Lost Texas – Day 4

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Corpus Christi, Texas

Let’s get this disclaimer thing out of the way right here: this post and the entire series of Texas posts of this trip did not get published until February 2023 because they were nearly lost in time. No notes exist; well, at least they’ve not been found if they do exist. The photos are of middling quality because they were shot on my phone. So, that’s that.

Corpus Christi, Texas

We are on North Shoreline Boulevard in Corpus Christi for sunrise. Nothing else is known about the start of this day.

Corpus Christi, Texas

I can only wish that somehow I’d already learned that the impressions made on these days would mean a great deal to me as I’ve grown older. There’s a tragedy about the lack of foresight under which we humans operate, and we fail to apprise one another of the better lessons from which we could benefit. Photography and writing are far too important to our older selves to lay fallow and neglected until it’s too late to drag them forward.

Caroline Wise in Corpus Christi, Texas

It’s been countless times I’ve watched my wife standing at the edge of the ocean, just looking out into it all. I don’t know where she is during those moments of being lost in the sea; maybe I hope she’s nowhere and simply drifting in the contemplative space of something like a meditation. What I do know is that I love bringing her to these locations for us to find whatever we end up taking with us.

Oakridge Smokehouse in Schulenburg, Texas

We’re out in the middle of nothing, a place that looks a lot like we’re not anywhere. The closest big city is Houston, about 100 miles away, while in the opposite direction to the west is San Antonio, about the same distance; 150 miles behind us in the South is Corpus Christi, and it’s about the same distance as Waco. Highway 77 is a two-lane affair. Schulenberg, where we are stopping for lunch at the Oakridge Smokehouse Restaurant, is a tiny dot on the map with a population of only about 2,600, and yet the parking lot to this joint is packed. How is it possible that this out-of-the-way roadside BBQ is better than anything I’ve ever had in Phoenix with a population of over 3 million?

Highway 77 between Schulenburg and Rosebud, Texas

It’s flat out this way. With Dallas, Texas, more than 200 miles away, I wonder how tall a building would have to be there for me to see it from here. Catch some air here; this next part is not here due to time travel; it’s not that flat in Texas. I told you that I’m writing this in 2023, and this will be my first reference to ChatGPT and Microsoft’s implementation of it with Bing, chat specifically. I asked it how tall a building would have to be for me to see it from 200 miles away; ChatGPT (a.k.a. Sydney) supplied me with this formula: x = √ (a² – 2ad + d² + r²) – r, and then it did the math for me telling the building would have to be at least 1.26 miles tall or more than 6,650 feet. Now I know.

Rosebud, Texas

This is Rosebud, and I’m pretty certain that it will never be the metaphor for someone’s distant, lost youth as it was portrayed with a red sleigh in the famous movie that shares its title with the name of this Texas town.

World's Largest Cedar Rocking Chair near Lipan, Texas

Believe it or not, we’ve been out on the road for nearly 8 hours by this time. No, we are not pulling over to relax in the World’s Largest Cedar Rocker in Lipan, Texas; nope, we are here for what’s just below.

Natty Flats Smokehouse in Lipan, Texas

If you want to think there’s anything else to eat in Texas, you’d be wrong, and once again, we are at some out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere joint, this time called Natty Flat Smokehouse.

Somewhere on Highway 281 between Lipan and Mineral Wells, Texas

Maybe these dark skies should have been offering us clues, but we just kept driving north.

Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas

Our stop here at the Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas, will be the last image of the day. Shortly after this, we ran into the rain, and not just any rain. This was the kind of heavy downpour that made us pull over more than once when driving was becoming too sketchy. As soon as the rain would relent even a little, we’d pull back onto the road and drive on; we were hoping to make it to Oklahoma City. We never did and instead ended up in Lawton, Oklahoma. Exhausted from the stress of driving in the torrential rains, we grabbed a room at Motel 6 and learned how lucky we were as it sounded like we had been the last ones to cross the Texas and Oklahoma state line, which crosses the Red River, which was now flooding over the road we had just come up. As far as going to Oklahoma City, that wasn’t going to happen, with the roads to the north unpassable due to the accumulation of high water. This was a change in plans we’d never anticipated.

Los Angeles – Day 1

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The Original Pantry in Los Angeles, California

Caroline and I left Phoenix last night for a special event being held in downtown L.A. tomorrow that she needs to be here for. So today, we are starting the day with breakfast at The Original Pantry Cafe and will bum around the city doing stuff.

The Arboretum in Arcadia, California

Off to Arcadia and The Arboretum where the two of us have never visited together. I visited 40 some odd years ago during a field trip that took us here and to the San Gabriel Mission, but my memories are weak, so this visit was certainly in order to refresh things.

The Arboretum in Arcadia, California

These intensely beautiful southern California days make visiting and dealing with the traffic all the easier. Add some art, good food, and the ocean; life is perfect.

The Arboretum in Arcadia, California

Although this part of the state has its fair share of drought-related issues, it never fails to amaze us how lush everything is. Of course, our perspective is likely skewed due to our arrival in L.A. from the desert well east of here. The Arboretum is great, but Descanso and The Huntington are maybe a notch above.

The Arboretum in Arcadia, California

I’m convinced a giant used these matches and that they may be responsible for one of California’s notorious fires.

Caroline Wise at Alpine Village in Torrance, California

We needed some German stuff, and so off to Alpine Village in Torrance we went. Lunch was had in their German-themed restaurant, and the cheesy factor of the entire place was not lost on us. Sadly, it seems that the attraction of places like Alpine Village is waning. I’ll bet in its heyday, this place was packed.

Update: in March 2023, Alpine Village was permanently closed.

Twenty minutes away over in Palos Verde, we set our sights on the Point Vicente Lighthouse as somewhere else we’d never been, and so we had to pay a visit. The island in the distance is Catalina.

Palos Verde, California

Spent some hours here walking around the peninsula; where else should we go that might be more beautiful than where we are right now?

Palos Verde, California

Stayed through sunset, I think you can understand why.

The Wattenmeer

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Sunrise over Kiel, Germany

We wake in time to see the sunrise over the harbor in Kiel. This is a rarity for us, as in Frankfurt, we are surrounded by buildings, and seeing the horizon is not possible unless your day starts in one of the highrises. It was late last night when we finally found a hotel. Our corner room on the 8th floor at Hotel Astor was only €69, and the view was tremendous. Time in the room, though, is short because we are excited to get back on the road for our visit to the Wattenmeer.

Heading to the sea in northern Germany

Where we are headed on the coast is even flatter than this. The Wattenmeer (Wadden Sea) is a shallow coastal plain now recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Neither Caroline nor I have ever visited this far northern corner of Germany, and we are both excited to be doing so, even with the gray weather. While it’s only about 70 miles (114 km) from Kiel to St. Peter-Ording on the western coast of Germany, the country roads slow us down, leaving time for some sightseeing.

A stork seen in Christiansholm, Germany

Wat in Dutch is mud, so Wattenmeer is loosely translated as mudflat sea. For Germany, the area is a National Park; for us, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime dream come true; we hope. The drive takes us through a number of small villages, including Christiansholm, where we see this stork occupying its nest. This is the first stork in the wild that either Caroline or I have seen.

A reetgedecktes haus (reed roof house) in northern Germany

The area we are heading into while German is also home to the Frisians. The land along the coast from the northern Netherlands up to Denmark is known as Frisia or Friesland. The native people were first mentioned in 12 BCE and speak Frisian, though not that many these days. The homes in the area are famous for their old-fashioned roofs known as “Reetgedecktes Häuser,” or thatched roofs made of reed.

A reed roof (thatch) in northwest Germany

Getting up close to the thatch roof is not to be missed. From the distance the roofs are beautiful, but up close to it, the details from the hollow reeds can really be appreciated. Where thatched roofs were once commonplace, today, they are nearly a mark of luxury. To build one is labor-intensive and I can’t imagine there are many craftspeople around who work on such roofs. Now I wonder how sound and weather-insulating they are; we’ll have to find a rental to stay in on a subsequent visit.

A thatched roof house in northwest Germany also known as a Reetgedecktes Haus

Older homes whose roofs have withstood the test of time or have so far avoided renovation can be an artwork in part crafted by the hand of nature. If you were wondering how fire retardant a dried reed roof might be, look no further than this healthy covering of moss that lives atop this house.

Caroline Wise standing in front of the Karolinenkoog sign in northwest Germany

Hey, did that sign read Karolinekook? I had to turn right around for a photo of that. Oh, it reads Karolinenkoog. So what the heck is a koog, and why Karoline? First of all, a koog is a polder; now that this is cleared up, I can move on to Karoline. Do you say you don’t know what a polder is? Well, neither did I. A polder (also known as a koog in German) is a low-lying area of land that is kept dry by a dike or was a former lake or sea bed. Karoline is in honor of Princess Caroline of Denmark (28 October 1793 – 31 March 1881). For me, the sign will always read CarolineKook.

Roadside toilet huts in northwest Germany

What’s a road trip without the need to stop at nearly every roadside toilet? It’s a trip without my wife. This outpost for the disposal of bodily waste is a marvel of modernity. The door is controlled by auto-locks. After the depositor has entered the facility, he or she has a set amount of time to take care of business before the auto-clean cycle convinces the user to get out or get cleaned up by the uncaring, unceremonious tools of auto-cleansing. And to make the toilet experience better for women, the left-side “pissoirs” are urinals for us men. The WC or water closets on the right are for more serious business and women. Inside, which I should have taken a photo of, there is no room for vandalism, and in any case, if the pissoir senses destruction of any part of the facility, the floor is covered in water, and the perpetrator is electrocuted.

On a narrow road separating some homes from the sea behind the dike on the left. In northwest Germany.

South of Tönning, we are about to have our first encounter with the dike system that keeps the North Sea at bay. We scrambled up the grassy hillside to look out into the gray murk of an overcast day. Not a lot to see when the horizon is obscured by mist and flatness that defies finding monuments or objects that allow one to orient oneself. No wonder it is recommended for people taking long hikes on the Wattenmeer to have a guide show them around. There are stories of people getting disoriented out on the mudflats as the tide comes in, which can end in disaster.

Sheep (four legged organic lawnmowers) standing on the dike ready to go to work at the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

Further down the road, we find another location that looks inviting, mostly because there were all these sheep hanging out, and my wife is nothing if not a sucker for the furry four-legged organic lawnmowers. Up the hill, and there it is, the mudflat and no sign of the sea.

Caroline Wise sans shoes out on the mud flat of the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

Of course, it would be Caroline who would have to dip her feet into the mud, maybe even some shallow water, if she could find it. As for me, well, my weight tells me that I’ll be ass-deep in sucking mud 1.6 seconds after placing myself in harm’s way. Caroline assures me that the mud is solid; I’ll take her word for it, but still opt to remain on the shore where I can snap photos from the dry comfort of land.

Caroline Wise's mud covered feet after walking in the Wattenmeer of northwest Germany

The fine, silty mud covers Caroline’s feet like hot fudge on ice cream. A smile likewise graces her face because she has now strode in the Wattenmeer. A nearby shower head and hose are available just for these occasions of cleaning one’s muddy feet, and we move to take advantage of the convenience. This is the first time during this trip that Caroline will voice that if we had to return to Frankfurt right now, she’d be happy with what we’ve already done. It’s great being married to someone who is so satisfied with such small things in life.

Caroline and John Wise stand before the sign announcing the World (Welt) in Germany

We now have proof that we have seen the world. The sign reading Welt behind us is German for World. Should there be any doubt that Caroline and I have seen the world, we can show any naysayers that it is true; we have, in fact, seen the World.

A beaver in a waterway near the Wattenmear of northwest Germany

The Watt (pronounced “Vot”) is a bird sanctuary, it is also home to other species that are being pushed out of Europe as humanity has continued to change the environment. The Wattenmeer itself exists due to people reclaiming the ocean floor and trying to manage lands that otherwise would be submerged. Beavers have done this for a millennium; today, they have little ground and river-ways left for their type of engineering. I do think we were pretty lucky today to see this guy heading for his hideaway.

A gaggle of geese perusing the grounds on the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

Thousands of birds and many species of various types call the 500km coastal region of the Wattenmeer home during migration periods. This gaggle of geese is making a pit stop on their trek north while skeins of others are seen overhead looking to do bird things I’m poor at interpreting.

The lighthouse in Westerhaver, Germany on the Wattenmeer

Our drive took us out on the far side of a peninsula jutting off of mainland Germany. We looked for every opportunity to visit the sea along the way. In Westerhever we spotted a lighthouse in the distance, time to schedule a visit. From the view of the dike, we thought we were satisfied and that this was good enough. Anyway, the people walking out to it were way over on our right, starting at the crowded parking lot I had turned my nose up to. Maybe we’ll just walk a short while to the right and see if the view improves. A little further and pretty soon, we are on the boardwalk. Is this far enough? Okay, just a bit further. Forty-five minutes later, we are at the lighthouse which does not offer tours but does have a toilet available. Oh yeah, on the horizon past the lighthouse, you are looking at mud; the tide is still out. When the tide is in these channels in the foreground are filled with water.

Sheep on the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

Sheep are everywhere on the dike system, as is evidence of their passing. A lot of sheep, and you find a lot of sheep poop but no fiber anywhere. Not even a lamb sandwich was found.

A lone black-headed seagull soaring by against a gray sky at the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

Shorebirds are not here in big numbers yet. The occasional black-headed gull swoops by, but the cacophonous sound of flocks of seagulls is not to be heard. I dream about being here on a quiet summer day when Caroline and I can have a stretch of the Wat to ourselves to watch the shorebirds work the mudflats and marshes.

A drainage canal on the Wattenmeer that helps preserve the land

These lands have been worked for centuries as people have wrestled with nature to keep the land they have carved out of the sea. This is one of the many drainages that are kept clear so the land drains as the tide goes out. In this way, the land isn’t washed away and serves as sheep pasture. Unfortunately, we could not be here at the Wattenmeer for both low and high tide.

Another thatched roof house at the Wattenmeer in northwest Germany

This photo is being used not because the old house was built in 1737 it’s because the photo of the windmill I took didn’t turn out all that nice. Mühle Catharina (The Catherine Mill) is a three-story rental property that sleeps eight right in the windmill! If you want to book it, as we do and hopefully will someday, it costs €165 per day (about $200) with a minimum 1-week stay required. Located in Witzwort, Germany, it is a perfect location for a week of biking the flatlands of the Wattenmeer and even making a day excursion to Hamburg or even Copenhagen, Denmark.

The harbor of Husum, Germany

In Husum, the sun is struggling to work its way past the clouds that have dogged us all day; it’s uncertain if it will win. Neither of us knows a thing about this city and so we find a parking spot and start walking right on over to a maritime museum.

An old ship wreck on display at the North Frisian Maritime Museum in Germany

We don’t hesitate to pay the small fee to enter the North Frisian Maritime Museum. Inside and downstairs (near the toilets) is the museum’s newest big display item: the Uelvesbüll shipwreck. Discovered in a side channel near a dike, the wreck is over 400 years old. We can walk right up to it, even reach over and smell the wood. To stop the decay once it was pulled from the silt, preservationists cured the wreck in a giant vat of sugar water. According to the info on display, the sugar crystals create a protective seal of the wood, and the technique is far cheaper than the alternatives. I’m enchanted with what history this small ship may hide and wish to know more. Being here is also a reminder that there may be many more maritime museums along the English, Irish, Danish, French, Dutch, Spanish, and Belgian coastlines; we need to move to Europe.

A cicada enclosure made of whale bone on display at the North Frisian Maritime Museum in Husum, Germany

Never seen a whalebone scrimshaw cicada enclosure before; heck, I’ve never seen a cicada enclosure of any type prior to this one. In the case of various scrimshaws was this one particular item that fascinated me enough to want one. Of Moorish influence, this work of art was carved around the year 1700. Does someone out there want to make a 3D print of it?

A device for measuring the speed of a water craft as measured in "knots" on display at the North Frisian Maritime Museum in Husum, Germany

Caroline is a font of information; some of it she keeps to herself because she thinks it’s common knowledge. Almost under her breath, she suggests I must obviously know what this thing is that we are looking at. Of course – not, I reply. Did you ever wonder where the term “knots” came from for measuring the speed of a boat? Neither had I, but my wife knew. By throwing out a line and measuring the knots tied into the rope, a seaman could estimate the speed they were traveling by counting the knots unspooling against a measure of time. Thus, a speed could be calculated.

Notes that had at one time been tied to the leg of a pigeon used for communication. On display at the North Frisian Maritime Museum in Husum, Germany

Tauben-Depesche – Pigeon Dispatch. These small notes were once rolled up and attached to the legs of carrier pigeons. If nothing else brings you to the North Frisian Maritime Museum, surely a now-historic note that was once carried by a small bird must nag at your curiosity. The great forgotten things we can find in museums. I think I need more time to explore the world’s hidden treasures.

Our last glance at the sea in Dagebüll, Germany

By the time we exited the museum, the sun had peeked through the clouds, and with its light, a multitude of sun-seekers filled the town square with the intention of having an ice cream. That sounds great to us and we join in with a visit to Janny’s for something called the Eis & Heiss (Hot and Cold). The concoction is made of hot cherries, chocolate syrup, cherry water, and ice cream, all topped with whipped cream. Trying to use all the daylight we can, we continue the drive north for another 45 km (28 miles) before pulling into Dagebüll and the Hotel Neuwarft for some dinner and sleep. The room was great and inexpensive. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant was also very good. All-in-all, it was a perfect day.

Hawaii – Day 11

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Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

That’s funny it doesn’t look or smell like Sunday, but it is. Well, if it is Sunday, then that means we have to head into Lihue and leave exploring Kahili Mountain for another day.

Hey, this isn’t the road to Lihue, and there’s no way we’ll be buying a Poke bento this early. Ah, we are just sightseeing before we get to our regularly scheduled activities. Wait a minute, we don’t have a schedule! Well, then, without anywhere we really need to be, I guess another drive up and down the tree tunnel is warranted.

Once back on the main road, we made it over to Lihue for breakfast at the Tip Top Motel Cafe And Bakery that’s been feeding islanders and visitors for nearly 100 years. The place is highly rated among locals, and we now understand why. It was packed and noisy, but all the same, we were seated pretty quickly. Our orders were taken within minutes, and coffee was delivered before we saw the menu, which was already at the table. Ten minutes later, my Moco Loco arrived, and Caroline’s banana pineapple pancakes with guava pineapple compote were placed in front of her. If we weren’t suffering from a wicked addiction to the Koloa Fish Market, we’d be wise upon a return visit to eat breakfast here every day.

We are on our way north, heading to Hanalei, as Caroline needs to exchange some ukulele sheet music that was misprinted. You can bet it will not be a direct out-and-back journey, as this beach stop attests. Which beach is this, you might ask? Who cares? It’s a beach on Kauai, and we were so rude as to carve our names into the sand, letting those who follow know that “We were here.”

Roadside, fresh, chilled coconuts sounded like a great idea, and with nothing stopping us from indulgence, we obliged our hedonistic sides and packed in some more calories.

Another reason to snack has presented itself with the Anahola Farmer’s Market. That’s right, you read it correctly, they are selling apple bananas, and we are buying them because one can never eat enough apple bananas when in Hawaii. As for that sample of BBQ pork, I tried that morphed into a plate to go; we’ll just call that “breakfast dessert.”

There is no pineapple such as these on the mainland of America. These giant, ripe, and incredibly sweet, perfect pineapples are unique to Hawaii. We may eat this later today, tomorrow with breakfast, or on Christmas morning before we board our flight back to Arizona. The cold reality that we are down to our last 48 hours in Hawaii is better left for dealing with in the minutes before we drop the rental car, for now, we need to return to the exploration of paradise.

Kilauea Point National Wildlife Refuge is a fond, fond memory from our first visit, and with perfect weather, we would be fools not to stop again. That there is a Junior Ranger Program here is an added bonus, and within minutes of arriving Caroline has her booklet and walks along noodling over the questions.

It’s mere minutes later before we see a pod of whales offshore, and while once again we are denied seeing a breaching cetacean, we do get to see plenty of tail fins, spouts, and arching backs.

Can one have a favorite bird? While I certainly have my least favorite bird in city-dwelling pigeons, I probably only know of a fraction of bird species from around our globe, and there are many beautiful specimens, but the albatross certainly holds a special place in my imagination. Just the idea that this bird can fly non-stop around the earth without landing while expending little to no energy is a feat of evolution that boggles my mind. Then consider that we know that they can live up to at least 66 years of age and that once bonded with a mate, they will stay together until the end of their lives. Of course, there are those beautiful eyes they have that I’m too gullible in assigning anthropomorphic qualities to. I’ll just go and blurt it out right here: I love the albatross.

Check out the nene, also spelled nēnē, otherwise known as the Hawaiian goose. This native of Hawaii is only found on the islands out here in the Pacific and is speculated to have arrived on the islands when they were blown off course at some time in the past. They are friendly, curious birds with a unique soft call compared to the harsh sound of the common goose.

The Kilauea Point Lighthouse could not stand out in greater contrast to the blue sky, deep blue water, and greenery out here on this spit of land.

The sky is also full of frigate birds, and while a little bit buzzardly looking, they are graceful and draw my admiration for their ability to live free, fly around, and not be subject to the arbitrary laws and whims of power-hungry bird enforcers.

I don’t really care if they are red-footed or blue-footed because this bird has the word booby in it. Yeah, buddy, this is the red-footed booby. I tried a good two or three minutes to get a pair of boobies in my shot, but all I got was this bird in front of the ocean. I’ll be looking for a pair of boobies to photograph and will get back to you, the reader, should I see them.

The ocean churns hard around Kilauea Point, and at times, we watched waves break on a cliffside, sending its waters a good 80 feet straight up. With birds, dolphins, whales, a lighthouse, and perfect weather all around us, it is hard to figure out what to give our full attention to.

You should know just how badly I want to reach out and feel how soft those feathers are around the nene’s neck. These official State Birds of Hawaii are protected and endangered and so even if my judgment is occasionally poor, I will respect the request not to interfere with these gorgeous birds.

The other day, when we were up and purchased the ukulele, the sky was overcast, and this overlook of the Hanalei National Wildlife Refuge was jam-packed with others who had the same idea of snapping this image. This spot on Kauai is probably the second most famous after the Napali Coast and is certainly an iconic location. Down below are paddies with taro plants, which are essential to the Native Hawaiian diet of both poi and lau lau.

Here’s the view from below the overlook of those plots of taro. The last time we were here, we didn’t make time to follow the narrow road that was more of a wide sidewalk leading into the refuge; today, we did. The road might go for a couple of miles, but it was hard to tell, considering how slow we were traveling. There are thickets of bamboo, a couple of homes, a trail we won’t take this visit, and a slow-moving waterway that is the likely source of irrigation of all this taro.

Over at Hanalei Strings, we learn that there are no refunds, only exchanges. That was okay as Caroline opted to leave with more yarn; as I went to pay for the difference, the guy waved it off, saying it was for the trouble of driving back up, like driving around a Hawaiian island is a hassle or something.

The next stop was at Tahiti Nui. Why Tahiti Nui? Because Caroline, prior to leaving for Hawaii, let it be known that she wanted umbrella drinks on this excursion, and the other day at the Limahuli Garden a lady told us of a particularly nice dive bar. While it was specifically described as a dive bar, we were reassured that it was a great dive bar. While I, being the teetotaler, opted for Julia’s Iced Tea, which was a mix of iced tea, lemonade, and guava juice, Caroline “started” with their famous Mai Tai. Sitting there, taking in the sights of bar culture, we couldn’t help but do some noshing until Caroline decided on her second drink, a lilikoi margarita. With the umbrella drinks checked off the to-do list, one of us walks back to the car, and the other weaves.

A small apparently little-used road led us to a small cove. There are no facilities, no lifeguards, and apparently, clothes are optional.

When we were finally ready to leave that isolated spot of tranquility, the clouds were moving in, suggesting that another spectacular sunset was being scratched off the itinerary. Over to Starbucks, we went and with coffee in hand, we walked around. Wouldn’t you know it, there’s a man talking to a woman while holding a piglet. Turns out the woman is his girlfriend who works in the shop; we volunteer that we are certified expert piglet caregivers and would gladly watch his new pet while he properly visits with his girlfriend. So here we are, just hanging out in Kapaa, drinking coffee and chilling with a piglet cradled in my wife’s arms because that’s how we roll when on the isle of Kauai.

Sadly, the owner came back for his little black pig, which was okay as I would have had no idea how we’d ever get it on a plane to Arizona. Before returning to the cabin, we stopped at Walmart which turns out to be the best place for cheap souvenirs to drag back to coworkers in Caroline’s office. For our friend Rainy, we found some Hello Kitty pineapple-flavored marshmallows.

We packed up a day early so our last night would be as stress-free as possible. I headed to the shower outside, and Caroline pulled up the ukulele and tried playing. I say she “tried” playing because she’d chosen to try Aloha Oe, and in between the tears, she would have to stop and catch her breath. I listened to her through the walls and couldn’t help but feel teary-eyed with her as her romantic notions were affecting both of us.

Hawaii – Day 10

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Sunrise at Kahili Mountain Park on Kauai, Hawaii

There’s a fine line between helpful technology and technology that intrudes and disappoints. The pen and paper I use to capture these notes rarely fail. Though pens run out of ink, they are easily replaced. While an SD Card in my GoPro failing, taking with it snorkeling footage and a time-lapse of us driving from our cabin to Hanalei is a disappointment. The intrusion occurs when my mother somehow thinks it would be cool or helpful to let us know that our car that is camping at her place is having problems starting. Wow, is it the engine, battery, Mayan apocalypse? Why in the world does she think we needed distressing news texted to us? By the time we saw the message last night, it was already midnight in Arizona and so we got to go to sleep in worry.

From today’s sunrise, it wouldn’t be too far a stretch to suggest that Kukulcan, the Mayan feathered serpent god, had left the pyramid of the sun and was arriving to personally greet me in this new age; alas, it was just the patterns of the clouds allowing in patches of fiery light that stroked the imagination into fantasy.

This cock is relatively stupid while simultaneously protective of his hens; mine is out with her snorkel, scratching at the sea and pecking for fish. Sure this feathered specimen of maleness may look elegant, bold even, but at his core, he fertilizes eggs and battles for supremacy from any and all threats. Pardon the screed I’m about to share; it is my inner-cock mouthing off nonsense from my growing bias emanating from the encroachment of age.

Why wear a bikini for your cell phone when it’s for your boobs? Why wear a swimsuit that requires constant decracking? What’s up with the skimpy bikini top that forces you to dig your chin into your chest to ensure you still have nipple coverage? Small talk on beaches is highly overrated and most often inane. If the face can be an indicator of intelligence, it might appear that smarter women are more modest about their bodies and are dressed more conservatively out here. Those relying more on sex appeal than brains are flaunting a serious amount of butt cheeks along with more tats and piercings. I know I’m likely going to be accused of being sexist, but the same applies in other ways to the lunkhead men who are strutting their stuff in the same fury.

Older men still running on the high side of testosterone care little about the bulge of midriff fat or gratuitous amounts of body hair confronting others. Older men from professions tend to wear t-shirts out here, maybe due to the practicality of worrying about skin cancer. The higher the number of tattoos, the more cock-like the swagger. Forty with a rear-facing baseball cap? I can only wonder about the person’s carrying capacity that exists between their ears. ALL men check out young women’s rear ends, all of them. Muscular men travel in packs. Overweight middle-aged men travel with their spouses. Men who are traveling alone demonstrate some creepy anti-social behavior and the body language of lonely desperation, appearing sad and tragic. Strangely there are no solo women visitors to this beach. Hindus wear too many clothes in the ocean. I’ve only seen two hipsters over the course of our stay; I’m guessing they cannot afford Hawaii on coffee-shop wages. Not a goth in sight, I suppose the sun would foil their goals.

The other half of this Statler and Waldorf shtick has returned from the sea and kicks the pen from my hand, as she can tell by now when I’m channeling the grumpy old man routine.

The road to Waimea Canyon is paved with bananas and guava, along with a bevy of flowers, greenery, vines, and fields of coffee plants. These fruit, drink, and occasionally homemade baked good stands that work on the honor system are a real treat and a compelling reason you should travel with cash while on the islands.

Do you like beautiful, colorful spiders that try tricking you that they are not spiders by pairing up their legs, so you might think this four-legged yellow and black thing on the web is a trapped kitty kat? Then, venturing into the woods should be on your itinerary, too, because Hawaiians love their insects.

This orchard planted in red earth is growing some kind of stuff that is certainly not marijuana, coconut, pineapple, bananas, or corn. I’m wondering what it is, but I made no notes, nor do I remember going up to one of the trees to investigate just what they were.

We are 1,000 feet above the ocean and there is Ni’ihau again in the distance. In the foreground is Buffalo grass, which is invasive, but it does add a nice appearance to things. It is a shame how many species have invaded the islands; seems like everything and nearly everyone here is from somewhere else.

This is our first look into Waimea Canyon on this trip. This appeared much larger on our last visit, but back then, we hadn’t spent weeks at the bottom of the Grand Canyon or had just come off an adventure into the enormity of Alaska. Coming to grips with the nature of familiarity and how it alters our perspective might be a part of the maturing process, but there’s certainly a place for naivety and celebrating our first encounters with novelty.

Gaining elevation as we progress, the canyon grows in depth. Now, with our second visit to the area in pocket, we’ll have to consider hiking in Waimea Canyon should we find ourselves in Hawaii a third time. Upon searching for trails, it looks like the Kukui Trail would be perfect, especially if we could spend a night at the campground down there.

Here we are at the Kalalau overlook with the southern end of the Napali Coast over our shoulders. Down below are nearly ever-present helicopters that ply the airway to show others the spectacular part of the coast that we have yet to effectively visit. While last time we embarked on a hike out the Kalalau Trail, a broken toe that I acquired on Molokai in the days leading up to our time on Kauai thwarted our ambition under otherwise perfect weather conditions. One day, we will make it out there.

This is the Cliff Trail and is one of the shortest trails we’ve ever been on. A mere 1/10th of a mile is completed in about 4 minutes.

As we looked for vantage points to check out the view and consider trail options, this wild goat approached laughing out loud that we needed trails while it went where it pleased.

Before we get to the sunset proper I thought I’d try something different this late afternoon and share what the edge of a Hawaiian sunset looks like.

This was tough as one of my sunset photos had amazing god rays in the distance…..

….while this one is terrifically molten gold with a small boat passing by.

As we approached Waimea, the long string of parked cars was a good indicator of what lay ahead, so we simply pulled over and parked. So we wouldn’t miss a moment of the Christmas parade, we hoofed it and arrived just as the Waimea Canyon Middle School was turning the corner as the beginning of the festivities.

The parade is great with the spirit of the kids and families lining the street, making this into a party atmosphere. It all reminds me of another great parade when we were so lucky to be in Canadian, Texas, for a Middle of America Fourth of July celebration. Click HERE to visit that trip.

Along the parade route were plenty of food vendors to satisfy those of us who hadn’t set up a small BBQ in front of our chairs; as a matter of fact, Caroline and I were without chairs in any case, so where would we have set up a BBQ? The first thing I tried was some corn chowder, while Caroline opted for pasteles, a kind of Filipino tamale. After Santa passed and the parade ended, it took us over an hour to get to the other side of town. On such a small island with few roads, the people who live here full time are lucky that others allow them to pull in front of them instead of the mainland way of ensuring no one gets in. By and large, the atmosphere on the Islands is one of tremendous friendliness and people going out of their way to be polite.

It’s late, and yet it is still bright out, with the moon shining enough to illuminate the trees and our cabin from a distance. The stars are out in force and strangely enough, I wish for rain as I miss its sound on our tin roof.