Circumnavigation Part II

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circumnavigation

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straight down, straight up

This is the Waipio Valley - so beautiful it's almost scary. We hiked in under clear skies,
and hiked out under torrential rain. Warm rain.

Horses in the river.

Black sand, warm and fine as ash.

Hawaii or Squamish?

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to the market

S is leaving tonight, so I won't waste any time writing a long blog at the moment. It's been an utterly amazing few days. We stayed overnight in Hilo for some of our adventures. This is where we bought our food. Just a bit of icing on the cake.

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water and fire

The Northern most tip of Big Island, in Kohala. Pic by S. Random factoid: Mauna Kea, the big ol' active volcano on this island, is the world's tallest mountain, measured from bottom (under the sea) to top. And Mauna Kea's peak is home to the world's biggest astronomical observatory. It's very snowy up there, at 13-some-odd-thousand feet.

Sunset through the banana leaves, from the lanai. Random factoid, contributed by S:
Did you know that the diorama was invented by the French?

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sundial

Back in August, S and I sat outside on Bowen and I talked about this idea of spending winters somewhere else. I was not so sure yet. I was worried about being alone and feeling isolated and depressed.

Ha ha ha.

Yesterday we cruised around the island and talked about this idea of going somewhere new every year, and whether we would live long enough to see everything we wanted to see. We decided no, we wouldn't - we'd need to go somewhere new several times a year. Our conversation was interrupted many times by having to point and yell at something obscenely beautiful. We talked over the risks of realizing one day that we've turned 40 and still are single adventuring women, happy but without babies. We agreed to remind each other to stop to grab a man along the way, not too late but not too soon, a man to do the job.
We stopped for beer and pineapple. We stopped for bubblegum and ginger chews. We spotted geeps and pidgeots (goat-sheep and parrot-pidgeons). We looked down thousand-feet cliffs and were scared. We drove through landscapes that could have been Tuscany, Ireland, Nicaragua, Osoyoos, Gondor and Mordor. We listened to a Prince song and found nothing else on the radio. It was a good long drive and it was faster, oh so much faster than riding a scooter.

Now it's early morning, S is still sleeping, and it's pouring rain outside. There was thunder and lightening all night; I dreamt of going down the Steepest Slide known to man, and winning the race because I wasn't afraid.

I have one week left as of today. A little bird is sitting on a banana leaf outside, shaking water off his wings. I'm on my 3rd cup of tea.

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long time no blog

As you can see from the pics below (dated Wednesday), I did have some blogging attempts. But they fizzled out. I think it's because there is a lot going on, but not much that I can put into words. There are a lot of things about to happen, or that could potentially happen, or that I am wishing will happen - things that are just between me and the ol' universe at this point. Maybe I feel that speculating out loud makes it harder to be accepting of the outcome. Whatever is or is not brewing out there in the cosmos is a delicate and baffling matter. Suffice it to say, the heart is full, the head is confused, and experience says let it stay that way: stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs.
Now, as for more earthly matters...
I have not been doing much in the way of exploring and adventuring. I'm saving that for this last leg of the trip. (My friend S is coming tonight to stay with me for a week.) My days are far from boring, but I've settled into a delicious routine. I get up early, I put in my workday on the lanai, I scoot down to the fav. beach and swim until sundown, then come home and work on music, read before bed, sleep like the dead. If I need groceries, I go to the farmer's market. Anything you could possibly want, the best and most beautiful food on the planet, cheap cheap cheap. Coffee roasted fresh off the plantation, sugar cane, every kind of tropical fruit ripe and ready to eat, local honey, homemade jams and banana-or-mango bread. Mac nuts by the barrel. Mmm!
The daily swim has turned me into a regular little fish. It really took me a while to ignore that 'isn't it time to go?' voice. Why go? Stay. I've already tried to describe this little bay many times. But I haven't yet told you about the shallows. When the surf is high, you can stay close to the beach in water that fluctuates with each wave between hip-deep and neck-deep. It's like an other-worldly jacuzzi. The incoming waves and the outgoing undertow knead and tug your body. Pounding jets of water break over your shoulders. Confused waves crash together sideways and spin you around, and the soft sand underfoot drops away and then returns. It's rough and gentle. The constant surge of water in all directions churns up a ticklish frothy lather and the water, my friends, is so warm. This jacuzzi, when the sun starts to set, takes on all the purples of the sky. The horizon is endless and broken only by humpback whales leaping and crashing into the water. A red burning eye between strands of clouds is the sun.
Underwater the whales sound like elephants and horses. I dive over and over and over to listen to them, to try to record their song in my brain. They chatter and squeak and creak and whinny, hoarsely moan and moo like ghostly cows. Water transmits sound so strangely. There is no sense of direction or distance - the sounds resonate in your head, not outside of you. It does not feel like hearing, it feels like telepathy. I've been trying to sing back to the whales but can't get past the shock of hearing my own voice underwater. A little gentle hum comes out like a shrieking eel. The pitch seems to jump up two octaves, and the vibration splits my face in two. I've realized that vocally, a whale is no slouch.
Back on dry land - very dry, very hot - I like to go beach combing. Or rather, lava rock combing. The coastline here is charred lumpy volcano discharge. (Heh heh - that sounds disgusting.) It's awesome to go hunting for sea treasures in this stuff. Shells and coral stand out so brightly against the black rock. And the little pools of water left from a high surf are warm like baby's bathwater. The other day I found a perfect little crab on a rocky perch. There was no way to tell if it was alive or dead... so I touched its back, oh so gently, and its entire skeleton disintegrated beneath my finger. This felt profound.
I found others just like it and managed to pick one up without destroying it. For some reason I had to put it on my face.
I meant no disrespect to the crab.

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Feeling crabby

from 'round here

Checked out plenty of beaches yesterday. Still had to finish the day at Kua Bay, Kehaka Kai Beach Park. It can't be beat.

The guy upstairs is playing a ukelele. My lips are sunburnt. The sun and saltwater have stripped my hair to blonde shags.
Long scooter rides are good for working on tunes. So glad I have a keyboard here. A little bee of inspiration just stung me in the ass.

Proud moment: a tourist asked me if I lived round here. Said he just assumed.... cause of the way I handled the waves. Ha-hah!

... I am exulted.

art and science

Later in life, I think I'll publish a book called, "Experiencing a Wave: 1001 ways to befriend the surf." Or something cheesy like that.

There's a Kona beach I go to everyday for a long swim. It's truly a beach among beaches. Without question, the most glorious swimming beach I've ever known.

So listen: once upon a time, I was a water-baby. Had to be dragged out of pools, forced to resume life as a land-mammal. I still remember absent-mindedly chewing the permanently-chlorinated tips of my braids, the taste and feel of the brittle bristley ends of my long hair. My body remembers those days, now slowly paddling through forward and backward somersaults and floating quietly over the swells. I think maybe I would relate to porpoises better than humans.

The waves bring a throng of tourist body-surfers everyday. They line up, standing impatiently with their boards, speculating loudly. "It's gonna be the next one. Here it comes - yeah baby, here it comes! This is it." You've gotta watch out for these guys. Gotta make sure you're ahead of their line and not behind it. Because a wave won't hurt you - but a wave full of men on boogie boards will. It looks like a dull sport to me... just standing in the shallows, goading the ocean.

The thing is, every wave has a different M.O. and a different personality. I've made a game out of investigating them, checking them out from every angle. For example: you can wait til the wave is right on top of you, about to break, and then dive through the centre and out the top, which swings and launches you like a catapult. Or you can dive under, hugging the sandy bottom, and watch the sand quake and roll as the wave breaks over it, a volcano of foam rising all around you. Sometimes you can jump up and over the wave, and tumble into the valley behind it. Or you can jump backwards, and see the people in the shallows, far below you, faces tense and braced for impact. Even better, if you're positioned just right, you can let the wave pick you up and launch you forward in a huge flying sideways kung-fu kick. Or you can swim underwater until you feel the pull of a wave, and turn on your back to see the surface rip above you, or if your timing is perfect, shoot upwards to explode out the top of the wave as it breaks. For pure visual glory, it's best to stand facing the shore, duck under the wave cap and emerge as the water crashes before you with a roar, leaving the water behind it stretched out smooth like a taut piece of silk. A spray of mist rises up in rainbows, and everything is still for one long second. Then of course, you can also lie prone on your back, trust to God that the waves will lift you and not break on top of you, and just see what happens. And if you start to get too relaxed, there's always the nasal douche: move into the wavebreak like a common tourist, panic, get pummelled in the face and rolled over like a thrashing beetle. The nasal douche has the advantage of disorienting you completely: the undertow that follows nearly rips off your bathing suit, and while you're trying to find the unfastened strap in the foam, 2nd and 3rd waves come along to force any remaining air out of ears and nose, fill all crevices with sand, and give you a little whiplash to remind you of who's boss.

The sun is up now, and it's Saturday, so it's time to head outside and continue my investigations. I want to catch some more whale-singing today. Guess I haven't mentioned that yet... Well, it's true that if you hold yourself underwater and silence your body, you can hear the humpback whales singing their creaking songs. It's very strange and awe-inspiring to be inside that sphere, to hear and feel that incredible sonar communication. No time to lose!

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empty beach, busy beach, and a pomelo

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dust to dust

I am floating somewhere pleasant this morning. A scuttling on the banana leaves - 2 geckos racing. Birds in stereo. A breeze. No urgency for adventure. 'The Moon is Down' with breakfast. The sweater comes off as the sun erases the last bit of mountain coolness. A dog barks, and at first I think it is a man whooping like a child. A small mound of passion fruits picked up off the ground just looks at me, passionately. Monarch butterflies in my peripheral. Another gecko on the lanai, quite close. He stops, and puffs out his throat - there is a glowing pink ball inside.
I am quite okay that the mac fell down with sickness. I think maybe I'm glad. It is a distraction from the things I don't get to take home with me. This computer is only good for typing blogs and doing work - this is a good thing. It's good because my mind is my friend right now. I like technology, but am always relieved when it's taken away from me. I prefer to write music on paper. I prefer to play instruments that don't need to be plugged in. I prefer reading over watching movies. I prefer to look at the evening than to look at my pictures of it.
This time away has changed something in me. As I said, it has won my mind over - it has made my mind an excellent, kind, amusing companion.
A brain gets overrun with stimuli. There is no time to process before more stimuli floods in. Confusion forces itself down awkward pathways; thoughts get diverted and lost. Other thoughts follow. Temporary salves are applied, crutches are taken up. They become habitual. Simplicity is all but forgotten, and complication drains sorrows into stagnant pools. The sea is not fed. Malfunctions multiply. Instead of one voice there are unwise and haunted voices of many that murmur incessantly.
But beauty breaks what is broken. It makes little fractures in the seized mass of ugly thought. Beauty, I am beginning to understand you now: 'Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dirth of noble nature, of the gloomy days, of all the unhealthy and o'er darkened ways made for our searching.' The beauty - not the prettiness, not the niceness - of a day, of what I can't touch or make or influence in any way, brings me back to myself. In this place, it is a near constant threat to my ego and my evil. What can I do, how can I stay dark and closed and mean, when the air around me is charged by the very core of the earth, and molecules are birthing countless forms of life under my eyes, nose, ears, skin. I have no power here. I can manipulate nothing, and forget why I'd want to. My heart, or rather, the whole cage of my chest, dissolves like dust and is swept up by wind as though it was a cloud of bodiless wings going somewhere unknown. My mind follows it away and I don't know how I ever thought I was a person. That is what happens here.

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paying it down

In Kona now. Sitting high up the mountain side. You know, 11 of Earth's 13 climate zones can be found on this island. Cool. Today I experienced several. Cool, hot, humid, unlucky, and foolish. My laptop crashed - was d.o.a. when I opened it up last night. Well, what can you expect - after all, my extended warranty had just expired. I spent a few hours hoofing it around Kona town looking for the mac store and a set of wheels. Got myself set with a scooter for the month, and handed the laptop over to the doctor, who did not give it a good prognosis. And then I went to buy groceries, and while I was in the store, I forgot I only had a scooter and came out with 5 bags full of provisions and staples. It took me some time, but I got it all strapped onto me and the bike, and then I remembered that 15 minutes in the car is a hell of a lot longer on a scooter, especially a heavily-laden scooter going straight uphill. I also remembered that it's way colder up the mountain than it is on the beach. And also that the only eyewear I had were sunglasses and it was getting dark. Anyways, I yelled "whooooot-whoooooooot!" very joyfully when I finally made it home - cold and squinty-eyed and very sore.
Now I am cozy and it is all an amusing memory. A fine example of how my eternal optimism sometimes leads to underestimating all kinds of things. But here's the good news: when I stepped on my sunglasses, they didn't break. And after thinking my new camera was lost, I eventually found it. And, as the wise old Pema Chodrin would say, I know I've paid off some karmic debt today. And paying down debt is always good.

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lovely monsters

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posing

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