Boston and had the accent to prove it. He’d been in the Valley the longest, twenty years. He new a lot of stuff about a lot of things. His greatest ability is gardening. Later on that evening I would find out he was a great flute maker and player.
He had great unbiased stories of the valley. He gave one account that took place several years ago. A new guy made his entrance into the valley and planned to live there. That’s all fine, but regrettably, the fellow stopped taking whatever medication he needed in order to get along in polite society. He took to walking around armed. Several people had guns or bows in the valley. If you want fresh meat, you have to kill it with something. However, this guy was walking around armed all the time and threatening his neighbors. Ron put together a police force of some of the residents. When some park rangers made their monthly appearance to check on things and make improvements, he told them what he had in mind. The police force moved in on the guy, caught him off guard, and captured him. They secured him using zip ties and brought him to the rangers. The rangers, in turn, removed him via pontoon boat. Some lucky posse member got the gun. The rangers tend to look the other way in their dealings with Ron. They could capture him and take him away, but of course, he’d only find his way back. Besides, Ron is good for the valley because he takes care of problems like the above.
Keith called out that the pizza was ready. He removed the top skillet and then slid the pizza out of the bottom skillet onto a wooden board. I took some photos to prove this amazing feet to the folks back home.
We ate and it was good. But it wasn’t enough so Keith made another pizza.
Cathy, Taylor and Pizza
Intermittently throughout the evening, I stepped out into the night to find a tree. Looking up into the sky, I could see a million stars. As the evening progressed and several canteen cups of Taylor’s guava punch had its effect, I decided to stay the night with my new friends. I was somewhat unprepared for a whole evening out, but the darkness reminded me the last thing I wanted to do was make a river crossing at night.
While the second pizza was prepared and baked, some of the sweetest music I’ve ever heard was played. Ron brought out a bundle of his own hand crafted flutes and picked one. Taylor played guitar, and Heather, who could also play guitar, sang. They performed great; Heather has a voice so sweet that I got goose bumps on my arms.
“This is just great!” I thought. I must remember this for all time. Somewhere during the playing of that wonderful music, I decided to write this epistle.
Rain was moving in. Ron said, by the feel of it, that it’s going to be one of those two day storms. The wind started to pickup. There was a scramble of activity as everyone battened down their gear. And then the rains came. My friends called it an evening and skedaddled to their tents.
Taylor and Cathy found for me an extra sleeping pad and pillow then they headed for Cathy’s tent, leaving me alone at the fire. The air had grown cool so I added a few large logs to the fire. I had a light weight jacket and I wore that over me like a blanket. I settled down, and listened to the rain, at times growing loud but it had a pleasant sound much like sleeping near the crashing sea or flowing river. I got up several time to shine my flashlight around, inspecting the rain fly for damage and to make sure I wouldn’t wake up later in the middle of a mud puddle. An hour went by before I realized I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. I was thinking about too much stuff. I mostly thought of where I was, how I got there, the people, and what I would do tomorrow. I think I finally fell asleep around three in the AM.
Day 5, March 28, Sunday
Awoke at 06:30 to a scrapping sound. Sitting up, I saw Ron digging and scrapping out a trench around the rain fly. He was trying to divert water from flowing through the common area. Looking around, I saw that I had been lucky. Small rivulets flowed near my head and feet but didn’t touch me. It of course was still raining.
Putting on my boots, I grabbed another shovel and helped in the entrenching. There had already been a trench left over from the previous downpour so I simply made it deeper, allowing the water to flow around and away from the area.
It was a very cool morning. There were a few hot coals left from the evening before so I grabbed some dry tinder and placed it on top of the weak embers. Grabbing a blow stick, there were at least three lying around; I got a good warm fire going.
Seeing the fire, Ron prepared a pot of water and brought it up to temperature for tea. I found my canteen cup and he poured it full. We made some small talk about the weather but more importantly, I was mostly interested in why he lived in the valley. Ron simply said, “I like living outdoors.” He also added, “I have a little savings and it doesn’t cost more than a thousand dollars to live here for a year.”
I asked if he noticed whether he or anyone else caught less colds or flu’s out here. Ron agreed. He was hard pressed to remember the last time he had a cold. He finally figured it had been five years since he was last sick. He then added that he visits doctors and dentists several times a year.
Ron usually makes a trip back to “the world” on foot and comes back via sea kayak or inflatable rubber motor boats. That’s one method to get larger supplies into the valley. Boats can only land on the beach safely in the summer. Most uses of boats to land on the beach are illegal but it’s difficult for the authorities to control. Boats are the only way to get hundreds of pounds of supplies into the valley. At the most, backpacking can only bring in perhaps seventy pounds of supplies.
I asked about raids. He said big raids only happen every couple years. The authorities know everyone just comes back anyway. If a raid does happen, he and the others move deeper into the valley where friends live and can’t be found unless you know exactly where their camps are. He has friends that he can stay with in those cases.
Ron was genuinely surprised when I told him that I knew a little about him from the internet. That websites by Sierra Club and Backpacker magazine have stories by people who have hiked world renowned trails and they describe the trail and the interesting people they have met.
A few more people began to wakeup and gather around the fire. Taylor arrived and remarking about the rain said, “This looks like one of those three day rains.”
Ron hoped not, he wanted to work on the garden.
I was worried that I’d have trouble getting back across the river to my campsite. There was nothing for me to do but wait for the rain to stop.
A visitor, who was actually a returning resident and had just returned from several weeks back in the world, produced a bag of Hawaiian coffee. Ron brewed what must have been two gallons of the stuff. The coffee was delicious and woke me up from my stupor. Until then, my three hours of sleep made for a very rough morning.
The visitor was named Lam. He was originally from China but mostly traveled around the world.
Lam was carefully tuning a mandolin. Heather and Ron gathered around Lam with their instruments. It was 9:00 in the morning and I was about to hear another great impromptu musical concert.
This time I grabbed my camera, and while they played, I took a couple photos, remarking that I had just photographed what would make an excellent album cover. Cathy laughed and agreed.
Kalalau Music (L to R: Ron, Lam, Heather, Taylor)
The three played for perhaps twenty minutes. I closed my eyes so I could burn the sweet sound of their music into the CD of my brain.
Some other people gathered around the fire, people who lived nearby but had opted out of the previous evening’s party. Two couples showed up, each with a baby. Both kids were around eight months old. I was taken aback seeing those kids. They both seemed happy and well fed. In fact, at various times both moms nursed them the natural way.
I have to admit I was worried for the kids, living out here in this sometimes dangerous wilderness; but then I caught myself and remembered how dangerous it is anywhere, especially back in the so called real world. Besides, children have been born and raised in this valley for the last thousand years.
The rain continued to fall and Taylor said, “Yep, it looks like one of those four day rains.” He then began to practice a song on the guitar. At Taylor’s feet was the sheet music for a Grateful Dead song, “Uncle John’s Band.”
A backpacker, loaded down with his pack and sopping wet from the rain, made his entrance into the camp. He had just that morning left his camp at the Hanakoa River and trekked three miles through rain and slippery sea cliffs to get here. His name is Tao and hails from Korea. He didn’t wear a hat and his glasses were beaded with water and fog. The sandals he wore looked like nice sandals; for walking on a beach, but seemed inadequate for the trail that caused me so much misery. I was amazed.
Tao is a return visitor to the Valley and several people knew him. Tao said that he had heard a weather report that we could expect a full day of continuous rain.
At one point, one of the mom’s had to go back to her home to retrieve something. Her spouse was nearby but he was busy installing another rain fly. Seeing me with nothing to do, she asked me if I wouldn’t mind holding her baby while she left to go get something. I lied and said, “Sure, I like babies.”
The baby I held, sitting on my knee, was naked. In fact, both babies were naked. I suppose it’s just easier for natives in a tropical and outdoor world to let babies and young kids run (or crawl) around with no cloths. I seem to recall seeing such things in a National Geographic. I also supposed that diapers can’t be washed very easily and forget about getting a regular supply of disposables in there.
Everything turned out ok. I didn’t drop it or anything and it didn’t have an accident on me. Mom came back and I gave baby to her. I was, however, somewhat relieved to relinquish it because it was starting to get squirmy.
The rain had quit but I decided to give the river another hour to recede a bit before I went back to my campsite.
Helicopters had been flying off and on all day. Everyone by this point hates them but all are used to them. As long as they stay several hundred yards off the coast.
In one dramatic moment, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of a helicopter flying in close. Too close. So close you could hear the air “phhhhit-phhhhit-phhhhiting over the rotor blades. The closeness could only be a helicopter landing. There was an emergency helipad about one hundred yards from the “outlaw” campsite. The helicopter got closer and closer, louder and louder.
My friends around me all stood up looking very anxious. Some more thumping of the rotors sent my outlaw friends, male and female, some naked, all topless, into action; they skedaddled and ran for the hills, everyone except Ron. Ron was grace under fire. I could only look on amused. My friends thought it was a raid. I thought so too.
The sound of the helicopter grew to a feverish pitch. I thought it must be hovering nearby. I couldn’t see the sky very well because of the thick trees. I did not go to investigate because that could give the camp away.
A whirlwind of air rushed through the boughs. The rush of air violently fluttered tree leaves, in mass, turning them over white. Looking up, I half expected to see a landing skid come floating under the tree canopy.
And then the pitch of the engine changed. “Was it landing? Was it shutting down its engines? Wait, what’s that!”
The swish of the rotor blades began to recede, it was going away. It flew away and was gone as soon as it arrived.
The only ones left in the camp were Ron and me. Ron, the twenty year veteran of the valley looked at me and said, “Those pilots do that sometimes. They like to scare everyone and watch the topless women run away.”
A moment later Taylor returned. He grabbed a conch shell that had been sitting in one spot the whole time I’d been there on my visit. I didn’t think anything about it before, just some camp decoration. Pressing the seashell to his lips, he blew three loud blasts and sat down. Like a well oiled machine, the naked people returned. None were embarrassed; none had a sheepish look; it was all part of the program.
Well that was fun. But the rain had quit for an hour and I really wanted to check to see if my own camp was safe and secure and I wanted to use the rest of the day to explore the valley.
My camp was in fine shape. Everything inside my tent was high and dry. I was hungry but I had decided to not eat anything unless it came from the land. I repacked my daypack with everything I would need including things I hoped I wouldn’t need like my first aid kit.
I set out at noon and it didn’t take long for the rain to start falling again. The shower wouldn’t bother me. I wore a broad brimmed hat to keep the rain off my glasses. The weather was warm so I allowed myself to get wet, leaving the windbreaker in my pack.
As I headed into the valley, I met Doug of the Bob and Doug pair I’d met yesterday. I told him I was heading out to explore the valley. I recommended they do the same, to heck with the rain.
Making my way through the jungle, it wasn’t long before I started finding various fruit trees. The first was guava. I ate them as I picked them. Picking some more, I placed them with the tiny banana from the previous day in a mesh bag hung from my day pack.
I started to see goats. They usually traveled in herds. The males had some very large horns and led the herd. The females tended the lambs, allowing the small ones to suckle.
The rain was heavy and steady. I found that the rain covered the sound of my footfalls and I could sneak up on the goats, all in fun though. Protein would not be in my diet that day.
The trail was easy to follow. Occasionally I’d end up on a branch trail and find myself at someone’s campsite. I wasn’t interested in meeting up with anyone so I’d just turn around to find the main trail. If a camp seemed to be deserted, I would stop and look it over, just looking but staying near its perimeter.
Some of the camps were quite interesting and looked very comfortable. I passed through several bamboo forests and the varying sized bamboo trees could provide some great, lightweight building materials. One camp had several shelves and tables made from the forest. If not for the use of nylon rain flies, it would have looked exactly like Gilligan’s Island.
I started noticing large massive oak-like trees. Of course, I knew they couldn’t be oak trees, but they did have that look. The leaves looked like leaves of the Shingle Oak of the Midwest. The trunks on some were over six feet in diameter. The vegetation beneath these large trees was very sparse so you could easily walk under and around them. Way up high, I could see some kind of green fruit. Using my binoculars, I wondered if it might be mango. They were too high up to do anything about it.
The Mango tree didn’t provide sustenance but I found a strong piece of branch that would make a sturdy walking stick. I carried a so-called multi-tool which has a saw on it so walking stick production began in earnest. Cutting excess material from both ends, I located an appropriate stone. Sanding off splinters and rounding the end, the gift from the Mango tree put my store bought stick into retirement. I dismantled and folded the modern contraption then placed it in my pack.
Trying my stick out, I poked around beneath the mango tree. I forgot it was raining. The ground beneath the great tree was dry. The soil wasn’t even damp. I fancied some government grant should be awarded to determine where all that water goes to after splashing into the trees foliage. Does all the water flow out towards the trees perimeter? Does it “drink” it? Where does it go?
It was nice not to be rained on so I found a big fat comfortable rock to sit on and have a little picnic of guava.
Guava! I just can’t get over how damn good those things are. “There’s just no way will I find them back in civilization,” I chide myself. I just knew I wouldn’t have something so succulent and delicious on the outside, even from the first grocery store I can reach outside this fantasy.
Finishing my lunch I stepped out from under the outstretched arms of my older friend and marveled at the natural umbrella.
Postponing the inevitable walk in the rain, I stepped back within the shelter of the umbrella tree. The ground beneath and around my tree had only a short slant to it. Nothing in the valley can be called flat. In fact, the valley is rather hilly. But this spot could almost be called level.
There had to be a home here I thought. Perhaps, even a neighborhood. The ghosts of dead Polynesians surrounded my imaginations. I could see them moving about in their daily chores. I’m sure they didn’t like being rained on either.
One of the ghosts, I believe, was Kaluaikoolau (Named Ko‘olau for short).
In the 1890’s was living his life as a father, husband, and cowboy near the town of Kekaha on the other side of Kauai. Thousands of Hawaiians had contracted the horrific disease called leprosy.
Leprosy was, at that time, like Aids was in the early days of its discovery. If you have it, you will be shunned by your fellow citizens. In 1890 Hawaii if you had leprosy, you were quarantined on the Hawaiian island, Molokai. The islanders had a name for a quarantine settlement. Hawaiians called it “the grave of living death.”
This one man, a so-called Leper, was not going to abandon his family. Ko‘olau and his wife and child, escaped from authorities on horses. Their flight on the trail along the Na Pali coast brought them temporary safety in this valley.
A posse of heavily armed policemen went into the valley after the fugitives. Ko‘olau was heavily armed too and successfully defended his new home, perhaps on the very spot of this mango tree. Several of the posse was killed, the rest, perhaps married men, turned around and went home.
Ko’olau’s family lived in the valley for several years. He and his son would eventually succumb to the horrible disease. His wife, Pi‘ilani, after burying her family, stepped out of the valley, and continued her life.
Pi’ilani was not arrested. After the turn of the century, she wrote a poetic account of the confrontation.
In Pi’ilani’s words: “His eyes flashed and his breast heaved as he stepped back, standing straight and expressed his firm determination not to allow himself while alive to be taken by the wrongful law of the land, which would not allow his wife to accompany him. The leprosy, said he, was a catastrophe in the life of a man, thus it was not wrong for a man to oppose the law . . . . At sunset on a certain day when the wings of darkness spread over the ridges and rows of cliffs of our beloved land . . . . we loaded ourselves and our belongings on horseback and in the loneliness and awesomeness of the night turned towards the trail which would descend into Kalalau, leaving behind our ‘birth sands’, without knowing when we would see them again or breathe the comforting air of our birthplace.”
This ground that I stand on is not a playground. It is hallowed ground. It was consecrated by the blood and toil of human beings only trying to live until they die.
It was time to continue my hike up the valley of the Kalalau.
I discovered a noni fruit tree and ate one and stored two in my mesh bag. It wasn’t as good tasting as a guava but it added diversity in the day’s diet. I had heard of the noni before, its juice is regularly sold at health food stores. It’s touted as having great healing powers and can cure many ailments. The marketing I’ve seen sounds characteristic of other quack remedies. It has a snake oil sound about it. I would eat several and I’m sure it was good for me but the pain I normally feel when on such a hike didn’t go away. Robbie told me if I had a pain in my elbow or knee, I should rub noni juice on the limb, and the pain would go away. No such luck. The dull soreness in my knee stayed with me the whole eight days of my expedition.
There were Taro terraces all over the place. I had read that at one time most of the valley was cleared by the early Hawaiians and the stone walled terraces built. Apparently, you could see up and down the valley for miles without the large trees and the jungle obstructing the view.
I found a sweat lodge. Someone had built a domed sweat lodge out of bamboo. I figured it was a communal area and the builder wouldn’t mind if I inspected the area closer. The lodge was dome shaped and made of bamboo. It was six feet high and twelve feet in diameter. It was just a skeleton frame. Nearby, several blankets hung on a cloths line. A pyramid of six or seven grapefruit sized rocks was located in the middle of the dome. Wooden slats on rocks provided benches around the inside wall of the lodge. Outside the dome and fifteen feet away was a fire ring with a shovel nearby.
How a sweat lodge works: The blankets are draped over the frame of the lodge leaving an opening for a door. A fire is built a few feet from the door and the rocks are heated. The rocks are then transported one by one onto the center of the lodge floor. A plastic jug was filled with water and with naked people sitting around; mountain water is poured over the hot rocks making steam. The sweat pouring from the skin pushes out the dirt and evil spirits that clog the pores. Later, the naked people jump into the crystal clear mountain stream, almost taking their breath away, to wash the sweat off them. Then you stand around the fire to dry off.
Onward and upward, into the valley. The trail brought me to a minor stream crossing. On my side of the riverbank, a bamboo walking stick leaned against a tree. I suppose the owner didn’t care to use a walking stick except when crossing streams. I would later come across several other sticks at other streams.
I found a coconut tree with several coconuts beneath it. I examined them all and picked one that didn’t seem too green. Shaking the coconut and I could hear liquid sloshing inside. I have never busted one open and I new I might need a machete to do it. I stuffed it in my pack anyway. I’ll figure it out later.
The trail became faint and hard to follow; I was blazing my own route. I traveled up this branch of the valley as far as I could go; the ground was just too steep and slippery. The back of this part of the valley was like a box canyon with several natural tiers where water falls poured from. The rain increased and I speculated that maybe the drop of some of the waterfalls was so great that the falls turned to mist before hitting the ground. Looking up through the mist, I couldn’t tell what was going on up there. Perhaps the most beautiful waterfall on the planet earth. Straining to see, the clouds were too low and my glasses beaded up with rain. Oh well, not on this day. I could hike up the valley no further. There’s still plenty of exploring to do but I would do it in the general direction of home. I turned around.
I met up with Bob and Doug. They thought my idea of exploring the valley was a good one, but exploring it in the rain wasn’t. They complained about the rain. I gave them a pep talk to improve their morale. First off, the rain keeps the mosquitoes and nats grounded. They can’t fly with rain drops knocking them to the ground.
They continued up into the valley and I headed back toward home.
I still wanted to find more food. I saw lots of taro earlier and I came across it again. According to Jim, my cab driver, taro does not grow in the wild. It has to be planted and cultivated. This meant that I would have to take it from someone’s Taro plot; justifying that maybe there was so much of it, that stealing one wouldn’t harm the crop.
Taro
I chose the smallest Taro in a group of fifteen plants. They were in the bed of a small stream. Standing in one inch deep water, I cut off the leaves and set them aside to see what I was doing. I then dug all around the tuber a few inches into the rocky creek bed. I grabbed the top of the plant were the leaves had been and pulled up on it. It broke in half but I came away with a piece the size of a medium potato. Filling in the hole and wrapping the specimen with the leaves, I put it with the rest of my treasures.
I had had enough of the rain. I was tired and hungry and wanted to do something about it.
The trip out of the valley took two hours. Arriving at the beach, I went straight to the dry cave. It was still raining and I wanted to make a fire, get dry, and not get rained on. The thick cloud cover forced an inky black darkness to descend upon my valley. The night was darker than a cows stomach with its mouth closed and its tail down.
There was plenty of dry wood to start a fire and several blow sticks to choose from.
Remember, as I stated earlier, the dry cave had most everything I needed to prepare a meal.I scrounged a gallon pot, filled it with water from a small nearby waterfall, and brought it to boil. I then took my taro root, cut it in cubes, and dropped it into the boiling water.
I found a large oversized kitchen knife. Using that, I hacked on the coconut. The knife was too lightweight to make much of an impression so I set the blade with the grain of the outer husk and pushed down with the palm of my hand. Doing that several times around the husk, I was able to get my fingers into the slice that my knife made and pull the husk open. There it was; a nice round, brown, hairy coconut.
I gouged out its eye and poured the clear liquid into my canteen cup. It didn’t taste that great, time to get at the meat. Holding the coconut in the palm of my hand, I hammered it down on a pointed rock. That did it; it broke into three or four pieces. I scraped some meat out and it was the perfect appetizer.
The rain was pouring but the cave provided an ideal shelter. I could move around the fire without getting wet. A natural projection in the back of the cave made for a good shelf. On it, I found a bottle of molasses and several plastic jugs of spices.
I rooted out a small skillet and placed it on the fire. I carved out several large slivers of coconut meat and dropped it into the skillet to toast them. I also chopped up the green banana and tossed that into the skillet with the coconut
My cloths were now completely dry. My feet, however, were still wet in my boots.
I spotted some movement at the base of some bushes at the mouth of the cave. I aimed my headlamp at the movement, and two yellow demon eyes stared back at me. I thought, “What is that!?” The eyes just stared back, unblinking. I got up to investigate but the eyes went away. What ever it was, it was curious but not brave.
The Dry Cave
An hour of boiling to make the taro edible was up. I strained out the water. Using my spoon, I mashed the taro against the sides of the pot making a dull-gray thick paste. It tasted just like the sample Robbie gave me, not very exciting. I took a raw sliver of coconut and swiped it through the taro. That made it a little better, so I ate it like that, with the cooked banana and coconut on the side.
It turned out to be a pretty good dinner and I was full and satisfied. I saved a couple spoonfuls of the taro and mixed a little of the molasses syrup with it. It wasn’t great but I can now legally claim that I ate off the land for an entire day.
There it is again! Those demon eyes staring back at me. I new there were no man-eating carnivores on the islands. There were no tigers or leopards or anything like that. Moving closer, I finally saw it, a cat.
This cat seemed mostly curious. It never came very close. It was still a kitten and didn’t know what wonderful foods tourists give for simply looking heartrending and pathetic.
All the food and the cozy fire made me tired and sleepy. The rain stopped and it was time to go home. I put everything back where I found it and left the fire to burn by itself figuring that I’ve heard of forest fires but I’ve never heard of jungle fires.
I hiked the couple hundred yards to my tent, washed up, brushed the choppers, and looked at the fluorescent ocean. My three hours of sleep from the previous night demanded more and I went immediately to sleep.
Day 6, March 29, Monday
I awoke at eight o’clock. This day would be my last full day in the valley. My five-day permit to camp within the Na Pali Start Park is now officially expired. I am, at this moment, an “outlaw.”
It looked like it would be a nice day. I hung my clothes to dry and practiced on my recorder flute. Breakfast was Guava, Jerky, Coconut, and Coffee. The two dudes, Bob and Doug, hiked by. They were loaded down with full packs. They were obviously leaving the valley. I mentioned to them that they ought to visit the heiau at the mouth of the Kalalau River before they left the valley for good.
I didn’t want to spend my last day and night in the valley alone, so I thought I’d visit my friends at the heiau on the other side of the river. I struck my tent and loaded my gear into my backpack. I also took a shower and shaved at the falls.
Every few minutes I’d stop and look around, thinking, I might never see this place again, I should burn it into my brain.
Hiking toward the river and walking across the last bit of beach, I had to take one last look, and turned around. The view was amazing. It was the same panorama I’d viewed several times so far but every time I saw it, it was as if I’d seen it for the first time in my life.
The clouds weren’t thick enough to hide the mountain tops. The peaks had veils of mist swirling around producing tones of grey on the peaks. Moving the eyes down the mountain brought a deep hued green. The green, produced by jungle vegetation, looked like Astroturf. It seemed to be draped on the sides of the mountain. As the sharp mountain cliffs dropped towards the valley and beach, the vegetation looked like clumps of bushes. I knew, from the previous days hike up that valley that some of the trees are over a hundred feet tall but from a distance, they look like pieces of broccoli.
My world was divided, on my left, purple mountains and a green valley, on my right, an azure endless sea. In between, that white beach being hammered by even whiter surf.
I saw movement on the edge of the forest. It was Heather, the guitar player, looking up into the mountains. She said, “Isn’t it beautiful here?” She had a far-out and far-off look in her eyes. I thought to myself, “Is she high?” Then I thought, no, she’s drunk on Kalalau and so am I.
I made my way across the river and up the hillside toward the heiau camp. I had to negotiate my way along that same treacherous cliff edge. This time a transformation had come over me. Walking along the edge of the cliff, stirred within me, no more concern than last months hangnail. I would in fact stop several times to look at the scenery and even look down to the crashing surf, one hundred feet below.
Walking across the heiau toward the camp, I spotted my people working in the garden. I dropped my pack and walked over to say hello. Ron and Robbie were digging around a boulder the size of 25-inch television.
Ron said in his Bostonian accent, “If we can get this rock out of here, we’ll have a great spot to replant a potted papaya that was brought in by boat.” Nearby Cathy was working on the lettuce garden.
I thought I’d help them move the boulder but it was not as easy as it looked. The boulder was in a hole and there was room around it to place our hands but all we could do was roll it from one side to the other. I suggested that we could dig out a ramp and roll it up and out. Ron agreed but when you dig out the ramp, more often than not, there’s usually another boulder in the way.
Ron said it’s time for a break and some lunch. We walked over to the campfire. A large pot was simmering over the fire. Ron said, “The weather is so nice that I guess a few people might come-in off the trail today so I made as much soup as I could.” He dished out a ladleful to everyone.
A moment later, while sitting around the fire discussing with Lam how to build an outdoor brick-oven, a father and his fifteen year old son stumbled into camp. They were tired and looked happy just to dump their packs. The father introduced himself to Ron, and Ron recognized him as a previous acquaintance and visitor to the valley. I got the impression that the dad had visited the valley some years before and had such an overwhelmingly positive experience that now he’s back for replenishment, and in addition, brought his son along hoping the boy would pick up on the worldly experience.
That was the thing about Ron. People came off that trail looking for him; people like me. I suppose if I ever go back, the first person I will hope to find is Ron. I think a better nomenclature for Ron would be “the caretaker of Kalalau.” The many gallons of bean soup he made were for anyone who wanted some and especially for the tired hikers coming in off that trail.
Later, when dad and son departed to camp near the beach; I mentioned that the kid looked pretty miserable and unhappy until he got properly fed.
Several quarts of freeze dried strawberries were burning a hole in my backpack. The strawberries are so lightweight that I brought entirely too many for one person. I thought it would really be fun to hydrate the strawberries and have them as strawberry shortcake. The strawberries were freeze dried whole and they really looked like fresh strawberries until you picked one up, they had the texture of Styrofoam.
I didn’t know what to do with them so I enlisted Ron and Cathy into the project. Ron said we should soak them in water all afternoon to be ready for tonight.
That sounded like a fine idea. I rummaged around the campfire and found a pot with a lid. Dumping all the strawberries into the pot, Cathy then poured water into the strawberries. I broke a stick off some kindling and stirred the elixir. Placing a lid on the pot, I placed it in a safe spot.
Cathy cried out, “Whale!” Everyone looked up and out toward the sea. I caught a glimpse of a large splash. Where there is one splash, there will be another. “There it is!” The whale breached out of the water, loomed high over the waves, turned on its side, and crashed down on the surface, sending white spray in all directions. Its flipper being the last visible part of the whale, waving to us as it wrapped itself in the sea.
Whale watching became the order for the moment. They’re humpbacked whales. They spend their winters in the waters of the Hawaiian Archipelago and summer near Alaska. A few weeks from now, they’ll be leaving Hawaii for the month long trip north.
For the next minutes, we watched them spouting water from their blow holes and breaching. Ron reported on what the whales were doing; breaching dislodges barnacles and parasites off their skin. It may also allow them to look around, or they might just be playing.
The whales left to play somewhere else.
I got into a discussion about war and politics with Tao. A month previous, he went to Israel and Palestine to witness what is going on there. He reported that because of his Asian facial features, he was able to move around without being targeted by either side.
The conversation started to grow serious and unpleasant so I asked about the foods he ate there. Before Tao could answer, Ron, walking by with some gardening tools, laughed, and blurted out, “Foodists!”
It was mid-afternoon and everyone seemed to be working on some project. Ron and Cathy worked in the garden although waiting to remove the big boulder until more men, like Taylor, were available to do the job. Lam with his mandolin and Heather with her guitar rehearsed a song.
It was time to explore the area. I put together my day pack and grabbed my walking stick. I struck out across the Heiau to the cliff and took a right.
Stepping over and between red boulders, I followed a faint trail through a small forest. The trail opened out onto a mile long, half mile wide boulder strewn green field. It was the “Green Field.” Up and to the right, I could see all of the Red Hill and the Kalalau trail making its entrance into the valley.
Stretching out before me was an explosion of primary colors. From left to right; the cobalt blue sea, then the Green Field, then the Red Hill and then the purple mountains. Way off in the distance where the Green Field ended, the surf pounded at the base of the sea cliffs. This endless surge of breakers crashing into the boulders produced a rainbow making mist. The rainbow towered high over the Red Hill. The vision produced was impossibly stunning.
Hiking across the Green Field, I stopped every few feet to take pictures. Just when I thought I’d taken enough photos I’d see an utterly different-impossibly-stunning panorama, and take more pictures. It was a wonderland.
Na Pali Rainbow. The view from the Green Field looking east. Somewhere in the photo is the Kalalau trail.
All that green in the Green Field could only be a haven for goats. Sure enough, I startled a herd of them. As I hiked along the Green Field, I couldn’t help to follow and “chase” the goats. I heard a tiny little lamb bleating for mom. The little lamb was no more than forty feet away. I grabbed my camera and tried to get off a shot but mom came running over, baa-baaing for her baby. “Lamb Chop” finally saw momma and scampered off to the herd. My camera work was too slow; my photo shows a lambs butt in the distance.
Goats in the Green Field
I continued to “chase” the herd until the green field came to a point jutting over a cliff. As the goats came to the edge, they all went over one by one. I was already familiar with the surefootedness of goats and I wasn’t too worried for them. However thoughts of lemmings leaping over a cliff to their suicidal deaths did cross my mind.
Arriving at the edge and peering over, I saw they were all safe-and-sound walking and browsing on the thin little trails along the cliff. I observed them for a moment, half expecting one of them to blunder and loose their footing; but even Lamb Chop new how to handle that precipice.
I returned back towards the heiau and scouted for a place to sit. I found an excellent seat with a smooth boulder to sit-back against. I could look straight down the Green Field, yet watch for whales or watch for hikers coming down the trail off the Red Hill.
The Green Field and the Red Hill
The light breeze came in across the Green Field carrying with it a touch of mist and the smell of the ocean. Practicing my flute, the breeze would muddle its tone. I’d occasionally spot a whale breach or see its T-shaped tail arching out of the waves. In whale-viewing jargon this is called ‘sailing’.
I spotted some hikers coming down off the Red Hill. Comparing the hiker’s puny size in relation to that hill demonstrated the scale of things. The Red Hill is massive. It took the hikers almost thirty minutes to reach its base. Throughout the afternoon, nine hikers came down the hill.
At five o’clock, I went back to the heiau camp. As soon as I walked up Taylor handed me a sliced piece of summer squash. It tasted good and sweet. Ron pointed out that he could hear me playing the flute. I told him that the wind must have carried the sound because I was more than five hundred yards away.
Baby banana
Nova appeared with a bunch of bananas. They were more than a bunch, it was the whole stalk. The bananas were yellow and perfect, if only four inches long. There wasn’t a bruise or blemish on the bunch. I had to take a picture holding one in my hand and did. I asked Nova where she found them. She gave me directions, but directions do no good unless you’ve been up and down the valley and know exactly where the big mango tree used to be before it was struck by lightning.
Nova said that a mango tree really did get knocked over by lightening or a storm. The massive tree lay on its side allowing the hunter-gatherer humans to reach the normally impossible to reach fruit. What a jackpot! Cathy said, “Yea, we ate mangos for a month.”
Taylor popped some popcorn. He popped the corn in batches, using a small pot and dumping it into a large bowl. Heather brought out a small bottle and poured the contents over the popped corn. It was coconut oil. The stuff tasted crunchy and good.
A long time resident made his appearance. His name is Myron. He sat down near the popcorn production line and opened up a leather bag of beads. He commenced to making a necklace. Jewelry making was Myron’s gig. Myron said, “I get all the beads and pooka shells I need from the land, then I take my wares and sell them for half their worth in tourist traps like Poipu.”
I watched him for a moment and asked him what the light blue pearl like things are. He said, “They’re Jobes Tears, it’s a plant that grows all around here, usually on scrubby land.”
Myron said that back in the “real world” he was a civil engineer. He used to visit Kalalau regularly but finally he just decided to stay. He did bother me a little. He started preaching, not preaching religion, but preaching his way of life. “You see,” he said, “We are just people here trying to live our lives day to day. We have our problems and our ailments just like everybody else.” Myron kept going on and on about just trying to live his life simply.
Hoping to change the subject, and as I was interested in visiting the “Library”, I asked Robbie where it was. Robbie was just about to tell me when Myron said, “No, don’t tell him!”
Myron then explained that when George W. Bush got elected President, one of the first things he did was order the dismantling of the library and all the books were burned by the rangers. The rangers, according to Myron, have been commanded to remove the populace of Kalalau Valley.
Myron said, “Dave, we are just simple people who just want to be left alone by the government and their Nazi-rangers.”
Luckily, I managed to change the subject again by announcing that not everything is simple. I said, “Yesterday, while hiking in the valley, I found a very well made and complex sweat lodge.”
Myron said, “thank you, I built that.” He then went on about how we are undemanding people; we just want a few simple things; to be left alone to live our lives…”
I prayed to the great God of Kalalau to set me free from Myron’s preaching. The great Kalalau God gave me inspiration. I stood up and declared, “I’m going to the river for water, are there any empty water jugs that need filling?”
Everyone jumped up to hand me water jugs. Cathy said if I get to the river and take a right and walk down towards where the river goes into the sea, I should see some Jobes Tears. My eyes lit up. I asked Myron if he didn’t mind if I harvested a few of the Jobes Tears. He said, “What’s ours is yours, us Kalalau people share what we have with those around us we…”
I grabbed the water jugs and my own water bladder and headed down the hill to the river. I filled the containers and left them to sit near the trail as I went in search of the jobes tears. It didn’t take long, there they were. The plants were dried up looking. I started out picking the Jobes Tears one by one but that was slow and tedious. I lit upon a method of grasping the bottom of the stalk with my thumb and forefinger and pulling up towards the top of the plant. As the tears were stripped off, they fell into the palm of my hand. I came away with a pocket full of the magical Jobes Tears.
Jobes Tears
I gathered my water jugs and headed up the mountain. It’s almost time for the sunset. As I stepped out, onto the heiau, I found a whole bunch of people looking at me. My new found tribe saw that it was time for the sunset and they came out to the heiau to witness it. I went over to them and had a seat and passed the jugs of water around for those needing a drink. In return, a bowl of popcorn came my way.
The sunset came and went. The clouds low on the horizon made it red and impressive but not quite spectacular. It’s what came after the sunset that was spectacular. Stars; millions of them, and no moon to cause glare. The conversation was good too. Robbie told of his experience on a Pacific Ocean sea voyage on a tall mast sailing ship. He pointed out several constellations that can’t be scene from the Midwestern United States. Sooner or later, the discussion turned to UFO’s. Ron mentioned that just around the corner of the island is the Barking Sands Missile Range. Ron said, “If we’re lucky, we might see something weird coming out of that place.”
Not feeling very lucky, everyone picked up and headed to the campfire. It was time to figure out what to do with the strawberries. The answer came from Cathy. Role out the dough flat and rectangular, pour the strawberries on top, and roll it into a log, slice it into several rolls, and bake.
The operation began. Cathy got hold of a handful of sugar (like gold around there), and adding it to the strawberries and simmered it over the fire. Nova had a small bag of dried apples and tossed that into the strawberry sauce. Myron made the dough. Lam gave Myron some flax seed to add to the dough. Ron grabbed a large board and placed a garbage bag over it for a clean surface. Myron rolled out the dough. Cathy trickled the strawberry concoction over the dough. The dough and its topping was rolled and sliced, the pieces placed into the skillet. Taylor made sure the fire was ready and took care of the baking.
Now we had to wait.
One of the discussions while we waited was the tenacity of poison centipedes. According to everyone who has tried to cut one in half, the two halves can continue to wiggle and the part that means business can still bite you. I noticed during the discussion everyone unconsciously scratched themselves and waved off imaginary bugs.
The rareness of sugar brought up the subject of getting a boat onto the beach in the middle of winter. Ron said it can and has been done but if the surf is too rough don’t even try it. Sometimes one hour in a given week, the surf may settle just enough to get a boat in. If you miss your window, all you can do is turn around and head back to a sheltered bay.
Taylor said he attempted to bring in a supply boat once and he had to be rescued. The word “rescued” rolled off his tongue like it was a terrible and embarrassing thing to have happen. He was with a friend and they were trying to get a boat in to the beach. The boat was severely overloaded with over five hundred pounds of beans, flour, salt, sugar, and other essentials. Their barge began to take on water. A catamaran tour boat nearby, watching, had to move in and rescue the two men. Taylor and friend were hauled back to civilization and ended up having to hike back in.
The rolls were ready! Myron removed the Dutch oven from the fire and allowed the rolls to cool slightly. We stood around the skillet and Cathy dished out one roll to each person. I got mine and placed it into my canteen cup. It was hot and it was good. For a few minutes, all you could hear was chewing and happiness. The “foodists” were feeding. Cathy asked me, “What do you think?” I could only mumble, “Can’t talk, mouth full.”
I asked Ron what happened on September 11, 2001. He said, “We had a bunch of rangers here and they were patrolling the area and taking notes for a possible resident-relocation-raid.” He continued, “I was up in the valley staying away from them and collecting bamboo for flute making. A friend who lives up there has a shortwave radio. He told me what had happened.” Ron also said that he figured he’d better tell everyone else so he went down to the beach. When the rangers went to intercept and harass him. Ron told the Rangers, and the Rangers quickly loaded up their boats and went home. Ron said the whole valley knew what happened the day that it happened. Incoming hikers were informed also.
Ron said, “It was a terrible thing that had happened to the country but it sure was nice that we got a break from all the helicopters hovering around for over a week.”
The rolls were polished off and then the instruments came out. As usual, the music was fresh and pleasant.
I stepped out onto the heiau to get a glimpse of the weather and maybe see if clouds might be moving in. I was nervous about my departure in the morning. I was afraid it might rain and raise those river levels. My plans were to get an early departure in the morning, hike nine miles, and cross all major rivers by tomorrow night. I could then relax and camp at my “perfect campsite” on the other side of the very last river, the Hanakapiai. The following day could then be spent in leisure, with a two mile hike to the trailhead and my four o’clock taxi pickup.
I told some friends (Chris and Yvonne) who live on the southern side of Kauai that I would call them as soon as I got off the trail, on Wednesday. I planned to visit and stay with them after this Kalalau trip was over. I was concerned that they might become alarmed if I didn’t call them at the prearranged time.
Looking into the night sky, the stars were clearly visible. They were striking and well defined. There were sections of the sky that did cause me some apprehension. From East to North, and far in the distance, there seemed to be a long sweeping cloudy front moving diagonally from my vantage point. I had been watching it all day and for now, so far so good.
I stayed out on the heiau for several minutes. The music gave a haunting sound to my star gazing.
I went back to my group, sat and listened to the music. Time was hurdling by. I did not want to leave. Ron asked me for the time, I lied and said it was nine-thirty; actually, it was ten-thirty. I wished the evening festivities could last and I would never have to deal with the morning. Nevertheless, you cannot slowdown time any more than you can stop waves from crashing in. My time here is coming to a close. I must drink this all in, burn it into a memory that must last a lifetime.
The surf continued to pound a steady beat.
Myron, the preacher, got up to leave. Everyone wished him a safe trip home. I thought how interesting and different things are in this valley. Back home when you head out into the night after visiting friends; you hop in a car and hope a drunk driver doesn’t cross over the yellow line. Myron was heading out into the night for a two mile walk to his home, campsite really. He had no drunks to worry about. There is that river to cross though.
I shook his hand and told him thanks for the Jobes Tears. He said, “It’s part of the aloha spirit, and I want you to take that aloha spirit home with you.” With that, he switched on his headlamp and headed out across the Heiau, into the night.
Nova asked, “What day is this?” This time I told the truth and told her it’s Monday. No amount of lying is going to save me a day or bring me back to that first moment I stepped into the valley.
The fire flickered and began to grow faint. Everyone’s internal clocks told them it was time to call it a night; mine too. There were just a few left around the fire. I went over to my pack, which was leaning against some boulders near the fire. I rooted around inside to grab my sleeping bag and pad.
Taylor and Cathy were heading off towards Cathy’s tent. “Do you have a place to stay tonight Dave?” Cathy asked. “Yea,” I responded, “It’s a nice evening, and I thought I’d sleep out on the Heiau tonight.” Knowing that I’d never see Taylor and Cathy again, I bid them a good night as if I would see them in the morning. I didn’t want to get all worked up with goodbyes.
I walked out into the Heiau and looked for a suitable spot to sleep. Shining my flashlight around I saw two separate lumps curled up in sleeping bags. Not wanting to crowd anyone, I stepped over some boulders and found a nice spot.
Allowing my sleeping pad to inflate and gazing up at the stars, I realized it had been twenty-three years, since I’d slept beneath the stars. Bugs, cold, or threat of rain or snow had always forced me under some sort of shelter. The breeze would keep the bugs away and if it rains, I’d just get up and sleep near the fire.
A stiff breeze blew across the Heiau forcing me to hunker-down and pull the sleeping bag up with just my face poking out. I kept my glasses on and lay on my back so I could watch the stars.
I hoped I’d see some shooting stars or maybe a satellite cruise by and I tried to stay awake for it, but just the stars and one planet stared back. I struggled to stay awake but I nodded off anyway. I woke up an hour or so later with my glasses still on. I noted that the Big Dipper had made a quarter turn around the North Star. I took my glasses off and tucked them into my boot. Rolling onto my side, I could hear some snoring from the other side of the boulder. It was one of those lumps of sleeping bag I saw earlier. I think that particular lump was Robbie. I was too sleepy to be bothered by the snoring and fell quickly back to sleep.
Day 7, March 30, Tuesday
I awoke at 06:30. I put on my glasses and saw a clear blue sky. The grass was glistening with beads of dew. The two sleeping lumps, Tao and Robbie, were still “sawing off logs.” I rolled up my sleeping pad and stuffed my sleeping sack into its bag and went to my backpack near the campfire.
The camp was deserted and noisy with chirping birds. I packed my pack and prepared myself for the hike out, taking a photo of the empty campsite. I then strapped myself into my pack.
The heiau camp.
“Are you heading out Dave?” Ron asked, in that Bostonian accent that sounded like pure friendship. “Yea,” I lamented, “I need to get across the Hanakapiai River for my ride out tomorrow.” I then added, “Leaving this valley and these wonderful people make this a sad time for me.” Ron, seeing my long face, laughed and said, “Well, come back and visit us sometime soon, if I’m lucky, I’ll be here for another twenty years.” Ron and I shook hands and I began the nine mile march with two river crossings.
It was good to get moving, after all, this is another piece of the big adventure. The morning was cool and clear. I threaded my way through the forest and found the great Kalalau trail. I turned left and hiked through the open forest where I had met Nova just four days earlier. Nova must be sleeping-in this morning; the only whistling was by the birds, flitting about the forest. Leaving the forest, the Red Hill loomed immediately up in front of me. I began the slow march up the hill, stopping and turning occasionally to photograph my ‘old’ home.
One mile and one hour later, I felt good. I had plenty of spring in my step. I rounded a sharp curve on a ridge jutting out into the ocean and decided that the spot would be a great place for breakfast. I didn’t want to make the error I did before and skip a meal.
I brought out my gasoline stove and using its pump, I gave it a count of thirty-five pumps. I found a level spot to set it on and turning the valve one half-turn, lit and attained a nice strong blue flame.
While I prepared some food, a hunter, carrying a compound bow, stopped on his hike in the direction of Kalalau and said hello. I asked him about the river level at Hanakoa. He said, “I camped near there and river level was a little high but not dangerous.” The hunter asked me if I’d seen any goats, and I told him I’d seen goats and their shit on the trail a quarter mile back.
I noticed he wore a sturdy pair of boots. I was pleased to see someone besides me wearing boots, and in fact, all hunters I met wore boots. By this point I had a firm conviction that the only proper footgear in that environment is to wear boots or go barefoot. Sandals or flip-flops had to be the silliest and stupidest footgear anyone could wear while humping a heavy pack in that wilderness.
I was way too soft-footed to go barefoot, but it makes sense that after millions of years of evolution, a bare human foot would do just fine.
The hunter and I bid each other aloha then I was left to cook my breakfast. My meal consisted of freeze-dried turkey tetrazini. Bringing two cups of water to boil, I then poured the hot water into the meal packet. Stirring the meal up with a spoon, I now had to wait for ten minutes before the contents were ready to eat.
While I waited, I searched the coastline for beautiful views. I easily found them. I could also see just a little bit of the white sand beach of Kalalau. “Wow,” I thought, “I walked on that beach.”
I ate my meal and also ate one of several lemons I had liberated from a tree several days earlier. The yellow fruit, like all the lemons I ate along the Na Pali coast, was tasty and thirst quenching. They weren’t as sour as the ones I’d had from grocery stores. It was just a little more tart than an orange. I also pealed and ate limes. You could definitely taste the difference between a lemon and a lime. The limes were so sharp and sour; they’d wrinkle my face into a prune.
Speaking of faces, I had no idea what my face looked like. I hadn’t seen the thing since I looked at it through the mirror back in my hotel room. They make mirrors small and light enough to easily carry in a backpack but I never considered carrying one until now. I imagined I’d be quite horrified once I did see it, but for now, I would be pleasantly ignorant of any hideous skin problems or lesions.
Time to go; I packed the stove back into my pack and cinched the pack straps down, and set out. It was now 08:40 in the morning.
Compared to the hike-in a week earlier, the hike out was a dream. The lava cliffs that gave me such terror, now made no impression on me except with their great beauty.
I walked trough the real estate of my old nemesis, Crawlers Ledge. I stopped and had to look around before realizing where I was. I immediately walked back to get a better view. Turning around, I stopped to take pictures and look at the surf pounding the rocks below. The dangers were still there but a full week traveling on precarious trails inured me to such hazards.
I clicked the shutter on photos that did not pardon my panic of a week previous. Stowing my camera back in its pouch, I observed the spot of my great battle.
I remained a moment waiting for the arrival of another epiphany. I got absolutely nothing. I thought I’d get a wave of inner belief and understanding of my own human energy. Instead, I got a twinge of embarrassment.
I resumed the hike, stopping and staring at the magnificence around me; pausing occasionally to replenish water.
I reached the Hanakoa River before noon. It was high and it did cause some worries. I removed my socks and replaced my boots. I crossed without incident.
The rain came within minutes of hiking up and out of the Hanakoa River. The rain caused the trail to be slippery. I also noticed footprints of a hiker who couldn’t have been more than a mile ahead of me. The bottoms of their shoe soles were just a bunch of parallel tread. It seemed that the tread could only help the hiker if they were walking straight up a hill but if they were traversing along the side of a hill, the tread would allow the foot to slide out to the side.
What else is there to think about when concentrating on where to place each step? I had to focus on one to six feet of trail in front of me. There were songs that I sang, in my head, over and over again. The early episodes of Gilligan’s Island were filmed on Kauai and naturally the theme Gilligan’s Island occupied my mind for entirely too long. I had to think about something else.
The hiker ahead of me obviously wasn’t wearing sensible shoes. They must have been wearing sandals. Sure enough, every now and then, I could see were the hiker’s foot would slide sideways when stepping on the edge of the trail. In one case, their shoe slid down off the trail. I sincerely hoped that I would catch up with the dim-witted shoe culprit and straighten him or her out.
I had to keep that Gilligan theme song out of my head. My favorite song to sing over and over was “Big Rock-Candy Mountain.”
One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the tracks came a hobo hiking,
He said, “Boys, I’m not turning
I’m heading for a land that’s far away
Beside the crystal fountain
I’ll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain,
It’s a land that’s fair and bright,
the handouts grow on bushes…
Whoa! Speaking of handouts, a guava tree with lots of guava’s hanging right over the trail. Stopping, I picked the largest and ripest. Taking the load off the tree limb allowed the limb to spring up a couple of feet out of the way of the trail.
The “handouts” really do grow on bushes.
As I rested and munched on my guava, I stood and looked out a small opening in the trees looking out toward the sea. The landscape made my mind race. What a crazy-beautiful place; this Na Pali coast. The weather is crazy but just out at sea was an intense rainbow.
Crazy beautiful.
Moving my examinations elsewhere, I now studied the raindrops hanging from the brim of my hat. But these studies where interrupted by a sturdy looking hiker walking by. We nodded to each other. He looked like a resident and his pack was loaded down with all kinds of hanging peripheral baggage. I thought, “Must be the pizza man.”
“How’s the Hanakapiai?” I asked. “It’s a little high but crossable. “How’s the Hanakoa?” He asked of me. “Not bad,” I said, “It wasn’t raining until I left the Hanakoa valley.”
Now it was raining slow and steady with no wind. Without a wind, I knew the rain would just sit there and dump until the clouds were empty. The clouds didn’t look empty.
The trail in the valleys was sloppy and muddy. I was drenched and there was nothing I could do but be drenched. The trails were only a little better out near the coast. It wasn’t raining out at sea, just over the island.
The miles receded behind me; and as the day progressed, so went my energy. It was nothing like the energy loss on the hike in. I made a point to eat a lemon or guava whenever I came across one.
I started to meet various hikers heading in the direction of Kalalau. While refilling my canteen, four hikers came by and asked about trail conditions, so I told them.
I noticed that the two men were heavily loaded with massive backpacks. Each of the men carried twice the equipment they should be hauling. The two women with them carried little day backpacks and skipped happily along the trail as if they were light as feathers. The men looked like pack mules.
I had to stand on the side of the trail and wait while teen girls hiked by. Small groups of the girls were strung out along the trail so as soon as I’d continue my trek; another group of them would force me to the side. Finally, I had to ask in an exasperated tone, “Is there a whole regiment of you people?” She replied that there was just two more. I waited and the chaperones finally hiked by. There must have been thirty-five kids in that group.
Rounding a seaside ridge, I spied my favorite of all campsites. I was finally hiking down into the Hanakapiai Valley. The time was about five o’clock. The rain had finally quit and I was looking forward to having a bath in the Hanakapiai.
Finally, I came upon that last great river. I was already drenched and my boots and socks were soaked, no need to take off socks for this crossing.
Someone had replaced the rope that was strung across the river. I stepped into the river fifteen feet above the rope. I would grasp my walking stick with both hands for support and if I slipped and was washed downstream, I would then try and make a grab for the rope. There was no need for the rope, I moved across the stream with no problems.
Now to hurry down to “my” campsite; when I arrived I was relieved to see no one was there. The best campsite in the world would be all mine.
I set up my tent and removed my boots. My feet were white and wrinkled from the day’s wet hike. I took a bath and shaved in a slow moving pool in the crystal clear river just fifty feet from its entry into the sea. I wondered if the sharks became aroused by the smell of whiskers and skin flowing into their “dining room.”
I boiled water for my last freeze-dried meal. Oscar came by, meowing like he always meows when hungry. I fed him as much as he wanted because I would be hiking out the next day and I figured why carry all the excess supplies.
I hurried up and ate dinner, the sunset of the last day of my adventure was happening. Like all the other sunsets, there were too many clouds close to the horizon. The sun made those clouds blood red. Across the mouth of the river, several people watched the sun setting, too.
I watched the surf and sky for as long as I could. On my last night in this wonderland, I wanted to stay awake and keep watch and think about the last eight days, but I was tired and it was time to end the day and greet the morrow.
I prepared my bed and tent, and placed my backpack down near my tent. I also tied a strap between my pack and tent. If someone came by and moved my pack, it would shake my tent and wake me. I didn’t think Spook would mess with any of my material wealth, but I was beginning to recognize that there were several bums in the area.
Lying down and reading for a little while I was startled by someone outside my tent asking me how I was doing. I could tell by the accent the person was of British heritage. I hollered back fine. Then the person said, “Just passing through, have a good evening.”
I was only two miles from the trailhead and to “civilization” and its people. I just had to wonder how many persons pass my tent and inspect my campsite while I’m unsuspectingly asleep. The type of tent I used makes it obvious which side my head is on and a rock dropped on that spot would provide someone a good supply of “really neat stuff.” I knew the bums around the area were harmless and no harm would come to me, but I still wondered what could have happened to poor old Brad Turek.
The white water of the Hanakapiai and the crashing of the waves made for a cacophony of noise. After a while the noise can’t be heard, it’s just there.
Day 8, April 1, Wednesday
I awoke at 06:30 to the din of white water of the Hanakapiai and the crashing of the waves. Crawling out from my tent, I immediately could see it would be a cool morning without rain.
I brought out my stove and heated water for coffee and had breakfast. Oscar meowed across the river but he wasn’t meowing at me. He was begging food from the campers over there.
I planned to leave my camp at noon. That would give me four hours to get back to the trailhead, cleanup at the showers, and wait for my cab that would pick me up at four o’clock that day.
I packed my tent and got my pack ready to go. It was about eight-thirty in the morning. I was four hours away from my planed departure out of the valley. Across the mouth of the river from my camp, several people gathered to look at the beach. That’s when I finally noticed it. Sometime during my eight days along the Kalalau trail, the ocean currents brought in enough sand to call what I saw a beach. The surf was still too violent to swim in. Some campers took a dip into the foamy water but didn’t venture out very far.
I sat on a comfortable boulder and read my one paperback. I did more looking around than reading. There was always some simple activity on the other side of the river, hikers filling canteens in the river, others just looking around before they continued their backpack to Kalalau. I spotted my good buddy Oscar hanging around some people, preparing their breakfast. They fed him until he finally shut-up.
One person I saw seemed to be one of those “characters” of the valley. He was crazy. He was barefoot and wore white pants. Bearded and long haired, he kept his hair tied up in a funny looking ponytail. His hair wasn’t tied at the back of his head but on top. He wore his shirt tied around his waist and kept a machete tucked in his pants with the handle located in the small of his back. The man continually picked up litter and trash and placed it at the edge of the surf. If the trash was picked up by wave action, he would run over to it and snatch it from going out to sea and place it back where it had been. Everyone stayed away from him. He seemed to be having fun.
I read, looked around at the world around me, and just waited for my time to hit the trail. The tourists began to arrive and then they began to appear in droves.
I was just two miles from the trailhead and parking lot, so it was easy for them to get here. Mostly when they reached the river, they crossed it to hike upstream to the Hanakapiai falls. I thought about going to see the falls myself but I had seen plenty of waterfalls and I really just wanted to read and watch the world.
At noon, I threw my pack on and began to hike my way, a hundred yards upstream to where the trail from the trailhead meets the river.
People were crossing the river regularly, some with heavy backpacks, most, being day hikers, without packs.
Tao Getting a Handout on the Hanakoa River
I spotted one of my friends from Kalalau Valley, Tao, crossing the river towards me. He got to my side of the river and said he was out of food and could he have some? I was glad to get rid of any superfluous weight. I dropped my pack and offered him some Ramon noodles. He took the package and began eating them raw. I told Tao that I could easily heat some water and he could have it as hot soup and noodles instead. He said he would like that.
I grabbed my stove, pumped it up, and lit it afire. Filling a canteen cup with water, I set it on the fire. He seemed amused at the preparations of his lunch, saying, “You like gadgets don’t you?” “Yea,” I said, “I don’t leave home with out them.”
Tao said that he, Nova, and some others went to the sweat lodge and had a good sweat. He left the Heiau camp yesterday afternoon and camped at Hanakoa River, leaving there early this morning. He added, “I have a flight out to San Francisco tonight.”
The strange bum fellow came over to us. He asked if any of us had any food. I gave him a pack of Ramon noodles. Tao had my only canteen cup so the pony tailed fellow had to have the noodles raw. No problem, he quickly tore into the packet and into the noodles. There’s a small foil bag of spices that are meant to be added to hot water but he just bit off a bite of the crunchy noodles and poured the contents of the spiced salt directly into his mouth. Tao gave me a look like, “This guy is weird.”
The Strange Fellow
The strange fellow finished off the noodles and grabbed a glass jar that he’d been carrying. Stepping over to the stream, he filled it full of water and sat it down on the ground near Tao and me. The strange fellow then produced a 9-volt smoke-detector battery and a paperclip. He then touched the paperclip to the battery and the free end of the paperclip was dipped into the water. The strange fellow then drank the water.
It seemed the strange fellow wanted someone to ask about the previous demonstration so I did. He spoke in a voice that under any other circumstance sounded normal, like he was a regular guy. He said, “The galvanic reaction of the electricity kills any diseases that might be in the water.” Tao and I nodded our heads as if in total understanding and agreement.
I asked the strange fellow if he minded if I took his picture and he said no, so I took his photo. The man told us to have a good day and he crossed the river and headed upstream.
Tao said, “I visit here a couple times a year and I’ve seen him before. He has a wife and child who live somewhere here in the Hanakapiai Valley.” I was taken aback but had nothing to say. What is there to say?
Tao then loaded on his pack and said goodbye.
I wanted to hike those last two miles by myself so I waited a few minutes then strapped on my much lighter backpack and began the slow hike out of the Hanakapiai Valley and ultimately to the end.
At every vista, every panorama, and every seascape, I stopped and gazed. My hours left on the Na Pali coast turned into minutes.
When I wasn’t looking at gorgeous views, I passed dozens of people going in the opposite direction.
It jumped up on me so quick I didn’t have time to react. It was the trailhead, the end of the line. I could smell exhaust and see cars trying to find parking spots. I found some dude and told him of my great accomplishment, asking if he could snap a photo of me standing next to the sign that read, Kalalau: 11-miles.
My journey was at an end. A photo op was required to record for posterity and for all time my completion of the great Kalalau trail. The dude hid his excitement well. Unfortunately his excitement would well-up and manifest itself in a lousy photo. He cut the top of my head off.
I cleaned up at the showers and made a phone call from a pay phone to make sure my ride would greet me at the appointed time. I sat down on a park bench near the trailhead and just “hung out.”
A van, my taxi, arrived. I was pleased to see it was Jim. My botanist taxi driver had promised me a cold beer if I survived this thing, and I intended to collect it.
I kicked back in the front passenger seat and guzzled the most excellent tasting beer of my life as the great Kalalau trail receded behind me. There was nothing more for me to do. I didn’t have to set up my tent, or fill my canteen. There were no dangerous rivers to cross or sea cliffs to traverse. I wasn’t hot, or cold or being rained on. I didn’t have to think about slipping and falling and whether my body would be found or would it be eaten by sharks. Even the pain in my right knee, the pain that reminds me that I’m pushing things just a little too hard, was gone. There were no more guava trees just waiting to give me handouts. Did this thing really happen? Sure, it did, but now it’s just a memory to be packed away with all the other memories. It was fun while it lasted but now I have to get back to being responsible.
My great adventure is over.
Yea, well, as soon as I get back home I’ll start making plans to do this again; only this time I’ll go for three weeks…and bring lots of pizza making supplies."
Well written, David,
Aloha, Brad
This got me off onto a research project on Kalalau Valley and the trail there. I came across a really neat blog story written by David T. Lurk about the trail, valley, and Ron. And I have David's permission to share/repost that. I was told Ron makes, plays, and sells flutes to help the people in the valley. And I also found that Ron has recorded a CD of music with those handmade flutes, and the CD is for sale on the Internet, I bought a few of them. The CD is nice music:
Listen to it at:
"Kalalau Stew"
© 1997 Ron Saya
Bamboo flute virtuoso recorded live in Hawaii, on Kauai's Napali coast and accompanied by fellow jungle dwelling drummers, guitarists and singers.
tracks:
1 Dreams With The Fish
2 Don't Go Back To The City
3 The Sun She Sets
4 Time Is Money
5 Space Junk
6 Dream Flute
7 Echos At Last Cave
8 Over The Rainbow
9 Long Haired Kalalau Kid
10 Rockin' To The Riverside
11 Heliport Jam
12 Kalalau Stew
There is a dangerous side to Kalalau. The hike in is very difficult and dangerous in places. Even in Kalalau Valley there is always the danger of falling. If you fall in there, you could fall 1000 feet to your death, or if you are lucky, maybe only a 100 feet and not get emergency help for the better part of a day.
But, the real story of Kalalau is truly that of the closest thing to Paradise that we still have on Earth. It is this combination of danger and paradise that reminded me of the movie staring Leonardo DiCaprio and the book "The Beach," written by Alex Garland. I almost think Alex Garland knowingly put the setting of "The Beach" at Maya Bay Koh Phi Phi, Thailand, but that "The real Beach" setting is actually Kalalau Beach and Valley.
"Directions on how to get to Maya Bay --From "The Beach":
1.Take a plane to Bangkok International Airport (BKK)
2.Take a plane to Phuket International Airport (HKT)
3.Take a taxi (not a Tout) to the Rasada Pier in Phuk
et
4.Take a ferry or speed boat out to Phi Phi Don Island (Don't take a speedboat
during "low season")
5.Hire a speed boat or long tail boat at Phi Phi Don's Ao Ton Sai Bay. A long tail is much cheaper.
6. Have the boat guy take you to Phi Phi Leh Island into Maya Bay.
7. Give the the boat guy a couple of Singha beers and beach security 200 baht.
8. You are there my friend! Have fun!"
One thing I learned is that boats are not suppose to land on Kalalau Beach, but surfers do sometimes come in there with powerboats and lots of supplies and land on the beach. They end up leaving behind lots of trash and cans, and that is a problem to clean up and getting out of there, but there are conscientious people like Ron and the DLNR who see to it that it is cleaned up and taken out of there. Hopefully Kalalau will always be Paradise and not pushed toward commercialism and ruin as Maya Bay, Thailand has been. Well anyway, here are some things I found about Kalalau including David T. Lurk's story.
Here is a nice photo set of the Kalalau trail: http://www.flickr.com/photos/joemojo/sets/72157604344909970/
Kalalau short story reprinted with permission:
http://davidlurk.wordpress.com/category/kalalau-trail-memoirs/
December 17, 2006
MEMOIRS OF THE KALALAU TRAIL
By David T. Lurk
SOME NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED
THE KALALAU TRAIL
"The Na Pali coast is located on the north coast of the Hawaiian island of Kauai. The Pali, or cliffs, are a magnificently rugged region of deep and narrow valleys ending abruptly at the sea. Waterfalls and whitewater streams sculpt these narrow valleys while the sea carves sheer cliffs. Stone walled terraces, one thousand years old, are in the valleys where early Polynesians once lived and cultivated taro (the Hawaiian equivalent of the potato).
Na Pali Coast
The Kalalau Trail, originally built in the late 1800s, provides the only land access through Na Pali. The rugged trail traverses five valleys before ending at Kalalau valley and Kalalau beach. The 11-mile trail is always in a state of disrepair due to intense erosion. It is never level as it crosses above rocky sea cliffs and through green valleys. The trail descends to the sea at the valleys that include the beaches of Hanakapiai and Kalalau.
To give a better understanding of the trail in relation to the island of Kauai, think of the island as a rough circle and the face of a clock. The extreme top, or north side of the island, is 12:00 o’clock and the bottom, 6:00 o’clock. Most of the island is mountainous, the only paved roads being on or near the coast. In the jargon of the island: Kauai has an excellent network of lousy roads. The main two-lane highway starts at 12:00 o’clock and runs, clockwise, almost completely around the island but stops at 11:00 o’clock. The coast between 11 and 12 o’clock is the Na Pali coast. The Na Pali coast is too rugged for any type of road other than a footpath. However, a hiker can only hike from end of road at 12 o’clock, counterclockwise, 11 miles, to 11:05. A shear cliff, that is too crumbly to mountain climb, separates the hiker from the other end-of-road at 11:00.
1.Take a plane to Bangkok International Airport (BKK)
2.Take a plane to Phuket International Airport (HKT)
3.Take a taxi (not a Tout) to the Rasada Pier in Phuk
et4.Take a ferry or speed boat out to Phi Phi Don Island (Don't take a speedboat
during "low season")
5.Hire a speed boat or long tail boat at Phi Phi Don's Ao Ton Sai Bay. A long tail is much cheaper.
6. Have the boat guy take you to Phi Phi Leh Island into Maya Bay.
7. Give the the boat guy a couple of Singha beers and beach security 200 baht.
8. You are there my friend! Have fun!"
One thing I learned is that boats are not suppose to land on Kalalau Beach, but surfers do sometimes come in there with powerboats and lots of supplies and land on the beach. They end up leaving behind lots of trash and cans, and that is a problem to clean up and getting out of there, but there are conscientious people like Ron and the DLNR who see to it that it is cleaned up and taken out of there. Hopefully Kalalau will always be Paradise and not pushed toward commercialism and ruin as Maya Bay, Thailand has been. Well anyway, here are some things I found about Kalalau including David T. Lurk's story.
Here is a nice photo set of the Kalalau trail: http://www.flickr.com/photos/joemojo/sets/72157604344909970/
Kalalau short story reprinted with permission:
http://davidlurk.wordpress.com/category/kalalau-trail-memoirs/
December 17, 2006
MEMOIRS OF THE KALALAU TRAIL
By David T. Lurk
SOME NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED
THE KALALAU TRAIL
"The Na Pali coast is located on the north coast of the Hawaiian island of Kauai. The Pali, or cliffs, are a magnificently rugged region of deep and narrow valleys ending abruptly at the sea. Waterfalls and whitewater streams sculpt these narrow valleys while the sea carves sheer cliffs. Stone walled terraces, one thousand years old, are in the valleys where early Polynesians once lived and cultivated taro (the Hawaiian equivalent of the potato).
Na Pali Coast
The Kalalau Trail, originally built in the late 1800s, provides the only land access through Na Pali. The rugged trail traverses five valleys before ending at Kalalau valley and Kalalau beach. The 11-mile trail is always in a state of disrepair due to intense erosion. It is never level as it crosses above rocky sea cliffs and through green valleys. The trail descends to the sea at the valleys that include the beaches of Hanakapiai and Kalalau.
To give a better understanding of the trail in relation to the island of Kauai, think of the island as a rough circle and the face of a clock. The extreme top, or north side of the island, is 12:00 o’clock and the bottom, 6:00 o’clock. Most of the island is mountainous, the only paved roads being on or near the coast. In the jargon of the island: Kauai has an excellent network of lousy roads. The main two-lane highway starts at 12:00 o’clock and runs, clockwise, almost completely around the island but stops at 11:00 o’clock. The coast between 11 and 12 o’clock is the Na Pali coast. The Na Pali coast is too rugged for any type of road other than a footpath. However, a hiker can only hike from end of road at 12 o’clock, counterclockwise, 11 miles, to 11:05. A shear cliff, that is too crumbly to mountain climb, separates the hiker from the other end-of-road at 11:00.
Day 1, March 24, Wednesday
I Awoke at the Garden Island Hotel at 06:00 AM. It had rained all night and was still raining. I walked into the town of Lihue to the Department of Natural Resources for my camping permit. The permit allowed for a maximum of five days of camping within the Na Pali Coast State Park. At ten dollars a day, the total cost for my permit is fifty dollars. The ranger warned me about high rivers and dangerous trail conditions. Returned to the hotel, filled my single burner gasoline stove, and reserve flask. I paid for a second night at the hotel for after my journey and put all extra gear such as snorkel and flippers in their storage room.
My taxi arrived at 10:00 am. The cab driver’s name was Jim. He hailed from Sullivan, Missouri, my home state. Taxi driving paid his bills but his background is Botany. I immediately recognized Jim as being a great source of info on the Kalalau trail and all things nature. Every minute of the hour drive to the “end-of-the-road” was spent asking him questions about the flora and fauna, edible plants, dangers, and anything else that might give this Midwesterner a leg-up.
The rain stopped for just an hour or so and the drive counterclockwise around Kauai proved to be beautiful. Several white, veil-like waterfalls could be seen way up in the mountains. Jim mentioned how rare it was to see so many waterfalls. He also mentioned I would not be able to cross any rivers on foot any time soon. He said the roads might be closed due to flooding. That the rivers were up was obvious. One river lapped within a few inches of one of the bridges we crossed. Jim was obviously excited about the flooding and didn’t seem to worry. I, however, was worried I’d never get to Kalalau with these high rivers.
We discussed the very real fact that several people have died on the Kalalau trail trying to reach that beach. Jim asked, “Why do you want to do this thing?” I told him that after hiking that grueling eleven miles through a steamy jungle and stepping onto that glorious beach, a naked, Polynesian woman is going to step out of the rainforest and hand me a mango. “Fair enough,” he said. Jim then added, “If you survive, I’ll buy you a cold beer next week when I pick you up.”
Jim dropped me off at the trail-head at Ke’e beach in the Haena State Park. I set my pack down and began reading the trail-head bulletin board. There was an ominous report of a woman drowning trying to cross the Hanakoa River, and a picture and ten-thousand dollar reward paid by the family of Brad Turek for information leading to the recovery of Brad. He’s been missing from the trail since January.
The locals joke that the national official bird of Kauai is the Helicopter. Helicopter tours fly regularly along the Na Pali coast. They were very annoying, perhaps a flyby every fifteen minutes all day long. The sound of their blades began thumping the air at 8:00 am and finally stopped at 5:00 pm. I’m sure the view from those things is gorgeous and maybe one of these days I’ll take a flight. But for my whole trip, I and everyone I met hated them and wished they would just go away.
It began to rain again. I carried my pack over to a water faucet near the bathrooms and filled my two quart-canteens. A man of about 25 asked me if I was hiking to Kalalau. I said, “I sure hope so.” He said the Hanakapiai River is too high for a river crossing, that I should camp on the beach somewhere and then hike the two miles to the river tomorrow. He also asked if I had any pizza making supplies. I said, “No, not really,” “I do have some dried mushrooms though.” “Cool,” he said, “we make pizza in the valley, you should drop by, and we could always use any help we can for pizza ingredients.” Wow, I thought, pizza. To think I was worried about how I was going to survive on my meager rations and now I find out I could eat a slice of pizza in a wilderness.
The pizza guy was obviously pulling my leg. He knew he couldn’t deceive me with the old “snipe hunt” story so instead he taunts me with that most basic of human needs, pizza.
I hoped this guy was also pulling my leg about river conditions so I sat on a bench at the end of trail and asked anyone coming off what the river conditions were like. “Impossible” everyone said. I would also get word that the park service had been choppering some day-hikers out who had been stranded on the other side of the river.
Crap! OK, fine, I thought. I’ll find a campsite along Ke’e beach and wait until tomorrow.
I hiked along the beach a few hundred yards and decided to hide my pack until late in the afternoon when I would decide on a camping spot. I left the beach and walked into the jungle to stash my load. Millions of mosquitoes began attacking with terrible vengeance. Bastards! I turned right around and went back to the beach. I dowsed myself with Deet and went back into the jungle. The mosquitoes left me alone. Deet, I thought, is the greatest thing since sliced pizza.
I dumped my pack where I could easily find it, and covered it with banana leaves, and began to explore the area.
I visited some “wet” caves. These are caves that had been gouged out by the ocean, thousands of years ago and now have deep lakes at their entrances. I also hiked one mile of the Kalalau Trail. It was very crowded with day hikers and hopeful backpackers. I asked several of the serious looking backpackers of the river conditions. All reports: Too high to cross.
I also saw the first of “Spook.” Spook was the name I would eventually name a character of the area. He looked of Middle Eastern extraction, perhaps Moslem. He wore a bright white robe with a hood and sandals. He seemed overly dressed for the conditions. The bottom of Spook’s robe was matted with dirt and grime. He was meditating or praying on the bench at the trail-head. He was not facing Mecca. Actually, he was facing a Lexus in the parking lot. He had several coconuts at his side. A machete poked out from the front of his robe, he seemed crazy.
Finding my pack right where I left it, I went back to hiking east along the beach and found a pleasant camping spot a quarter mile from the trail parking lot.
I set up my tent on the edge of the beach and the forest. The forest floor was covered in pine needles dropped by the tropical evergreen tree common to the island.
The tent I used was brand new. I had only set it up once, in my backyard at home. It’s a one-man tent and of ultra-lightweight design. It has the bare minimum fabric required to get the job done and not weigh more than three pounds. The tent has a footprint shape like a coffin, and has just enough head space to sit up on one end. The tent looks like a fighter plane cockpit because the top of the tent slopes down to the feet.
I made a dinner of Ramon noodles, and watched the fiery sunset. I wondered if a cell phone might work so I dug through the top right pocket of my backpack. In that readily available pocket, I keep all my emergency equipment. Besides a cell phone, the pocket holds my first aid kit, medicine and spare prescription glasses.
The cell phone display confirmed that I was out of range of a cell tower. I turned it off. I wasn’t ready for bed but it began to rain-like-hell, so I hit the sack.
My sleeping bag was not the usual thick and insulated variety. It was a summer bag that is simply a sheet with zippers. Zipping it up produced a bag to sleep in.
The sleeping pad I use is a “Thermarest.” It’s basically an air mattress with a thin insulative foam core. When its nozzle is opened, the foam expands and it fills with air automatically. To give it more loft, you can blow into the nozzle to add air. It never needs more than six breaths to do the job.
I fell asleep with the sound of rain pounding my tent and waves crashing into the shore.
Day 2, March 25, Thursday
Awoke at 05:30 AM. Broke camp immediately and filled canteens at the water fountain. I also drank as much water as I could. I also began the bad habit of not eating breakfast because it seemed a waste of time to cook it up and scarf it down. All trail meals usually took about 40 minutes to cook and eat. I never really had to cook food. I usually had freeze-dried meals that only required heating a cup or two of water to boil then pour into the freeze-dried food pouch and wait ten minutes. I did have some ready to eat meals but not much. Ready-to-eat food is great but they always have some water in them and water is heavy. For instance, deer jerky or gorp (a mixture of nuts, raisins, and M&M’s) contain enough water that if I carried enough for every meal I’d end up with a 60 or 70 pound pack.
My pack weighed in at 55 pounds and my goal, at first, was to keep it under 50. Keeping my pack under 50 pounds turned out to be impossible. I would eventually go a full day just by eating what the land provided. Had I known that, I could have gone in with a 40 pound pack. But then again, had I known about the pizza parties, I’d have filled my pack with Italian sausage and mozzarella cheese bringing my pack back up to 55 pounds.
I saw a hippie couple breaking their camp near the beach. We traded what little information we new about trail conditions.
These hippies, like so many others I met along the Na Pali Coast, were actually just young couples of early twenties. It seemed they were all just taking a break from college before going back to school or getting a job. They all seemed intelligent with lots of worldly experience and travel. The male of the species always had long hair and sometimes dreadlocks. The females wear dresses with a high waist that made them look pregnant. It seemed to me that a dress would hinder bodily functions out there in that environment but I was later told that a dress makes it easier to go to the bathroom.
I agree with such logic. During my hike, I would wear swim trunks. Swim trunks came with their own underwear; they had several pockets, are lightweight, and dried out quickly after getting wet. I also had my hair cut so short that I wouldn’t need a comb or brush.
I stepped out on the trailhead at 07:00 and immediately started sucking air hard. I stopped at every grand vista, resting and gazing in wonder at the magnificent views of the cliffs, valleys, and coast. It wasn’t raining but I could make out the downpours falling from the gloomy clouds in Kauai’s interior.
At 8:00 am, the helicopters started their tourist flights back and forth along the Na Pali coast.
Averaging one mile-per-hour, I arrived at the first obstacle after two miles.
It is the Hanakapiai River. It was raging. I spotted some heavy one inch diameter ropes fastened to both sides of the stream, but these seemed useless in that kind of whitewater. The noise was deafening.
I really wanted to get across and continue my journey. I imagined what it would be like to wade across that violent torrent. Dipping the very tippy-tip of my toe into the water, the river grabbed my foot and pulled me in. The angry current ripped my glasses off, my knee exploded with pain as a hidden rock smashed it; sucked under the torrent, I rolled and twisted, I was running out of air when it finally occurred to me to take the damn pack off. By this time, another bolder had smashed my left arm, rendering it useless. Carried out to sea, and just alive enough to feel the teeth of the tiger shark, I realized I made a bad decision.
Ok, maybe I’ll wait until tomorrow to cross.
Dumping my pack, I hiked a trail to the left and upstream, but it ended at a shear cliff at the rivers edge. Hiking downstream to the right, scrambling over some boulders and getting my feet wet near the slower moving rivers edge, I came to where the Hanakapiai discharges into the Pacific Ocean. I was one hundred yards downstream of where the trail crosses the river.
I was unhappy about the river conditions. However, the camping conditions were perfect. I had just found one of the greatest campsites of my life. Looking out to sea, the campsite was located just to the right of where the Hanakapiai River entered the ocean. Not only did I have a great view of the sparkling whitewater rapids but of the ocean and beach too. The area was shaded by twenty foot tall pineapple trees; the fruit of which were light green in color. The vicinity was flat and so strewn with boulders that there was only room for one tent. The smooth round boulders also made great spots for sitting. It was perfect. It was loud. The din would be part of my conscious and unconscious world for the next twenty-four hours.
I quickly sloshed my way back to the river crossing to retrieve my backpack. On the way, I saw a barefooted Polynesian crossing the river. I watched with interest, quickly realizing that I didn’t have to worry about seeing someone die. At first glance the surefooted Hawaiian looked like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Unencumbered by a pack, he was leaping from boulder to boulder, making his way across the river. The dark haired Hawaiian looked puny compared to the raging turbulence surrounding him on his tiny island boulder. Leaping over five feet to another rock, the man landed and absorbed the impact by going down into an immediate squat. He quickly placed his hands tenderly around his landing pad boulder. It gave me the impression he had landed on the back of an elephant and was regaining his balance.
The young Hawaiian was stripped to the waist and barefoot. He wore long rugged work shorts. A knife that could also be called a machete hung from his belt.
I got to the crossing and there was another Polynesian guy eating some food, relaxing, and watching his partner cross the river. They were park rangers, or in their professional description, Trail Technicians. Saying hello, I noted the ranger crossing the river had made it safely to the other side. He was now untying the rope. I wondered why he didn’t cut it with that big knife of his but quickly realized the rope was of high quality and it could be used for some other project.
“What’s up with that?”! I yelled above the roar of the whitewater. The ranger had to shout back, “That rope gives people a false sense of security; people who wouldn’t normally cross the river during these conditions think the rope is the answer, it’s not.”
The ranger was very personable and he was just loaded with information, including the weather. The rain would stop this afternoon. No rain tomorrow. He told me about the woman drowning at the Hanakoa River. I asked if he thought it was ok to camp at the point next to the rivers mouth. “Great spot”, he said, “but if you see the river turn chocolate, get out of there fast.” I told him I’d keep an eye out for such a thing, and strapped my pack on. As I bid adieu, the first of several dozens of people arrived at the river only to turn back or look downriver towards “my” campsite. I immediately got down there and set up my tent. Then the people began to arrive by the dozens.
Confluence of the Hanakapiai River into the Pacific Ocean. This is the best campsite on the Planet Earth.
It turned out to be a fairly nice day. The rain alternated on and off. However, it was mostly sunny even while raining. Generally the clouds hung over the interior of the island.
I observed a unique looking boulder on the bank of the river. The river lapped at its middle. I would use that boulder as my gage for a rising or receding river. The river’s level became my greatest concern. The river was receding, but ever so slowly. It did appear that the rate of the lowering water level might allow a crossing during mid-afternoon.
I took photos of several birds in the area. Two that came close enough to my camera were the Myna Bird and Red-Crested Cardinal. The two birds are introduced birds. The birds were brought in from other countries intentionally or by accident several years before. I saw several indigenous birds but they were too far away to photograph.
Myna Bird
Red-Crested Cardinal
At three o’clock the river had receded enough for a crossing. I watched several day hikers make the trip across.
I thought for a moment that I would make a move to cross the river but decided that I had a great campsite with a good view of the world. Besides, I knew I’d end up camping in a dark and still dripping jungle instead of the open and airy spot I had.
At five o’clock, the crowds and the helicopters gave my little point of land some solitude. Across the river there was what in the summer time would be a beautiful sandy beach but that was a month away. Right now it is a bolder beach, with all the boulders the size of basketballs. In just a few more weeks, the angry waves crashing into the northern coast would deposit enough sand that children could build sandcastles. With the summer, and the change in the direction of the trade winds, the rough surf will move to the southern shores of Kauai, and Hanakapiai beach will be a real sandy beach.
Before the sun set at 6:45, I began making dinner. The smell of cooking food was wafting through the air. Across the river, I could hear an animal calling. Could it be some tropical bird? Maybe it’s a cat bird. It kind of sounded like a cat. There it is, a cat, and it’s looking in my direction. The little critter was across the river from me, just 50 feet above the river’s entry into the Pacific Ocean. The cat is hungry and a mere creek is not to stand in its way. Great! This is the part where I have to watch how Mother Nature allows no mistakes and is a cruel mistress.
But trying to stop the varmint was like trying to stop the tide. The animal was going to go to my side and that was that. The cat began hopping from rock to rock, each rock, or boulder with an inch of water flowing over the top. No cat! No! If you fall into the whitewater, you won’t drown before the tiger sharks get you! I’ll have to watch the whole nightmare! I won’t be able to look away! I won’t be able to enjoy my dinner.
It’s a typical human peculiarity to continue to stand and watch, helpless, as calamities unfold. The cat took one last leap and splashed into the fast moving water. I watched in frozen horror. Oh, cat!
The river’s swift current pushed the cat down-river faster than its traverse across the river. It was heading for the Pacific Ocean. Tiger Sharks where waiting. Cat swam like hell. Cat swam like it was a retriever dog swimming across a lake.
The Cat, after all my terror, made it…stepping out of the water it shook and scattered water in all directions. It’s damp, spiked hair made it look like it stuck its paw in a light socket.
It meowed. It meowed some more and wouldn’t stop meowing. It just meowed and meowed. It meowed and only stopped meowing when it was eating. I fed it and fed it. Then it meowed and I fed it some more. I named the cat Oscar for no other reason except that it looked like an Oscar. It finally stopped meowing, went over to some sand, dug a hole, and took a massive dump that a big retriever dog would be proud of. I realized that I wasn’t the only tourist that felt sorry for the thing.
A flooded Hanakapiai and Oscar the cat.
After chow, I hung my wet clothes. The rain stopped and I watched the sun setting on the pacific. A marvelous sight, I continued to watch the ocean and the waves coming in. The ocean just glowed.
Where the river entered the Pacific Ocean, it formed a deep “V” pointing inland. Waves hitting the sides of the “V” bounced towards the center and slammed into each other shooting explosive geysers several feet into the air. I thought of what it would be like as a castaway washing up on the shore and imagined that it would be impossible to survive the pounding of the surf into those basketball boulders.
Turning my attention back to the waves rolling in, I wondered how old they were. They might have been created by a large chunk of glacier breaking off and falling into Alaskan waters, weeks before.
The Hanakapiai River and the best campsite ever.
I longed to stay awake and watch the show but decided to turn in. The bed inside my tent was waiting for me but first I needed to cinch down the pockets and openings of my pack and secure it next to my tent. There is no room inside so it would have to lie outside within easy reach in case I wanted something during the night.
With my headlamp on, hunkered down over my pack, preparing for a night of rain, concentrating on cinching down flaps, when, “Hello!” a voice boomed from just six feet away.
The roaring river, the pounding surf, and my concentration on my gear had allowed the interloper to completely sneak up on me. Looking up, startled, and letting out a half “waaa!” my headlamp illuminated a man in white robes and a hood. It was Spook! I quickly scanned for that machete but didn’t see it. He immediately apologized.
Feeling sheepish about my overreaction, I asked him if he was alright. “Yes, good, thank you, I am sorry I frightened you,” he said. His white robe and hood made him appear to float like a ghost as he walked. He made his way to the river, bent over, drank. I pretended to concern myself with my tent. He finished his drink and floated back the way he had come.
I crawled into my tent, reading a little before turning out the light. Before I fell asleep, I thought about the morrow. I began worrying about the next morning’s expected river crossing. Everything revolves around that river. What if it rains tonight and makes it impossible to cross? I reminded myself, the river can hold a hiker up for days. I thought, after all the preparations, after all the hoopla, only to be held up by a river. Then I thought, “What do I know about river crossings?” I’d never crossed a tropical river before. In the morning I’ll be alone in my decision to cross and alone in my crossing. I could end up like some; dead and body not recovered.
Then the silly thoughts began. I could just camp out here for the coming week. It’s such a great campsite. I’ll never find a campsite like this again. It’s really an excellent home. I even have Oscar to keep me company.
No that’s foolish. Sometimes you have to leave security to appreciate what you’ve left behind. I must get across that river.
Day 3, March 26, Friday
After a worrisome sleep, I finally awoke at 06:00. The first thing to do, even before going to the bathroom, a look at my boulder. It was high and dry. Time to get moving.
Broke camp and packed my pack. I would skip breakfast. I would have breakfast on the other side. A full stomach would just hinder the crossing. I also emptied my canteens. I could fill them on the other side and I didn’t need the extra pounds raising my center of gravity. I found a good spot to cross and strapped myself into my pack. Cinching the straps tightly.
What little I know about river crossings, I do know this. The pack should be tight against the hikers back. You don’t want the load to shift, throwing off an already precarious footing. If I loose my footing and the river carries me away, I would have to keep my composure and extract myself from the straps.
I then saw some hunters. I would see a lot of those guys. They were looking for a good place to cross so I joined up with them. I followed them across. I figured if they or I had trouble, we could help each other. We splashed across at 07:30 with no mishaps. The water came up almost to my waist.
The hunters crossed the river barefoot and put their boots back on after the crossing. From past experience and soft-footedness I cross with my boots on but no socks, putting dry socks on after the crossing. The dry socks pull moisture out of my boot getting damp in the process. After an hour on the trail, I’ll replace the damp socks with another pair of dry socks and hang the damp ones on my pack. By this time, my feet and boots are dry. I’ve made dozens of river crossings in Missouri and this system works just as well in Kauai.
I talked to the hunters; they said the weather report calls for blue sky and no rain for two days.
I asked about their hunting methods; they were looking for pig and goat. They said they can only use bows on that portion of the island. They quarter the animal’s carcass and carry it out to their trucks back at the trailhead. Pigs and goats are introduced species and hard on the environment. Pigs dig holes making small puddles, which lead to mosquitoes. The feces of both pollute the streams with a dangerous virus called leptospirosis.
I filled my canteens and put two water purification tablets in each quart canteen. After five minutes, I shook the contents of each canteen, opened the caps a full- turn, and squeezed the plastic canteens to force the purified water through the cap threads to sanitize them.
I bid the hunters good luck and stepped out on the trail leading out of the Hanakapiai valley and toward my goal. It was good to finally get some miles behind me. After a half hour of climbing out of the valley, I stopped to change the damp socks and drink some water.
Still wanting to burn up some miles I skipped breakfast and kept moving. The weather was perfect. The Na Pali coast, along which, the trail traversed was beautiful. The trail was wet and difficult. After the long climb out of the U-shaped valley, perhaps an hour of hiking, I rounded a turn on a ridge. The view and scenery was just unbelievable. I would regularly stop along the trail and stair at this strange-new-world around me. A cobalt blue sea, green tropical valleys, strange new plants, and weird bugs, caused me to stop and study these things to the point were I had to remind myself, I didn’t have all day.
There are two types of valleys, high valleys and low valleys. The high valleys have small streams running through them with sharp drops in elevation, marked with plunging waterfalls and plunge basins. It is not possible to reach the sea via the high valley because of the steep cliffs that would have to be decended to reach the beach.
The other type of valley, the low valley, are wide and much less steep. They have large rivers flowing through them, like my previous Hanakapiai valley. The low valleys show the signs of farm cultivation of the ancient Polynesians.
I had two more low valleys, thus two rivers to negotiate, but there were seemingly hundreds of the high valleys. The trail wove in and out and up and down these high valleys. The trail was cut into the sides of the ridges with endless switch backs.
Hiking deep inside these high valleys toward the heart of the island, brought thick jungle forests and valleys inside of valleys. On one side of the trail arose steep fluted cliffs a thousand feet high; the other side of the trail, inches from my foot, a steep slope and a terrible tumble, bouncing off trees like a pinball, if such an accident should happen.
At openings through the jungle foliage, I could gaze across the valley and see where I would be, once I hiked the seeming endless miles into and out of the valley. If I could just walk on air, I could cross the whole thing in a matter of seconds. On arriving at the inside of these valleys, deep in the rainforest, a beautiful waterfall and plunge basin always greeted my eyes and filled my canteen.
The trail out of these valleys brought me closer to the coast finally rounding a point on a ridge providing overwhelming views of the precipitous cliffs on the island. These steep ridges, jutting out to sea, also provided shear drops of hundreds of feet to a rocky shore and pounding surf. This place is teeming with beauty and crammed with danger. Reminder to self: Come to a complete stop before ogling the scenery.
The exposed ridges provide a 270 degree view of the world. Turning, right to left, I could view the valley I just exited, then the sea; still turning I could examine the whole of the next valley that I would hike through.
I could also see along the coast. I could view where I’d been at Ke’e beach and where I was going, although I couldn’t see Kalalau beach. It was still perhaps seven miles away and hidden by a ridge jutting out into the ocean.
Erosion presented another great danger. Because it was winter, and late winter at that, trail maintenance and improvements cannot be carried out. The rain washed out portions of the trail that had originally been cut into the sides of steep hills with slopes of 45 degrees or so. Some of these eroded sections were twenty feet long. A fall, in some places, might be stopped by grabbing or slamming into trees. Sometimes there were no trees to stop a sliding fall, just a long fingernail-ripping slide towards a cliff. This provided my first, very real, moments of terror.
If I was going to get to Kalalau Beach, I would have to traverse through these eroded areas. In most cases, a previous hiker had helped those who followed by hacking out a flat step on which to tread.
I saw where one of these steps broke away and a hiker slid ten feet down to the trees below. I could also see were the faceless hiker had scrambled back up to the trail, leaving only embarrassing scratch marks as he/she pawed their way to safety.
At another eroded section, I spotted a very expensive looking canteen that had dropped, rolled down, and left abandoned near the edge of a cliff. I conjectured that maybe the canteen is the last trace of poor Brad Turek before he tumbled to his death. The canteen is probably still there, waiting for someone with more grit than me to retrieve it.
As I stepped gingerly across these horrendously frightening passages, I could hear my own shaky internal voice cajoling me “don’t look down, be cool, be very cool, concentrate, don’t do nothing stupid.”
Upon reaching the safe confines of the trail, the relief was intoxicating. “I made it!” I heard myself say, followed by “I sure as hell hope that’s the end of that.” Another hundred yards of happy hiking would bring another one of those damn things. Will it never end?
No, it doesn’t. Keep moving. Don’t look down.
The endless climbing and descending added to the nonstop toil of the trail; up one hundred feet, down three hundred. Shuffling and plodding, up three hundred feet, down one hundred, all the while sucking in air. Relentlessly up and down.
Going down hill was only slightly better than climbing uphill. However the downhill slope jams the feet into the toes of the boots and the fifty pound pack causes a dull ache in the thighs. Plus, you know that a descent is only a “loaner” from the “Hill,” eventually the “Hill” wants a payback with interest; now a climb of four hundred feet.
I began to give names to the hills I climbed. The first hill I named Misery; the second, Agony; the third hill, Torture. I could only come up with three names, so other hills were named the same, but not always in that order. Sometimes it was Misery followed by Torture and then Agony. The worst was an agony followed by no less than three tortures. I started to look forward to Misery.
I believe I was stumbling up my favorite hill, Misery, when I heard, “excuse us please!” Stopping and allowing to pass me, was a man and a woman. They moved by me with such determination and speed, I didn’t want to hold them back with anything other than the usual pleasantries. Both carried small day packs. They evidently were on a daylong power hike. I would see them later that day, going back the way they had come. In one day, they would hike twenty-two miles; of course, they carried ten pounds of gear to my fifty-five pounds.
At every two miles of the trail, a mile marker was posted. Those mile markers enlighten on how slow I was moving. I was averaging one mile per hour on my way to Kalalau, still seven miles to go.
I stopped to examine a giant centipede sitting in the middle of the trail. It was seven inches long, brown colored, with lots of legs. I had read and heard about them and knew that it can pack a wallop with their bite. It feeds or defends itself by implanting its venomous fangs deeply and firmly into the victim. The prey is held by the centipedes other legs until it dies from the fast-acting venom.
When humans are bit, two puncture wounds will be evident. Reaction to the injected venom can range from a slight redness in the bite area to massive swelling of the whole limb.
I took a photo of the thing and harrassed it with the tip of my walking stick, finally flicking it off the trail, scolding it with, “You ain’t so tough!”
Poisonous Centipede
I drank quart after quart along the trail. There were so many waterfalls that I allowed myself to run out of water knowing I could refill in another couple hundred yards.
Instead of filling both quart canteens, I’d fill only one. A quart of water weighs two pounds, so why lug all that water when a stream or waterfall is available every quarter mile or so.
I found myself stopping to drink all the time. It could only slow me down if I drank every time I was thirsty, which was all the time. I’d give myself little goals, for instance, when I get to the top of this hill, I can take a swig, when I get to the next waterfall I can guzzle the whole canteen. When I drank, I drank with the delight and enthusiasm of an alcoholic after a long dry spell.
It was after one of these dry spells. I was about to award myself with a long pull from my canteen when I saw it; a beautiful, ripe, guava fruit hanging plump and inviting directly over the trail and awaiting my arrival. It was as if the great God of Na Pali was offering a gift just for me. Guava: A yellow sweet succulent fruit.
At first, I was in doubt as to whether I should eat it. I’d seen pictures so I was pretty sure it was safe. But you never know. I took a bite and held it in my mouth. I looked inside; it was pink and juicy with lots of seeds. I chewed the morsel and my mouth exploded with happiness and delight. Wow! A shiver went up my spine. There were several more that I picked and ate leaving plenty for other hikers. The guava fruit had quenched my thirst.
Invigorated and continuing onward, I noticed I had been descending into a large, low valley. It’s the Hanakoa valley. A beautiful place with hand built, rock walled terraces that the ancient Polynesians built thousands of years ago for the growing of the “potato of Kauai,” taro. Also in the valley; the Hanakoa river.
I could hear it before I saw it. Whitewater and another river to cross. When I first saw it I thought, “I can’t cross this!” I dumped my pack, took my socks off, and replaced them with just my boots. I roamed up and down the river looking for a place to ford. After a half hour, I found a suitable crossing site seventy-five yards downstream. I conducted a little test run by crossing it without my pack. No problem. I crossed back, retrieved my pack, cinched the straps down, and had no problems in the crossing.
Now I had to hike up and out of that valley. A mile marker said I had five miles to go. My watch said it was noon. At this rate, I’d reach Kalalau beach at 5:00, an hour before sunset. No time for lunch. I kept marching.
I briefly met several people hiking out. Each group asking me how the Hanakoa River looked. “Great,” I said, “it’s a little high but move downstream and you should find a place to cross.” I, of course asked about the Kalalau River, and that’s how it always went when meeting people on the trail. Nothing is more important than the condition of the next river.
Continuing on, I noticed a change in the environment. The jungle slowly changed to small scrubby plants and cactus-like succulent flora. The ground became more exposed showing intense reds. The red volcanic hills made me imagine I was walking on the red planet Mars.
I still had the high valleys to hike through. In and out, up and down. Trail damage from erosion still causing great worry. There were still plenty of small streams and waterfalls to replenish from. The miles slowly receded behind me.
I then came upon the most frightening aspect of the trail. A steep walled cliff trail, ten inches wide. I just stood and stared. You know, I read about this on the internet. People have turned around at this point never to return. Now it’s my turn. It looked formidable and frightening. It’s called Crawler’s Ledge.
I took a drink, got myself motivated, and made my way into the place. I started out fine. No big deal. But it gradually got worse. I found myself leaning away from the abyss on my right, yet the cliff wall on my left forced me to stand up straight as I negotiated through the cliff trail.
Then it got worse. My pack was wider than my body and was rubbing the cliff wall, and eventually forcing me to lean out towards the abyss. Panic started to set in.
Crawler’s ledge
Most people can easily walk on a 2-by-4 when it sits upon the ground. Move that 2-by-4 up five feet and it becomes a struggle to cross without some trepidation.
I was receiving some serious trepidation at this point. I stopped and thought about how I could pull this off without having to lean towards the drop off. I thought about getting down on all fours and crawling. No way. I thought about removing my pack and holding it in my arms as I sidestepped my way with my back to the wall. No, that’s stupid. I could turn and face the cliff wall and step sideways with my backpack hanging out over the precipice. Ok, I’ll try that.
I made my way in this manner a few yards but the cliff face forced me to lean back. Severe terror struck me, and vertigo. I began to shake uncontrollably. No way! I retreated.
I then wondered that maybe I could remove the contents from the left pockets of my pack and hang my bed roll vertically on the back. No, that’s silly. I just have to do this thing. This is that 2-by-4 business. Just do it.
I tried again. I turned slightly to face the wall moving my pack slightly over the edge. In this manner, I could not make a regular step. I could only shuffle my right foot along and follow it with my left. I did this for several shuffling steps with some success but again the irrational thoughts bombarded my reasoning. The tension built up and I began to shake uncontrollably from the stress.
Finally, after prevailing over the ridiculous thoughts, I began to move. Slowly, shuffling my feet, I made some headway. My face was so near the wall, I couldn’t see too far ahead. The most I could do was watch where I placed my right foot and hope that the left followed. A snails pace.
Time had no meaning. It was just that wall and my right foot. Gradually the wall started to lean away from my face and I was able to rest. It still wasn’t over but the worst seemed behind me. The cliff edge was still just inches from my foot but at least I could take a regular stride. I rounded a corner and had just a little real-estate to stop, relax, and observe the trail ahead. It wasn’t as bad. There was still the long drop to the breaking surf below but at least the incline of the cliff wall tilted away from the trail.
Grinning, the knot in my stomach loosened and I relaxed a little. This country humbles you. Something could happen in an instant. I could really get killed. It made me feel insignificant. This is the way it has to be. I took a drink and continued on.
I thought that I should have some food but I felt that I had squandered way too much time negotiating the previous nightmare. It was late afternoon and I still had three miles to go. I pressed on.
Climbing a hill, I began to stop and rest every few dozen yards. I was becoming listless. At this rate, I would never get there. I was so tired. Resting did not bring relief.
Could it be I’m running out of energy? “No! Just keep moving, don’t dawdle, daylights burning fast.”
My pep talk did no good. I had no energy. I hadn’t eaten anything except for the guava. It finally dawned on me that I needed to eat or I would never make it to the beach.
I stopped at a scenic spot that curved around a ridge. I dumped my pack. It was five o’clock. I only had an hour before the sunset. No time to prepare anything so I ate some jerky, marshmallows and freeze dried strawberries.
A man and women came by during my dinner. They were backpacking to Kalalau. I was actually glad to see them. Mostly I was glad that I wasn’t the only one pushing the daylight. After some reassurance from both parties that, “it can’t be too much farther.” They moved on. I waited a few more minutes to give them some room and I set out too.
The simple carbohydrates seem to have saved the day. I was refortified, and my morale had improved considerably. It was very short sighted of me to skip eating for a whole day. I have learned.
Trudging over the top of a very red hill, I could finally see a little stretch of beach in the distance. It was Kalalau beach. At long last, I am almost there.
The view up the Red Hill
I had spring in my step. Heaven and accomplishment have been glimpsed. Thanks to the little rest and to the “Carbs,” I would not be walking into the valley dragging ass. I would march into Kalalau in a dignified manner.
I was walking down an awfully eroded hill toward some woods, with the beach beyond, and beyond that, a glorious sunset. Stopping to look around, I looked back up the hill I had descended from. The red hill I was climbing down turned out to have the unique name “The Red Hill.” It is so red that it seems impossible to be so red.
The view down the Red Hill toward Kalalau Valley. The Green Field is in the lower right.
Leaving the Red Hill, I plunged ahead into a thick forest. A hundred yards further the forest came alive with bird song. My ears were greeted with the pleasant music of birds twittering and tweeting away. I spied a figure standing left of the trail gazing up into the trees and whistling to the birds as they flitted around. It was a young woman. She was barefoot and wore a flowery dress that reached all the way up to her waist.
I didn’t want to startle her so I called out hello. She responded in kind. I stopped and asked if there is a river ahead. She gave me instructions on where to cross.
I said thanks and while turning towards the river she called after me, “welcome to Kalalau!”
The hopeful prediction that I told Jim, my taxi driver, about how a bronze skinned Polynesian woman would hand me a mango nearly came true. Mangos must not have been in season.
Welcome to Kalalau! My reception to the valley was nothing short of fantastic, a magical preamble to this wonderful valley. The pain of a moment before had flitted away with the birds. I moved quickly to the river, found the easy crossing just as “Eve” described, and crossed.
A moment later, I was standing on the beach, the last rays of the sun revealing the rationale of what I’d done as not so crazy an idea after all.
There was no time to lollygag; I needed to find a suitable campsite in the waning sunlight. I walked along a trail that bordered the beach and the woods. The more I walked, the better the campsites became. I hiked the entire half mile long beach, seeing various potential campsites. I found an excellent waterfall that would make a great shower and bath, at the farthest end of the beach where it ended abruptly at a sheer cliff.
Hiking back the way I’d come, I found what would be my home in this Eden. The campsite was on the edge of the forest where there would be plenty of shade yet I could see the ocean. The camp was a hundred yards or so from the waterfall or “showers.” Moreover, I wanted to be near the beach to catch the shore breeze that would drive the mosquitoes away. There were several boulders for seats and a well built fire-ring for bonfires. The camp was perhaps fifteen feet above the beach, on a slight hill sloping down toward it. The perfect patio.
The couple I’d met during my simple-carb dinner walked by. Somehow, I’d passed them and then they had trouble crossing the river. I gave them directions to a campsite right next to the waterfall and that’s where they camped. We were the only people camped on the whole beach.
I setup my tent. Every task being a struggle. I was utterly exhausted and wanted nothing but a shower and to relax.
Kalalau Showers
It was mostly dark now so I donned my headlamp, grabbed some soap and a towel, and headed toward the “showers.” My neighbors had beaten me to it so I just waited, only now realizing there were billions and billions of stars to see. I noted that Orion’s Belt was very high in the sky and I could see all of Orion’s dog Toro. Back in Missouri, Toro is usually too close to the horizon to see and Orion is visible only in winter. Being south of the Tropic of Cancer, Orion and Toro are visible year round. I had to lean way back to observe, straight overhead, Orion’s foe Taurus.
The couple exited the plunge basin wrapped in towels. I feigned anger and quipped, “I hope you didn’t use up all the hot water!” They feigned amusement and laughed.
The water took my breath away. I recovered and stood under the cascade, rinsing the trail dust and the day’s worries away. It was good.
I was beat. Even my eyelashes hurt. I stumbled my way back to my camp. Stared at the stars and luminous ocean and went to bed. The breeze kept me cool and I drifted off quickly.
Day 4, March 27, Saturday
Awoke at 08:30. Other than one bout of charlie horse at “o-dark-thirty” in the morning, I had a good ten hours of sleep.
Kalalau beach camp
The view towards my campsite. The ribbon of waterfall is the “showers” and water supply.
I made a breakfast of jerky, granola, and coffee. The choppers began making their assaults along the coast. After a while, you forget about them but the first few of the morning makes an old veteran wish he had a rocket launcher.
Taking all my dirty clothes to the falls and washing them, I also filled my canteens and an extra water bladder and returned to camp. While hanging the cloths on a cloths line, the couple from the evening before hiked by and said hello. They were both weighed down by their backpacks. “You’re leaving already?” I asked. “We have a flight out tomorrow night, gotta get moving.” Incredulous, I couldn’t believe they would just hike to this wonderful valley, look at it, and just leave. I bid them good luck.
I was excited to get started and explore this strange new land. I set out by walking down the hill on a path from my campsite to the beach. I walked straight to the water. Wearing my water shoes, I stepped into the sea. There, I accomplished the critical requisite of getting my toes wet in the Pacific Ocean.
I took a right and walked east, occasionally an aggressive wave forced me to run wildly up the beach. The surf was rough. It’s always rough in the winter. There wouldn’t be any dips in the ocean for me. I walked to the extreme east of the beach and turned around when the sand turned to basketball sized rocks.
Walking west, I passed my campsite on my left. A bit further I came to where the stream continued on from my waterfall and flowed into the ocean.
From here on, this shower stream will be officially designated the “Shower Stream.”
The funny thing, the Shower Stream never arrives at the sea, not in a direct route anyway. The stream, with all its thousands of gallons of flow per hour, seeped into the beach sand. It just turned invisible. The beach could drink all the water the Shower Stream could pour into it.
Continuing west, I came to a large cave or cavern. It was a wet-cave. It went back thirty feet and could provide an uneasy shelter from rain. I say uneasy because the high water mark from an incoming wave had marked the sand recently. In the summer, with the gentler surf, the cave would make a safe camping shelter. I studied it, took a picture, and got out of there before a rogue wave tried to get me.
Wet cave
The beach ended at the dry cave so I exited the cave, and I kept the cliff to my right and followed it around to my waterfall.
Walking upstream I noticed, what I thought was some taro growing in the middle of the stream. I also spotted a bunch of banana’s hanging within easy reach. They were all green. Some had already been stripped from the stalk by tourists seeing their first wild banana.
Seeing my first wild banana, I removed a specimen for closer examination; I noted it was very hard. It was a cute little thing, only four inches long. I kept it, thinking I’d sauté it in olive oil and sugar.
While rinsing the sand off my feet at the falls I met some dude with some serious dreadlocks, a resident. Like most residents, he was barefoot and looked perfectly comfortable in that environment. We exchanged pleasantries, his name, Robbie, about twenty years old. He said he was on sabbatical before going back to school in the fall. Realizing a great source of knowledge, I asked him if the plants growing in the stream are Taro. “Yes,” he affirmed. He then described how to harvest and prepare it.
Taro is identified by a large elephant-ear sized arrow-shaped leaf that grows waist high in wet ground near streams. The sweet-potato like tuber must be dug out of the swampy ground. Taro must be cooked in a rolling boil for one hour. If eaten raw, there are small sharp crystals that can cause serious inflammation of the mouth and throat and can stop breathing.
Polynesians, after cooking the tuber, would pound it with stone hammers making a paste. Water is then added and mixed producing thick gravy. It is now called poi. Traditional methods of eating it are to simply dip two fingers into the poi and eating directly from the fingers or to scoop some up with a piece of dried fish or fruit.
Robbie lived off the land. He described how he occasionally harvests a goat or a pig. He admitted that he had a lot to learn and that he had attempted to tan the pelt of a goat but had failed and instead of a soft pliable pelt, it turned rock hard.
Since there is no refrigeration, meat must be distributed and eaten quickly. There’s too much meat for one person, so he shares it with the neighbors.
He mentioned the library. The library was situated in a couple of tents and was located in the Kalalau Valley across from the big pool but not the biggest pool and near where the mango tree used to be. How else do you give directions in a jungle?
The library was made up of mostly donations from parting residents. Robbie said it contained a wide range of books like any other library but no dewy decimal system.
Robbie provided a plethora of good survival information on: Tropical almonds, nooni, guava, ti, mango, fig, bread fruit, and bamboo. I told Robbie thanks for the info and, “I’ll see yea around the valley.”
I walked back to my campsite to check on things. I decided that today I would just take-it-easy and explore the valley near the beach.
The full length of the beach is bordered by a shallow forest. Moving west the forest gradually comes to a point with the cliff on the left and beach on the right, culminating at the falls. Moving east, the forest widens into the Kalalau Valley with several branch streams draining the valley and eventually forming the Kalalau River.
Setting out again, this time I walked away from the beach toward the cliff wall that paralleled the beach forest. Walking along it toward the valley, I came upon a drycave. It was more of a cavern much like the wetcave I had just explored at the beach, only far enough away from the beach to be dry. The drycave was the perfect shelter from rain and other people thought the same. It obviously was a place where the residents meet and have a party. There were several sealed “food-grade” buckets placed around. The buckets held flower and various spices and sugar. It looked like the buckets had a second function as seats around the fire ring. Leaning against the cliff wall were a couple of guitars and a ukulele waiting to be played.
I continued on toward the valley but didn’t get very far before I spotted someone stoking a fire at his campsite. “Hello,” he called to me, “I just put some coffee on, you care for some?” “A cup of coffee sounds great,” I called back.
I hiked up a slight rise to his campsite. The camp consisted of a very large rain fly with a good sized campfire ring under it. The fire ring had all the amenities for campfire cooking, Dutch ovens, pots and pans, heavy grill etc. A backpacker’s tent was nearby. My new social contact was definitely a resident.
His name is Taylor. Taylor has lived in the valley for a year and a half. He plans to stay there for another year and half for a full three years before getting back to the “world.” He was from North Carolina and spoke with a slight southern twang.
The coffee was excellent. It sure beat the instant stuff I had for breakfast. We had a good conversation, talking mostly about living in the valley. I also picked Taylor’s brain for the foraging of food in the valley, a subject dear to my heart and stomach. Many of the things he told me added to, and confirmed the things Robbie told me. I just ate up all wilderness survival information and at that moment decided to spend all the following day exploring the valley and eating only what the land provided.
The author having a cup of coffee at Taylor’s camp.
I broke out my deer jerky, took out a piece, and tossed the bag to him. He liked the stuff and that moved the conversation to how to make smoked jerky.
I believe I had some expertise in the subject since we were eating my own creation.
With the information I gave him, Taylor got fired up to kill a goat and smoke the meat. With what I told him and his determination to get it done, I wish I could be there now and taste some smoked goat jerky.
The conversation was abruptly interrupted by Taylor, spotting some people walking on the beach. He and jumping to his feet to view them. Taylor then jogged, barefoot, to the forest edge to peer out and observe the people.
I thought that perhaps he was concerned that the people might be park rangers conducting a bust to remove the outlaw residents.
He came back to the campsite and said that it was a couple resident women, Nova and Heather. He then supposed they were going to take showers at the falls and that one of the girls, Nova, preferred to stay away from Taylor’s campsite because of the previous night’s altercation with her.
I didn’t have to ask. Taylor told me, “I made some guava wine and took it to a party last night.” My ears perked up when I heard guava wine. But the story must continue.
He said, “I was sitting with my girlfriend and Nova and drinking the wine. Nova was messaging my feet and my girlfriend was rubbing my shoulders. We all three had a buzz goin’ and I started thinking a three-way might happen. Nova kept refilling my cup to the point where I passed out. She had it all planned. I woke up and Nova and my girlfriend were gone. I went out to the green field and broke up their party. I told Nova if you were a man you’d be eating my fist!”
I knitted my eyebrows together and said, “Hmmm.”
Taylor then said, “I don’t care what she’s into but don’t mess with my girlfriend!” He then followed up with, “she tries to pick up every girl that comes down off the red hill, telling them, Ooooh! That pack must be heavy, let me rub your shoulders, goddamn, she’s got the sexual drive of a seventeen year old boy!”
I thought, even in this Garden of Eden, there’s a soap opera.
I described my “magical introduction” into Kalalau to Taylor and described the girl I’d met. Taylor drawled, “Yep, that’s her.”
We talked a little more then I handed him my empty coffee cup and said I’d better get moving and see some of this valley. Taylor said, “A friend came into the valley today and he brought pizza making supplies, you should drop by.” He then described where the party would be. I told him, “I’ll see you tonight” and left.
Cool! I thought. It would be nice to hang out with the natives. After all, I hadn’t had any real conversation for the last four days and the coffee klatch reminded me that I missed it.
I then walked toward the Kalalau River, observed it, and thought I shouldn’t have any problem crossing it when I go to visit those people tonight. I also reminded myself that it could rise from a far away rainfall.
Turning left, I made my way downriver toward the beach. The trail then took me away from the river and a hill arose between me, the river, and the sea. A path led up the hill. I followed the path upward. The path culminated at a flat grassy plateau. Actually, the ground vegetation was a tundra-like grass. It made the plateau look like a golf green. The place had a “feeling” about it. I realized I was standing on a Heiau (Pronounced hey-ou). The Heiau had a commanding view of Kalalau Beach. It provided a beautiful vista.
A Heiau is a place where the early Hawaiians conducted ceremonies and rites to insure the fertility of the crops grown in Kalalau. It may have also been a luakini heiau, dedicated to success in war, with structures erected on top.
I took my shoes off (it just seemed like the right thing to do) and walked around. The “tundra” felt good on the old dogs. What a neat place! It would have been sacrilegious to do so, but the heiau would make a great place for a campsite.
It was also a great lookout spot too. I could see the whole beach from my vantage point. Walking to the other side of the Heiau, I could see the Kalalau River emptying into the ocean. Another hill arose on the other side of the river along a sea cliff. Somewhere over that hill was where the pizza party was to take place; beyond that, the Red Hill.
I found a place to sit, angling myself to view the mountains, beach and sea, all without having to turn my head.
View of Kalalau beach from the Heiau
A thousand years ago, people lived here. They also died here. They were born, lived and perished on the ground I tread upon. They worshipped, prayed, and maybe even sacrificed lives for a God on the spot that I sat. I reckoned those same people had their own soap opera’s too.
I imagined going back into time and being their god. I’d be a damn good god too. I wouldn’t end up like the English explorer Captain Cook in 1779. The Hawaiians thought he was a God, but alas, he wore out his welcome and they killed and dismembered him.
Sitting, the breeze and sun tiring me, an afternoon catnap descended upon me and I dreamed about nothingness. Awakening and still tired, I rolled over on my side and slept the sleep of dead Polynesians. After a couple hours, feeling rested, I went back to my camp. It was time to get ready for a party.
Walking back along the beach trail to camp, I met three residents. We introduced ourselves and shook hands all around. My new acquaintances were named Ron, Heather, and Nova.
Nova, whom I had met on my arrival to the valley, was carrying several Noni fruits. They were heading back to their camp on the bluff across the river. All three were solely dressed in shorts.
Ron appeared to be in his sixties. He had a beard and mostly gray hair. At that moment I guessed, and was later proven correct, that he’s the Mayor of Kalalau. Mayor is a term of endearment. Ron’s other nickname is the Pied Piper of the valley. He’s well known for making excellent bamboo flutes.
They seemed genuinely happy to see me and invited me to their camp. “Sure,” I said, also mentioning that Taylor invited me. We parted, and I made my way to my camp.
I figured I’d be coming home late so I brought in my dried laundry from the line and prepared my small backpack for the evening essentials. Since I heard we were going to make pizza I tossed in a bag of dried mushrooms. I also hunted for dry firewood and tied together a large armload with twine. The twine being scrounged from abandoned clotheslines.
I spotted a couple of newcomers with backpacks on the beach near my camp. They had that ten-thousand-yard-stare like they had just come in off the trail. Since I was now a regular and full of aloha spirit, I went over to great them. “Welcome to Kalalau,” I said. They were two dudes, Bob and Doug, from San Diego. I gave them directions to where the best campsites were and where they could go for a shower.
Parting, I battened down my tent, threw on my pack, grabbed the wood bundle, and headed to the party.
It was a long hike. I crossed the river and was just about to head up the hill when I saw Robbie coming down the hill to collect water. In answer to his questioning look, I said I got invited to some campsite up on the hill. I also added that I wasn’t sure exactly were it was. Robbie said, “I’m going up there myself, I’ll fill my jugs and I’ll show you a shortcut.”
After following Robbie up the main trail, toward “Nova’s” forest and the Red Hill, he veered off to the left. This brought us along a cliff side path; another trail with pounding surf one hundred feet below my left elbow. I thought, “great, you can’t go anywhere around here without risk of life or limb.” This time I had a heavy bundle of sticks to haul. The bundle was suspended from my shoulder by a strap that I had affixed to it. The load gave me the sensation of wanting to pull me toward the abyss. I couldn’t carry it on the other side, away from the edge, because the waist high wild flowers could catch on my bundle.
Ah those wild flowers! Later on, when I was a well seasoned cliff dweller, I would stop and smell those flowers and take pictures of the magnificent view. For now, I had to quell my terror because Robbie was waiting for me and I didn’t want to look like a candy ass.
Continuing on, we passed two campsites on our right. Tents and rain flies were hidden amongst the trees perhaps twenty feet from the trail and cliff. The campsites looked camouflaged and well shaded. “What a great place to have a campsite,” I thought, once you got used to the hazardous conditions of the trail.
The trail opened up into a boulder strewn green field. As soon as I stepped onto it I new it was a heiau. The boulders were big and round and covered in lichens. Each one looked like a great place to sit and view the sea, sky, clouds, stars, moon, sunset, or whatever. Green, plush “tundra” covered the ground wherever the boulders weren’t. If I wasn’t certain of the heiau nomenclature, Robbie confirmed it. He said, “This is a holy place, not holy in the christian sense but in aloha spirit.”
We turned right, away from the cliff, stepping on and over various boulders. There was no sign of trail anywhere, just boulders and tundra. Fifty yards from the edge of the cliff, we stepped into a forest of small twenty foot trees. Hidden amongst the trees were several rain flies overlapping each other. To the left, a well stocked kitchen and fire ring with a small fire burning under a pot. Near the fire, Taylor strummed a guitar. He nodded when I flipped him the peace sign.
Near the fire, also beneath a rain fly, I spotted the firewood stores. My little bundle of sticks didn’t seem very large compared to what was already there. Someone had foraged plenty of wood for the evening.
Robbie began showing me around. He showed me the garden which was located near the “Heiau campsite.” He showed me the various produce cultivated there; green beans, papaya, squash, tomatoes, peppers, and lettuce. The garden was located wherever there wasn’t a boulder. Robbie told me it’s extremely difficult to build gardens here because of the boulders. He said when you do find a nice open spot to plant something, you never know if it’s a good spot until you dig. More often than not, there’s a big boulder underneath that great spot. He pointed to some boulders that had been removed from the ground. They were the size of 32-inch televisions. Robbie said removing the boulders required a group effort with poles used as levers.
Robbie asked for the time. “Five forty-five,” I reported; time for the sunset. We went out to the heiau. Taylor followed us, still strumming the guitar.
Like most of the sunsets I would witness, low clouds hung on the horizon, preventing a clear view of the sun. Instead, the sun set into the clouds, creating various hues of red, orange, pink, and yellow.
While Taylor played some classic rock rift, Robbie and I discussed living off the land. He said, “I have some poi that I made. Do you want to taste some?” “You bet I do,” I responded.
He rummaged around his pack and pulled out a plastic jar that once held peanut butter. Running a finger through the gray paste, I tasted it. It was ok. No explosions of happy taste buds like the guava. It was obviously high in starch. I could only describe it as tasting like mashed potatoes without the cream, butter, and salt. He did mention that molasses and/or salt can be added to improve the taste.
The sky was starting to darken so we went to the living area under the rain fly. Taylor was stoking up the fire when various people began to arrive. I recognized Keith from the trailhead. Keith was the “pizza” guy who asked if I was bringing any pizza ingredients with me on the trail. At the time, I thought he was just messing with the “green cherry.” Other arrivals were Ron, Cathy, Nova, and Heather.
I still thought the pizza thing was just a mean trick played on me, until Keith and several of the party went to work on the project. It soon became apparent that Keith would be the pizza boss. Robbie volunteered to make the dough. Keith asked for donations, mentioning that he had pepperoni. He then asked if there were any vegetarians in the group; just one, Nova. It would be a vegetarian pizza.
The pizza donations came flooding in. My donation was a zip-lock baggy full of ultra-lightweight ingredients that I originally intended to add to ultra-lightweight ramen noodles. This mixture was a handful each of dried mushrooms, dried onions, and basil.
I didn’t take part in the project. I was strictly an observer. Taylor was getting the fire going to get a good supply of embers. I didn’t know it yet but I was about to experience an epiphany. The first of many I would have on this expedition.
E·piph·a·ny n. pl. e·piph·a·nies a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realization.
Setting some straw-like sticks on some very weak embers, Taylor picked up a bamboo stick. The stick was about thirty inches long and two inches thick and, like all bamboo, hollow. He positioned one end to his lips and the other, he placed near the very dull embers of the fire. He blew through the bamboo, forcing a swift current of air directly onto the coals. The embers liked this treatment and responded with glowing approval. Another blast of air brought more approval.
The sticks began to catch fire. This whole time Taylor did not leave his boulder/seat, performing this feat by just leaning forward a little. There were now weak flames. Another air blast produced the sound of a blowtorch. We had fire! On the seventh blast of air, Taylor sat back and rested.
Well, I’ll be danged. It’s called a blow stick, and it sure beats the hell out of getting down on all fours to blow, spit, burn your face, and eventually pass-out over an uncooperative fire.
The whole thing just amazed me. Until this moment, I felt I knew all there was to bonfire building. If my fire was failing, a can of gasoline or Napalm would set things right. But now; now, I could see things with a clarity I never could before. Looking over at Taylor, he just sat there, as if miracles happen all the time.
Taylor did call out to everyone, “who wants guava wine?” “Sure,” I said, breaking out my canteen cup. He filled it to the brim. The stuff was definitely the nectar of the Gods. It was sweet but not sickeningly sweet. The elixir had a hint of carbonation. It was like soda pop. Well, maybe even more like a slightly effervescent fruit punch. A nice Hawaiian punch. Sorry, it had to be said.
Actually, if not for catching a pleasant buzz, I would have thought there was no booze in it at all.
After the pizza dough had risen, Robbie greased up a large, twenty-four inch diameter, cast iron skillet, and pressed the dough into it. He coaxed the dough around and up the sides two inches. Keith took my mushroom concoction and added some water, reconstituting the mushrooms. Keith then took some pureed tomatoes and poured it onto the dough. Next, came the onions and squash, followed by the mushrooms. Cathy sliced the mozzarella and Keith added that. He then sprinkled some oregano on top and the pizza was ready. Keith put a second skillet of the same size and proportion on top of the skillet with the pizza making a kind of clamshell. He than set the clam shelled skillets on top of the grill over the hot embers. Next, he shoveled most of the coals from beneath the grill and piled them on top of the clamshell. It was basically how a dutch oven works. The main goal is to keep most of the heat on top of the dutch oven.
Now we had to wait. During the wait, I brought out a bag of deer jerky. That did it. All carnivores of the group became extremely interested in my jerky making methods. It was good to be looked at as an expert on something, not just someone from the mainland dropping in and mooching off them. I hope I gave such good instructions that they’re sitting around the fire now, nibbling on jerky of their own creation. Besides, in that warm environment, that kind of skill would go a long way in providing a good protein months after the animal is killed.
Taylor mentioned that he had caught a seventy pound fish a month earlier by surf fishing. But a seventy pound fish goes a long way. They had to eat it within a day or two before it would go rancid. They prepared it dozens of ways. The first thing they did was eat some as sushi and sashimi with that green horseradish stuff called wasabi. They also had it: breaded and deep fried, sautéed, filleted, cut in steaks, cut in pieces, and added to soup. Apparently, it was always delicious but a person does get tired of the same thing all the time and of course, it had to be eaten within two days. Drying and making fish jerky would be the answer. A person does get tired of the stuff but you can save it for later, in fact, a year later and it would still be good.
It seemed that most discussions centered on food; food and the preparation of food, the best food, food the way Mom makes it, food of different countries and cities, and of course, food you could never get in the valley. The conversation turned to two impossibilities of the valley, cold beer, and ice cream.
Ron was listening to the discussion about food; he laughed and exclaimed, “You guys are foodists!” I asked, “What do you mean?” Ron said, “Everybody’s a foodist. Wherever you go, whatever country you’re in, whether you’re friends or enemies, food is the language everyone speaks.” Ron was right, we are all foodists.
Every few minutes Keith would ask the time and I’d tell him. I was the only one in the group with a watch. After a half hour, the embers on top started getting dull so he asked me to grab some sticks. Obtaining several handfuls of quarter inch thick sticks, I set them on top of the Dutch oven. Now I get to use that great invention, the blow stick. The thing worked as advertised.
My newfound tribe didn’t believe in watches and clocks. I suppose it was an affront to their freedom, yet I was always asked for the time. Occasionally someone would ask what day it was. I thought that if anyone asked me the month, or worse, the year, I’d really start to wonder if I was in an oddball crowd.
I asked Nova about her life in the valley. She reported that she arrived the previous summer via kayak. Nova stated that she would stay for a year then go back to school in the fall.
Everyone was fairly young. Ron the Mayor was the oldest at sixty. I’m next at 41, then Taylor at 29. The rest, early to mid twenties.
Ron was fun to talk to. He was an all around good Joe who hailed from Boston and had the accent to prove it. He’d been in the Valley the longest, twenty years. He new a lot of stuff about a lot of things. His greatest ability is gardening. Later on that evening I would find out he was a great flute maker and player.
He had great unbiased stories of the valley. He gave one account that took place several years ago. A new guy made his entrance into the valley and planned to live there. That’s all fine, but regrettably, the fellow stopped taking whatever medication he needed in order to get along in polite society. He took to walking around armed. Several people had guns or bows in the valley. If you want fresh meat, you have to kill it with something. However, this guy was walking around armed all the time and threatening his neighbors. Ron put together a police force of some of the residents. When some park rangers made their monthly appearance to check on things and make improvements, he told them what he had in mind. The police force moved in on the guy, caught him off guard, and captured him. They secured him using zip ties and brought him to the rangers. The rangers, in turn, removed him via pontoon boat. Some lucky posse member got the gun. The rangers tend to look the other way in their dealings with Ron. They could capture him and take him away, but of course, he’d only find his way back. Besides, Ron is good for the valley because he takes care of problems like the above.
Keith called out that the pizza was ready. He removed the top skillet and then slid the pizza out of the bottom skillet onto a wooden board. I took some photos to prove this amazing feet to the folks back home.
We ate and it was good. But it wasn’t enough so Keith made another pizza.
Cathy, Taylor and Pizza
Intermittently throughout the evening, I stepped out into the night to find a tree. Looking up into the sky, I could see a million stars. As the evening progressed and several canteen cups of Taylor’s guava punch had its effect, I decided to stay the night with my new friends. I was somewhat unprepared for a whole evening out, but the darkness reminded me the last thing I wanted to do was make a river crossing at night.
While the second pizza was prepared and baked, some of the sweetest music I’ve ever heard was played. Ron brought out a bundle of his own hand crafted flutes and picked one. Taylor played guitar, and Heather, who could also play guitar, sang. They performed great; Heather has a voice so sweet that I got goose bumps on my arms.
“This is just great!” I thought. I must remember this for all time. Somewhere during the playing of that wonderful music, I decided to write this epistle.
Rain was moving in. Ron said, by the feel of it, that it’s going to be one of those two day storms. The wind started to pickup. There was a scramble of activity as everyone battened down their gear. And then the rains came. My friends called it an evening and skedaddled to their tents.
Taylor and Cathy found for me an extra sleeping pad and pillow then they headed for Cathy’s tent, leaving me alone at the fire. The air had grown cool so I added a few large logs to the fire. I had a light weight jacket and I wore that over me like a blanket. I settled down, and listened to the rain, at times growing loud but it had a pleasant sound much like sleeping near the crashing sea or flowing river. I got up several time to shine my flashlight around, inspecting the rain fly for damage and to make sure I wouldn’t wake up later in the middle of a mud puddle. An hour went by before I realized I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. I was thinking about too much stuff. I mostly thought of where I was, how I got there, the people, and what I would do tomorrow. I think I finally fell asleep around three in the AM.
Day 5, March 28, Sunday
Awoke at 06:30 to a scrapping sound. Sitting up, I saw Ron digging and scrapping out a trench around the rain fly. He was trying to divert water from flowing through the common area. Looking around, I saw that I had been lucky. Small rivulets flowed near my head and feet but didn’t touch me. It of course was still raining.
Putting on my boots, I grabbed another shovel and helped in the entrenching. There had already been a trench left over from the previous downpour so I simply made it deeper, allowing the water to flow around and away from the area.
It was a very cool morning. There were a few hot coals left from the evening before so I grabbed some dry tinder and placed it on top of the weak embers. Grabbing a blow stick, there were at least three lying around; I got a good warm fire going.
Seeing the fire, Ron prepared a pot of water and brought it up to temperature for tea. I found my canteen cup and he poured it full. We made some small talk about the weather but more importantly, I was mostly interested in why he lived in the valley. Ron simply said, “I like living outdoors.” He also added, “I have a little savings and it doesn’t cost more than a thousand dollars to live here for a year.”
I asked if he noticed whether he or anyone else caught less colds or flu’s out here. Ron agreed. He was hard pressed to remember the last time he had a cold. He finally figured it had been five years since he was last sick. He then added that he visits doctors and dentists several times a year.
Ron usually makes a trip back to “the world” on foot and comes back via sea kayak or inflatable rubber motor boats. That’s one method to get larger supplies into the valley. Boats can only land on the beach safely in the summer. Most uses of boats to land on the beach are illegal but it’s difficult for the authorities to control. Boats are the only way to get hundreds of pounds of supplies into the valley. At the most, backpacking can only bring in perhaps seventy pounds of supplies.
I asked about raids. He said big raids only happen every couple years. The authorities know everyone just comes back anyway. If a raid does happen, he and the others move deeper into the valley where friends live and can’t be found unless you know exactly where their camps are. He has friends that he can stay with in those cases.
Ron was genuinely surprised when I told him that I knew a little about him from the internet. That websites by Sierra Club and Backpacker magazine have stories by people who have hiked world renowned trails and they describe the trail and the interesting people they have met.
A few more people began to wakeup and gather around the fire. Taylor arrived and remarking about the rain said, “This looks like one of those three day rains.”
Ron hoped not, he wanted to work on the garden.
I was worried that I’d have trouble getting back across the river to my campsite. There was nothing for me to do but wait for the rain to stop.
A visitor, who was actually a returning resident and had just returned from several weeks back in the world, produced a bag of Hawaiian coffee. Ron brewed what must have been two gallons of the stuff. The coffee was delicious and woke me up from my stupor. Until then, my three hours of sleep made for a very rough morning.
The visitor was named Lam. He was originally from China but mostly traveled around the world.
Lam was carefully tuning a mandolin. Heather and Ron gathered around Lam with their instruments. It was 9:00 in the morning and I was about to hear another great impromptu musical concert.
This time I grabbed my camera, and while they played, I took a couple photos, remarking that I had just photographed what would make an excellent album cover. Cathy laughed and agreed.
Kalalau Music (L to R: Ron, Lam, Heather, Taylor)
The three played for perhaps twenty minutes. I closed my eyes so I could burn the sweet sound of their music into the CD of my brain.
Some other people gathered around the fire, people who lived nearby but had opted out of the previous evening’s party. Two couples showed up, each with a baby. Both kids were around eight months old. I was taken aback seeing those kids. They both seemed happy and well fed. In fact, at various times both moms nursed them the natural way.
I have to admit I was worried for the kids, living out here in this sometimes dangerous wilderness; but then I caught myself and remembered how dangerous it is anywhere, especially back in the so called real world. Besides, children have been born and raised in this valley for the last thousand years.
The rain continued to fall and Taylor said, “Yep, it looks like one of those four day rains.” He then began to practice a song on the guitar. At Taylor’s feet was the sheet music for a Grateful Dead song, “Uncle John’s Band.”
A backpacker, loaded down with his pack and sopping wet from the rain, made his entrance into the camp. He had just that morning left his camp at the Hanakoa River and trekked three miles through rain and slippery sea cliffs to get here. His name is Tao and hails from Korea. He didn’t wear a hat and his glasses were beaded with water and fog. The sandals he wore looked like nice sandals; for walking on a beach, but seemed inadequate for the trail that caused me so much misery. I was amazed.
Tao is a return visitor to the Valley and several people knew him. Tao said that he had heard a weather report that we could expect a full day of continuous rain.
At one point, one of the mom’s had to go back to her home to retrieve something. Her spouse was nearby but he was busy installing another rain fly. Seeing me with nothing to do, she asked me if I wouldn’t mind holding her baby while she left to go get something. I lied and said, “Sure, I like babies.”
The baby I held, sitting on my knee, was naked. In fact, both babies were naked. I suppose it’s just easier for natives in a tropical and outdoor world to let babies and young kids run (or crawl) around with no cloths. I seem to recall seeing such things in a National Geographic. I also supposed that diapers can’t be washed very easily and forget about getting a regular supply of disposables in there.
Everything turned out ok. I didn’t drop it or anything and it didn’t have an accident on me. Mom came back and I gave baby to her. I was, however, somewhat relieved to relinquish it because it was starting to get squirmy.
The rain had quit but I decided to give the river another hour to recede a bit before I went back to my campsite.
Helicopters had been flying off and on all day. Everyone by this point hates them but all are used to them. As long as they stay several hundred yards off the coast.
In one dramatic moment, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of a helicopter flying in close. Too close. So close you could hear the air “phhhhit-phhhhit-phhhhiting over the rotor blades. The closeness could only be a helicopter landing. There was an emergency helipad about one hundred yards from the “outlaw” campsite. The helicopter got closer and closer, louder and louder.
My friends around me all stood up looking very anxious. Some more thumping of the rotors sent my outlaw friends, male and female, some naked, all topless, into action; they skedaddled and ran for the hills, everyone except Ron. Ron was grace under fire. I could only look on amused. My friends thought it was a raid. I thought so too.
The sound of the helicopter grew to a feverish pitch. I thought it must be hovering nearby. I couldn’t see the sky very well because of the thick trees. I did not go to investigate because that could give the camp away.
A whirlwind of air rushed through the boughs. The rush of air violently fluttered tree leaves, in mass, turning them over white. Looking up, I half expected to see a landing skid come floating under the tree canopy.
And then the pitch of the engine changed. “Was it landing? Was it shutting down its engines? Wait, what’s that!”
The swish of the rotor blades began to recede, it was going away. It flew away and was gone as soon as it arrived.
The only ones left in the camp were Ron and me. Ron, the twenty year veteran of the valley looked at me and said, “Those pilots do that sometimes. They like to scare everyone and watch the topless women run away.”
A moment later Taylor returned. He grabbed a conch shell that had been sitting in one spot the whole time I’d been there on my visit. I didn’t think anything about it before, just some camp decoration. Pressing the seashell to his lips, he blew three loud blasts and sat down. Like a well oiled machine, the naked people returned. None were embarrassed; none had a sheepish look; it was all part of the program.
Well that was fun. But the rain had quit for an hour and I really wanted to check to see if my own camp was safe and secure and I wanted to use the rest of the day to explore the valley.
My camp was in fine shape. Everything inside my tent was high and dry. I was hungry but I had decided to not eat anything unless it came from the land. I repacked my daypack with everything I would need including things I hoped I wouldn’t need like my first aid kit.
I set out at noon and it didn’t take long for the rain to start falling again. The shower wouldn’t bother me. I wore a broad brimmed hat to keep the rain off my glasses. The weather was warm so I allowed myself to get wet, leaving the windbreaker in my pack.
As I headed into the valley, I met Doug of the Bob and Doug pair I’d met yesterday. I told him I was heading out to explore the valley. I recommended they do the same, to heck with the rain.
Making my way through the jungle, it wasn’t long before I started finding various fruit trees. The first was guava. I ate them as I picked them. Picking some more, I placed them with the tiny banana from the previous day in a mesh bag hung from my day pack.
I started to see goats. They usually traveled in herds. The males had some very large horns and led the herd. The females tended the lambs, allowing the small ones to suckle.
The rain was heavy and steady. I found that the rain covered the sound of my footfalls and I could sneak up on the goats, all in fun though. Protein would not be in my diet that day.
The trail was easy to follow. Occasionally I’d end up on a branch trail and find myself at someone’s campsite. I wasn’t interested in meeting up with anyone so I’d just turn around to find the main trail. If a camp seemed to be deserted, I would stop and look it over, just looking but staying near its perimeter.
Some of the camps were quite interesting and looked very comfortable. I passed through several bamboo forests and the varying sized bamboo trees could provide some great, lightweight building materials. One camp had several shelves and tables made from the forest. If not for the use of nylon rain flies, it would have looked exactly like Gilligan’s Island.
I started noticing large massive oak-like trees. Of course, I knew they couldn’t be oak trees, but they did have that look. The leaves looked like leaves of the Shingle Oak of the Midwest. The trunks on some were over six feet in diameter. The vegetation beneath these large trees was very sparse so you could easily walk under and around them. Way up high, I could see some kind of green fruit. Using my binoculars, I wondered if it might be mango. They were too high up to do anything about it.
The Mango tree didn’t provide sustenance but I found a strong piece of branch that would make a sturdy walking stick. I carried a so-called multi-tool which has a saw on it so walking stick production began in earnest. Cutting excess material from both ends, I located an appropriate stone. Sanding off splinters and rounding the end, the gift from the Mango tree put my store bought stick into retirement. I dismantled and folded the modern contraption then placed it in my pack.
Trying my stick out, I poked around beneath the mango tree. I forgot it was raining. The ground beneath the great tree was dry. The soil wasn’t even damp. I fancied some government grant should be awarded to determine where all that water goes to after splashing into the trees foliage. Does all the water flow out towards the trees perimeter? Does it “drink” it? Where does it go?
It was nice not to be rained on so I found a big fat comfortable rock to sit on and have a little picnic of guava.
Guava! I just can’t get over how damn good those things are. “There’s just no way will I find them back in civilization,” I chide myself. I just knew I wouldn’t have something so succulent and delicious on the outside, even from the first grocery store I can reach outside this fantasy.
Finishing my lunch I stepped out from under the outstretched arms of my older friend and marveled at the natural umbrella.
Postponing the inevitable walk in the rain, I stepped back within the shelter of the umbrella tree. The ground beneath and around my tree had only a short slant to it. Nothing in the valley can be called flat. In fact, the valley is rather hilly. But this spot could almost be called level.
There had to be a home here I thought. Perhaps, even a neighborhood. The ghosts of dead Polynesians surrounded my imaginations. I could see them moving about in their daily chores. I’m sure they didn’t like being rained on either.
One of the ghosts, I believe, was Kaluaikoolau (Named Ko‘olau for short).
In the 1890’s was living his life as a father, husband, and cowboy near the town of Kekaha on the other side of Kauai. Thousands of Hawaiians had contracted the horrific disease called leprosy.
Leprosy was, at that time, like Aids was in the early days of its discovery. If you have it, you will be shunned by your fellow citizens. In 1890 Hawaii if you had leprosy, you were quarantined on the Hawaiian island, Molokai. The islanders had a name for a quarantine settlement. Hawaiians called it “the grave of living death.”
This one man, a so-called Leper, was not going to abandon his family. Ko‘olau and his wife and child, escaped from authorities on horses. Their flight on the trail along the Na Pali coast brought them temporary safety in this valley.
A posse of heavily armed policemen went into the valley after the fugitives. Ko‘olau was heavily armed too and successfully defended his new home, perhaps on the very spot of this mango tree. Several of the posse was killed, the rest, perhaps married men, turned around and went home.
Ko’olau’s family lived in the valley for several years. He and his son would eventually succumb to the horrible disease. His wife, Pi‘ilani, after burying her family, stepped out of the valley, and continued her life.
Pi’ilani was not arrested. After the turn of the century, she wrote a poetic account of the confrontation.
In Pi’ilani’s words: “His eyes flashed and his breast heaved as he stepped back, standing straight and expressed his firm determination not to allow himself while alive to be taken by the wrongful law of the land, which would not allow his wife to accompany him. The leprosy, said he, was a catastrophe in the life of a man, thus it was not wrong for a man to oppose the law . . . . At sunset on a certain day when the wings of darkness spread over the ridges and rows of cliffs of our beloved land . . . . we loaded ourselves and our belongings on horseback and in the loneliness and awesomeness of the night turned towards the trail which would descend into Kalalau, leaving behind our ‘birth sands’, without knowing when we would see them again or breathe the comforting air of our birthplace.”
This ground that I stand on is not a playground. It is hallowed ground. It was consecrated by the blood and toil of human beings only trying to live until they die.
It was time to continue my hike up the valley of the Kalalau.
I discovered a noni fruit tree and ate one and stored two in my mesh bag. It wasn’t as good tasting as a guava but it added diversity in the day’s diet. I had heard of the noni before, its juice is regularly sold at health food stores. It’s touted as having great healing powers and can cure many ailments. The marketing I’ve seen sounds characteristic of other quack remedies. It has a snake oil sound about it. I would eat several and I’m sure it was good for me but the pain I normally feel when on such a hike didn’t go away. Robbie told me if I had a pain in my elbow or knee, I should rub noni juice on the limb, and the pain would go away. No such luck. The dull soreness in my knee stayed with me the whole eight days of my expedition.
There were Taro terraces all over the place. I had read that at one time most of the valley was cleared by the early Hawaiians and the stone walled terraces built. Apparently, you could see up and down the valley for miles without the large trees and the jungle obstructing the view.
I found a sweat lodge. Someone had built a domed sweat lodge out of bamboo. I figured it was a communal area and the builder wouldn’t mind if I inspected the area closer. The lodge was dome shaped and made of bamboo. It was six feet high and twelve feet in diameter. It was just a skeleton frame. Nearby, several blankets hung on a cloths line. A pyramid of six or seven grapefruit sized rocks was located in the middle of the dome. Wooden slats on rocks provided benches around the inside wall of the lodge. Outside the dome and fifteen feet away was a fire ring with a shovel nearby.
How a sweat lodge works: The blankets are draped over the frame of the lodge leaving an opening for a door. A fire is built a few feet from the door and the rocks are heated. The rocks are then transported one by one onto the center of the lodge floor. A plastic jug was filled with water and with naked people sitting around; mountain water is poured over the hot rocks making steam. The sweat pouring from the skin pushes out the dirt and evil spirits that clog the pores. Later, the naked people jump into the crystal clear mountain stream, almost taking their breath away, to wash the sweat off them. Then you stand around the fire to dry off.
Onward and upward, into the valley. The trail brought me to a minor stream crossing. On my side of the riverbank, a bamboo walking stick leaned against a tree. I suppose the owner didn’t care to use a walking stick except when crossing streams. I would later come across several other sticks at other streams.
I found a coconut tree with several coconuts beneath it. I examined them all and picked one that didn’t seem too green. Shaking the coconut and I could hear liquid sloshing inside. I have never busted one open and I new I might need a machete to do it. I stuffed it in my pack anyway. I’ll figure it out later.
The trail became faint and hard to follow; I was blazing my own route. I traveled up this branch of the valley as far as I could go; the ground was just too steep and slippery. The back of this part of the valley was like a box canyon with several natural tiers where water falls poured from. The rain increased and I speculated that maybe the drop of some of the waterfalls was so great that the falls turned to mist before hitting the ground. Looking up through the mist, I couldn’t tell what was going on up there. Perhaps the most beautiful waterfall on the planet earth. Straining to see, the clouds were too low and my glasses beaded up with rain. Oh well, not on this day. I could hike up the valley no further. There’s still plenty of exploring to do but I would do it in the general direction of home. I turned around.
I met up with Bob and Doug. They thought my idea of exploring the valley was a good one, but exploring it in the rain wasn’t. They complained about the rain. I gave them a pep talk to improve their morale. First off, the rain keeps the mosquitoes and nats grounded. They can’t fly with rain drops knocking them to the ground.
They continued up into the valley and I headed back toward home.
I still wanted to find more food. I saw lots of taro earlier and I came across it again. According to Jim, my cab driver, taro does not grow in the wild. It has to be planted and cultivated. This meant that I would have to take it from someone’s Taro plot; justifying that maybe there was so much of it, that stealing one wouldn’t harm the crop.
Taro
I chose the smallest Taro in a group of fifteen plants. They were in the bed of a small stream. Standing in one inch deep water, I cut off the leaves and set them aside to see what I was doing. I then dug all around the tuber a few inches into the rocky creek bed. I grabbed the top of the plant were the leaves had been and pulled up on it. It broke in half but I came away with a piece the size of a medium potato. Filling in the hole and wrapping the specimen with the leaves, I put it with the rest of my treasures.
I had had enough of the rain. I was tired and hungry and wanted to do something about it.
The trip out of the valley took two hours. Arriving at the beach, I went straight to the dry cave. It was still raining and I wanted to make a fire, get dry, and not get rained on. The thick cloud cover forced an inky black darkness to descend upon my valley. The night was darker than a cows stomach with its mouth closed and its tail down.
There was plenty of dry wood to start a fire and several blow sticks to choose from.
Remember, as I stated earlier, the dry cave had most everything I needed to prepare a meal.I scrounged a gallon pot, filled it with water from a small nearby waterfall, and brought it to boil. I then took my taro root, cut it in cubes, and dropped it into the boiling water.
I found a large oversized kitchen knife. Using that, I hacked on the coconut. The knife was too lightweight to make much of an impression so I set the blade with the grain of the outer husk and pushed down with the palm of my hand. Doing that several times around the husk, I was able to get my fingers into the slice that my knife made and pull the husk open. There it was; a nice round, brown, hairy coconut.
I gouged out its eye and poured the clear liquid into my canteen cup. It didn’t taste that great, time to get at the meat. Holding the coconut in the palm of my hand, I hammered it down on a pointed rock. That did it; it broke into three or four pieces. I scraped some meat out and it was the perfect appetizer.
The rain was pouring but the cave provided an ideal shelter. I could move around the fire without getting wet. A natural projection in the back of the cave made for a good shelf. On it, I found a bottle of molasses and several plastic jugs of spices.
I rooted out a small skillet and placed it on the fire. I carved out several large slivers of coconut meat and dropped it into the skillet to toast them. I also chopped up the green banana and tossed that into the skillet with the coconut
My cloths were now completely dry. My feet, however, were still wet in my boots.
I spotted some movement at the base of some bushes at the mouth of the cave. I aimed my headlamp at the movement, and two yellow demon eyes stared back at me. I thought, “What is that!?” The eyes just stared back, unblinking. I got up to investigate but the eyes went away. What ever it was, it was curious but not brave.
The Dry Cave
An hour of boiling to make the taro edible was up. I strained out the water. Using my spoon, I mashed the taro against the sides of the pot making a dull-gray thick paste. It tasted just like the sample Robbie gave me, not very exciting. I took a raw sliver of coconut and swiped it through the taro. That made it a little better, so I ate it like that, with the cooked banana and coconut on the side.
It turned out to be a pretty good dinner and I was full and satisfied. I saved a couple spoonfuls of the taro and mixed a little of the molasses syrup with it. It wasn’t great but I can now legally claim that I ate off the land for an entire day.
There it is again! Those demon eyes staring back at me. I new there were no man-eating carnivores on the islands. There were no tigers or leopards or anything like that. Moving closer, I finally saw it, a cat.
This cat seemed mostly curious. It never came very close. It was still a kitten and didn’t know what wonderful foods tourists give for simply looking heartrending and pathetic.
All the food and the cozy fire made me tired and sleepy. The rain stopped and it was time to go home. I put everything back where I found it and left the fire to burn by itself figuring that I’ve heard of forest fires but I’ve never heard of jungle fires.
I hiked the couple hundred yards to my tent, washed up, brushed the choppers, and looked at the fluorescent ocean. My three hours of sleep from the previous night demanded more and I went immediately to sleep.
Day 6, March 29, Monday
I awoke at eight o’clock. This day would be my last full day in the valley. My five-day permit to camp within the Na Pali Start Park is now officially expired. I am, at this moment, an “outlaw.”
It looked like it would be a nice day. I hung my clothes to dry and practiced on my recorder flute. Breakfast was Guava, Jerky, Coconut, and Coffee. The two dudes, Bob and Doug, hiked by. They were loaded down with full packs. They were obviously leaving the valley. I mentioned to them that they ought to visit the heiau at the mouth of the Kalalau River before they left the valley for good.
I didn’t want to spend my last day and night in the valley alone, so I thought I’d visit my friends at the heiau on the other side of the river. I struck my tent and loaded my gear into my backpack. I also took a shower and shaved at the falls.
Every few minutes I’d stop and look around, thinking, I might never see this place again, I should burn it into my brain.
Hiking toward the river and walking across the last bit of beach, I had to take one last look, and turned around. The view was amazing. It was the same panorama I’d viewed several times so far but every time I saw it, it was as if I’d seen it for the first time in my life.
The clouds weren’t thick enough to hide the mountain tops. The peaks had veils of mist swirling around producing tones of grey on the peaks. Moving the eyes down the mountain brought a deep hued green. The green, produced by jungle vegetation, looked like Astroturf. It seemed to be draped on the sides of the mountain. As the sharp mountain cliffs dropped towards the valley and beach, the vegetation looked like clumps of bushes. I knew, from the previous days hike up that valley that some of the trees are over a hundred feet tall but from a distance, they look like pieces of broccoli.
My world was divided, on my left, purple mountains and a green valley, on my right, an azure endless sea. In between, that white beach being hammered by even whiter surf.
I saw movement on the edge of the forest. It was Heather, the guitar player, looking up into the mountains. She said, “Isn’t it beautiful here?” She had a far-out and far-off look in her eyes. I thought to myself, “Is she high?” Then I thought, no, she’s drunk on Kalalau and so am I.
I made my way across the river and up the hillside toward the heiau camp. I had to negotiate my way along that same treacherous cliff edge. This time a transformation had come over me. Walking along the edge of the cliff, stirred within me, no more concern than last months hangnail. I would in fact stop several times to look at the scenery and even look down to the crashing surf, one hundred feet below.
Walking across the heiau toward the camp, I spotted my people working in the garden. I dropped my pack and walked over to say hello. Ron and Robbie were digging around a boulder the size of 25-inch television.
Ron said in his Bostonian accent, “If we can get this rock out of here, we’ll have a great spot to replant a potted papaya that was brought in by boat.” Nearby Cathy was working on the lettuce garden.
I thought I’d help them move the boulder but it was not as easy as it looked. The boulder was in a hole and there was room around it to place our hands but all we could do was roll it from one side to the other. I suggested that we could dig out a ramp and roll it up and out. Ron agreed but when you dig out the ramp, more often than not, there’s usually another boulder in the way.
Ron said it’s time for a break and some lunch. We walked over to the campfire. A large pot was simmering over the fire. Ron said, “The weather is so nice that I guess a few people might come-in off the trail today so I made as much soup as I could.” He dished out a ladleful to everyone.
A moment later, while sitting around the fire discussing with Lam how to build an outdoor brick-oven, a father and his fifteen year old son stumbled into camp. They were tired and looked happy just to dump their packs. The father introduced himself to Ron, and Ron recognized him as a previous acquaintance and visitor to the valley. I got the impression that the dad had visited the valley some years before and had such an overwhelmingly positive experience that now he’s back for replenishment, and in addition, brought his son along hoping the boy would pick up on the worldly experience.
That was the thing about Ron. People came off that trail looking for him; people like me. I suppose if I ever go back, the first person I will hope to find is Ron. I think a better nomenclature for Ron would be “the caretaker of Kalalau.” The many gallons of bean soup he made were for anyone who wanted some and especially for the tired hikers coming in off that trail.
Later, when dad and son departed to camp near the beach; I mentioned that the kid looked pretty miserable and unhappy until he got properly fed.
Several quarts of freeze dried strawberries were burning a hole in my backpack. The strawberries are so lightweight that I brought entirely too many for one person. I thought it would really be fun to hydrate the strawberries and have them as strawberry shortcake. The strawberries were freeze dried whole and they really looked like fresh strawberries until you picked one up, they had the texture of Styrofoam.
I didn’t know what to do with them so I enlisted Ron and Cathy into the project. Ron said we should soak them in water all afternoon to be ready for tonight.
That sounded like a fine idea. I rummaged around the campfire and found a pot with a lid. Dumping all the strawberries into the pot, Cathy then poured water into the strawberries. I broke a stick off some kindling and stirred the elixir. Placing a lid on the pot, I placed it in a safe spot.
Cathy cried out, “Whale!” Everyone looked up and out toward the sea. I caught a glimpse of a large splash. Where there is one splash, there will be another. “There it is!” The whale breached out of the water, loomed high over the waves, turned on its side, and crashed down on the surface, sending white spray in all directions. Its flipper being the last visible part of the whale, waving to us as it wrapped itself in the sea.
Whale watching became the order for the moment. They’re humpbacked whales. They spend their winters in the waters of the Hawaiian Archipelago and summer near Alaska. A few weeks from now, they’ll be leaving Hawaii for the month long trip north.
For the next minutes, we watched them spouting water from their blow holes and breaching. Ron reported on what the whales were doing; breaching dislodges barnacles and parasites off their skin. It may also allow them to look around, or they might just be playing.
The whales left to play somewhere else.
I got into a discussion about war and politics with Tao. A month previous, he went to Israel and Palestine to witness what is going on there. He reported that because of his Asian facial features, he was able to move around without being targeted by either side.
The conversation started to grow serious and unpleasant so I asked about the foods he ate there. Before Tao could answer, Ron, walking by with some gardening tools, laughed, and blurted out, “Foodists!”
It was mid-afternoon and everyone seemed to be working on some project. Ron and Cathy worked in the garden although waiting to remove the big boulder until more men, like Taylor, were available to do the job. Lam with his mandolin and Heather with her guitar rehearsed a song.
It was time to explore the area. I put together my day pack and grabbed my walking stick. I struck out across the Heiau to the cliff and took a right.
Stepping over and between red boulders, I followed a faint trail through a small forest. The trail opened out onto a mile long, half mile wide boulder strewn green field. It was the “Green Field.” Up and to the right, I could see all of the Red Hill and the Kalalau trail making its entrance into the valley.
Stretching out before me was an explosion of primary colors. From left to right; the cobalt blue sea, then the Green Field, then the Red Hill and then the purple mountains. Way off in the distance where the Green Field ended, the surf pounded at the base of the sea cliffs. This endless surge of breakers crashing into the boulders produced a rainbow making mist. The rainbow towered high over the Red Hill. The vision produced was impossibly stunning.
Hiking across the Green Field, I stopped every few feet to take pictures. Just when I thought I’d taken enough photos I’d see an utterly different-impossibly-stunning panorama, and take more pictures. It was a wonderland.
Na Pali Rainbow. The view from the Green Field looking east. Somewhere in the photo is the Kalalau trail.
All that green in the Green Field could only be a haven for goats. Sure enough, I startled a herd of them. As I hiked along the Green Field, I couldn’t help to follow and “chase” the goats. I heard a tiny little lamb bleating for mom. The little lamb was no more than forty feet away. I grabbed my camera and tried to get off a shot but mom came running over, baa-baaing for her baby. “Lamb Chop” finally saw momma and scampered off to the herd. My camera work was too slow; my photo shows a lambs butt in the distance.
Goats in the Green Field
I continued to “chase” the herd until the green field came to a point jutting over a cliff. As the goats came to the edge, they all went over one by one. I was already familiar with the surefootedness of goats and I wasn’t too worried for them. However thoughts of lemmings leaping over a cliff to their suicidal deaths did cross my mind.
Arriving at the edge and peering over, I saw they were all safe-and-sound walking and browsing on the thin little trails along the cliff. I observed them for a moment, half expecting one of them to blunder and loose their footing; but even Lamb Chop new how to handle that precipice.
I returned back towards the heiau and scouted for a place to sit. I found an excellent seat with a smooth boulder to sit-back against. I could look straight down the Green Field, yet watch for whales or watch for hikers coming down the trail off the Red Hill.
The Green Field and the Red Hill
The light breeze came in across the Green Field carrying with it a touch of mist and the smell of the ocean. Practicing my flute, the breeze would muddle its tone. I’d occasionally spot a whale breach or see its T-shaped tail arching out of the waves. In whale-viewing jargon this is called ‘sailing’.
I spotted some hikers coming down off the Red Hill. Comparing the hiker’s puny size in relation to that hill demonstrated the scale of things. The Red Hill is massive. It took the hikers almost thirty minutes to reach its base. Throughout the afternoon, nine hikers came down the hill.
At five o’clock, I went back to the heiau camp. As soon as I walked up Taylor handed me a sliced piece of summer squash. It tasted good and sweet. Ron pointed out that he could hear me playing the flute. I told him that the wind must have carried the sound because I was more than five hundred yards away.
Baby banana
Nova appeared with a bunch of bananas. They were more than a bunch, it was the whole stalk. The bananas were yellow and perfect, if only four inches long. There wasn’t a bruise or blemish on the bunch. I had to take a picture holding one in my hand and did. I asked Nova where she found them. She gave me directions, but directions do no good unless you’ve been up and down the valley and know exactly where the big mango tree used to be before it was struck by lightning.
Nova said that a mango tree really did get knocked over by lightening or a storm. The massive tree lay on its side allowing the hunter-gatherer humans to reach the normally impossible to reach fruit. What a jackpot! Cathy said, “Yea, we ate mangos for a month.”
Taylor popped some popcorn. He popped the corn in batches, using a small pot and dumping it into a large bowl. Heather brought out a small bottle and poured the contents over the popped corn. It was coconut oil. The stuff tasted crunchy and good.
A long time resident made his appearance. His name is Myron. He sat down near the popcorn production line and opened up a leather bag of beads. He commenced to making a necklace. Jewelry making was Myron’s gig. Myron said, “I get all the beads and pooka shells I need from the land, then I take my wares and sell them for half their worth in tourist traps like Poipu.”
I watched him for a moment and asked him what the light blue pearl like things are. He said, “They’re Jobes Tears, it’s a plant that grows all around here, usually on scrubby land.”
Myron said that back in the “real world” he was a civil engineer. He used to visit Kalalau regularly but finally he just decided to stay. He did bother me a little. He started preaching, not preaching religion, but preaching his way of life. “You see,” he said, “We are just people here trying to live our lives day to day. We have our problems and our ailments just like everybody else.” Myron kept going on and on about just trying to live his life simply.
Hoping to change the subject, and as I was interested in visiting the “Library”, I asked Robbie where it was. Robbie was just about to tell me when Myron said, “No, don’t tell him!”
Myron then explained that when George W. Bush got elected President, one of the first things he did was order the dismantling of the library and all the books were burned by the rangers. The rangers, according to Myron, have been commanded to remove the populace of Kalalau Valley.
Myron said, “Dave, we are just simple people who just want to be left alone by the government and their Nazi-rangers.”
Luckily, I managed to change the subject again by announcing that not everything is simple. I said, “Yesterday, while hiking in the valley, I found a very well made and complex sweat lodge.”
Myron said, “thank you, I built that.” He then went on about how we are undemanding people; we just want a few simple things; to be left alone to live our lives…”
I prayed to the great God of Kalalau to set me free from Myron’s preaching. The great Kalalau God gave me inspiration. I stood up and declared, “I’m going to the river for water, are there any empty water jugs that need filling?”
Everyone jumped up to hand me water jugs. Cathy said if I get to the river and take a right and walk down towards where the river goes into the sea, I should see some Jobes Tears. My eyes lit up. I asked Myron if he didn’t mind if I harvested a few of the Jobes Tears. He said, “What’s ours is yours, us Kalalau people share what we have with those around us we…”
I grabbed the water jugs and my own water bladder and headed down the hill to the river. I filled the containers and left them to sit near the trail as I went in search of the jobes tears. It didn’t take long, there they were. The plants were dried up looking. I started out picking the Jobes Tears one by one but that was slow and tedious. I lit upon a method of grasping the bottom of the stalk with my thumb and forefinger and pulling up towards the top of the plant. As the tears were stripped off, they fell into the palm of my hand. I came away with a pocket full of the magical Jobes Tears.
Jobes Tears
I gathered my water jugs and headed up the mountain. It’s almost time for the sunset. As I stepped out, onto the heiau, I found a whole bunch of people looking at me. My new found tribe saw that it was time for the sunset and they came out to the heiau to witness it. I went over to them and had a seat and passed the jugs of water around for those needing a drink. In return, a bowl of popcorn came my way.
The sunset came and went. The clouds low on the horizon made it red and impressive but not quite spectacular. It’s what came after the sunset that was spectacular. Stars; millions of them, and no moon to cause glare. The conversation was good too. Robbie told of his experience on a Pacific Ocean sea voyage on a tall mast sailing ship. He pointed out several constellations that can’t be scene from the Midwestern United States. Sooner or later, the discussion turned to UFO’s. Ron mentioned that just around the corner of the island is the Barking Sands Missile Range. Ron said, “If we’re lucky, we might see something weird coming out of that place.”
Not feeling very lucky, everyone picked up and headed to the campfire. It was time to figure out what to do with the strawberries. The answer came from Cathy. Role out the dough flat and rectangular, pour the strawberries on top, and roll it into a log, slice it into several rolls, and bake.
The operation began. Cathy got hold of a handful of sugar (like gold around there), and adding it to the strawberries and simmered it over the fire. Nova had a small bag of dried apples and tossed that into the strawberry sauce. Myron made the dough. Lam gave Myron some flax seed to add to the dough. Ron grabbed a large board and placed a garbage bag over it for a clean surface. Myron rolled out the dough. Cathy trickled the strawberry concoction over the dough. The dough and its topping was rolled and sliced, the pieces placed into the skillet. Taylor made sure the fire was ready and took care of the baking.
Now we had to wait.
One of the discussions while we waited was the tenacity of poison centipedes. According to everyone who has tried to cut one in half, the two halves can continue to wiggle and the part that means business can still bite you. I noticed during the discussion everyone unconsciously scratched themselves and waved off imaginary bugs.
The rareness of sugar brought up the subject of getting a boat onto the beach in the middle of winter. Ron said it can and has been done but if the surf is too rough don’t even try it. Sometimes one hour in a given week, the surf may settle just enough to get a boat in. If you miss your window, all you can do is turn around and head back to a sheltered bay.
Taylor said he attempted to bring in a supply boat once and he had to be rescued. The word “rescued” rolled off his tongue like it was a terrible and embarrassing thing to have happen. He was with a friend and they were trying to get a boat in to the beach. The boat was severely overloaded with over five hundred pounds of beans, flour, salt, sugar, and other essentials. Their barge began to take on water. A catamaran tour boat nearby, watching, had to move in and rescue the two men. Taylor and friend were hauled back to civilization and ended up having to hike back in.
The rolls were ready! Myron removed the Dutch oven from the fire and allowed the rolls to cool slightly. We stood around the skillet and Cathy dished out one roll to each person. I got mine and placed it into my canteen cup. It was hot and it was good. For a few minutes, all you could hear was chewing and happiness. The “foodists” were feeding. Cathy asked me, “What do you think?” I could only mumble, “Can’t talk, mouth full.”
I asked Ron what happened on September 11, 2001. He said, “We had a bunch of rangers here and they were patrolling the area and taking notes for a possible resident-relocation-raid.” He continued, “I was up in the valley staying away from them and collecting bamboo for flute making. A friend who lives up there has a shortwave radio. He told me what had happened.” Ron also said that he figured he’d better tell everyone else so he went down to the beach. When the rangers went to intercept and harass him. Ron told the Rangers, and the Rangers quickly loaded up their boats and went home. Ron said the whole valley knew what happened the day that it happened. Incoming hikers were informed also.
Ron said, “It was a terrible thing that had happened to the country but it sure was nice that we got a break from all the helicopters hovering around for over a week.”
The rolls were polished off and then the instruments came out. As usual, the music was fresh and pleasant.
I stepped out onto the heiau to get a glimpse of the weather and maybe see if clouds might be moving in. I was nervous about my departure in the morning. I was afraid it might rain and raise those river levels. My plans were to get an early departure in the morning, hike nine miles, and cross all major rivers by tomorrow night. I could then relax and camp at my “perfect campsite” on the other side of the very last river, the Hanakapiai. The following day could then be spent in leisure, with a two mile hike to the trailhead and my four o’clock taxi pickup.
I told some friends (Chris and Yvonne) who live on the southern side of Kauai that I would call them as soon as I got off the trail, on Wednesday. I planned to visit and stay with them after this Kalalau trip was over. I was concerned that they might become alarmed if I didn’t call them at the prearranged time.
Looking into the night sky, the stars were clearly visible. They were striking and well defined. There were sections of the sky that did cause me some apprehension. From East to North, and far in the distance, there seemed to be a long sweeping cloudy front moving diagonally from my vantage point. I had been watching it all day and for now, so far so good.
I stayed out on the heiau for several minutes. The music gave a haunting sound to my star gazing.
I went back to my group, sat and listened to the music. Time was hurdling by. I did not want to leave. Ron asked me for the time, I lied and said it was nine-thirty; actually, it was ten-thirty. I wished the evening festivities could last and I would never have to deal with the morning. Nevertheless, you cannot slowdown time any more than you can stop waves from crashing in. My time here is coming to a close. I must drink this all in, burn it into a memory that must last a lifetime.
The surf continued to pound a steady beat.
Myron, the preacher, got up to leave. Everyone wished him a safe trip home. I thought how interesting and different things are in this valley. Back home when you head out into the night after visiting friends; you hop in a car and hope a drunk driver doesn’t cross over the yellow line. Myron was heading out into the night for a two mile walk to his home, campsite really. He had no drunks to worry about. There is that river to cross though.
I shook his hand and told him thanks for the Jobes Tears. He said, “It’s part of the aloha spirit, and I want you to take that aloha spirit home with you.” With that, he switched on his headlamp and headed out across the Heiau, into the night.
Nova asked, “What day is this?” This time I told the truth and told her it’s Monday. No amount of lying is going to save me a day or bring me back to that first moment I stepped into the valley.
The fire flickered and began to grow faint. Everyone’s internal clocks told them it was time to call it a night; mine too. There were just a few left around the fire. I went over to my pack, which was leaning against some boulders near the fire. I rooted around inside to grab my sleeping bag and pad.
Taylor and Cathy were heading off towards Cathy’s tent. “Do you have a place to stay tonight Dave?” Cathy asked. “Yea,” I responded, “It’s a nice evening, and I thought I’d sleep out on the Heiau tonight.” Knowing that I’d never see Taylor and Cathy again, I bid them a good night as if I would see them in the morning. I didn’t want to get all worked up with goodbyes.
I walked out into the Heiau and looked for a suitable spot to sleep. Shining my flashlight around I saw two separate lumps curled up in sleeping bags. Not wanting to crowd anyone, I stepped over some boulders and found a nice spot.
Allowing my sleeping pad to inflate and gazing up at the stars, I realized it had been twenty-three years, since I’d slept beneath the stars. Bugs, cold, or threat of rain or snow had always forced me under some sort of shelter. The breeze would keep the bugs away and if it rains, I’d just get up and sleep near the fire.
A stiff breeze blew across the Heiau forcing me to hunker-down and pull the sleeping bag up with just my face poking out. I kept my glasses on and lay on my back so I could watch the stars.
I hoped I’d see some shooting stars or maybe a satellite cruise by and I tried to stay awake for it, but just the stars and one planet stared back. I struggled to stay awake but I nodded off anyway. I woke up an hour or so later with my glasses still on. I noted that the Big Dipper had made a quarter turn around the North Star. I took my glasses off and tucked them into my boot. Rolling onto my side, I could hear some snoring from the other side of the boulder. It was one of those lumps of sleeping bag I saw earlier. I think that particular lump was Robbie. I was too sleepy to be bothered by the snoring and fell quickly back to sleep.
Day 7, March 30, Tuesday
I awoke at 06:30. I put on my glasses and saw a clear blue sky. The grass was glistening with beads of dew. The two sleeping lumps, Tao and Robbie, were still “sawing off logs.” I rolled up my sleeping pad and stuffed my sleeping sack into its bag and went to my backpack near the campfire.
The camp was deserted and noisy with chirping birds. I packed my pack and prepared myself for the hike out, taking a photo of the empty campsite. I then strapped myself into my pack.
The heiau camp.
“Are you heading out Dave?” Ron asked, in that Bostonian accent that sounded like pure friendship. “Yea,” I lamented, “I need to get across the Hanakapiai River for my ride out tomorrow.” I then added, “Leaving this valley and these wonderful people make this a sad time for me.” Ron, seeing my long face, laughed and said, “Well, come back and visit us sometime soon, if I’m lucky, I’ll be here for another twenty years.” Ron and I shook hands and I began the nine mile march with two river crossings.
It was good to get moving, after all, this is another piece of the big adventure. The morning was cool and clear. I threaded my way through the forest and found the great Kalalau trail. I turned left and hiked through the open forest where I had met Nova just four days earlier. Nova must be sleeping-in this morning; the only whistling was by the birds, flitting about the forest. Leaving the forest, the Red Hill loomed immediately up in front of me. I began the slow march up the hill, stopping and turning occasionally to photograph my ‘old’ home.
One mile and one hour later, I felt good. I had plenty of spring in my step. I rounded a sharp curve on a ridge jutting out into the ocean and decided that the spot would be a great place for breakfast. I didn’t want to make the error I did before and skip a meal.
I brought out my gasoline stove and using its pump, I gave it a count of thirty-five pumps. I found a level spot to set it on and turning the valve one half-turn, lit and attained a nice strong blue flame.
While I prepared some food, a hunter, carrying a compound bow, stopped on his hike in the direction of Kalalau and said hello. I asked him about the river level at Hanakoa. He said, “I camped near there and river level was a little high but not dangerous.” The hunter asked me if I’d seen any goats, and I told him I’d seen goats and their shit on the trail a quarter mile back.
I noticed he wore a sturdy pair of boots. I was pleased to see someone besides me wearing boots, and in fact, all hunters I met wore boots. By this point I had a firm conviction that the only proper footgear in that environment is to wear boots or go barefoot. Sandals or flip-flops had to be the silliest and stupidest footgear anyone could wear while humping a heavy pack in that wilderness.
I was way too soft-footed to go barefoot, but it makes sense that after millions of years of evolution, a bare human foot would do just fine.
The hunter and I bid each other aloha then I was left to cook my breakfast. My meal consisted of freeze-dried turkey tetrazini. Bringing two cups of water to boil, I then poured the hot water into the meal packet. Stirring the meal up with a spoon, I now had to wait for ten minutes before the contents were ready to eat.
While I waited, I searched the coastline for beautiful views. I easily found them. I could also see just a little bit of the white sand beach of Kalalau. “Wow,” I thought, “I walked on that beach.”
I ate my meal and also ate one of several lemons I had liberated from a tree several days earlier. The yellow fruit, like all the lemons I ate along the Na Pali coast, was tasty and thirst quenching. They weren’t as sour as the ones I’d had from grocery stores. It was just a little more tart than an orange. I also pealed and ate limes. You could definitely taste the difference between a lemon and a lime. The limes were so sharp and sour; they’d wrinkle my face into a prune.
Speaking of faces, I had no idea what my face looked like. I hadn’t seen the thing since I looked at it through the mirror back in my hotel room. They make mirrors small and light enough to easily carry in a backpack but I never considered carrying one until now. I imagined I’d be quite horrified once I did see it, but for now, I would be pleasantly ignorant of any hideous skin problems or lesions.
Time to go; I packed the stove back into my pack and cinched the pack straps down, and set out. It was now 08:40 in the morning.
Compared to the hike-in a week earlier, the hike out was a dream. The lava cliffs that gave me such terror, now made no impression on me except with their great beauty.
I walked trough the real estate of my old nemesis, Crawlers Ledge. I stopped and had to look around before realizing where I was. I immediately walked back to get a better view. Turning around, I stopped to take pictures and look at the surf pounding the rocks below. The dangers were still there but a full week traveling on precarious trails inured me to such hazards.
I clicked the shutter on photos that did not pardon my panic of a week previous. Stowing my camera back in its pouch, I observed the spot of my great battle.
I remained a moment waiting for the arrival of another epiphany. I got absolutely nothing. I thought I’d get a wave of inner belief and understanding of my own human energy. Instead, I got a twinge of embarrassment.
I resumed the hike, stopping and staring at the magnificence around me; pausing occasionally to replenish water.
I reached the Hanakoa River before noon. It was high and it did cause some worries. I removed my socks and replaced my boots. I crossed without incident.
The rain came within minutes of hiking up and out of the Hanakoa River. The rain caused the trail to be slippery. I also noticed footprints of a hiker who couldn’t have been more than a mile ahead of me. The bottoms of their shoe soles were just a bunch of parallel tread. It seemed that the tread could only help the hiker if they were walking straight up a hill but if they were traversing along the side of a hill, the tread would allow the foot to slide out to the side.
What else is there to think about when concentrating on where to place each step? I had to focus on one to six feet of trail in front of me. There were songs that I sang, in my head, over and over again. The early episodes of Gilligan’s Island were filmed on Kauai and naturally the theme Gilligan’s Island occupied my mind for entirely too long. I had to think about something else.
The hiker ahead of me obviously wasn’t wearing sensible shoes. They must have been wearing sandals. Sure enough, every now and then, I could see were the hiker’s foot would slide sideways when stepping on the edge of the trail. In one case, their shoe slid down off the trail. I sincerely hoped that I would catch up with the dim-witted shoe culprit and straighten him or her out.
I had to keep that Gilligan theme song out of my head. My favorite song to sing over and over was “Big Rock-Candy Mountain.”
One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the tracks came a hobo hiking,
He said, “Boys, I’m not turning
I’m heading for a land that’s far away
Beside the crystal fountain
I’ll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain,
It’s a land that’s fair and bright,
the handouts grow on bushes…
Whoa! Speaking of handouts, a guava tree with lots of guava’s hanging right over the trail. Stopping, I picked the largest and ripest. Taking the load off the tree limb allowed the limb to spring up a couple of feet out of the way of the trail.
The “handouts” really do grow on bushes.
As I rested and munched on my guava, I stood and looked out a small opening in the trees looking out toward the sea. The landscape made my mind race. What a crazy-beautiful place; this Na Pali coast. The weather is crazy but just out at sea was an intense rainbow.
Crazy beautiful.
Moving my examinations elsewhere, I now studied the raindrops hanging from the brim of my hat. But these studies where interrupted by a sturdy looking hiker walking by. We nodded to each other. He looked like a resident and his pack was loaded down with all kinds of hanging peripheral baggage. I thought, “Must be the pizza man.”
“How’s the Hanakapiai?” I asked. “It’s a little high but crossable. “How’s the Hanakoa?” He asked of me. “Not bad,” I said, “It wasn’t raining until I left the Hanakoa valley.”
Now it was raining slow and steady with no wind. Without a wind, I knew the rain would just sit there and dump until the clouds were empty. The clouds didn’t look empty.
The trail in the valleys was sloppy and muddy. I was drenched and there was nothing I could do but be drenched. The trails were only a little better out near the coast. It wasn’t raining out at sea, just over the island.
The miles receded behind me; and as the day progressed, so went my energy. It was nothing like the energy loss on the hike in. I made a point to eat a lemon or guava whenever I came across one.
I started to meet various hikers heading in the direction of Kalalau. While refilling my canteen, four hikers came by and asked about trail conditions, so I told them.
I noticed that the two men were heavily loaded with massive backpacks. Each of the men carried twice the equipment they should be hauling. The two women with them carried little day backpacks and skipped happily along the trail as if they were light as feathers. The men looked like pack mules.
I had to stand on the side of the trail and wait while teen girls hiked by. Small groups of the girls were strung out along the trail so as soon as I’d continue my trek; another group of them would force me to the side. Finally, I had to ask in an exasperated tone, “Is there a whole regiment of you people?” She replied that there was just two more. I waited and the chaperones finally hiked by. There must have been thirty-five kids in that group.
Rounding a seaside ridge, I spied my favorite of all campsites. I was finally hiking down into the Hanakapiai Valley. The time was about five o’clock. The rain had finally quit and I was looking forward to having a bath in the Hanakapiai.
Finally, I came upon that last great river. I was already drenched and my boots and socks were soaked, no need to take off socks for this crossing.
Someone had replaced the rope that was strung across the river. I stepped into the river fifteen feet above the rope. I would grasp my walking stick with both hands for support and if I slipped and was washed downstream, I would then try and make a grab for the rope. There was no need for the rope, I moved across the stream with no problems.
Now to hurry down to “my” campsite; when I arrived I was relieved to see no one was there. The best campsite in the world would be all mine.
I set up my tent and removed my boots. My feet were white and wrinkled from the day’s wet hike. I took a bath and shaved in a slow moving pool in the crystal clear river just fifty feet from its entry into the sea. I wondered if the sharks became aroused by the smell of whiskers and skin flowing into their “dining room.”
I boiled water for my last freeze-dried meal. Oscar came by, meowing like he always meows when hungry. I fed him as much as he wanted because I would be hiking out the next day and I figured why carry all the excess supplies.
I hurried up and ate dinner, the sunset of the last day of my adventure was happening. Like all the other sunsets, there were too many clouds close to the horizon. The sun made those clouds blood red. Across the mouth of the river, several people watched the sun setting, too.
I watched the surf and sky for as long as I could. On my last night in this wonderland, I wanted to stay awake and keep watch and think about the last eight days, but I was tired and it was time to end the day and greet the morrow.
I prepared my bed and tent, and placed my backpack down near my tent. I also tied a strap between my pack and tent. If someone came by and moved my pack, it would shake my tent and wake me. I didn’t think Spook would mess with any of my material wealth, but I was beginning to recognize that there were several bums in the area.
Lying down and reading for a little while I was startled by someone outside my tent asking me how I was doing. I could tell by the accent the person was of British heritage. I hollered back fine. Then the person said, “Just passing through, have a good evening.”
I was only two miles from the trailhead and to “civilization” and its people. I just had to wonder how many persons pass my tent and inspect my campsite while I’m unsuspectingly asleep. The type of tent I used makes it obvious which side my head is on and a rock dropped on that spot would provide someone a good supply of “really neat stuff.” I knew the bums around the area were harmless and no harm would come to me, but I still wondered what could have happened to poor old Brad Turek.
The white water of the Hanakapiai and the crashing of the waves made for a cacophony of noise. After a while the noise can’t be heard, it’s just there.
Day 8, April 1, Wednesday
I awoke at 06:30 to the din of white water of the Hanakapiai and the crashing of the waves. Crawling out from my tent, I immediately could see it would be a cool morning without rain.
I brought out my stove and heated water for coffee and had breakfast. Oscar meowed across the river but he wasn’t meowing at me. He was begging food from the campers over there.
I planned to leave my camp at noon. That would give me four hours to get back to the trailhead, cleanup at the showers, and wait for my cab that would pick me up at four o’clock that day.
I packed my tent and got my pack ready to go. It was about eight-thirty in the morning. I was four hours away from my planed departure out of the valley. Across the mouth of the river from my camp, several people gathered to look at the beach. That’s when I finally noticed it. Sometime during my eight days along the Kalalau trail, the ocean currents brought in enough sand to call what I saw a beach. The surf was still too violent to swim in. Some campers took a dip into the foamy water but didn’t venture out very far.
I sat on a comfortable boulder and read my one paperback. I did more looking around than reading. There was always some simple activity on the other side of the river, hikers filling canteens in the river, others just looking around before they continued their backpack to Kalalau. I spotted my good buddy Oscar hanging around some people, preparing their breakfast. They fed him until he finally shut-up.
One person I saw seemed to be one of those “characters” of the valley. He was crazy. He was barefoot and wore white pants. Bearded and long haired, he kept his hair tied up in a funny looking ponytail. His hair wasn’t tied at the back of his head but on top. He wore his shirt tied around his waist and kept a machete tucked in his pants with the handle located in the small of his back. The man continually picked up litter and trash and placed it at the edge of the surf. If the trash was picked up by wave action, he would run over to it and snatch it from going out to sea and place it back where it had been. Everyone stayed away from him. He seemed to be having fun.
I read, looked around at the world around me, and just waited for my time to hit the trail. The tourists began to arrive and then they began to appear in droves.
I was just two miles from the trailhead and parking lot, so it was easy for them to get here. Mostly when they reached the river, they crossed it to hike upstream to the Hanakapiai falls. I thought about going to see the falls myself but I had seen plenty of waterfalls and I really just wanted to read and watch the world.
At noon, I threw my pack on and began to hike my way, a hundred yards upstream to where the trail from the trailhead meets the river.
People were crossing the river regularly, some with heavy backpacks, most, being day hikers, without packs.
Tao Getting a Handout on the Hanakoa River
I spotted one of my friends from Kalalau Valley, Tao, crossing the river towards me. He got to my side of the river and said he was out of food and could he have some? I was glad to get rid of any superfluous weight. I dropped my pack and offered him some Ramon noodles. He took the package and began eating them raw. I told Tao that I could easily heat some water and he could have it as hot soup and noodles instead. He said he would like that.
I grabbed my stove, pumped it up, and lit it afire. Filling a canteen cup with water, I set it on the fire. He seemed amused at the preparations of his lunch, saying, “You like gadgets don’t you?” “Yea,” I said, “I don’t leave home with out them.”
Tao said that he, Nova, and some others went to the sweat lodge and had a good sweat. He left the Heiau camp yesterday afternoon and camped at Hanakoa River, leaving there early this morning. He added, “I have a flight out to San Francisco tonight.”
The strange bum fellow came over to us. He asked if any of us had any food. I gave him a pack of Ramon noodles. Tao had my only canteen cup so the pony tailed fellow had to have the noodles raw. No problem, he quickly tore into the packet and into the noodles. There’s a small foil bag of spices that are meant to be added to hot water but he just bit off a bite of the crunchy noodles and poured the contents of the spiced salt directly into his mouth. Tao gave me a look like, “This guy is weird.”
The Strange Fellow
The strange fellow finished off the noodles and grabbed a glass jar that he’d been carrying. Stepping over to the stream, he filled it full of water and sat it down on the ground near Tao and me. The strange fellow then produced a 9-volt smoke-detector battery and a paperclip. He then touched the paperclip to the battery and the free end of the paperclip was dipped into the water. The strange fellow then drank the water.
It seemed the strange fellow wanted someone to ask about the previous demonstration so I did. He spoke in a voice that under any other circumstance sounded normal, like he was a regular guy. He said, “The galvanic reaction of the electricity kills any diseases that might be in the water.” Tao and I nodded our heads as if in total understanding and agreement.
I asked the strange fellow if he minded if I took his picture and he said no, so I took his photo. The man told us to have a good day and he crossed the river and headed upstream.
Tao said, “I visit here a couple times a year and I’ve seen him before. He has a wife and child who live somewhere here in the Hanakapiai Valley.” I was taken aback but had nothing to say. What is there to say?
Tao then loaded on his pack and said goodbye.
I wanted to hike those last two miles by myself so I waited a few minutes then strapped on my much lighter backpack and began the slow hike out of the Hanakapiai Valley and ultimately to the end.
At every vista, every panorama, and every seascape, I stopped and gazed. My hours left on the Na Pali coast turned into minutes.
When I wasn’t looking at gorgeous views, I passed dozens of people going in the opposite direction.
It jumped up on me so quick I didn’t have time to react. It was the trailhead, the end of the line. I could smell exhaust and see cars trying to find parking spots. I found some dude and told him of my great accomplishment, asking if he could snap a photo of me standing next to the sign that read, Kalalau: 11-miles.
My journey was at an end. A photo op was required to record for posterity and for all time my completion of the great Kalalau trail. The dude hid his excitement well. Unfortunately his excitement would well-up and manifest itself in a lousy photo. He cut the top of my head off.
I cleaned up at the showers and made a phone call from a pay phone to make sure my ride would greet me at the appointed time. I sat down on a park bench near the trailhead and just “hung out.”
A van, my taxi, arrived. I was pleased to see it was Jim. My botanist taxi driver had promised me a cold beer if I survived this thing, and I intended to collect it.
I kicked back in the front passenger seat and guzzled the most excellent tasting beer of my life as the great Kalalau trail receded behind me. There was nothing more for me to do. I didn’t have to set up my tent, or fill my canteen. There were no dangerous rivers to cross or sea cliffs to traverse. I wasn’t hot, or cold or being rained on. I didn’t have to think about slipping and falling and whether my body would be found or would it be eaten by sharks. Even the pain in my right knee, the pain that reminds me that I’m pushing things just a little too hard, was gone. There were no more guava trees just waiting to give me handouts. Did this thing really happen? Sure, it did, but now it’s just a memory to be packed away with all the other memories. It was fun while it lasted but now I have to get back to being responsible.
My great adventure is over.
Yea, well, as soon as I get back home I’ll start making plans to do this again; only this time I’ll go for three weeks…and bring lots of pizza making supplies."
Well written, David,
Aloha, Brad
Obama won the 1st Debate
See video: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/09/27/opinion/polls/main4482119.shtml
http://cnnwire.blogs.cnn.com/2008/09/27/poll-suggests-obama-beat-mccain/
http://tpmelectioncentral.talkingpointsmemo.com/2008/09/initial_polls_show_obama_winni.php
"Initial Polls Show Obama Winning The Debate"
By Greg Sargent and Eric Kleefeld - September 27, 2008
"The initial polls suggest that viewers give the nod to Obama in a big way.
Here's the CNN poll, conducted among debate-watchers:
Regardless of which candidate you happen to support, who do you think did the best job in the debate -- Barack Obama or John McCain?
Obama 51%
McCain 38%
Did _______ do a better or worse job than you expected?
Obama: Better 57%, Worse 20%, Same 23%
McCain: Better 60%, Worse 20%, Same 18%
Next, regardless of which presidential candidate you support, please tell me if you think Barack Obama or John McCain would better handle each of the following issues:
• The war in Iraq: Obama 52%, McCain 47%
• Terrorism: McCain 49%, Obama 45%
• The economy: Obama 58%, McCain 37%
• The current financial crisis: Obama 54%, McCain 36%
Thinking about the following characteristics and qualities, please say whether you think each one better described Barack Obama or John McCain during tonight's debate:
• Was more intelligent: Obama 55%, McCain 30%
• Expressed his views more clearly: Obama 53%, McCain 36%
• Spent more time attacking his opponent: McCain 60%, Obama 23%
• Was more sincere and authentic: Obama 46%, McCain 38%
• Seemed to be the stronger leader: Obama 49%, McCain 43%
• Was more likeable: Obama 61%, McCain 26%
• Was more in touch with the needs and problems of people like you: Obama 62%, McCain 32%
Based on what _______ said and did in tonight's debate, do you think he would be able to handle the job of president if he is elected?
Obama 69%-29%
McCain 68%-30%
And the numbers released so far from the CBS poll of undecided debate-watchers: 39% said Obama won, 25% said McCain won, and 36% said it was a draw. Forty-six percent said their opinions of Obama went up, compared to only 31% who said the same about McCain. On the economy, 66% said Obama would make the right decisions, compared to 44% who said the same for McCain."
Where the national polls now stand, Obama will get a debate bump up on this:
http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/2008/president/us/general_election_mccain_vs_obama-225.html
Aloha, Brad
http://cnnwire.blogs.cnn.com/2008/09/27/poll-suggests-obama-beat-mccain/
http://tpmelectioncentral.talkingpointsmemo.com/2008/09/initial_polls_show_obama_winni.php
"Initial Polls Show Obama Winning The Debate"
By Greg Sargent and Eric Kleefeld - September 27, 2008
"The initial polls suggest that viewers give the nod to Obama in a big way.
Here's the CNN poll, conducted among debate-watchers:
Regardless of which candidate you happen to support, who do you think did the best job in the debate -- Barack Obama or John McCain?
Obama 51%
McCain 38%
Did _______ do a better or worse job than you expected?
Obama: Better 57%, Worse 20%, Same 23%
McCain: Better 60%, Worse 20%, Same 18%
Next, regardless of which presidential candidate you support, please tell me if you think Barack Obama or John McCain would better handle each of the following issues:
• The war in Iraq: Obama 52%, McCain 47%
• Terrorism: McCain 49%, Obama 45%
• The economy: Obama 58%, McCain 37%
• The current financial crisis: Obama 54%, McCain 36%
Thinking about the following characteristics and qualities, please say whether you think each one better described Barack Obama or John McCain during tonight's debate:
• Was more intelligent: Obama 55%, McCain 30%
• Expressed his views more clearly: Obama 53%, McCain 36%
• Spent more time attacking his opponent: McCain 60%, Obama 23%
• Was more sincere and authentic: Obama 46%, McCain 38%
• Seemed to be the stronger leader: Obama 49%, McCain 43%
• Was more likeable: Obama 61%, McCain 26%
• Was more in touch with the needs and problems of people like you: Obama 62%, McCain 32%
Based on what _______ said and did in tonight's debate, do you think he would be able to handle the job of president if he is elected?
Obama 69%-29%
McCain 68%-30%
And the numbers released so far from the CBS poll of undecided debate-watchers: 39% said Obama won, 25% said McCain won, and 36% said it was a draw. Forty-six percent said their opinions of Obama went up, compared to only 31% who said the same about McCain. On the economy, 66% said Obama would make the right decisions, compared to 44% who said the same for McCain."
Where the national polls now stand, Obama will get a debate bump up on this:
http://www.realclearpolitics.com/epolls/2008/president/us/general_election_mccain_vs_obama-225.html
Aloha, Brad
Friday, September 26, 2008
Update on KIUC 9/29/08 Meet with Members
From: http://www.kiuc.coop/pdf/releases/pr2008-0919-quarterlyupdate.pdf
"KIUC to hold Quarterly Update"
Lihue, Kauai, HI – 9/19/08 – Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative (KIUC) will hold a Quarterly Update on Monday, September 29 at 6 p.m. at the Kaua`i Veteran’s Center on Kapule Highway. All members are invited to attend the presentation by President & CEO Randy Hee as he gives updates on KIUC’s strategic plan, project status reports and how we see ourselves progressing in renewables and new capacity generation. KIUC management and board members will also be present for members to talk to after the presentation. ###
From two good articles on what the lastest news on KIUC has been:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/24/news/news02.txt
"KIUC approves $1.7 million overhaul of Kapaia engine"
by Blake Jones - The Garden Island News - Sept. 23, 2008
"The Kaua‘i Island Utility Cooperative board of directors yesterday approved $1.7 million for a major overhaul to the Kapaia Power Station’s engine, which is the largest on-island with 27.5 megawatts of generating capacity.
Ken Daubert, Kapaia station supervisor, told the board that the scheduled repairs are needed to keep the unit at the level of efficiency and reliability on which the co-op depends.
KIUC staff received bids for the work from five companies and has decided to go with the second lowest bidder, MTU Aero Engines in Germany.
Production Manager Brad Rockwell said the company was selected because it offered the best turnaround time and the stiffest penalty for exceeding the timeframe, with a $4,400 per day deduction.
The engine will be removed for the overhaul and shipped off for repairs; a loaner engine will be installed for the duration through a lease program with General Electric.
The work is expected to take about three months. “Then we should be good to go for another 50,000 hours,” Daubert said.
Funds for the overhaul have already been set aside, but the board’s approval was necessary for staff to pursue an agreement with MTU.
Also yesterday, Rockwell told the board that another engine overhaul — this one at the Port Allen power plant — would cost less than half of the previously budgeted amount.
The expenditure is down to $1.6 million now that KIUC has opted to replace a rotor on KIUC’s third-largest engine, the GT-1, with a refurbished part instead of a new one.
Last month the board approved up to $3.95 million for the repairs, which included an estimated $2.2 million for a new rotor. The move was prompted by a recommendation from the engine’s maker that rotors be replaced after 5,000 starts; KIUC’s unit is approaching 6,000 starts.
The board approved Rockwell’s request to proceed with a purchase order for $1.6 million. The overhaul is expected to take place in spring 2009. A warranty will guarantee the used rotor for one year. The GT-1 has 17.5 megawatts of generating capacity. It was last overhauled in 1989.
Once completed, the overhaul will extend the unit’s life by another 100,000 hours, or 20 years, Rockwell said.
Green progress
KIUC President and CEO Randy Hee said the co-op has been busy in August and September pursuing potential renewable projects.
Discussions are continuing with Kekaha lessees regarding land access for a renewable energy farm, with all signs pointing to solar. Hee said there are additional talks about solar in Koloa.
As for Gay & Robinson’s recent announcement that it plans to exit the sugar industry, Hee said he’s optimistic that the company plans to install another hydroelectric unit that will provide the co-op with renewable power. In addition, KIUC plans to continue talks with Pacific West Energy LLC about its intent to convert the sugar infrastructure into an ethanol plant and sell energy from burning bagasse to the co-op.
“We are anticipating talks with both entities,” Hee told the board.
Fuel prices, rates declining
Fuel prices for October continue to decline following an all-time peak in August.
Diesel rates are $3.38 per gallon for October, a 21 percent drop over the August rate of $4.30. Naptha is $2.63 per gallon for October, a 23 percent drop from the August rate of $3.41.
Hee said he expects the drop in October fuel prices to translate to further decreases in effective member rates. The September residential effective rate, the most recent available, is 44 cents per kilowatt hour, a decrease over the co-op’s highest recorded rate of $0.49 in August.
This month’s rate was also lower than the July rate by about 3 cents per kilowatt hour.
Scheduled outage
A scheduled power outage will take place early Thursday at about 1 a.m., affecting Hanalei town to Waikoko and Princeville.
The outage will last for approximately one hour and will enable KIUC crews to replace a transmission line switch in Hanalei Valley. During the outage, electricity will be supplied by Kaua‘i Coffee Co. to Wainiha and Ha‘ena."
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/08/29/news/news03.txt
"KIUC seeking land for solar farm"
by Blake Jones - The Garden Island News - Aug 29, 2008
"The Kaua‘i Island Utility Cooperative is pursuing roughly 160 acres in Kekaha for a solar farm of 10 to 30 megawatt.
The co-op is floating the idea of subletting land for the project from the Westside seed companies, which lease from the state for farming.
BASF, Syngenta and Pioneer Hi-Bred International Inc. participated in talks, according to KIUC President and CEO Randy Hee. A meeting with Kekaha Agriculture Association is expected to be forthcoming.
“We’re looking for significant acreage to put together a utility-size solar farm,” Hee said.
The talks coincide with KIUC’s highest effective rates ever: a little over 49 cents per kilowatt hour for residential customers. Hee said a drop in fuel prices is expected to trickle down to the customer in September with slightly lower effective rates.
The sustainable energy farm is expected to help KIUC meet the goals of the Hawai‘i Clean Energy Initiative, an agreement between the state and Department of Energy to use energy efficiency and renewable energy resources to meet 70 percent of Hawai‘i’s demand by 2030.
The state currently depends on imported fossil fuels for 90 percent of its energy needs.
“This is one way that we are able to move forward and look to other technologies to help defray the high fuel costs,” said chair Dennis Esaki.
Also this week, KIUC’s board of directors approved a power purchase agreement with Green Energy Hydro.
KIUC expects to buy about 130 kilowatts generated by the Koloa hydroelectric unit near Maluhia Road. The hydro shares the same property as Green Energy Hawaii’s biomass-to-energy plant, also under a power purchase agreement with KIUC.
The agreement will now go before the Public Utilities Commission for approval.
The PUC denied an earlier PPA with Green Hydro because the compensation for power purchased was based on an oil avoidance rate, or the amount the co-op saves in fuel costs from the agreement. The PUC is unable to approve contracts tied to oil prices.
August KIUC board actions:
• $3.95M approved for engine repairs.
• Names considered by Nominating Committee to be made public.
• CEO authorized to make payments up to $4.5M, increased from $4M.
• Lydgate Substation demolished.
$3.95M OK’d forengine repairs
The board approved up to $3.95 million in repairs to KIUC’s third-largest engine, the GT-1 at Port Allen power plant. The amount includes $500,000 approved last year for a routine overhaul in 2010 of the unit, which is 28 years old. KIUC Production Manager Brad Rockwell said the engine’s maker has since recommended that the rotors be replaced after 5,000 starts; KIUC’s unit is approaching 6,000 starts. A new rotor will cost $2.2 million and has a lead time of a year.
Another $1.1 million will fund an advanced sealing package to improve the efficiency of the turbine components. And the originally budgeted half-million will be used on new compressor parts.
Rockwell said he’s considering options that would cost half the budgeted amount, along with others that would require the full $3.95 million.
“I’ll make a call on what funding is best for the co-op and its members,” he said.
The total amount, which exceeds the PUC-imposed spending threshold of $2.7 million, will have to go to the state commission for approval...
CEO’s authority to make payments expanded
The board ratified a $4.1 million fuel payment to Chevron, and then expanded the CEO’s authority to make payments up to $4.5 million without board approval.
The previous limit was $4 million, but high oil prices have driven the monthly fuel expenses beyond that figure..."
"KIUC to hold Quarterly Update"
Lihue, Kauai, HI – 9/19/08 – Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative (KIUC) will hold a Quarterly Update on Monday, September 29 at 6 p.m. at the Kaua`i Veteran’s Center on Kapule Highway. All members are invited to attend the presentation by President & CEO Randy Hee as he gives updates on KIUC’s strategic plan, project status reports and how we see ourselves progressing in renewables and new capacity generation. KIUC management and board members will also be present for members to talk to after the presentation. ###
From two good articles on what the lastest news on KIUC has been:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/24/news/news02.txt
"KIUC approves $1.7 million overhaul of Kapaia engine"
by Blake Jones - The Garden Island News - Sept. 23, 2008
"The Kaua‘i Island Utility Cooperative board of directors yesterday approved $1.7 million for a major overhaul to the Kapaia Power Station’s engine, which is the largest on-island with 27.5 megawatts of generating capacity.
Ken Daubert, Kapaia station supervisor, told the board that the scheduled repairs are needed to keep the unit at the level of efficiency and reliability on which the co-op depends.
KIUC staff received bids for the work from five companies and has decided to go with the second lowest bidder, MTU Aero Engines in Germany.
Production Manager Brad Rockwell said the company was selected because it offered the best turnaround time and the stiffest penalty for exceeding the timeframe, with a $4,400 per day deduction.
The engine will be removed for the overhaul and shipped off for repairs; a loaner engine will be installed for the duration through a lease program with General Electric.
The work is expected to take about three months. “Then we should be good to go for another 50,000 hours,” Daubert said.
Funds for the overhaul have already been set aside, but the board’s approval was necessary for staff to pursue an agreement with MTU.
Also yesterday, Rockwell told the board that another engine overhaul — this one at the Port Allen power plant — would cost less than half of the previously budgeted amount.
The expenditure is down to $1.6 million now that KIUC has opted to replace a rotor on KIUC’s third-largest engine, the GT-1, with a refurbished part instead of a new one.
Last month the board approved up to $3.95 million for the repairs, which included an estimated $2.2 million for a new rotor. The move was prompted by a recommendation from the engine’s maker that rotors be replaced after 5,000 starts; KIUC’s unit is approaching 6,000 starts.
The board approved Rockwell’s request to proceed with a purchase order for $1.6 million. The overhaul is expected to take place in spring 2009. A warranty will guarantee the used rotor for one year. The GT-1 has 17.5 megawatts of generating capacity. It was last overhauled in 1989.
Once completed, the overhaul will extend the unit’s life by another 100,000 hours, or 20 years, Rockwell said.
Green progress
KIUC President and CEO Randy Hee said the co-op has been busy in August and September pursuing potential renewable projects.
Discussions are continuing with Kekaha lessees regarding land access for a renewable energy farm, with all signs pointing to solar. Hee said there are additional talks about solar in Koloa.
As for Gay & Robinson’s recent announcement that it plans to exit the sugar industry, Hee said he’s optimistic that the company plans to install another hydroelectric unit that will provide the co-op with renewable power. In addition, KIUC plans to continue talks with Pacific West Energy LLC about its intent to convert the sugar infrastructure into an ethanol plant and sell energy from burning bagasse to the co-op.
“We are anticipating talks with both entities,” Hee told the board.
Fuel prices, rates declining
Fuel prices for October continue to decline following an all-time peak in August.
Diesel rates are $3.38 per gallon for October, a 21 percent drop over the August rate of $4.30. Naptha is $2.63 per gallon for October, a 23 percent drop from the August rate of $3.41.
Hee said he expects the drop in October fuel prices to translate to further decreases in effective member rates. The September residential effective rate, the most recent available, is 44 cents per kilowatt hour, a decrease over the co-op’s highest recorded rate of $0.49 in August.
This month’s rate was also lower than the July rate by about 3 cents per kilowatt hour.
Scheduled outage
A scheduled power outage will take place early Thursday at about 1 a.m., affecting Hanalei town to Waikoko and Princeville.
The outage will last for approximately one hour and will enable KIUC crews to replace a transmission line switch in Hanalei Valley. During the outage, electricity will be supplied by Kaua‘i Coffee Co. to Wainiha and Ha‘ena."
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/08/29/news/news03.txt
"KIUC seeking land for solar farm"
by Blake Jones - The Garden Island News - Aug 29, 2008
"The Kaua‘i Island Utility Cooperative is pursuing roughly 160 acres in Kekaha for a solar farm of 10 to 30 megawatt.
The co-op is floating the idea of subletting land for the project from the Westside seed companies, which lease from the state for farming.
BASF, Syngenta and Pioneer Hi-Bred International Inc. participated in talks, according to KIUC President and CEO Randy Hee. A meeting with Kekaha Agriculture Association is expected to be forthcoming.
“We’re looking for significant acreage to put together a utility-size solar farm,” Hee said.
The talks coincide with KIUC’s highest effective rates ever: a little over 49 cents per kilowatt hour for residential customers. Hee said a drop in fuel prices is expected to trickle down to the customer in September with slightly lower effective rates.
The sustainable energy farm is expected to help KIUC meet the goals of the Hawai‘i Clean Energy Initiative, an agreement between the state and Department of Energy to use energy efficiency and renewable energy resources to meet 70 percent of Hawai‘i’s demand by 2030.
The state currently depends on imported fossil fuels for 90 percent of its energy needs.
“This is one way that we are able to move forward and look to other technologies to help defray the high fuel costs,” said chair Dennis Esaki.
Also this week, KIUC’s board of directors approved a power purchase agreement with Green Energy Hydro.
KIUC expects to buy about 130 kilowatts generated by the Koloa hydroelectric unit near Maluhia Road. The hydro shares the same property as Green Energy Hawaii’s biomass-to-energy plant, also under a power purchase agreement with KIUC.
The agreement will now go before the Public Utilities Commission for approval.
The PUC denied an earlier PPA with Green Hydro because the compensation for power purchased was based on an oil avoidance rate, or the amount the co-op saves in fuel costs from the agreement. The PUC is unable to approve contracts tied to oil prices.
August KIUC board actions:
• $3.95M approved for engine repairs.
• Names considered by Nominating Committee to be made public.
• CEO authorized to make payments up to $4.5M, increased from $4M.
• Lydgate Substation demolished.
$3.95M OK’d forengine repairs
The board approved up to $3.95 million in repairs to KIUC’s third-largest engine, the GT-1 at Port Allen power plant. The amount includes $500,000 approved last year for a routine overhaul in 2010 of the unit, which is 28 years old. KIUC Production Manager Brad Rockwell said the engine’s maker has since recommended that the rotors be replaced after 5,000 starts; KIUC’s unit is approaching 6,000 starts. A new rotor will cost $2.2 million and has a lead time of a year.
Another $1.1 million will fund an advanced sealing package to improve the efficiency of the turbine components. And the originally budgeted half-million will be used on new compressor parts.
Rockwell said he’s considering options that would cost half the budgeted amount, along with others that would require the full $3.95 million.
“I’ll make a call on what funding is best for the co-op and its members,” he said.
The total amount, which exceeds the PUC-imposed spending threshold of $2.7 million, will have to go to the state commission for approval...
CEO’s authority to make payments expanded
The board ratified a $4.1 million fuel payment to Chevron, and then expanded the CEO’s authority to make payments up to $4.5 million without board approval.
The previous limit was $4 million, but high oil prices have driven the monthly fuel expenses beyond that figure..."
Kaua‘i visitor arrivals dropped 25 percent in August
From: http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/26/breaking_news/breaking01.txt
The Garden Island News September 26, 2008
"Kaua‘i visitor arrivals dropped 25 percent in August"
"Total visitor arrivals to Kaua‘i dropped 25 percent in August compared to the same month last year for the third consecutive month of double-digit declines, according to the state Department of Business, Economic Development and Tourism.
Data released today shows Kaua‘i’s arrivals last month at 92,366, making for some of the worst numbers since Hurricane 'Iniki.' The year-to-date arrivals for Kaua‘i through August are down 16.6 percent compared to the same period last year, for a total of 3.2 million.
Kaua‘i wasn’t the only island with weak August arrivals. O‘ahu arrivals are down 18 percent, while Big Island and Maui posted 23 and 21 percent declines, respectively. Only Lana‘i and Moloka‘i saw bigger drops in arrivals in August, with 28 and 31 percent, respectively...
Visitor industry leaders have said the exit of two NCL America cruise ships from Hawai‘i to sail in foreign waters accounts for almost 80 percent of Kaua‘i’s visitor arrivals decline this summer...
Still, economic forecasts don’t expect any signs of improvement until 2010.
A report from the University of Hawai’i Economic Research Organization was revised last week to say that arrivals growth will decline by 9 percent statewide this year and continue on that track in 2009.
The report’s title says it all: “A hard fall for Hawai‘i.”
It’s unclear at this juncture how deeply the financial market fiasco will impact arrivals. To this point, the health of the national economy has been a major factor in the Hawai‘i tourism industry’s buoyancy."
Aloha, Brad
The Garden Island News September 26, 2008
"Kaua‘i visitor arrivals dropped 25 percent in August"
"Total visitor arrivals to Kaua‘i dropped 25 percent in August compared to the same month last year for the third consecutive month of double-digit declines, according to the state Department of Business, Economic Development and Tourism.
Data released today shows Kaua‘i’s arrivals last month at 92,366, making for some of the worst numbers since Hurricane 'Iniki.' The year-to-date arrivals for Kaua‘i through August are down 16.6 percent compared to the same period last year, for a total of 3.2 million.
Kaua‘i wasn’t the only island with weak August arrivals. O‘ahu arrivals are down 18 percent, while Big Island and Maui posted 23 and 21 percent declines, respectively. Only Lana‘i and Moloka‘i saw bigger drops in arrivals in August, with 28 and 31 percent, respectively...
Visitor industry leaders have said the exit of two NCL America cruise ships from Hawai‘i to sail in foreign waters accounts for almost 80 percent of Kaua‘i’s visitor arrivals decline this summer...
Still, economic forecasts don’t expect any signs of improvement until 2010.
A report from the University of Hawai’i Economic Research Organization was revised last week to say that arrivals growth will decline by 9 percent statewide this year and continue on that track in 2009.
The report’s title says it all: “A hard fall for Hawai‘i.”
It’s unclear at this juncture how deeply the financial market fiasco will impact arrivals. To this point, the health of the national economy has been a major factor in the Hawai‘i tourism industry’s buoyancy."
Aloha, Brad
Text of Treasury Secretary Paulson's Original Proposal
Here is the text of Treasury Secretary Paulson's original proposal. BTW, Paulson was Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Goldman Sachs during the period of time when the mortgage-backed derivatives in question were created and use greatly expanded by Goldman and other companies. See further links at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Paulson
From: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/business/21draftcnd.html?_r=1&ref=business&oref=slogin
"Text of Draft Proposal for Bailout Plan"
Published: September 20, 2008
"LEGISLATIVE PROPOSAL FOR TREASURY AUTHORITY
TO PURCHASE MORTGAGE-RELATED ASSETS"
"Section 1. Short Title.
This Act may be cited as ____________________.
Sec. 2. Purchases of Mortgage-Related Assets.
(a) Authority to Purchase.--The Secretary is authorized to purchase, and to make and fund commitments to purchase, on such terms and conditions as determined by the Secretary, mortgage-related assets from any financial institution having its headquarters in the United States.
(b) Necessary Actions.--The Secretary is authorized to take such actions as the Secretary deems necessary to carry out the authorities in this Act, including, without limitation:
(1) appointing such employees as may be required to carry out the authorities in this Act and defining their duties;
(2) entering into contracts, including contracts for services authorized by section 3109 of title 5, United States Code, without regard to any other provision of law regarding public contracts;
(3) designating financial institutions as financial agents of the Government, and they shall perform all such reasonable duties related to this Act as financial agents of the Government as may be required of them;
(4) establishing vehicles that are authorized, subject to supervision by the Secretary, to purchase mortgage-related assets and issue obligations; and
(5) issuing such regulations and other guidance as may be necessary or appropriate to define terms or carry out the authorities of this Act.
Sec. 3. Considerations.
In exercising the authorities granted in this Act, the Secretary shall take into consideration means for--
(1) providing stability or preventing disruption to the financial markets or banking system; and
(2) protecting the taxpayer.
Sec. 4. Reports to Congress.
Within three months of the first exercise of the authority granted in section 2(a), and semiannually thereafter, the Secretary shall report to the Committees on the Budget, Financial Services, and Ways and Means of the House of Representatives and the Committees on the Budget, Finance, and Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs of the Senate with respect to the authorities exercised under this Act and the considerations required by section 3.
Sec. 5. Rights; Management; Sale of Mortgage-Related Assets.
(a) Exercise of Rights.--The Secretary may, at any time, exercise any rights received in connection with mortgage-related assets purchased under this Act.
(b) Management of Mortgage-Related Assets.--The Secretary shall have authority to manage mortgage-related assets purchased under this Act, including revenues and portfolio risks therefrom.
(c) Sale of Mortgage-Related Assets.--The Secretary may, at any time, upon terms and conditions and at prices determined by the Secretary, sell, or enter into securities loans, repurchase transactions or other financial transactions in regard to, any mortgage-related asset purchased under this Act.
(d) Application of Sunset to Mortgage-Related Assets.--The authority of the Secretary to hold any mortgage-related asset purchased under this Act before the termination date in section 9, or to purchase or fund the purchase of a mortgage-related asset under a commitment entered into before the termination date in section 9, is not subject to the provisions of section 9.
Sec. 6. Maximum Amount of Authorized Purchases.
The Secretary’s authority to purchase mortgage-related assets under this Act shall be limited to $700,000,000,000 outstanding at any one time
Sec. 7. Funding.
For the purpose of the authorities granted in this Act, and for the costs of administering those authorities, the Secretary may use the proceeds of the sale of any securities issued under chapter 31 of title 31, United States Code, and the purposes for which securities may be issued under chapter 31 of title 31, United States Code, are extended to include actions authorized by this Act, including the payment of administrative expenses. Any funds expended for actions authorized by this Act, including the payment of administrative expenses, shall be deemed appropriated at the time of such expenditure.
Sec. 8. Review.
Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency.
Sec. 9. Termination of Authority.
The authorities under this Act, with the exception of authorities granted in sections 2(b)(5), 5 and 7, shall terminate two years from the date of enactment of this Act.
Sec. 10. Increase in Statutory Limit on the Public Debt.
Subsection (b) of section 3101 of title 31, United States Code, is amended by striking out the dollar limitation contained in such subsection and inserting in lieu thereof $11,315,000,000,000.
Sec. 11. Credit Reform.
The costs of purchases of mortgage-related assets made under section 2(a) of this Act shall be determined as provided under the Federal Credit Reform Act of 1990, as applicable.
Sec. 12. Definitions.
For purposes of this section, the following definitions shall apply:
(1) Mortgage-Related Assets.--The term “mortgage-related assets” means residential or commercial mortgages and any securities, obligations, or other instruments that are based on or related to such mortgages, that in each case was originated or issued on or before September 17, 2008.
(2) Secretary.--The term “Secretary” means the Secretary of the Treasury.
(3) United States.--The term “United States” means the States, territories, and possessions of the United States and the District of Columbia."
That's it, that's all he wrote,
Aloha, Brad
From: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/business/21draftcnd.html?_r=1&ref=business&oref=slogin
"Text of Draft Proposal for Bailout Plan"
Published: September 20, 2008
"LEGISLATIVE PROPOSAL FOR TREASURY AUTHORITY
TO PURCHASE MORTGAGE-RELATED ASSETS"
"Section 1. Short Title.
This Act may be cited as ____________________.
Sec. 2. Purchases of Mortgage-Related Assets.
(a) Authority to Purchase.--The Secretary is authorized to purchase, and to make and fund commitments to purchase, on such terms and conditions as determined by the Secretary, mortgage-related assets from any financial institution having its headquarters in the United States.
(b) Necessary Actions.--The Secretary is authorized to take such actions as the Secretary deems necessary to carry out the authorities in this Act, including, without limitation:
(1) appointing such employees as may be required to carry out the authorities in this Act and defining their duties;
(2) entering into contracts, including contracts for services authorized by section 3109 of title 5, United States Code, without regard to any other provision of law regarding public contracts;
(3) designating financial institutions as financial agents of the Government, and they shall perform all such reasonable duties related to this Act as financial agents of the Government as may be required of them;
(4) establishing vehicles that are authorized, subject to supervision by the Secretary, to purchase mortgage-related assets and issue obligations; and
(5) issuing such regulations and other guidance as may be necessary or appropriate to define terms or carry out the authorities of this Act.
Sec. 3. Considerations.
In exercising the authorities granted in this Act, the Secretary shall take into consideration means for--
(1) providing stability or preventing disruption to the financial markets or banking system; and
(2) protecting the taxpayer.
Sec. 4. Reports to Congress.
Within three months of the first exercise of the authority granted in section 2(a), and semiannually thereafter, the Secretary shall report to the Committees on the Budget, Financial Services, and Ways and Means of the House of Representatives and the Committees on the Budget, Finance, and Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs of the Senate with respect to the authorities exercised under this Act and the considerations required by section 3.
Sec. 5. Rights; Management; Sale of Mortgage-Related Assets.
(a) Exercise of Rights.--The Secretary may, at any time, exercise any rights received in connection with mortgage-related assets purchased under this Act.
(b) Management of Mortgage-Related Assets.--The Secretary shall have authority to manage mortgage-related assets purchased under this Act, including revenues and portfolio risks therefrom.
(c) Sale of Mortgage-Related Assets.--The Secretary may, at any time, upon terms and conditions and at prices determined by the Secretary, sell, or enter into securities loans, repurchase transactions or other financial transactions in regard to, any mortgage-related asset purchased under this Act.
(d) Application of Sunset to Mortgage-Related Assets.--The authority of the Secretary to hold any mortgage-related asset purchased under this Act before the termination date in section 9, or to purchase or fund the purchase of a mortgage-related asset under a commitment entered into before the termination date in section 9, is not subject to the provisions of section 9.
Sec. 6. Maximum Amount of Authorized Purchases.
The Secretary’s authority to purchase mortgage-related assets under this Act shall be limited to $700,000,000,000 outstanding at any one time
Sec. 7. Funding.
For the purpose of the authorities granted in this Act, and for the costs of administering those authorities, the Secretary may use the proceeds of the sale of any securities issued under chapter 31 of title 31, United States Code, and the purposes for which securities may be issued under chapter 31 of title 31, United States Code, are extended to include actions authorized by this Act, including the payment of administrative expenses. Any funds expended for actions authorized by this Act, including the payment of administrative expenses, shall be deemed appropriated at the time of such expenditure.
Sec. 8. Review.
Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency.
Sec. 9. Termination of Authority.
The authorities under this Act, with the exception of authorities granted in sections 2(b)(5), 5 and 7, shall terminate two years from the date of enactment of this Act.
Sec. 10. Increase in Statutory Limit on the Public Debt.
Subsection (b) of section 3101 of title 31, United States Code, is amended by striking out the dollar limitation contained in such subsection and inserting in lieu thereof $11,315,000,000,000.
Sec. 11. Credit Reform.
The costs of purchases of mortgage-related assets made under section 2(a) of this Act shall be determined as provided under the Federal Credit Reform Act of 1990, as applicable.
Sec. 12. Definitions.
For purposes of this section, the following definitions shall apply:
(1) Mortgage-Related Assets.--The term “mortgage-related assets” means residential or commercial mortgages and any securities, obligations, or other instruments that are based on or related to such mortgages, that in each case was originated or issued on or before September 17, 2008.
(2) Secretary.--The term “Secretary” means the Secretary of the Treasury.
(3) United States.--The term “United States” means the States, territories, and possessions of the United States and the District of Columbia."
That's it, that's all he wrote,
Aloha, Brad
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Some Good Market Analysis Today
From: http://www.cnbc.com/id/26873466
"Credit Markets Fear Meter Rising"
Posted By: Patti Domm
"...Michael Darda, chief U.S. economist with MKM Partners, said he thinks Bernanke and Paulson have done just about as well as they could do under the conditions. But he said the markets reaction still shows they are not sure the problem will be fixed.
'I think that at this point the markets are just not convinced that what's being talked about is going to be effective or that political wrangling is going to let it get through...or both,' he said.
Darda, in a note today, said credit markets took a turn for the worse with LIBOR/OIS rate widening this morning to a record 164.7 bps and the two year swap spread widening out to 143 bps, moving closer to levels it saw in the peak of panic last week. By mid-afternoon, the two-year swap was above 160 bps, a record level.
"The asset-backed commercial paper market has been turned upside down, suggesting the credit crunch is deepening," wrote Darda. Asset-backed commercial paper funds credit cards, auto loans, and short-term working capital for businesses. It's at the very heart of the financial system.
He noted that the asset-backed paper was under intense stress, with spreads on three-month paper vs Treasurys widening to 400 bps this morning after having narrowed temporarily from an all-time high above 500 bps last week.
The flight-to-quality trade into T-bills continued bills yielding micro levels. The stock market, meanwhile, drifts around on light volume. "We're much better to sell today," said one trader.
Darda says we'll face a bad economy no matter what the outcome. "We're at a point where the impact on the real economy could be very dire if something's not done so anyway you slice it the real economy is going to get worse before it gets better...I think people are nervous. The fact is there's already a recession that is in train here," he said in a phone interview.
Darda also pointed to the Fed's flow of funds report for the second quarter which showed household borrowing fell below net acquisition of financial assets for the second consecutive quarter after nine years of "deficits."
"It's good in the longer term but in the near term it means you have a consumer recession. The last time we had one of those was in the early 90s," he said.
'The best case scenario is we see recovery in the second half of next year and even with that it's going to be a mild one. It's going to take awhile to get out of these issues even if the bail out succeeds,' he said..."
Aloha, Brad
"Credit Markets Fear Meter Rising"
Posted By: Patti Domm
"...Michael Darda, chief U.S. economist with MKM Partners, said he thinks Bernanke and Paulson have done just about as well as they could do under the conditions. But he said the markets reaction still shows they are not sure the problem will be fixed.
'I think that at this point the markets are just not convinced that what's being talked about is going to be effective or that political wrangling is going to let it get through...or both,' he said.
Darda, in a note today, said credit markets took a turn for the worse with LIBOR/OIS rate widening this morning to a record 164.7 bps and the two year swap spread widening out to 143 bps, moving closer to levels it saw in the peak of panic last week. By mid-afternoon, the two-year swap was above 160 bps, a record level.
"The asset-backed commercial paper market has been turned upside down, suggesting the credit crunch is deepening," wrote Darda. Asset-backed commercial paper funds credit cards, auto loans, and short-term working capital for businesses. It's at the very heart of the financial system.
He noted that the asset-backed paper was under intense stress, with spreads on three-month paper vs Treasurys widening to 400 bps this morning after having narrowed temporarily from an all-time high above 500 bps last week.
The flight-to-quality trade into T-bills continued bills yielding micro levels. The stock market, meanwhile, drifts around on light volume. "We're much better to sell today," said one trader.
Darda says we'll face a bad economy no matter what the outcome. "We're at a point where the impact on the real economy could be very dire if something's not done so anyway you slice it the real economy is going to get worse before it gets better...I think people are nervous. The fact is there's already a recession that is in train here," he said in a phone interview.
Darda also pointed to the Fed's flow of funds report for the second quarter which showed household borrowing fell below net acquisition of financial assets for the second consecutive quarter after nine years of "deficits."
"It's good in the longer term but in the near term it means you have a consumer recession. The last time we had one of those was in the early 90s," he said.
'The best case scenario is we see recovery in the second half of next year and even with that it's going to be a mild one. It's going to take awhile to get out of these issues even if the bail out succeeds,' he said..."
Aloha, Brad
Monday, September 22, 2008
Update on UHERO Forecast for Kauai
Some of you might remember the following forecast by Byron Gangnes Ph.D. of UHERO last July for the County of Kauai OED and the Kauai Chamber of Commerce: http://alohaanalytics.blogspot.com/2008/07/forecast-being-presented-to-kauai-c-of.html
That forecast was dependent upon oil below $100/barrel, not losing further airline seat capacity into the state, and the mortgage industry not deteriorating further on the mainland. Since that forecast, the price of oil went up to $140/barrel, then down to about $100, and now today back up to $105/barrel. So I decided to look for the UHERO updated forecast.
Here it is, dated Sept. 19th: http://www.uhero.hawaii.edu/eis/eis_forecastarchive.html. An already dated quote from that: "Oil prices are coming down in line with our expectations, which will begin to take the heat off inflation...We continue to see forecast risks in the same set of factors that we have described in past reports, with some subtle [???] changes. On the downside, our concerns about national credit markets have intensified, and there is also a greater potential risk of a deep global downturn. On the upside, the retreat of oil prices to the $90 per barrel range increases the chance of a more substantial oil retreat, which would boost global growth prospects."
Not anymore.
So, I decided to look for Paul Brewbaker's most recent online forecast. It is even less current, dated Aug. 26th: https://www.boh.com/econ/reports/econ082608.pdf.
Paul doesn't talk much about oil, but the report is worth reading, and the graphs are interesting. This gives me a chance to reference a report on Paul Brewbaker's last speech on Kauai. It was reported by Ronnie Margolis on his Kauai Real Estate blog, and I thought it was a very interesting blog entry by Ronnie: http://activerain.com/blogsview/624178/Bank-of-Hawaii-economist.
Well, anyway, I would say Kauai has run out of time in not dealing with high oil/energy prices. Even though economists told them so last July, Kauai businesses and government officials should not be expecting oil prices below $100/barrel. The crisis has been upon us. It's time to act.
Aloha, Brad
That forecast was dependent upon oil below $100/barrel, not losing further airline seat capacity into the state, and the mortgage industry not deteriorating further on the mainland. Since that forecast, the price of oil went up to $140/barrel, then down to about $100, and now today back up to $105/barrel. So I decided to look for the UHERO updated forecast.
Here it is, dated Sept. 19th: http://www.uhero.hawaii.edu/eis/eis_forecastarchive.html. An already dated quote from that: "Oil prices are coming down in line with our expectations, which will begin to take the heat off inflation...We continue to see forecast risks in the same set of factors that we have described in past reports, with some subtle [???] changes. On the downside, our concerns about national credit markets have intensified, and there is also a greater potential risk of a deep global downturn. On the upside, the retreat of oil prices to the $90 per barrel range increases the chance of a more substantial oil retreat, which would boost global growth prospects."
Not anymore.
So, I decided to look for Paul Brewbaker's most recent online forecast. It is even less current, dated Aug. 26th: https://www.boh.com/econ/reports/econ082608.pdf.
Paul doesn't talk much about oil, but the report is worth reading, and the graphs are interesting. This gives me a chance to reference a report on Paul Brewbaker's last speech on Kauai. It was reported by Ronnie Margolis on his Kauai Real Estate blog, and I thought it was a very interesting blog entry by Ronnie: http://activerain.com/blogsview/624178/Bank-of-Hawaii-economist.
Well, anyway, I would say Kauai has run out of time in not dealing with high oil/energy prices. Even though economists told them so last July, Kauai businesses and government officials should not be expecting oil prices below $100/barrel. The crisis has been upon us. It's time to act.
Aloha, Brad
Today in the Markets 9/22/08
Well it looks like Kauai doesn't have any more time to waste on this:
Sept. 22: Crude oil jumps more than $20 dollars a barrel on fears of cheap money from the Fed. Stephen Schork discusses the reasons behind the move with CNBC's Erin Burnett.
See video: http://www.cnbc.com/id/15840232?video=864713255
See also: http://sg.news.yahoo.com/ap/20080919/twl-ike-energy-1be00ca.html
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12400801/
"Oil spikes $25 amid anxiety over bailout"
Trading suspended as crude prices soar to biggest one-day increase ever Associated Press Sept. 22, 2008
"NEW YORK - Oil prices spiked more than $25 a barrel Monday — the biggest one-day price jump ever — as anxiety over the government’s $700 billion bailout plan, a weak dollar and an expiring crude contract ignited a dramatic rally.
Light, sweet crude for October delivery jumped as much as $25.45 to $130 a barrel on the New York Mercantile Exchange before falling back to settle at $120.92, up $16.37. The contract expired at the end of the day, adding to the volatility as traders rushed to cover positions; the October price began accelerating sharply in the last hour of regular trading, a common occurrence when a contract is about to go off the board.
Still, the rally, which shattered crude’s previous one-day price jump of $10.75, set June 6, showed the intensity of emotion in the market. The Nymex temporarily halted electronic crude oil trading after prices breached the $10 daily trading limit. Trading resumed seconds later after the daily limit was increased...".Article cont.
http://www.cnbc.com/id/26840970
"Dow Sheds 3.3% Amid Bailout Worries, Oil Rally"
Cindy Perman CNBC.com 22 Sep 2008
"Stocks declined Monday as a more than $16 jump in oil prices exacerbated the selloff on Wall Street started by worries about the ability of the government bailout to revive the financial system.
"It's the fear of the unknown," said Al Goldman, chief market strategist at Wachovia Securities. "We got used to writeoffs ... we had so many shoes drop that it didn't mean anything. Then, over the weekend, we get Wall Street has changed forever," Goldman said. "This is a real shock."
The Dow Jones Industrial Average lost nearly 373 points, or 3.3 percent, to close at 11015.69. Much of that was due to financial stocks, which accounted for three of the top four decliners. (Track the Dow winners & losers.)
The S&P 500 fell 3.8 percent, while the tech-heavy Nasdaq skidded 4.2 percent despite enthusiasm for stock buybacks in the sector.
Crude oil [US@CL.1 120.92 16.37 (+15.66%) ] rocketed $16.37, or 16 percent — the biggest one-day move in both dollar and percentage terms — to settle at $120.92 a barrel amid a massive short squeeze. (See a list of the top 10 oil moves by dollar and percent.)
The October crude contract expires today and a big reason for today's oil rally was short covering. Short covering occurs when a buyer borrows a stock, betting it will go down, then has to buy it back at that lower price. A lot of traders were short oil, assuming the only way it could go was down, then had to cover their bets before the contract expired.
The big shock this weekend was that the last two pillars on Wall Street — Goldman Sachs [GS 120.78 -9.02 (-6.95%) ] and Morgan Stanley [MS 27.09 -0.12 (-0.44%) ] — are being converted into commercial bank-holding companies instead of stand-alone investment banks. The two banks will now be able to create commercial banks, but will be subject to tighter regulation.
Goldman shares fell 7 percent. Morgan Stanley eased just 0.4 percent after Japan's largest bank, Mitsubishi UFJ Financial Group, said today that it plans to buy a 10 to 20 percent stake in the firm.
Morgan Stanley had been in talks to merge with Wachovia [WB 14.81 -3.94 (-21.01%) ] but sources close to the deal say these latest developments put any such deal on the back burner — possibly forever.
Wachovia shares shed 12 percent after being downgraded by Stifel Nicolaus to "hold" from "buy." Analysts said the stock's recent run up was "too much, too soon."
JPMorgan [JPM 40.80 -6.25 (-13.28%) ] was the Dow's biggest drag, shedding about 13 percent, after Sandler O'Neill downgraded the stock to "hold" from "buy."
Wells Fargo [WFC 35.18 -4.62 (-11.61%) ] ws also downgraded by Sandler O'Neill. Its stock 12 percent.
Meanwhile, Japanese brokerage house Nomura Holdings reached a deal to buy the Asian operations of Lehman Brothers, [LEH 0.185 -0.0301 (-13.99%) ]. UK bank Barclays has already snapped up the core US business held by Lehman.
The short-selling ban did little to help financials — even after it was expanded..."
http://www.cnbc.com/id/26842856
"Dollar Weighed by Worry of US Bailout Cost, Details"
By Reuters 22 Sep 2008
"The U.S. dollar came under pressure on Tuesday on concerns about the cost to finance the U.S. bailout package to shore up its financial system and ease credit crisis.
The $700 billion package, which would give sweeping powers to the U.S. Treasury to buy mortgage-related bad debts from financial firms, is awaiting congressional approval which looked set to drag into next week.
In addition to worries about growing U.S. budget deficit, market players were also doubtful of the effectiveness of the package to resolve the financial crisis.
"What's weighing on the dollar is the question how it will ultimately be financed. Details still remain lacking and there are concerns about a delay or talks running into hurdles in Congress," said Sue Trinh, senior currency strategist at RBC Capital Markets in Sydney.
"Much of the initial euphoria (from the package) has been retracted," she said, adding that there was risk of continued dollar weakness in coming weeks, with the euro possibly rising to $1.5...
In addition to the weak U.S. fundamentals, the weakness in global equities markets on heightening risk aversion also opened the way for the dollar's drop..."
Sept. 22: Crude oil jumps more than $20 dollars a barrel on fears of cheap money from the Fed. Stephen Schork discusses the reasons behind the move with CNBC's Erin Burnett.
See video: http://www.cnbc.com/id/15840232?video=864713255
See also: http://sg.news.yahoo.com/ap/20080919/twl-ike-energy-1be00ca.html
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12400801/
"Oil spikes $25 amid anxiety over bailout"
Trading suspended as crude prices soar to biggest one-day increase ever Associated Press Sept. 22, 2008
"NEW YORK - Oil prices spiked more than $25 a barrel Monday — the biggest one-day price jump ever — as anxiety over the government’s $700 billion bailout plan, a weak dollar and an expiring crude contract ignited a dramatic rally.
Light, sweet crude for October delivery jumped as much as $25.45 to $130 a barrel on the New York Mercantile Exchange before falling back to settle at $120.92, up $16.37. The contract expired at the end of the day, adding to the volatility as traders rushed to cover positions; the October price began accelerating sharply in the last hour of regular trading, a common occurrence when a contract is about to go off the board.
Still, the rally, which shattered crude’s previous one-day price jump of $10.75, set June 6, showed the intensity of emotion in the market. The Nymex temporarily halted electronic crude oil trading after prices breached the $10 daily trading limit. Trading resumed seconds later after the daily limit was increased...".Article cont.
http://www.cnbc.com/id/26840970
"Dow Sheds 3.3% Amid Bailout Worries, Oil Rally"
Cindy Perman CNBC.com 22 Sep 2008
"Stocks declined Monday as a more than $16 jump in oil prices exacerbated the selloff on Wall Street started by worries about the ability of the government bailout to revive the financial system.
"It's the fear of the unknown," said Al Goldman, chief market strategist at Wachovia Securities. "We got used to writeoffs ... we had so many shoes drop that it didn't mean anything. Then, over the weekend, we get Wall Street has changed forever," Goldman said. "This is a real shock."
The Dow Jones Industrial Average lost nearly 373 points, or 3.3 percent, to close at 11015.69. Much of that was due to financial stocks, which accounted for three of the top four decliners. (Track the Dow winners & losers.)
The S&P 500 fell 3.8 percent, while the tech-heavy Nasdaq skidded 4.2 percent despite enthusiasm for stock buybacks in the sector.
Crude oil [US@CL.1 120.92 16.37 (+15.66%) ] rocketed $16.37, or 16 percent — the biggest one-day move in both dollar and percentage terms — to settle at $120.92 a barrel amid a massive short squeeze. (See a list of the top 10 oil moves by dollar and percent.)
The October crude contract expires today and a big reason for today's oil rally was short covering. Short covering occurs when a buyer borrows a stock, betting it will go down, then has to buy it back at that lower price. A lot of traders were short oil, assuming the only way it could go was down, then had to cover their bets before the contract expired.
The big shock this weekend was that the last two pillars on Wall Street — Goldman Sachs [GS 120.78 -9.02 (-6.95%) ] and Morgan Stanley [MS 27.09 -0.12 (-0.44%) ] — are being converted into commercial bank-holding companies instead of stand-alone investment banks. The two banks will now be able to create commercial banks, but will be subject to tighter regulation.
Goldman shares fell 7 percent. Morgan Stanley eased just 0.4 percent after Japan's largest bank, Mitsubishi UFJ Financial Group, said today that it plans to buy a 10 to 20 percent stake in the firm.
Morgan Stanley had been in talks to merge with Wachovia [WB 14.81 -3.94 (-21.01%) ] but sources close to the deal say these latest developments put any such deal on the back burner — possibly forever.
Wachovia shares shed 12 percent after being downgraded by Stifel Nicolaus to "hold" from "buy." Analysts said the stock's recent run up was "too much, too soon."
JPMorgan [JPM 40.80 -6.25 (-13.28%) ] was the Dow's biggest drag, shedding about 13 percent, after Sandler O'Neill downgraded the stock to "hold" from "buy."
Wells Fargo [WFC 35.18 -4.62 (-11.61%) ] ws also downgraded by Sandler O'Neill. Its stock 12 percent.
Meanwhile, Japanese brokerage house Nomura Holdings reached a deal to buy the Asian operations of Lehman Brothers, [LEH 0.185 -0.0301 (-13.99%) ]. UK bank Barclays has already snapped up the core US business held by Lehman.
The short-selling ban did little to help financials — even after it was expanded..."
http://www.cnbc.com/id/26842856
"Dollar Weighed by Worry of US Bailout Cost, Details"
By Reuters 22 Sep 2008
"The U.S. dollar came under pressure on Tuesday on concerns about the cost to finance the U.S. bailout package to shore up its financial system and ease credit crisis.
The $700 billion package, which would give sweeping powers to the U.S. Treasury to buy mortgage-related bad debts from financial firms, is awaiting congressional approval which looked set to drag into next week.
In addition to worries about growing U.S. budget deficit, market players were also doubtful of the effectiveness of the package to resolve the financial crisis.
"What's weighing on the dollar is the question how it will ultimately be financed. Details still remain lacking and there are concerns about a delay or talks running into hurdles in Congress," said Sue Trinh, senior currency strategist at RBC Capital Markets in Sydney.
"Much of the initial euphoria (from the package) has been retracted," she said, adding that there was risk of continued dollar weakness in coming weeks, with the euro possibly rising to $1.5...
In addition to the weak U.S. fundamentals, the weakness in global equities markets on heightening risk aversion also opened the way for the dollar's drop..."
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Source Information from the 2008 Kaua`i Renewable Energy Conference
Thanks to David Ward for forwarding this. The information below is from Day 1 of a 2 day event. Presumably Day 2 will be on the KEDB site soon.
Since the conference a few weeks ago there seems to have already been a lag in action on the great information presented at the conference. Something that was reinforced with the Primary Election results last night. Nevertheless, here were some great speakers with the information, expertise and capital to make it happen...if the people of Kauai are ready for it:
"Presented by Kaua`i Economic Development Board in Partnership with the US Department of Energy, County of Kaua`i Office of Economic Development, and Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
Mahalo to everyone who attended the 2008 Kaua`i Renewable Energy Conference, and mahalo to all the speakers, sponsors, and coordinators of this call to action for our county.
Please check back periodically for more updates and next steps. In the meantime, here are links for handouts, speaker PowerPoint Presentations, and other information from the Conference:
Conference Agenda
Sponsorship Packet
List of Conference Sponsors
SPEAKER POWERPOINT PRESENTATIONS
(Click on each speaker's name below to pull up their Powerpoint)
Day One: Monday, September 8, 2008
Morning Keynote by Maurice Kaya
Panel 1:
Christopher J. Benjamin, Senior Vice President & CFO, Alexander & Baldwin, Inc.
Bill Cowern, President, Hawaiian Mahogany (Partnering with Green Energy Hawai`i LLC)
Captain Aaron L. Cudnohufsky, United States Navy, Commanding Officer at Pacific Missile Range Facility
Randall Hee, President & Chief Executive Officer, Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
D. Noelani Kalipi, Director of Government & Community Relations, First Wind
E. Alan Kennett, President & General Manager, Gay & Robinson Inc.
Mike Tresler, Senior Vice President, Grove Farm Company
Dr. Paul S. Zorner, Ph.D., President & Chief Executive Officer, Hawaii BioEnergy LLC
Luncheon Keynote: Bill Parks
Panel 2:
D. Noelani Kalipi, Director of Government & Community Relations, First Wind
William Milks, Former Executive Director for Hawai`i Division of Consumer Advocacy
Dr. Charles L. Morgan, Environmental Planner, Planning Solutions, Inc.
State Representative Mina Morita, Chair of the Hawai`i House Committee on Energy and Environment
Theodore Peck, Manager-Energy Planning & Policy Branch, Hawai`i Dept of Business, Economic Dev't & Tourism
Panel 3:
Paul Bierman-Lytle, Principal & Chief Sustainability Officer, Group 70 International
Miles Kubo, President, Energy Industries
Ray Mierta, Manager-Energy Services, Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
Douglas Sears, General Manager, Grand Hyatt Kaua`i Resort & Spa
http://www.kedb.com/_cmx/cmx_article/articleView.asp?Action=Detail&ArticleID=114&CategoryID=
I will be adding to this post with notes taken from the conference. There was also a presentation after the conference at KIUC about the 100% renewable Island of Samso, and I'll also put some notes up about that.
Aloha, Brad
Since the conference a few weeks ago there seems to have already been a lag in action on the great information presented at the conference. Something that was reinforced with the Primary Election results last night. Nevertheless, here were some great speakers with the information, expertise and capital to make it happen...if the people of Kauai are ready for it:
"Presented by Kaua`i Economic Development Board in Partnership with the US Department of Energy, County of Kaua`i Office of Economic Development, and Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
Mahalo to everyone who attended the 2008 Kaua`i Renewable Energy Conference, and mahalo to all the speakers, sponsors, and coordinators of this call to action for our county.
Please check back periodically for more updates and next steps. In the meantime, here are links for handouts, speaker PowerPoint Presentations, and other information from the Conference:
Conference Agenda
Sponsorship Packet
List of Conference Sponsors
SPEAKER POWERPOINT PRESENTATIONS
(Click on each speaker's name below to pull up their Powerpoint)
Day One: Monday, September 8, 2008
Morning Keynote by Maurice Kaya
Panel 1:
Christopher J. Benjamin, Senior Vice President & CFO, Alexander & Baldwin, Inc.
Bill Cowern, President, Hawaiian Mahogany (Partnering with Green Energy Hawai`i LLC)
Captain Aaron L. Cudnohufsky, United States Navy, Commanding Officer at Pacific Missile Range Facility
Randall Hee, President & Chief Executive Officer, Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
D. Noelani Kalipi, Director of Government & Community Relations, First Wind
E. Alan Kennett, President & General Manager, Gay & Robinson Inc.
Mike Tresler, Senior Vice President, Grove Farm Company
Dr. Paul S. Zorner, Ph.D., President & Chief Executive Officer, Hawaii BioEnergy LLC
Luncheon Keynote: Bill Parks
Panel 2:
D. Noelani Kalipi, Director of Government & Community Relations, First Wind
William Milks, Former Executive Director for Hawai`i Division of Consumer Advocacy
Dr. Charles L. Morgan, Environmental Planner, Planning Solutions, Inc.
State Representative Mina Morita, Chair of the Hawai`i House Committee on Energy and Environment
Theodore Peck, Manager-Energy Planning & Policy Branch, Hawai`i Dept of Business, Economic Dev't & Tourism
Panel 3:
Paul Bierman-Lytle, Principal & Chief Sustainability Officer, Group 70 International
Miles Kubo, President, Energy Industries
Ray Mierta, Manager-Energy Services, Kaua`i Island Utility Cooperative
Douglas Sears, General Manager, Grand Hyatt Kaua`i Resort & Spa
http://www.kedb.com/_cmx/cmx_article/articleView.asp?Action=Detail&ArticleID=114&CategoryID=
I will be adding to this post with notes taken from the conference. There was also a presentation after the conference at KIUC about the 100% renewable Island of Samso, and I'll also put some notes up about that.
Aloha, Brad
Grove Farm, Revolution, Steve Case in the News
From: http://www.grovefarm.com/
Grove Farm Wins GE Ecomagination Leadership Award
September 18, 2008
On September 18, 2008, Grove Farm Company was honored with a prestigious GE ecomagination Leadership Award. The only awardee in the State to receive such an award this year, Grove Farm was recognized for an innovative, environmentally responsible solution that provides a sustainable, new water resource for as many as 15,000 residents and visitors on Kaua'i.
The Grove Farm Water Purification Plant is the result of having implemented a sustainable solution to alleviate Kaua'i's dependence on traditional water sources. Grove Farm's broader goal is to implement sustainable technologies for renewable energy and food production.
Video at: http://kgmb9.com/main/content/view/9875/40/
'So we have hundreds of thousands of acres that used to grow sugar or grow pineapple that are now growing weeds, and trying to come up with strategies to use that land to grow energy and make the islands more energy self-sufficient is a big priority,' Case said.
Parent company: http://revolution.com/default.aspx
http://revolution.com/our-companies/grovefarm.aspx
There is something good that could be done here,
Aloha, Brad
Grove Farm Wins GE Ecomagination Leadership Award
September 18, 2008
On September 18, 2008, Grove Farm Company was honored with a prestigious GE ecomagination Leadership Award. The only awardee in the State to receive such an award this year, Grove Farm was recognized for an innovative, environmentally responsible solution that provides a sustainable, new water resource for as many as 15,000 residents and visitors on Kaua'i.
The Grove Farm Water Purification Plant is the result of having implemented a sustainable solution to alleviate Kaua'i's dependence on traditional water sources. Grove Farm's broader goal is to implement sustainable technologies for renewable energy and food production.
Video at: http://kgmb9.com/main/content/view/9875/40/
'So we have hundreds of thousands of acres that used to grow sugar or grow pineapple that are now growing weeds, and trying to come up with strategies to use that land to grow energy and make the islands more energy self-sufficient is a big priority,' Case said.
Parent company: http://revolution.com/default.aspx
http://revolution.com/our-companies/grovefarm.aspx
There is something good that could be done here,
Aloha, Brad
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Review of Kauai Mayoral Campaign Finance Reports
A Kauai County Council candidate pointed me to the state website for the campaign finance reports for all candidates in the state. I looked at it and reviewed all reported contributions and loans to all candidates running for office on Kauai and reported back my findings verbally to that candidate particularly for the 4 Mayoral candidates. That person/candidate asked me to write it up in a few paragraphs and share it with the public because no media outlets have reported on this yet. After seeing one of the large contributors in action today, I decided to take the time to go ahead and do this. Hope it is revealing.
First, these reports are only for the period July 1 - September 5, 2008. The candidates have no doubt raised and spent more funds from Sept. 6 - today, Sept. 17, but those have not been disclosed yet and are not a part of this review. The reports can be reviewed in all their detail at: https://nc.csc.hawaii.gov/CFSPublic/ReportList.php.
I will give a quick summary of each of the 4 Mayoral candidates reports and then mention some summary conclusions. I will review in order of the amount of funds raised, smallest to largest.
First, Rolf Bieber II has no reports filed. I assume that means he neither raised nor spent any significant amount of funds. I have seen him properly dressed with a few signs on the side of the road and at a few forums, but Rolf Bieber is not mounting a funded campaign and apparently not taking out any loans which is probably a good thing in his case. The electorate should know that for one or more of the other candidates Rolf is a potential drain of votes away from an electable candidate, albeit a nice guy with good intentions.
Second, Mel Rapozo. Mel has raised in contributions $39,287.94 during this reporting period, and $56,142.94 during the whole election period. Mel also loaned his campaign $7,812.45. Mel's expenditures during this reporting period were $31,629.11, and $39,646.21 for the whole campaign. On Sept. 5th, Mel had $19,647.79 still available to spend. Of Mel's individual contributors, most are for a few hundred dollars each, only 8 are for $1000 or more, and those mostly seem to be from personal and past professional relationships.
Third, JoAnn Yukimura. JoAnn has raised in contributions $46,697.99 during this reporting period, and $59,327.90 during the whole election period. JoAnn began the total election period with $4,339.66 cash on hand and began this reporting period with $13,853.27 cash on hand. JoAnn took out no loans for her campaign, but did apparently give her campaign $9,949.00. JoAnn's total disbursements during this reporting period were $77,831.01, and $90,896.40 for the whole election period. Of those, on Sept 5th, JoAnn's campaign still owed $16,583.46 to 5 media outlets for ads on Sept. 5th. Of JoAnn's individual contributors, most are for a few hundred dollars each, only 7 are for $1000 or more, and of those 6 of 7 seem to be from professional and past personal relationships.
Fourth, Bernard Carvalho. Bernard has raised in contributions $102,562.41, all during this reporting period. Bernard's family (Sr.) loaned his campaign an additional $30,000.00. Bernard's total disbursements during this reporting period and whole election period were $90,387.43, which included $4,702.38 in unpaid expenditures as of Sept. 5th, although his campaign still had a cash balance of $12,174.98 on Sept. 5th. Of Bernard's individual contributors, at least 27 are for $1000 or more. Those 27 contributors for $1000 or more include 6 high level county employees, 9 resort/property/development related contributors, 4 labor PAC's, 2 law firms, and assorted other businesses and individuals.
From these reports it should be clear Bernard Carvalho has a campaign finance advantage particularly from large contributors working for the County and some businesses. They appear to view Bernard Carvalho to be the heir apparent. JoAnn Yukimura and Mel Rapozo have not received these same number and kinds of large contributions; theirs have been smaller and more numerous, esp. in JoAnn's case.
To the intelligent observer/voter, this should say a lot about these candidates, the likely top two vote getters in the Primary, and who most needs the funding, volunteer effort, and votes going forward in these last few days before the Primary on Sept. 20 and if necessary the General Election on November 4th.
Aloha, Brad
First, these reports are only for the period July 1 - September 5, 2008. The candidates have no doubt raised and spent more funds from Sept. 6 - today, Sept. 17, but those have not been disclosed yet and are not a part of this review. The reports can be reviewed in all their detail at: https://nc.csc.hawaii.gov/CFSPublic/ReportList.php.
I will give a quick summary of each of the 4 Mayoral candidates reports and then mention some summary conclusions. I will review in order of the amount of funds raised, smallest to largest.
First, Rolf Bieber II has no reports filed. I assume that means he neither raised nor spent any significant amount of funds. I have seen him properly dressed with a few signs on the side of the road and at a few forums, but Rolf Bieber is not mounting a funded campaign and apparently not taking out any loans which is probably a good thing in his case. The electorate should know that for one or more of the other candidates Rolf is a potential drain of votes away from an electable candidate, albeit a nice guy with good intentions.
Second, Mel Rapozo. Mel has raised in contributions $39,287.94 during this reporting period, and $56,142.94 during the whole election period. Mel also loaned his campaign $7,812.45. Mel's expenditures during this reporting period were $31,629.11, and $39,646.21 for the whole campaign. On Sept. 5th, Mel had $19,647.79 still available to spend. Of Mel's individual contributors, most are for a few hundred dollars each, only 8 are for $1000 or more, and those mostly seem to be from personal and past professional relationships.
Third, JoAnn Yukimura. JoAnn has raised in contributions $46,697.99 during this reporting period, and $59,327.90 during the whole election period. JoAnn began the total election period with $4,339.66 cash on hand and began this reporting period with $13,853.27 cash on hand. JoAnn took out no loans for her campaign, but did apparently give her campaign $9,949.00. JoAnn's total disbursements during this reporting period were $77,831.01, and $90,896.40 for the whole election period. Of those, on Sept 5th, JoAnn's campaign still owed $16,583.46 to 5 media outlets for ads on Sept. 5th. Of JoAnn's individual contributors, most are for a few hundred dollars each, only 7 are for $1000 or more, and of those 6 of 7 seem to be from professional and past personal relationships.
Fourth, Bernard Carvalho. Bernard has raised in contributions $102,562.41, all during this reporting period. Bernard's family (Sr.) loaned his campaign an additional $30,000.00. Bernard's total disbursements during this reporting period and whole election period were $90,387.43, which included $4,702.38 in unpaid expenditures as of Sept. 5th, although his campaign still had a cash balance of $12,174.98 on Sept. 5th. Of Bernard's individual contributors, at least 27 are for $1000 or more. Those 27 contributors for $1000 or more include 6 high level county employees, 9 resort/property/development related contributors, 4 labor PAC's, 2 law firms, and assorted other businesses and individuals.
From these reports it should be clear Bernard Carvalho has a campaign finance advantage particularly from large contributors working for the County and some businesses. They appear to view Bernard Carvalho to be the heir apparent. JoAnn Yukimura and Mel Rapozo have not received these same number and kinds of large contributions; theirs have been smaller and more numerous, esp. in JoAnn's case.
To the intelligent observer/voter, this should say a lot about these candidates, the likely top two vote getters in the Primary, and who most needs the funding, volunteer effort, and votes going forward in these last few days before the Primary on Sept. 20 and if necessary the General Election on November 4th.
Aloha, Brad
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Apollo Kaua`i Endorses JoAnn Yukimura for Mayor
"Apollo Kaua`i Endorses JoAnn Yukimura"
Submitted by Andrea on Tue, 09/16/2008
"JoAnn Yukimura For Our Sustainable Energy Future"
"We in Apollo Kauai have been studying the issues of our oil dependence and climate change for the last three years. We have been educating ourselves and fellow residents about both the impacts and mitigation strategies for Kaua`i. Our investigations and educational efforts have included numerous public meetings presenting renewable energy solutions, transportation, efficiency and conservation measures for saving energy, and a myriad of related subjects. During this time, rising local electricity rates and ever-increasing transportation fuel costs as well as global events and awareness of climate changes have caused a call for urgent immediate action to address these energy issues.
Most recently, that call reached a fever pitch here on the Garden Island, when Maurice Kaya, former head of the State Department of Business, Economic Development, and Tourism, as one of several presenters, addressed a room of over 200 Kauai officials business people, and concerned residents at an renewable energy event organized by the Office of Kauai Economic Development. Mr. Kaya started his presentation with an insistence on the need for the people of Kaua`i to proceed with far greater urgency in addressing our energy dependence. He emphasized that we cannot simply consider this in a box, as ‘another’ social problem that will eventually resolve itself! He proceeded to outline the incredible fragility of our entire economy because of our total reliance on increasingly scarce and expensive petroleum.
Our energy crisis has been building for years, and despite the recent softening of oil prices, it is widely expected to worsen significantly in the foreseeable future. And, despite interest in this or that possible technological ‘solution’ (algae, nanotechnology, cellulosic ethanol) there is very little disagreement in the energy industry that we are at the edge of a precipice. The single most important thing for local governments around the country in responding to this unprecedented crisis is clear recognition of it and to quickly begin implementing solutions.
We need a Mayor on Kauai who understands both the severity of our situation, and the appropriate responses to it. We need a Mayor who goes into office on day one as a strong proponent of the solutions that can benefit us the most. We need a Mayor who has the experience of having worked through real crisis situations before. We cannot afford anything less now.
Some may see this perspective as too pessimistic or alarmist, and choose not to think that they or their job or business on Kaua`i might be impacted by such abstractions; but we need to face the facts. Most of us already see the affects of our electricity and transportation costs and the resulting rising costs of all goods, including food, and services. If we can elect a Mayor who truly understands the urgency of our energy situation, we can move together as a community and successfully meet this challenge.
We can expand the bus system that Mayor Yukimura started; we can depend on affordable housing becoming a reality as in the past; we can transform the COOP that JoAnn Yukimura helped found; we can protect the rural Island that Mayor Yukimura has, countless times, defended; we can begin employing the conservation measures and green building practices which will save our County energy. . With Mayor Yukimura’s leadership, we can avoid saddling the West Side with yet another toxic burden in a Waste to Energy Incinerator; and instead proceed with much more profitable and innovative recycling efforts. We can expand the Farmer’s Markets that Mayor Yukimura championed, and by doing so, help promote more agriculture on Kaua`i, more small farms and more exporting of our products. We can assist Kaua`i families and individuals who must live on limited or fixed incomes to save through energy saving incentives.
We cannot and should not rely on solutions to come from our State and Federal Government. Instead, with Mayor Yukimura’s leadership assisting us in becoming more energy self-reliant; and in joining together, we can take responsibility for the well-being of our families, businesses and our communities right here on Kaua`i.
Apollo Kaua`i endorses JoAnn Yukimura as the person most capable of working with the whole community to bring about the energy solutions we will need to enjoy that optimistic future."
Submitted by Andrea on Tue, 09/16/2008
"JoAnn Yukimura For Our Sustainable Energy Future"
"We in Apollo Kauai have been studying the issues of our oil dependence and climate change for the last three years. We have been educating ourselves and fellow residents about both the impacts and mitigation strategies for Kaua`i. Our investigations and educational efforts have included numerous public meetings presenting renewable energy solutions, transportation, efficiency and conservation measures for saving energy, and a myriad of related subjects. During this time, rising local electricity rates and ever-increasing transportation fuel costs as well as global events and awareness of climate changes have caused a call for urgent immediate action to address these energy issues.
Most recently, that call reached a fever pitch here on the Garden Island, when Maurice Kaya, former head of the State Department of Business, Economic Development, and Tourism, as one of several presenters, addressed a room of over 200 Kauai officials business people, and concerned residents at an renewable energy event organized by the Office of Kauai Economic Development. Mr. Kaya started his presentation with an insistence on the need for the people of Kaua`i to proceed with far greater urgency in addressing our energy dependence. He emphasized that we cannot simply consider this in a box, as ‘another’ social problem that will eventually resolve itself! He proceeded to outline the incredible fragility of our entire economy because of our total reliance on increasingly scarce and expensive petroleum.
Our energy crisis has been building for years, and despite the recent softening of oil prices, it is widely expected to worsen significantly in the foreseeable future. And, despite interest in this or that possible technological ‘solution’ (algae, nanotechnology, cellulosic ethanol) there is very little disagreement in the energy industry that we are at the edge of a precipice. The single most important thing for local governments around the country in responding to this unprecedented crisis is clear recognition of it and to quickly begin implementing solutions.
We need a Mayor on Kauai who understands both the severity of our situation, and the appropriate responses to it. We need a Mayor who goes into office on day one as a strong proponent of the solutions that can benefit us the most. We need a Mayor who has the experience of having worked through real crisis situations before. We cannot afford anything less now.
Some may see this perspective as too pessimistic or alarmist, and choose not to think that they or their job or business on Kaua`i might be impacted by such abstractions; but we need to face the facts. Most of us already see the affects of our electricity and transportation costs and the resulting rising costs of all goods, including food, and services. If we can elect a Mayor who truly understands the urgency of our energy situation, we can move together as a community and successfully meet this challenge.
We can expand the bus system that Mayor Yukimura started; we can depend on affordable housing becoming a reality as in the past; we can transform the COOP that JoAnn Yukimura helped found; we can protect the rural Island that Mayor Yukimura has, countless times, defended; we can begin employing the conservation measures and green building practices which will save our County energy. . With Mayor Yukimura’s leadership, we can avoid saddling the West Side with yet another toxic burden in a Waste to Energy Incinerator; and instead proceed with much more profitable and innovative recycling efforts. We can expand the Farmer’s Markets that Mayor Yukimura championed, and by doing so, help promote more agriculture on Kaua`i, more small farms and more exporting of our products. We can assist Kaua`i families and individuals who must live on limited or fixed incomes to save through energy saving incentives.
We cannot and should not rely on solutions to come from our State and Federal Government. Instead, with Mayor Yukimura’s leadership assisting us in becoming more energy self-reliant; and in joining together, we can take responsibility for the well-being of our families, businesses and our communities right here on Kaua`i.
Apollo Kaua`i endorses JoAnn Yukimura as the person most capable of working with the whole community to bring about the energy solutions we will need to enjoy that optimistic future."
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Current Campaign Financing Reports for all Candidates in Hawaii
Wow, this is a neat web page. One of the County Council candidates on Kauai pointed it out to me. You can learn a lot about the candidates anywhere in the state by looking closely at their reports, how they are raising funds and spending them. You can tell quite a bit beyond what is in the newspapers about where some of the races are at.
Check it out: https://nc.csc.hawaii.gov/CFSPublic/ReportList.php?ORG_RPTPage=1
Aloha, Brad
Check it out: https://nc.csc.hawaii.gov/CFSPublic/ReportList.php?ORG_RPTPage=1
Aloha, Brad
Update on the Naue Burials
For a more complete report on this matter including where things may be going on this, see:
http://kauaieclectic.blogspot.com/2008/09/musings-bon-appetit.html
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Musings: Bon Appetit
"OK, get out your chili pepper water, your A-1 sauce or your other favorite condiment. Because it’s time to eat some crow — and not the Alala kine, since it’s almost extinct. I’m talking to all you Hawaiian-haters, nay-sayers, stink-talkers and anybody else who was making like Kaiulani guys were wacko trouble-makers when they started the drive to protect the iwi on Joe Brescia’s property at Naue...[see rest of article]"
Also reported by Joan Conrow today, "...Speaking of appeals, Malama Kauai has begun a pledge drive in a bid to buy the Naue property from developer Joe Brescia. The goal is to protect the iwi there, as well as the coastline. It launched the drive with $75,000 from an anonymous donor, so that’s a pretty good start. And finally, I did a piece for Honolulu Weekly on the Naue burials that should be posted on their website today, if you're interested."
Monday, September 15, 2008
"State agency broke law over Hawaiian remains found on Kauai"
By Diana Leone Advertiser Kauai Bureau
LIHU'E, Kauai — "The State Historic Preservation Division failed to follow state law regarding Native Hawaiian burials in a Kaua'i beachfront houselot where 30 sets of human remains were found, Fifth Circuit Judge Kathleen Watanabe ruled this afternoon.
The agency must now consult with the Kaua'i-Ni'ihau Island Burial Council, any lineal descendants of the remains, interested Hawaiian organizations, and the landowner about a revised burial treatment plan, Watanabe said.
That step should have been taken earlier this year, after the burial council voted in April to preserve the burials in place, Watanabe noted. Instead, a state archaeologist improperly approved a burial treatment plan for property owned by California developer Joseph Brescia, without the consultation, she said..."
Aloha, Brad
http://kauaieclectic.blogspot.com/2008/09/musings-bon-appetit.html
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Musings: Bon Appetit
"OK, get out your chili pepper water, your A-1 sauce or your other favorite condiment. Because it’s time to eat some crow — and not the Alala kine, since it’s almost extinct. I’m talking to all you Hawaiian-haters, nay-sayers, stink-talkers and anybody else who was making like Kaiulani guys were wacko trouble-makers when they started the drive to protect the iwi on Joe Brescia’s property at Naue...[see rest of article]"
Also reported by Joan Conrow today, "...Speaking of appeals, Malama Kauai has begun a pledge drive in a bid to buy the Naue property from developer Joe Brescia. The goal is to protect the iwi there, as well as the coastline. It launched the drive with $75,000 from an anonymous donor, so that’s a pretty good start. And finally, I did a piece for Honolulu Weekly on the Naue burials that should be posted on their website today, if you're interested."
Monday, September 15, 2008
"State agency broke law over Hawaiian remains found on Kauai"
By Diana Leone Advertiser Kauai Bureau
LIHU'E, Kauai — "The State Historic Preservation Division failed to follow state law regarding Native Hawaiian burials in a Kaua'i beachfront houselot where 30 sets of human remains were found, Fifth Circuit Judge Kathleen Watanabe ruled this afternoon.
The agency must now consult with the Kaua'i-Ni'ihau Island Burial Council, any lineal descendants of the remains, interested Hawaiian organizations, and the landowner about a revised burial treatment plan, Watanabe said.
That step should have been taken earlier this year, after the burial council voted in April to preserve the burials in place, Watanabe noted. Instead, a state archaeologist improperly approved a burial treatment plan for property owned by California developer Joseph Brescia, without the consultation, she said..."
Aloha, Brad
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Recent Kauai Energy and Sustainability Letters
There have been some important events recently on Kauai related to energy and sustainability. I was waiting for the promised great source content from the 2008 Kauai Renewable Energy Conference (overheads and powerpoints) to show up on the net, but they have not yet. Although, I took enough notes and pictures that with my next posts I will begin reporting on that, beyond what has shown up in the newspapers, while we wait for the links from KEDB and DBEDT.
For now though, I've got some catching up to do here. I'll be posting some good recent letters to the editor from here on Kauai on these matters. I just want to compliment the local paper and Kauai writers for such good letter writing, better than I have seen on Maui or Oahu, partly because the paper here publishes long letters. The first writer has a full PV solar net-metered system at home and has an interesting professional background, but I digress, here is his letter:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/12/opinion/edit01.txt
"Worry about Kaua‘i’s energy future"
"For those who read the articles in The Garden Island Sept. 9 and Sept. 10 and could not attend the Kauai Renewable Energy Conference, we should be very worried about our island’s future. We are the most vulnerable of the Hawaiian Islands to having our energy supply interrupted. We receive the majority of our oil not from Alaska (almost none) but from such countries as Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam. O‘ahu, Maui County and perhaps the Big Island, but never Kaua‘i, can be connected by underwater transmission lines so they can have an interconnected electrical grid. This would allow them to share power.
Kaua‘i is on its own, a true “Separate Kingdom.” Kaua‘i’s energy rates are the highest in the U.S. (save an isolated community in Alaska) and as oil prices rise so will our electric costs. Most of us probably have noticed that as our electricity has increased, the price also of water and sewer. Soon local layoffs and a much softer local economy will follow, and the rising energy costs will be partially to blame.
You should worry when those attending were asked how fast we needed to work on drastically reducing our dependence on oil and getting renewables into our energy plan; almost all felt we have five years or less. We all need to make sure our politicians, our county and state governments, KIUC, energy users and energy providers start working together to come up with an integrated sustainable energy plan not years from now but immediately. This should be at the top of everyone’s agenda.
We must all think carefully in the coming weeks. There are many issues on our minds like taxes and a new tax bill, jobs, etc. but without a stable and secure energy future all other issues will not matter. I found it interesting that only one mayoral candidate and about five of the County Council candidates attended both days of this critically important meeting. The candidates who attended should be given our highest consideration in the upcoming elections. Some are the ones you have expected over the last 30 plus years to be deeply involved and committed to Kaua‘i and its future.
They are and were networking and bringing to the table those local, state and Mainland individuals and companies that can help us make a difference immediately in our energy future. Please keep this in mind as you vote on Sept. 20 and Nov. 4. Our political leaders need to be those who will propel us into the future, a future that is energy sustainable and green. We need political forward thinking leadership now, not nice guys."
Neil Clendeninn
Hanalei
The second letter appeared in the paper today:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/13/opinion/edit01.txt
"Facing energy realities"
"At the recent mayoral debates at Kauai Community College, I heard all four of the candidates talk about their commitment to helping with the energy problems on Kaua‘i, yet JoAnn Yukimura was the only one of them who cleared her calendar so she could participate in both days of the recent Renewable Energy Conference.
The number one message of the conference was the absolute urgency that we on Kaua‘i have with our current energy situation. All of the major landowners on Kaua‘i were there, top leaders from all sorts of businesses and industries were there, including Kauai Island Utility Cooperative.
Mayoral candidates Bernard Carvalho and Mel Rapozo made it for an hour or so on day two. I am not impressed. The urgent need to start producing energy on Kaua‘i through renewables right away was stressed again and again by Sen. Daniel Inouye’s chief of staff, Sen. Gary Hooser, Rep. Mina Morita, federal Department of Energy’s Bill Parks, former state of Hawai‘i DBEDT staff Maurice Kaya and other local, state, national and international energy experts.
They warned us that Kaua‘i is an isolated situation with abundant natural resources and is falling behind the other counties with using wind, solar, hydro, etc. to make electricity.
When O‘ahu, Maui and the Big Island are joined by an inter-island underwater electric cable, Kaua‘i will not be a part of it as our channel is too deep. Kaua‘i will be on its own. We have to get started right away to prepare for when the oil tanker doesn’t come into Port Allen or for when we cannot afford to pay for the oil tanker to come here. The prices are only going to get higher and right now we/KIUC make 90 percent of our electricity with fossil fuels.
KEDB has stepped up to the plate to help coordinate progress in the area of renewable energy generation on Kaua‘i, so contact them if you want to help. Get a solar water heater on your house and start saving 30 percent on your electric bill right away.
Ask KIUC how to finance it. Only 30 percent of the houses on Kaua‘i have solar water heaters now. Ask KIUC about their progress on the Kekaha solar farm and the expansion of the hydro power at Wainiha. And get over it about windmills being ugly; they can’t be any worse than all of the utility poles, the KIUC Port Allen facility and the abandoned sugar mill smokestacks that we already have.
Wake up Kaua‘i, the technology is available and alot of help is available but we the people of Kaua‘i need to decide how we want to generate our electricity beyond fossil fuels and tell our elected officials. And we need to do it now starting with this mayoral race by supporting the candidate who is the most informed and has always supported renewable energy, JoAnn Yukimura."
Mary Lu Kelley
Lawa‘i
BTW, there was an interesting small meeting at KIUC after the conference that both of the above letter writers attended along with Randy Hee and the concerned candidate, but no mainstream media reporters made the effort to be there. The meeting was for viewing a video on the island of Samso, but developed into an interesting interaction about Kauai's situation. I will report on that soon.
One last letter, though. The following letter was in the local paper a few days ago. It is very well written and applies to a number of these issues here. The writer is a well known videographer on the Kauai Northshore known for his coverage of Pro surfing among other things. Here is his poignant letter:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/04/opinion/edit01.txt
"Kaua‘i more important than any of us"
"A friend once told me that as stewards of this island, it is our responsibility to protect and care for this beautiful place we are so fortunate to call home. If we put Kaua‘i first, the island will care for its people.
It is good to have wise minds thinking of ways to relieve traffic congestion and look at entrances and exits to bypass roads. Traffic is very important and ways to directly give immediate relief is wonderful. Let’s also not lose sight of what else traffic is showing us and keep focus on the lessons we can learn. The widening of roads and additional lanes can only be helpful if in conjunction with smart growth and a commitment to putting Kaua‘i first.
I encourage these minds to also think of ways to help traffic that doesn’t involve pavement. Working closer to home and supporting local agriculture are just a few; there are many ways if we continue to make it our priority.
At 38 years old I have lived my whole life on Kaua‘i and without a doubt, I am a visitor whose number of years is only relevant to the impact I will have and the effect it will leave on the generations to come. Let’s all walk lightly and with respect, keeping in mind that Kaua‘i, the island, is way more important than any of us."
Joel Guy
Hanalei
Well said, Joel.
Aloha, Brad
For now though, I've got some catching up to do here. I'll be posting some good recent letters to the editor from here on Kauai on these matters. I just want to compliment the local paper and Kauai writers for such good letter writing, better than I have seen on Maui or Oahu, partly because the paper here publishes long letters. The first writer has a full PV solar net-metered system at home and has an interesting professional background, but I digress, here is his letter:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/12/opinion/edit01.txt
"Worry about Kaua‘i’s energy future"
"For those who read the articles in The Garden Island Sept. 9 and Sept. 10 and could not attend the Kauai Renewable Energy Conference, we should be very worried about our island’s future. We are the most vulnerable of the Hawaiian Islands to having our energy supply interrupted. We receive the majority of our oil not from Alaska (almost none) but from such countries as Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam. O‘ahu, Maui County and perhaps the Big Island, but never Kaua‘i, can be connected by underwater transmission lines so they can have an interconnected electrical grid. This would allow them to share power.
Kaua‘i is on its own, a true “Separate Kingdom.” Kaua‘i’s energy rates are the highest in the U.S. (save an isolated community in Alaska) and as oil prices rise so will our electric costs. Most of us probably have noticed that as our electricity has increased, the price also of water and sewer. Soon local layoffs and a much softer local economy will follow, and the rising energy costs will be partially to blame.
You should worry when those attending were asked how fast we needed to work on drastically reducing our dependence on oil and getting renewables into our energy plan; almost all felt we have five years or less. We all need to make sure our politicians, our county and state governments, KIUC, energy users and energy providers start working together to come up with an integrated sustainable energy plan not years from now but immediately. This should be at the top of everyone’s agenda.
We must all think carefully in the coming weeks. There are many issues on our minds like taxes and a new tax bill, jobs, etc. but without a stable and secure energy future all other issues will not matter. I found it interesting that only one mayoral candidate and about five of the County Council candidates attended both days of this critically important meeting. The candidates who attended should be given our highest consideration in the upcoming elections. Some are the ones you have expected over the last 30 plus years to be deeply involved and committed to Kaua‘i and its future.
They are and were networking and bringing to the table those local, state and Mainland individuals and companies that can help us make a difference immediately in our energy future. Please keep this in mind as you vote on Sept. 20 and Nov. 4. Our political leaders need to be those who will propel us into the future, a future that is energy sustainable and green. We need political forward thinking leadership now, not nice guys."
Neil Clendeninn
Hanalei
The second letter appeared in the paper today:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/13/opinion/edit01.txt
"Facing energy realities"
"At the recent mayoral debates at Kauai Community College, I heard all four of the candidates talk about their commitment to helping with the energy problems on Kaua‘i, yet JoAnn Yukimura was the only one of them who cleared her calendar so she could participate in both days of the recent Renewable Energy Conference.
The number one message of the conference was the absolute urgency that we on Kaua‘i have with our current energy situation. All of the major landowners on Kaua‘i were there, top leaders from all sorts of businesses and industries were there, including Kauai Island Utility Cooperative.
Mayoral candidates Bernard Carvalho and Mel Rapozo made it for an hour or so on day two. I am not impressed. The urgent need to start producing energy on Kaua‘i through renewables right away was stressed again and again by Sen. Daniel Inouye’s chief of staff, Sen. Gary Hooser, Rep. Mina Morita, federal Department of Energy’s Bill Parks, former state of Hawai‘i DBEDT staff Maurice Kaya and other local, state, national and international energy experts.
They warned us that Kaua‘i is an isolated situation with abundant natural resources and is falling behind the other counties with using wind, solar, hydro, etc. to make electricity.
When O‘ahu, Maui and the Big Island are joined by an inter-island underwater electric cable, Kaua‘i will not be a part of it as our channel is too deep. Kaua‘i will be on its own. We have to get started right away to prepare for when the oil tanker doesn’t come into Port Allen or for when we cannot afford to pay for the oil tanker to come here. The prices are only going to get higher and right now we/KIUC make 90 percent of our electricity with fossil fuels.
KEDB has stepped up to the plate to help coordinate progress in the area of renewable energy generation on Kaua‘i, so contact them if you want to help. Get a solar water heater on your house and start saving 30 percent on your electric bill right away.
Ask KIUC how to finance it. Only 30 percent of the houses on Kaua‘i have solar water heaters now. Ask KIUC about their progress on the Kekaha solar farm and the expansion of the hydro power at Wainiha. And get over it about windmills being ugly; they can’t be any worse than all of the utility poles, the KIUC Port Allen facility and the abandoned sugar mill smokestacks that we already have.
Wake up Kaua‘i, the technology is available and alot of help is available but we the people of Kaua‘i need to decide how we want to generate our electricity beyond fossil fuels and tell our elected officials. And we need to do it now starting with this mayoral race by supporting the candidate who is the most informed and has always supported renewable energy, JoAnn Yukimura."
Mary Lu Kelley
Lawa‘i
BTW, there was an interesting small meeting at KIUC after the conference that both of the above letter writers attended along with Randy Hee and the concerned candidate, but no mainstream media reporters made the effort to be there. The meeting was for viewing a video on the island of Samso, but developed into an interesting interaction about Kauai's situation. I will report on that soon.
One last letter, though. The following letter was in the local paper a few days ago. It is very well written and applies to a number of these issues here. The writer is a well known videographer on the Kauai Northshore known for his coverage of Pro surfing among other things. Here is his poignant letter:
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2008/09/04/opinion/edit01.txt
"Kaua‘i more important than any of us"
"A friend once told me that as stewards of this island, it is our responsibility to protect and care for this beautiful place we are so fortunate to call home. If we put Kaua‘i first, the island will care for its people.
It is good to have wise minds thinking of ways to relieve traffic congestion and look at entrances and exits to bypass roads. Traffic is very important and ways to directly give immediate relief is wonderful. Let’s also not lose sight of what else traffic is showing us and keep focus on the lessons we can learn. The widening of roads and additional lanes can only be helpful if in conjunction with smart growth and a commitment to putting Kaua‘i first.
I encourage these minds to also think of ways to help traffic that doesn’t involve pavement. Working closer to home and supporting local agriculture are just a few; there are many ways if we continue to make it our priority.
At 38 years old I have lived my whole life on Kaua‘i and without a doubt, I am a visitor whose number of years is only relevant to the impact I will have and the effect it will leave on the generations to come. Let’s all walk lightly and with respect, keeping in mind that Kaua‘i, the island, is way more important than any of us."
Joel Guy
Hanalei
Well said, Joel.
Aloha, Brad
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Three best Hurricane pages on the Net
Watch out for Ike. The NOGAPS, GFDL, and HWRF forecasts don't look good for oil nor N.O.:
http://www.wunderground.com/tropical/tracking/at200809_model.html#a_topad
http://www.solar.ifa.hawaii.edu/Tropical/tropical.html
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26295161/
Aloha, Brad
http://www.wunderground.com/tropical/tracking/at200809_model.html#a_topad
http://www.solar.ifa.hawaii.edu/Tropical/tropical.html
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26295161/
Aloha, Brad
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Great Kauai Letter to the Editor Today
There have been a lot of good letters to the editor here on Kauai recently, I am thinking of Joel Guy's letter and others; will quote them soon. The following one was just printed today and is right on point:
"I just don’t understand"
"I just don’t understand why our County Council is spending so much time and money deliberating over the proposed Property Tax Bill (bill 2274) when the existing law has produced a surplus of over 48,000,000 over the past four years. This new bill proposes to reshuffle the tax burden in a way that could add more uncertainty to an already uncertain future for the businesses and residences of Kaua‘i.
In the meantime we have just received news that we have the highest electricity rates in the state and the outlook for our economy as seen through the eyes of our local business owners is the lowest it has been in 10 years. If that isn’t enough, we have a landfill that is only months away from overflowing, traffic that continues to worsen and food prices that seem to be pegged to the price of oil.
Keep in mind that this proposed Property Tax Bill is “revenue neutral.” Meaning that it will not result in more or less property tax being collected. It is being presented as a “simplification” of the existing system that will redistribute the tax burden away from small homeowners and over to businesses, hotels and other employers.
Can we afford to tinker with our existing system at this time? Do we really want to increase the tax burden on businesses when so many are barely making it? Even large employers are feeling the effects of increasing costs and decreasing revenues. Many are forced to consider cutting jobs. Is it good policy to give a $300 property tax break to a local family that may lead to the loss of their $40,000 per year job?
We have more urgent matters to tend to. Let’s leave the property tax alone for now and focus on energy costs, solid waste, and jobs."
Scott Mijares
Kilauea
In reply:
I might also add that the changes/new enforcement recently by the County with VRBO and now the property tax proposed changes could not be coming at a more inopportune time. Neither one of them is really needed now.
Meanwhile Kauai has crisis situations developing with landfill space, energy costs, food costs (half the price of which are now just for weight), water and wastewater infrastructure, and road infrastructure. Those are all approaching crisis and in total could take a decade for the County to deal with assuming focus and slow development growth from here out.
The County doesn't really have time to be wasting on non-crisis issues anymore. The focus should be on infrastructure and energy and food sustainability; not limiting vacation rentals, walking dogs, money-losing interisland transportation companies, and changing property taxes.
Aloha, Brad
"I just don’t understand"
"I just don’t understand why our County Council is spending so much time and money deliberating over the proposed Property Tax Bill (bill 2274) when the existing law has produced a surplus of over 48,000,000 over the past four years. This new bill proposes to reshuffle the tax burden in a way that could add more uncertainty to an already uncertain future for the businesses and residences of Kaua‘i.
In the meantime we have just received news that we have the highest electricity rates in the state and the outlook for our economy as seen through the eyes of our local business owners is the lowest it has been in 10 years. If that isn’t enough, we have a landfill that is only months away from overflowing, traffic that continues to worsen and food prices that seem to be pegged to the price of oil.
Keep in mind that this proposed Property Tax Bill is “revenue neutral.” Meaning that it will not result in more or less property tax being collected. It is being presented as a “simplification” of the existing system that will redistribute the tax burden away from small homeowners and over to businesses, hotels and other employers.
Can we afford to tinker with our existing system at this time? Do we really want to increase the tax burden on businesses when so many are barely making it? Even large employers are feeling the effects of increasing costs and decreasing revenues. Many are forced to consider cutting jobs. Is it good policy to give a $300 property tax break to a local family that may lead to the loss of their $40,000 per year job?
We have more urgent matters to tend to. Let’s leave the property tax alone for now and focus on energy costs, solid waste, and jobs."
Scott Mijares
Kilauea
In reply:
I might also add that the changes/new enforcement recently by the County with VRBO and now the property tax proposed changes could not be coming at a more inopportune time. Neither one of them is really needed now.
Meanwhile Kauai has crisis situations developing with landfill space, energy costs, food costs (half the price of which are now just for weight), water and wastewater infrastructure, and road infrastructure. Those are all approaching crisis and in total could take a decade for the County to deal with assuming focus and slow development growth from here out.
The County doesn't really have time to be wasting on non-crisis issues anymore. The focus should be on infrastructure and energy and food sustainability; not limiting vacation rentals, walking dogs, money-losing interisland transportation companies, and changing property taxes.
Aloha, Brad
Friday, September 5, 2008
Kauai County Council Slate of Candidates
Over at http://www.islandbreath.org/ they have published the above slate of 7 candidates for the Kauai County Council. I was already thinking in agreement with them on at least 5 of those, and if we got all 7 of theirs, things would be lookin' up for Kauai. Those top picks include:
Scott Mijares is a local buseness owner and community activist.
Kipukai Kualii is long-time labor organizer and activist.
Lani Kawahara a Kapa‘a HS grad with a masters degree in library & information science.
Scott Mijares is a local buseness owner and community activist.
Kipukai Kualii is long-time labor organizer and activist.
Lani Kawahara a Kapa‘a HS grad with a masters degree in library & information science.
Ken Taylor is a conscientious, well-informed activist who attends all the county meetings.
Bruce Pleas amazingly well-informed on County affairs and planning.
Bruce Pleas amazingly well-informed on County affairs and planning.
Linda Pasavada is the six time president of the Kilauea Community Association.
Here, we might sub-out only one of their's and add in:
We also agree with the following pick for Mayor:
Please visit JoAnn Yukimura's website for more information.
More information on all of the above candidates at:
Questionnaire responses: http://kokuakauai.ning.com/
Positions: http://www.malamakauai.org/EcoRT/EcoRT-QuestionChart.doc
Video: http://kokuakauai.ning.com/video/video/show?id=2015961%3AVideo%3A3101
Aloha, Brad
Positions: http://www.malamakauai.org/EcoRT/EcoRT-QuestionChart.doc
Video: http://kokuakauai.ning.com/video/video/show?id=2015961%3AVideo%3A3101
Aloha, Brad
How to Build Your own Passive Solar Water Heater
Leave it to Andrea to find something easier and more cost-effective to do:
"Build Your own Passive Solar Water Heater"
Submitted by Andrea on Sat, 09/06/2008
http://www.motherearthnews.com/Green-Homes/2007-10-01/Build-Your-Own-Sol...
Build Your own Passive Solar Water Heater
By David A. Bainbridge
"For the do-it-yourselfer seeking an inexpensive, easy-to-build solar water-heating system, the integral passive solar water heater (IPSWH, pronounced ips-wah) is a dream come true. All you need to build this down-to-earth water warmer is a discarded electric water heater tank, a homemade insulated plywood box to house the tank, a sheet or two of used window glass or clear plastic, a few common plumbing fittings, some pipe and a bit of insulation. Add a few satisfying hours of measuring, thinking, sawing, hammering, painting and wrench-turning, and you’ll have a continuous supply of hot water, provided virtually free of cost by that friendly furnace in the sky (the only safe nuclear reactor, 93 million miles away).
First, let’s review the basics of solar heating for new recruits to the wonderful world of renewable energy. There are two basic types of solar water heaters, active and passive. Active systems depend on external power to run pumps to circulate the heat they gather; passive setups don’t. Passive systems may be less efficient at any given moment, but they are much more dependable and cost less per unit of heat captured. Integral passive solar water heaters, also called batch heaters, are the simplest of the passive systems, and their reliability and independence from external power lead to long-term production at a very low cost. I know of a system in Davis, Calif., that has operated for 30 years at a cost per kilowatt-hour equivalent of about a penny.
Batch heaters have long been known as the best choice in warm climates or for seasonal use in colder areas, and recent work with improved materials and designs suggests they may also be the best choice even in colder areas. For owner-built applications, they outshine their flat-plate and evacuated-tube competition in almost every way, including reliability and ease of installation. They have excellent potential for retrofits and are ideal for a range of farming and commercial applications, providing low-cost hot or warm water for washing or preheating for higher temperature uses.
Five Hot Ones
Now that you know the basics, let’s take a look at five of the many types of batch heaters in use today.
The Solar Shower is really a small-scale batch heater, a classic design using clear and black plastic to make a portable and surprisingly effective solar water heater. Water is placed in the bag and then set out with the clear side facing the sun. Within an hour, the water starts to heat up, providing a delightful shower on even a cool day if the sun is bright. I have used these for years while camping and am always impressed with how well they work.
The single-tank batch heater is often dubbed a “breadbox” heater, because some of them look a lot like an oversized old-fashioned breadbox. Overall, it’s probably the most economical, least complicated of the permanent batch heaters to build, requiring only easily acquired materials and basic construction skills. For the “econo-model” breadbox, a salvaged standard electric water heater tank is housed in an insulated plywood box or an old refrigerator or freezer shell. Glazing material (usually glass, fiberglass or high temperature resistant molded plastic) covers the box.
Incoming water enters the breadbox near the bottom of the tank, and sun-warmed water is drawn from near the top and routed to the backup unit in the house. A horizontally oriented breadbox is easier to build and less visible than a vertical one, but tilting the tank increases the stratification of the water and improves the solar angle, resulting in higher temperatures.
The vertical three-tank batch heater is similar but increases performance with more storage and collector area. For the triple-tanker, three water heater core tanks are enclosed in a large, well-insulated box. Glazing material covers the south-facing side and the top of the box. An insulated lid or roll-down cover could be installed to improve heat retention, but I never found it to be necessary. The three tanks are plumbed in series, with the central (therefore best insulated) tank serving as the final stage before the heated water is discharged.
The greater collection surface area, improved thermal stratification caused by the tilted position and the series hookup provide better heating than the smaller, horizontal, single-tank breadbox. To test the efficiency of the three-tank heater, I installed and monitored one for a full year at my home in north-central California and found that it supplied an impressive 70 percent of my family’s hot water!
A greenhouse batch heater may be the best option for performance and freeze protection in colder climates or during the winter months. Almost any configuration can be used inside your sunspace or greenhouse. Usually, the solar water heater is tucked up near the peak of the greenhouse roof to take advantage of the warmest air and best sun exposure (see gallery illustration). For maximum efficiency and freeze protection in cold climates, an insulated, glazed box may be desirable. Insulate your pipes if the sunspace gets cold at night.
A building-integrated batch heater is built into the attic or a south-facing wall, where the tank is more easily protected against freezing. Pipes can run in heated space. When it’s time to reroof, there is no need to remove and replace the heater. (This is when many solar systems are junked, even if they still work.) An insulated box is created in the attic with a glass skylight. A drain pan may be a good idea to minimize leak risk. Make sure you can reach the heater easily for repairs or replacement if necessary.
How Batch Water Heaters Work
A few basic principles and considerations govern the design, installation, use and maintenance of batch heaters. IPSWHs are called batch heaters because the heart of the system is the “batch” of water stored in the tank(s). The basic batch heater design is based on a tank or a series of large diameter pipes or tanks. The tank is painted flat black or coated with a selective surface that absorbs solar heat easily and transfers it to the water stored inside. To increase heat collection and reduce heat loss, the tank is enclosed in an insulated box covered on the south-facing side or top with a glazing material.
In the standard batch heater, cold water enters the solar collection tank through a side inlet near the bottom or through a “dip tube” that enters at the top and discharges cold water near the bottom. The heated water exits through an outlet near the top where the water is warmest, then moves to a backup conventional heater (fueled by gas, electricity or wood) where it’s heated all the way to the desired temperature. Batch heaters use waterline pressure for circulation, eliminating the need for expensive pumps and controls. During the summer months, or where it is warm and sunny year-round, the backup heater often can be turned off and bypassed, with the batch heater providing all your hot water needs. In Davis, Calif., my three-tank heater provided all our hot water for nine months.
The relatively low temperature of the collector minimizes expansion and contraction of components, reducing wear and tear. The mass of the water in the system helps protect it from freezing and extreme high temperatures that can harm materials, which leads to long system life. Research in Europe suggests that up to 20 percent of the water in the collector can freeze without damaging the tank, but keep in mind pipes are still at risk unless protected or drained.
The 6 Commandments of passive solar water heaters
If your heater’s specifications and installation follow these six commandments, it will work admirably and will supply inexpensive solar-warmed water, no matter which specific design you choose.
1. Locate your heater for maximum solar exposure. Find a sunny, south-facing location, preferably close to the backup heater to minimize piping distance. You might have to do some calculating to be sure your solar collector will be exposed to the sun when you want hot water, but placement and orientation are the single most important considerations. Remember the sun is high in summer, low in winter. Specific optimum angles for your location during any month of the year can be found here. (Click “Data Services,” then select “Altitude and Azimuth of the Sun or Moon During One Day.”)
Next, determine where your heater will be installed — roof, platform, wall or ground — keeping in mind that a filled three-tank 90-gallon system can weigh more than 800 pounds when full of water. For most applications, it’s best to keep a large solar heater on the ground or on a specially built platform. A rooftop installation may be placed above a load-bearing wall or reinforced section of roof. Ground mounting is easiest, and eliminates the weight problem.
2. Make the collector and storage tank(s) as efficient as you can. First, decide on the type of tank(s) you’ll use for your heater. Tanks come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, but long, thin cylinders are the most efficient (they have the greatest ratio of surface area to water volume). The cheapest and easiest of these to obtain are used electric water heater cores. Examine the “sacrificial anode,” a rod made of metal with a low resistance to corrosion that is inserted into the tank from the top to attract any corrosive elements in the water. Replace it if substantial corrosion and/or consumption is evident. A new one costs only a few bucks, and it will add measurably to the longevity of your system. Check carefully for leaks, and never use a tank that you have doubts about. Wire-brush it and paint it with rust-resistant flat black paint, or apply a selective surface coating if you can afford it.
If you prefer new tanks, you can order glass-lined electrical water heater cores — minus the heating element, outer insulation and sheet metal cover. Stainless steel tanks also may be available in some areas. (See “Solar Sources” below.)
3. Ensure that your system will retain heat. There are a number of options for glazing the top and the south-facing wall of your unit, including single- and double-paned glass or fiberglass and plastics designed for extended solar exposure. In most cases, you should use two layers of your chosen glazing material with an air space between to provide maximum heat retention. Glass is generally a suitable glazing for owner-built heaters, unless you get severe hail. Twin-wall polycarbonate is a tough alternative. Be sure to flash the glazing carefully to avoid leaks and to caulk and seal the panes to avoid condensation, which can limit energy capture.
4. Size your heater appropriately. To determine the size you need, allow 30 gallons of hot water per person in your household (a conservation-minded family might get by with only 10 gallons per person). Depending on your environment and glazing, you’ll want to plan for 1 to 2.5 gallons of water per square foot of glazing as a general ratio for good heating. A smaller water-to-glazing ratio speeds up heat gain considerably but can increase the freezing risk. If you can’t meet the ideal, don’t lose heart. A smaller system will still provide economical solar water pre-warming and conserve nonrenewable energy and cash. Batch systems with relatively small tanks and simple enclosures are common, and many are still doing well after 30 years, long after most of the more complex systems have disappeared.
5. Make an efficient, freeze-resistant connection to the backup system. Minimize pipe runs and insulate the pipe carefully using foam or fiberglass insulation with aluminum jacketing. Build it to last — if you just use foam it will break down within a few years. It can take up to 72 hours at 12 degrees to freeze an exposed water heater tank, but pipes are much more vulnerable. In a brief freeze, you can leave the hot water on slightly to keep the pipes from freezing. In very cold winter climates, drain the collector tank and pipes in the fall.
Set the system up so you can turn off the backup heater and run solar hot water directly to users, and so you can bypass the solar water system if you want to drain it and shut it down in winter. Make sure the connections are building code approved. After finishing the plumbing system, bleed the air out of the tank through the screw plug at the top of the tank until the system is full of water.
6. Build your system to last. Use the best materials you can afford or scrounge, and take proper care in the construction of your unit. It should work for 20 to 30 years, so it’s worth doing it right. Be safe: Make sure the tank supports are strong enough to bear the load they’ll carry, and get some help with moving tanks safely. If you build a high performance heater, consider adding a tempering valve near the backup heater so no one gets scalded in a shower.
If you use galvanized tanks and fittings with copper tubing, make sure the two metals are separated by appropriate non-conducting, dielectric fittings to prevent accelerated corrosion. I’ve had good luck using copper tubing, plastic dielectric connections and galvanized fittings on my tanks.
The Heat Goes On
The only shortcoming of batch heaters is lower early morning temperatures as a result of nighttime heat loss — not a problem for people who like to shower before they go to bed, but a boosted “wake-up” factor for those who take early morning showers.
More recent research has shown we can reduce nighttime cool-down in several ways. The most effective strategy is a set of insulated lids that are closed at night and raised during the day, with reflective undersides that catch and direct additional solar energy to the tanks. But this can be difficult to operate unless the system is mounted on the ground. Automatic lids also could be made using thermal lifters commonly used to vent greenhouses. If a lid is possible, it’s a good idea: It’s easy to make an insulated hinged lid serve double duty as a reflector when it’s raised to its daytime position, and thus improve efficiency. Reflectors can extend the season into the fall and allow it to start earlier in the spring.
A simpler method to minimize heat loss relies on an ultramodern, special selective surface coating, such as Thurmalox paint. A can of spray paint sufficient to coat 50 square feet costs less than $20.
Watch Your Backup
Neglect of your conventional backup heater can result in unnecessarily high water-heating bills, in spite of the solar heater! Four common forms of neglect are inadequately insulating the room in which the conventional water heater is housed; failing to insulate the tank sufficiently (inexpensive and easy-to-install “thermal blankets” can be added in minutes); maintaining an unnecessarily high temperature setting (sometimes the fault of a bad thermostat); and allowing sediment to build up on the bottom of the tank, insulating the water from the heat source (drain sediment from the tank once a year).
Check your backup heater when you install your solar heater. In fact, even if your solar unit is only a dream at the moment, it makes good energy sense to tune up your conventional water heater right now. If it is reaching the end of its life, consider replacing it with a flash or “on demand” water heater that heats water only when it is wanted. Consumers in European countries long ago realized that it doesn’t make sense to keep 30 or 60 gallons of water hot during hours when no one needs it.
The Convenient Solution
Passive solar water heaters are cost-effective in a wide range of climates, but are easiest to build and operate in warm climates. This technology offers the energy-conscious do-it-yourselfer an attractive alternative to costly hot water and conventional energy dependence.
One of the best ways to get started is with a group of friends. Build a series of water heaters together and make it a fun project, sharing labor and expertise. Someone will have the plumbing tools and skills; someone else, the carpentry skills and tools. The combined good sense of the group will get the job done quickly and safely.
If you’re not a do-it-yourselfer, there are numerous effective commercial solar hot water systems available for virtually any location in the world (for more information, click here.) In colder areas, a thermosiphon system is often a good choice. Freeze protection can involve liquid antifreeze with heat exchangers, drain-back or other systems to avoid freezing damage. Many products now use evacuated-tube collectors to heat the water, which then rises into a well-insulated storage tank.
Of course, you don’t have to take my word for it. Look around, read around, shop around, and — most important — build for yourself. I think you’ll come to the same conclusion I did years ago that integral passive solar water heaters provide the most economical, efficient, down-to-earth method of water warming under the sun.
Modest Beginnings, Hot Results
The principles used in modern batch heaters are the same as those first applied to solar water heating more than 100 years ago. Robber’s Roost, Butch Cassidy’s 1880s hideout in Utah, reportedly still includes the remains of a passive solar water heater: a large black can filled with water and placed in the sun. The first commercial solar water heater, patented in 1891 by Clarence Kemp, used four cylindrical water tanks housed in a pine box covered with single-pane glass. By 1900, more than 1,600 of these units were in use in the United States. In 1898, Frank Walker, of Pasadena, Calif., applied for a patent on an improved design. Walker’s model was recessed into the roof, instead of exposed on top of the roof like Kemp’s heaters. The Walker unit also incorporated connections to a woodstove with a water-heating tank for backup heating, the direct forerunner of today’s most common batch heater application: a solar preheater feeding into a standard water heater in the house.
As successful as these early heaters were, they gradually disappeared as oil, electricity and natural gas became available. These new, seemingly cheap energy sources brought high costs in environmental damage, human health, global warming and habitat damage — but these costs were, and still are, ignored.
Fortunately, these new energy developments didn’t bring solar water-heating research to a total standstill. At the University of California, Davis, in 1936, F. A. Brooks tested several heater designs and demonstrated that tank-type solar heaters could produce water temperatures in excess of 120 degrees. He also discovered that upright tanks placed on an incline delivered hotter water than horizontal units. Brooks concluded that batch heaters could produce hot water at a cost consistently below that of flat-plate solar systems."
David A. Bainbridge was awarded the American Solar Energy Society’s prestigious Passive Solar Pioneer Award in 2004. He is an associate professor at Alliant International University in San Diego.
Aloha, Brad
"Build Your own Passive Solar Water Heater"
Submitted by Andrea on Sat, 09/06/2008
http://www.motherearthnews.com/Green-Homes/2007-10-01/Build-Your-Own-Sol...
Build Your own Passive Solar Water Heater
By David A. Bainbridge
"For the do-it-yourselfer seeking an inexpensive, easy-to-build solar water-heating system, the integral passive solar water heater (IPSWH, pronounced ips-wah) is a dream come true. All you need to build this down-to-earth water warmer is a discarded electric water heater tank, a homemade insulated plywood box to house the tank, a sheet or two of used window glass or clear plastic, a few common plumbing fittings, some pipe and a bit of insulation. Add a few satisfying hours of measuring, thinking, sawing, hammering, painting and wrench-turning, and you’ll have a continuous supply of hot water, provided virtually free of cost by that friendly furnace in the sky (the only safe nuclear reactor, 93 million miles away).
First, let’s review the basics of solar heating for new recruits to the wonderful world of renewable energy. There are two basic types of solar water heaters, active and passive. Active systems depend on external power to run pumps to circulate the heat they gather; passive setups don’t. Passive systems may be less efficient at any given moment, but they are much more dependable and cost less per unit of heat captured. Integral passive solar water heaters, also called batch heaters, are the simplest of the passive systems, and their reliability and independence from external power lead to long-term production at a very low cost. I know of a system in Davis, Calif., that has operated for 30 years at a cost per kilowatt-hour equivalent of about a penny.
Batch heaters have long been known as the best choice in warm climates or for seasonal use in colder areas, and recent work with improved materials and designs suggests they may also be the best choice even in colder areas. For owner-built applications, they outshine their flat-plate and evacuated-tube competition in almost every way, including reliability and ease of installation. They have excellent potential for retrofits and are ideal for a range of farming and commercial applications, providing low-cost hot or warm water for washing or preheating for higher temperature uses.
Five Hot Ones
Now that you know the basics, let’s take a look at five of the many types of batch heaters in use today.
The Solar Shower is really a small-scale batch heater, a classic design using clear and black plastic to make a portable and surprisingly effective solar water heater. Water is placed in the bag and then set out with the clear side facing the sun. Within an hour, the water starts to heat up, providing a delightful shower on even a cool day if the sun is bright. I have used these for years while camping and am always impressed with how well they work.
The single-tank batch heater is often dubbed a “breadbox” heater, because some of them look a lot like an oversized old-fashioned breadbox. Overall, it’s probably the most economical, least complicated of the permanent batch heaters to build, requiring only easily acquired materials and basic construction skills. For the “econo-model” breadbox, a salvaged standard electric water heater tank is housed in an insulated plywood box or an old refrigerator or freezer shell. Glazing material (usually glass, fiberglass or high temperature resistant molded plastic) covers the box.
Incoming water enters the breadbox near the bottom of the tank, and sun-warmed water is drawn from near the top and routed to the backup unit in the house. A horizontally oriented breadbox is easier to build and less visible than a vertical one, but tilting the tank increases the stratification of the water and improves the solar angle, resulting in higher temperatures.
The vertical three-tank batch heater is similar but increases performance with more storage and collector area. For the triple-tanker, three water heater core tanks are enclosed in a large, well-insulated box. Glazing material covers the south-facing side and the top of the box. An insulated lid or roll-down cover could be installed to improve heat retention, but I never found it to be necessary. The three tanks are plumbed in series, with the central (therefore best insulated) tank serving as the final stage before the heated water is discharged.
The greater collection surface area, improved thermal stratification caused by the tilted position and the series hookup provide better heating than the smaller, horizontal, single-tank breadbox. To test the efficiency of the three-tank heater, I installed and monitored one for a full year at my home in north-central California and found that it supplied an impressive 70 percent of my family’s hot water!
A greenhouse batch heater may be the best option for performance and freeze protection in colder climates or during the winter months. Almost any configuration can be used inside your sunspace or greenhouse. Usually, the solar water heater is tucked up near the peak of the greenhouse roof to take advantage of the warmest air and best sun exposure (see gallery illustration). For maximum efficiency and freeze protection in cold climates, an insulated, glazed box may be desirable. Insulate your pipes if the sunspace gets cold at night.
A building-integrated batch heater is built into the attic or a south-facing wall, where the tank is more easily protected against freezing. Pipes can run in heated space. When it’s time to reroof, there is no need to remove and replace the heater. (This is when many solar systems are junked, even if they still work.) An insulated box is created in the attic with a glass skylight. A drain pan may be a good idea to minimize leak risk. Make sure you can reach the heater easily for repairs or replacement if necessary.
How Batch Water Heaters Work
A few basic principles and considerations govern the design, installation, use and maintenance of batch heaters. IPSWHs are called batch heaters because the heart of the system is the “batch” of water stored in the tank(s). The basic batch heater design is based on a tank or a series of large diameter pipes or tanks. The tank is painted flat black or coated with a selective surface that absorbs solar heat easily and transfers it to the water stored inside. To increase heat collection and reduce heat loss, the tank is enclosed in an insulated box covered on the south-facing side or top with a glazing material.
In the standard batch heater, cold water enters the solar collection tank through a side inlet near the bottom or through a “dip tube” that enters at the top and discharges cold water near the bottom. The heated water exits through an outlet near the top where the water is warmest, then moves to a backup conventional heater (fueled by gas, electricity or wood) where it’s heated all the way to the desired temperature. Batch heaters use waterline pressure for circulation, eliminating the need for expensive pumps and controls. During the summer months, or where it is warm and sunny year-round, the backup heater often can be turned off and bypassed, with the batch heater providing all your hot water needs. In Davis, Calif., my three-tank heater provided all our hot water for nine months.
The relatively low temperature of the collector minimizes expansion and contraction of components, reducing wear and tear. The mass of the water in the system helps protect it from freezing and extreme high temperatures that can harm materials, which leads to long system life. Research in Europe suggests that up to 20 percent of the water in the collector can freeze without damaging the tank, but keep in mind pipes are still at risk unless protected or drained.
The 6 Commandments of passive solar water heaters
If your heater’s specifications and installation follow these six commandments, it will work admirably and will supply inexpensive solar-warmed water, no matter which specific design you choose.
1. Locate your heater for maximum solar exposure. Find a sunny, south-facing location, preferably close to the backup heater to minimize piping distance. You might have to do some calculating to be sure your solar collector will be exposed to the sun when you want hot water, but placement and orientation are the single most important considerations. Remember the sun is high in summer, low in winter. Specific optimum angles for your location during any month of the year can be found here. (Click “Data Services,” then select “Altitude and Azimuth of the Sun or Moon During One Day.”)
Next, determine where your heater will be installed — roof, platform, wall or ground — keeping in mind that a filled three-tank 90-gallon system can weigh more than 800 pounds when full of water. For most applications, it’s best to keep a large solar heater on the ground or on a specially built platform. A rooftop installation may be placed above a load-bearing wall or reinforced section of roof. Ground mounting is easiest, and eliminates the weight problem.
2. Make the collector and storage tank(s) as efficient as you can. First, decide on the type of tank(s) you’ll use for your heater. Tanks come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, but long, thin cylinders are the most efficient (they have the greatest ratio of surface area to water volume). The cheapest and easiest of these to obtain are used electric water heater cores. Examine the “sacrificial anode,” a rod made of metal with a low resistance to corrosion that is inserted into the tank from the top to attract any corrosive elements in the water. Replace it if substantial corrosion and/or consumption is evident. A new one costs only a few bucks, and it will add measurably to the longevity of your system. Check carefully for leaks, and never use a tank that you have doubts about. Wire-brush it and paint it with rust-resistant flat black paint, or apply a selective surface coating if you can afford it.
If you prefer new tanks, you can order glass-lined electrical water heater cores — minus the heating element, outer insulation and sheet metal cover. Stainless steel tanks also may be available in some areas. (See “Solar Sources” below.)
3. Ensure that your system will retain heat. There are a number of options for glazing the top and the south-facing wall of your unit, including single- and double-paned glass or fiberglass and plastics designed for extended solar exposure. In most cases, you should use two layers of your chosen glazing material with an air space between to provide maximum heat retention. Glass is generally a suitable glazing for owner-built heaters, unless you get severe hail. Twin-wall polycarbonate is a tough alternative. Be sure to flash the glazing carefully to avoid leaks and to caulk and seal the panes to avoid condensation, which can limit energy capture.
4. Size your heater appropriately. To determine the size you need, allow 30 gallons of hot water per person in your household (a conservation-minded family might get by with only 10 gallons per person). Depending on your environment and glazing, you’ll want to plan for 1 to 2.5 gallons of water per square foot of glazing as a general ratio for good heating. A smaller water-to-glazing ratio speeds up heat gain considerably but can increase the freezing risk. If you can’t meet the ideal, don’t lose heart. A smaller system will still provide economical solar water pre-warming and conserve nonrenewable energy and cash. Batch systems with relatively small tanks and simple enclosures are common, and many are still doing well after 30 years, long after most of the more complex systems have disappeared.
5. Make an efficient, freeze-resistant connection to the backup system. Minimize pipe runs and insulate the pipe carefully using foam or fiberglass insulation with aluminum jacketing. Build it to last — if you just use foam it will break down within a few years. It can take up to 72 hours at 12 degrees to freeze an exposed water heater tank, but pipes are much more vulnerable. In a brief freeze, you can leave the hot water on slightly to keep the pipes from freezing. In very cold winter climates, drain the collector tank and pipes in the fall.
Set the system up so you can turn off the backup heater and run solar hot water directly to users, and so you can bypass the solar water system if you want to drain it and shut it down in winter. Make sure the connections are building code approved. After finishing the plumbing system, bleed the air out of the tank through the screw plug at the top of the tank until the system is full of water.
6. Build your system to last. Use the best materials you can afford or scrounge, and take proper care in the construction of your unit. It should work for 20 to 30 years, so it’s worth doing it right. Be safe: Make sure the tank supports are strong enough to bear the load they’ll carry, and get some help with moving tanks safely. If you build a high performance heater, consider adding a tempering valve near the backup heater so no one gets scalded in a shower.
If you use galvanized tanks and fittings with copper tubing, make sure the two metals are separated by appropriate non-conducting, dielectric fittings to prevent accelerated corrosion. I’ve had good luck using copper tubing, plastic dielectric connections and galvanized fittings on my tanks.
The Heat Goes On
The only shortcoming of batch heaters is lower early morning temperatures as a result of nighttime heat loss — not a problem for people who like to shower before they go to bed, but a boosted “wake-up” factor for those who take early morning showers.
More recent research has shown we can reduce nighttime cool-down in several ways. The most effective strategy is a set of insulated lids that are closed at night and raised during the day, with reflective undersides that catch and direct additional solar energy to the tanks. But this can be difficult to operate unless the system is mounted on the ground. Automatic lids also could be made using thermal lifters commonly used to vent greenhouses. If a lid is possible, it’s a good idea: It’s easy to make an insulated hinged lid serve double duty as a reflector when it’s raised to its daytime position, and thus improve efficiency. Reflectors can extend the season into the fall and allow it to start earlier in the spring.
A simpler method to minimize heat loss relies on an ultramodern, special selective surface coating, such as Thurmalox paint. A can of spray paint sufficient to coat 50 square feet costs less than $20.
Watch Your Backup
Neglect of your conventional backup heater can result in unnecessarily high water-heating bills, in spite of the solar heater! Four common forms of neglect are inadequately insulating the room in which the conventional water heater is housed; failing to insulate the tank sufficiently (inexpensive and easy-to-install “thermal blankets” can be added in minutes); maintaining an unnecessarily high temperature setting (sometimes the fault of a bad thermostat); and allowing sediment to build up on the bottom of the tank, insulating the water from the heat source (drain sediment from the tank once a year).
Check your backup heater when you install your solar heater. In fact, even if your solar unit is only a dream at the moment, it makes good energy sense to tune up your conventional water heater right now. If it is reaching the end of its life, consider replacing it with a flash or “on demand” water heater that heats water only when it is wanted. Consumers in European countries long ago realized that it doesn’t make sense to keep 30 or 60 gallons of water hot during hours when no one needs it.
The Convenient Solution
Passive solar water heaters are cost-effective in a wide range of climates, but are easiest to build and operate in warm climates. This technology offers the energy-conscious do-it-yourselfer an attractive alternative to costly hot water and conventional energy dependence.
One of the best ways to get started is with a group of friends. Build a series of water heaters together and make it a fun project, sharing labor and expertise. Someone will have the plumbing tools and skills; someone else, the carpentry skills and tools. The combined good sense of the group will get the job done quickly and safely.
If you’re not a do-it-yourselfer, there are numerous effective commercial solar hot water systems available for virtually any location in the world (for more information, click here.) In colder areas, a thermosiphon system is often a good choice. Freeze protection can involve liquid antifreeze with heat exchangers, drain-back or other systems to avoid freezing damage. Many products now use evacuated-tube collectors to heat the water, which then rises into a well-insulated storage tank.
Of course, you don’t have to take my word for it. Look around, read around, shop around, and — most important — build for yourself. I think you’ll come to the same conclusion I did years ago that integral passive solar water heaters provide the most economical, efficient, down-to-earth method of water warming under the sun.
Modest Beginnings, Hot Results
The principles used in modern batch heaters are the same as those first applied to solar water heating more than 100 years ago. Robber’s Roost, Butch Cassidy’s 1880s hideout in Utah, reportedly still includes the remains of a passive solar water heater: a large black can filled with water and placed in the sun. The first commercial solar water heater, patented in 1891 by Clarence Kemp, used four cylindrical water tanks housed in a pine box covered with single-pane glass. By 1900, more than 1,600 of these units were in use in the United States. In 1898, Frank Walker, of Pasadena, Calif., applied for a patent on an improved design. Walker’s model was recessed into the roof, instead of exposed on top of the roof like Kemp’s heaters. The Walker unit also incorporated connections to a woodstove with a water-heating tank for backup heating, the direct forerunner of today’s most common batch heater application: a solar preheater feeding into a standard water heater in the house.
As successful as these early heaters were, they gradually disappeared as oil, electricity and natural gas became available. These new, seemingly cheap energy sources brought high costs in environmental damage, human health, global warming and habitat damage — but these costs were, and still are, ignored.
Fortunately, these new energy developments didn’t bring solar water-heating research to a total standstill. At the University of California, Davis, in 1936, F. A. Brooks tested several heater designs and demonstrated that tank-type solar heaters could produce water temperatures in excess of 120 degrees. He also discovered that upright tanks placed on an incline delivered hotter water than horizontal units. Brooks concluded that batch heaters could produce hot water at a cost consistently below that of flat-plate solar systems."
David A. Bainbridge was awarded the American Solar Energy Society’s prestigious Passive Solar Pioneer Award in 2004. He is an associate professor at Alliant International University in San Diego.
Aloha, Brad
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Slow Food Nation Event Draws 50,000
Slow Food Nation Draws 50,000
Submitted by Andrea on Wed, 09/03/2008
Published on Wednesday, September 3, 2008 by CommonDreams.org
"Slow Food Nation Draws 50,000"
by Shepherd Bliss
"Come to the table," Slow Food Nation invited. And come to San Francisco over Labor Day weekend they did-around 50,000 people, making it perhaps the largest food celebration in American history.
Tables and straw bales appeared in the heart of the city's Civic Center around a victory garden on about a quarter of an acre that was formerly a lawn. It was surrounded by a huge marketplace, which was like an old-fashioned farmers' market that gets food directly from the farm to the fork.
A couple of miles away by the Bay at Ft. Mason--inside an old military hangar stretching over the length of a couple of football field-people strolled down a long aisle to taste fresh seafood, chocolate, wine, olives, ice cream, Indian bread and other delightful options.
Meanwhile, inside rooms downtown people discussed the growing global food crisis and how to respond to it. The final panel included the following key voices in the growing world-wide sustainable agriculture movement: Italian Carlo Petrini, the founder of Slow Food in l986, physicist Vandana Shiva from India, Kentucky poet and author Wendell Berry, UC Berkeley professor Michael Pollan, Alice Waters of Chez Panisse Restaurant, and Fast Food Nation author Eric Schloesser.
Petrini emerged as a storytelling organizer, Shiva as an activist, Berry as an elder statesman, Pollan as a teacher with a broad theoretical frame, Waters as an inspiring chef, and Schloesser as a reporter from the field.
Food and agriculture were related to issues such as climate change, social justice, re-localizing food, and the policy and planning needed to replace our current food system with a sustainable one. "Good, clean, and fair" are Slow Food Nation's (SFN) goals, described as a "Triple Bottom Line."
"We're not the leaders," the elder Berry asserted. "We're the catalysts. More and more people are talking to each other and doing things for each other. This is the cooperation principle." Berry focused on the importance of being thrifty, growing a local economy, and being a good neighbor.
"The themes here are the themes of the next century," Petrini declared, painting a larger picture in Italian, which was translated into English. "If they are not, there will not be a future. Sooner or later these issues will arrive on the tables of all politicians." Frequently waving his arms, the bearded, grandfatherly Petrini often brought humor and laughs to serious matters with compelling stories.
"Food matters," Pollan asserted. "It is about politics and our health. The food issue has gotten on the national agenda because of the world food crisis. Food prices are high and the era of cheap food is over. It involves all the issues-energy, the price of oil, climate change, and health. We have been eating oil for 30 years now."
"Markets are being stolen from farmers," Shiva asserted, indicting industrial agriculture corporations. Shiva described the large number of farmers in India who are committing suicide because they are being displaced and losing meaning in life.
At a soap box set up outside in the victory garden farmers and others spoke. Orchardist Peter Jacobson of Yountville said, "We need 50 million more farmers if we are going to be able to farm sustainably" in the U.S. San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom strolled by the garden and explained, "Both Alice Waters and I got down and helped plant the garden. We plan to leave it up at least through Thanksgiving. Then we will decide what to do." Waters added, "I've been wanting a garden on the White House lawn for a long time."
SFN offered a panel on "Edible Education" and the long weekend itself became an educational process. "We all eat every day," master chef Waters noted. "There are consequences to the choices we make with respect to our health, environment, and culture. Edible education is to help children understand those consequences."
Echoing what her mother Frances Moore Lappe wrote about in Diet for a Small Planet, Anna Lappe asserted that "the problem with respect to hunger is not a question of scarcity. We have enough food to feed us all. It is a crisis of democracy, as my mother wrote thirty years ago."
"Food is a universal right, not a privilege," declared Josh Verteil, the new president of Slow Food USA. He will coordinate the some 200 Slow Food chapters in the United States, which have around 16,000 members among the more than 80,000 members in the international organization.
The draft of a Declaration for Healthy Food and Agriculture of slightly over 500 distilled words was released. The intention is to gather some 300,000 endorsers and take the document to Washington, D.C., in the fall of 2009 to influence the next farm bill. The Declaration is now posted on http://www.fooddeclaration.org/ and seeks comments and endorsers before a final version appears.
Walking through the victory garden were many parents with infants in their arms and strollers. It was a truly family event with people of all ages. The lines at the booths at the marketplace were often long where people could buy the kinds of food and lunches that the gathering advocated.
"The role of Slow Food Nation," according to one of its organizers, Michael Dimock, president of Roots of Change and a Sonoma County resident, "was to convene people and be a convergence." A test of its effectiveness will be what happens in coming months as endorsers of the Declaration are solicited and then when it is presented to Congress.
Some SFN organizers are already considering hosting another such gathering, either next year or the following year.
Dr. Shepherd Bliss, began farming organically in Sonoma County, Northern California, in 1992, and currently also teaches at Sonoma State University. He is completing chapters-on agropsychology and agrotherapy farms as healing places-for various books."
Aloha, Brad
Submitted by Andrea on Wed, 09/03/2008
Published on Wednesday, September 3, 2008 by CommonDreams.org
"Slow Food Nation Draws 50,000"
by Shepherd Bliss
"Come to the table," Slow Food Nation invited. And come to San Francisco over Labor Day weekend they did-around 50,000 people, making it perhaps the largest food celebration in American history.
Tables and straw bales appeared in the heart of the city's Civic Center around a victory garden on about a quarter of an acre that was formerly a lawn. It was surrounded by a huge marketplace, which was like an old-fashioned farmers' market that gets food directly from the farm to the fork.
A couple of miles away by the Bay at Ft. Mason--inside an old military hangar stretching over the length of a couple of football field-people strolled down a long aisle to taste fresh seafood, chocolate, wine, olives, ice cream, Indian bread and other delightful options.
Meanwhile, inside rooms downtown people discussed the growing global food crisis and how to respond to it. The final panel included the following key voices in the growing world-wide sustainable agriculture movement: Italian Carlo Petrini, the founder of Slow Food in l986, physicist Vandana Shiva from India, Kentucky poet and author Wendell Berry, UC Berkeley professor Michael Pollan, Alice Waters of Chez Panisse Restaurant, and Fast Food Nation author Eric Schloesser.
Petrini emerged as a storytelling organizer, Shiva as an activist, Berry as an elder statesman, Pollan as a teacher with a broad theoretical frame, Waters as an inspiring chef, and Schloesser as a reporter from the field.
Food and agriculture were related to issues such as climate change, social justice, re-localizing food, and the policy and planning needed to replace our current food system with a sustainable one. "Good, clean, and fair" are Slow Food Nation's (SFN) goals, described as a "Triple Bottom Line."
"We're not the leaders," the elder Berry asserted. "We're the catalysts. More and more people are talking to each other and doing things for each other. This is the cooperation principle." Berry focused on the importance of being thrifty, growing a local economy, and being a good neighbor.
"The themes here are the themes of the next century," Petrini declared, painting a larger picture in Italian, which was translated into English. "If they are not, there will not be a future. Sooner or later these issues will arrive on the tables of all politicians." Frequently waving his arms, the bearded, grandfatherly Petrini often brought humor and laughs to serious matters with compelling stories.
"Food matters," Pollan asserted. "It is about politics and our health. The food issue has gotten on the national agenda because of the world food crisis. Food prices are high and the era of cheap food is over. It involves all the issues-energy, the price of oil, climate change, and health. We have been eating oil for 30 years now."
"Markets are being stolen from farmers," Shiva asserted, indicting industrial agriculture corporations. Shiva described the large number of farmers in India who are committing suicide because they are being displaced and losing meaning in life.
At a soap box set up outside in the victory garden farmers and others spoke. Orchardist Peter Jacobson of Yountville said, "We need 50 million more farmers if we are going to be able to farm sustainably" in the U.S. San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom strolled by the garden and explained, "Both Alice Waters and I got down and helped plant the garden. We plan to leave it up at least through Thanksgiving. Then we will decide what to do." Waters added, "I've been wanting a garden on the White House lawn for a long time."
SFN offered a panel on "Edible Education" and the long weekend itself became an educational process. "We all eat every day," master chef Waters noted. "There are consequences to the choices we make with respect to our health, environment, and culture. Edible education is to help children understand those consequences."
Echoing what her mother Frances Moore Lappe wrote about in Diet for a Small Planet, Anna Lappe asserted that "the problem with respect to hunger is not a question of scarcity. We have enough food to feed us all. It is a crisis of democracy, as my mother wrote thirty years ago."
"Food is a universal right, not a privilege," declared Josh Verteil, the new president of Slow Food USA. He will coordinate the some 200 Slow Food chapters in the United States, which have around 16,000 members among the more than 80,000 members in the international organization.
The draft of a Declaration for Healthy Food and Agriculture of slightly over 500 distilled words was released. The intention is to gather some 300,000 endorsers and take the document to Washington, D.C., in the fall of 2009 to influence the next farm bill. The Declaration is now posted on http://www.fooddeclaration.org/ and seeks comments and endorsers before a final version appears.
Walking through the victory garden were many parents with infants in their arms and strollers. It was a truly family event with people of all ages. The lines at the booths at the marketplace were often long where people could buy the kinds of food and lunches that the gathering advocated.
"The role of Slow Food Nation," according to one of its organizers, Michael Dimock, president of Roots of Change and a Sonoma County resident, "was to convene people and be a convergence." A test of its effectiveness will be what happens in coming months as endorsers of the Declaration are solicited and then when it is presented to Congress.
Some SFN organizers are already considering hosting another such gathering, either next year or the following year.
Dr. Shepherd Bliss, began farming organically in Sonoma County, Northern California, in 1992, and currently also teaches at Sonoma State University. He is completing chapters-on agropsychology and agrotherapy farms as healing places-for various books."
Aloha, Brad
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
This is Utterly Facinating: "The Crash Course"
This is utterly facinating. Again, David Ward of Kauai shared this with me. Recommend listening to all of these:
http://www.chrismartenson.com/crashcourse
"The Crash Course"
"Ready to learn everything you need to know about the economy in less than two hours? The Crash Course is a condensed online version of Chris Martenson's "End of Money" seminar. The first chapters of the Crash Course are already available; additional chapters will be added as quickly as time allows. Watch the Breaking News page to find out when new chapters are posted."
How long will it take?
Completed sections are between 3 and 14 minutes in length, meaning that all 20 sections should take about 2.5 hours.
What is it?
The Crash Course seeks to provide you with a baseline understanding of the economy so that you can better appreciate the risks that we all face.
You will learn about:
Intro (on this page, below)
Section 1: Three Beliefs (Time: 1:46)
Section 2: The Three "E"s (Time: 1:38)
Section 3: Exponential Growth (Time: 3:07)
Section 4: Compounding is the Problem (Time: 3:06)
Section 5: Growth vs. Prosperity (Time: 3:40)
Section 6: What is Money? (Time: 5:55)
Section 7: Money Creation (Time: 4:19)
Section 8: The Fed - Money Creation (Time: 7:13)
Section 9: A Brief History of US Money (Time: 7:14)
Section 10: Inflation (Time: 11:48)
Section 11: How Much Is A Trillion? (Time: 3:28)
Section 12: Debt (Time: 12:32)
Section 13: A National Failure To Save (Time: 12:06)
Section 14: Assets & Demographics (Time: 13:41)
Section 15: Bubbles (Time: 14:10)
Section 16: Fuzzy Numbers NEW! - August 5 (Time: 15:52)
Section 17: Peak Oil NEW! - August 23 (Time: 17:52)
Section 17 PART B: Energy Budgeting NEW! - August 28 (Time: 12:15)
Section 17 PART C: Energy And The Economy NEW! - August 29 (Time: 7:05)
The above sections are done, the lower ones are coming
Section 18: Environmental Data
Section 19: Future Shock
Section 20: What Should I Do...?
Aloha, Brad
http://www.chrismartenson.com/crashcourse
"The Crash Course"
"Ready to learn everything you need to know about the economy in less than two hours? The Crash Course is a condensed online version of Chris Martenson's "End of Money" seminar. The first chapters of the Crash Course are already available; additional chapters will be added as quickly as time allows. Watch the Breaking News page to find out when new chapters are posted."
How long will it take?
Completed sections are between 3 and 14 minutes in length, meaning that all 20 sections should take about 2.5 hours.
What is it?
The Crash Course seeks to provide you with a baseline understanding of the economy so that you can better appreciate the risks that we all face.
You will learn about:
Intro (on this page, below)
Section 1: Three Beliefs (Time: 1:46)
Section 2: The Three "E"s (Time: 1:38)
Section 3: Exponential Growth (Time: 3:07)
Section 4: Compounding is the Problem (Time: 3:06)
Section 5: Growth vs. Prosperity (Time: 3:40)
Section 6: What is Money? (Time: 5:55)
Section 7: Money Creation (Time: 4:19)
Section 8: The Fed - Money Creation (Time: 7:13)
Section 9: A Brief History of US Money (Time: 7:14)
Section 10: Inflation (Time: 11:48)
Section 11: How Much Is A Trillion? (Time: 3:28)
Section 12: Debt (Time: 12:32)
Section 13: A National Failure To Save (Time: 12:06)
Section 14: Assets & Demographics (Time: 13:41)
Section 15: Bubbles (Time: 14:10)
Section 16: Fuzzy Numbers NEW! - August 5 (Time: 15:52)
Section 17: Peak Oil NEW! - August 23 (Time: 17:52)
Section 17 PART B: Energy Budgeting NEW! - August 28 (Time: 12:15)
Section 17 PART C: Energy And The Economy NEW! - August 29 (Time: 7:05)
The above sections are done, the lower ones are coming
Section 18: Environmental Data
Section 19: Future Shock
Section 20: What Should I Do...?
Aloha, Brad
Monday, September 1, 2008
Recent Developments regarding Bee Colony Collapse Disorder
From: http://www.organicconsumers.org/articles/article_14192.cfm
EPA is Hiding Colony Collapse Disorder Information
EPA Buzz Kill: Is the Agency Hiding Colony Collapse Disorder Information? Natural Resources Defense Council, via Common Dreams, August 18, 2008 Straight to the Source
NRDC Forced to Sue to Get Public Records on Bee Mystery
WASHINGTON - August 18 - The Natural Resources Defense Council filed a lawsuit today to uncover critical information that the US government is withholding about the risks posed by pesticides to honey bees. NRDC legal experts and a leading bee researcher are convinced that the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has evidence of connections between pesticides and the mysterious honey bee die-offs reported across the country. The phenomenon has come to be called "colony collapse disorder," or CCD, and it is already proving to have disastrous consequences for American agriculture and the $15 billion worth of crops pollinated by bees every year.
EPA has failed to respond to NRDC's Freedom of Information Act request for agency records concerning the toxicity of pesticides to bees, forcing the legal action.
"Recently approved pesticides have been implicated in massive bee die-offs and are the focus of increasing scientific scrutiny," said NRDC Senior Attorney Aaron Colangelo. "EPA should be evaluating the risks to bees before approving new pesticides, but now refuses to tell the public what it knows. Pesticide restrictions might be at the heart of the solution to this growing crisis, so why hide the information they should be using to make those decisions?"
In 2003, EPA granted a registration to a new pesticide manufactured by Bayer CropScience under the condition that Bayer submit studies about its product's impact on bees. EPA has refused to disclose the results of these studies, or if the studies have even been submitted. The pesticide in question, clothianidin, recently was banned in Germany due to concerns about its impact on bees. A similar insecticide was banned in France for the same reason a couple of years before. In the United States, these chemicals still are in use despite a growing consensus among bee specialists that pesticides, including clothianidin and its chemical cousins, may contribute to CCD.
In the past two years, some American beekeepers have reported unexplained losses of 30-90% of the bees in their hives. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), bees pollinate $15 billion worth of crops grown in America. USDA also claims that one out of every three mouthfuls of food in the typical American diet has a connection to bee pollination. As the die-offs worsen, Americans will see their food costs increase.
Despite bees' critical role for farmers, consumers, and the environment, the federal government has been slow to address the die-off since the alarm bells started in 2006. In recent Congressional hearings, USDA was unable to account for the $20 million that Congress has allocated to the department for fighting CCD in the last two years.
"This is a real mystery right now," said Dr. Gabriela Chavarria, director of NRDC's Science Center. "EPA needs to help shed some light so that researchers can get to work on this problem. This isn't just an issue for farmers -- this is an issue that concerns us all. Just try to imagine a pizza without the contribution of bees! No tomatoes. No cheese. No peppers. If you eat apples, cucumbers, broccoli, onions, squash, carrots, avocados, or cherries, you need to be concerned." Chavarria has spent more than 20 years studying bees, and has published a number of academic papers on the taxonomy, behavior and distribution of native bees.
NRDC filed the lawsuit today in federal court in Washington DC. In documents to be filed next month, NRDC will ask for a court order directing EPA to disclose its information about pesticides and bee toxicity.
More information on CCD can be found at NRDC's http://www.beesafe.org/ web site.
The Natural Resources Defense Council is a national, nonprofit organization of scientists, lawyers and environmental specialists dedicated to protecting public health and the environment. Founded in 1970, NRDC has 1.2 million members and online activists, served from offices in New York, Washington, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Beijing.
CONTACT: Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) Josh Mogerman at 312/780-7424 jmogerman@nrdc.org
Aloha, Brad
EPA is Hiding Colony Collapse Disorder Information
EPA Buzz Kill: Is the Agency Hiding Colony Collapse Disorder Information? Natural Resources Defense Council, via Common Dreams, August 18, 2008 Straight to the Source
NRDC Forced to Sue to Get Public Records on Bee Mystery
WASHINGTON - August 18 - The Natural Resources Defense Council filed a lawsuit today to uncover critical information that the US government is withholding about the risks posed by pesticides to honey bees. NRDC legal experts and a leading bee researcher are convinced that the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has evidence of connections between pesticides and the mysterious honey bee die-offs reported across the country. The phenomenon has come to be called "colony collapse disorder," or CCD, and it is already proving to have disastrous consequences for American agriculture and the $15 billion worth of crops pollinated by bees every year.
EPA has failed to respond to NRDC's Freedom of Information Act request for agency records concerning the toxicity of pesticides to bees, forcing the legal action.
"Recently approved pesticides have been implicated in massive bee die-offs and are the focus of increasing scientific scrutiny," said NRDC Senior Attorney Aaron Colangelo. "EPA should be evaluating the risks to bees before approving new pesticides, but now refuses to tell the public what it knows. Pesticide restrictions might be at the heart of the solution to this growing crisis, so why hide the information they should be using to make those decisions?"
In 2003, EPA granted a registration to a new pesticide manufactured by Bayer CropScience under the condition that Bayer submit studies about its product's impact on bees. EPA has refused to disclose the results of these studies, or if the studies have even been submitted. The pesticide in question, clothianidin, recently was banned in Germany due to concerns about its impact on bees. A similar insecticide was banned in France for the same reason a couple of years before. In the United States, these chemicals still are in use despite a growing consensus among bee specialists that pesticides, including clothianidin and its chemical cousins, may contribute to CCD.
In the past two years, some American beekeepers have reported unexplained losses of 30-90% of the bees in their hives. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), bees pollinate $15 billion worth of crops grown in America. USDA also claims that one out of every three mouthfuls of food in the typical American diet has a connection to bee pollination. As the die-offs worsen, Americans will see their food costs increase.
Despite bees' critical role for farmers, consumers, and the environment, the federal government has been slow to address the die-off since the alarm bells started in 2006. In recent Congressional hearings, USDA was unable to account for the $20 million that Congress has allocated to the department for fighting CCD in the last two years.
"This is a real mystery right now," said Dr. Gabriela Chavarria, director of NRDC's Science Center. "EPA needs to help shed some light so that researchers can get to work on this problem. This isn't just an issue for farmers -- this is an issue that concerns us all. Just try to imagine a pizza without the contribution of bees! No tomatoes. No cheese. No peppers. If you eat apples, cucumbers, broccoli, onions, squash, carrots, avocados, or cherries, you need to be concerned." Chavarria has spent more than 20 years studying bees, and has published a number of academic papers on the taxonomy, behavior and distribution of native bees.
NRDC filed the lawsuit today in federal court in Washington DC. In documents to be filed next month, NRDC will ask for a court order directing EPA to disclose its information about pesticides and bee toxicity.
More information on CCD can be found at NRDC's http://www.beesafe.org/ web site.
The Natural Resources Defense Council is a national, nonprofit organization of scientists, lawyers and environmental specialists dedicated to protecting public health and the environment. Founded in 1970, NRDC has 1.2 million members and online activists, served from offices in New York, Washington, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and Beijing.
CONTACT: Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) Josh Mogerman at 312/780-7424 jmogerman@nrdc.org
Aloha, Brad
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