Climbing Mount Fuji, paddling the Mississippi, getting lost in
the jungles of Brazil - a heroic venture is needed for a traveler's
story. As I mentioned to my friends the next adventure, they seemed to
act as thou I was planning to circle the Ice cap of the North Pole in
fat bottom boat, or drive in the desert with my motor bike. In all
honesty I was taking the family to Maui, the wonderful island of
enchantment where my wife and I had met ten years ago during a Christian
singles retreat. This time we were are alone, we had added our first
keiki to the mix. Would we ruin the opportunity of romance?
Ten years before, we had walked up Haleakala during a cold windy morning
to watch the sun rise over the crater, indulging in evening strolls
along the white sandy beaches and memorable dinner along the ocean. I
won't go into all the details, but the single most memorable time was
driving along the Hanna road following Maui's north shore. The sea to
our left smashed into the jagged volcanic rock. To our right was the
deep green jungle.
So, we decided to visit Hanna, in a German utility vehicle, having
barely passed around the hip surfer's of Pa'ia, the kids start babbling
of heat and nausea, so we take a break at Ho'okipa Beach, and we stroll
down the volcanic rock beach to view the surfers battle tremendous
waves.
Returning to our drive on the road, our eldest child's tan pales
further with each switchback - and it's off to the edge of the road.
Then it is the youngest child's turn, though too late this time. During
the midst of complaints, the obnoxious smell of breakfast fruit has us
returning home. The island's grandeur remains the same - it is our
holiday planning that must alter.
We find our selves spending mornings at the beach, just before the
afternoon breeze brings up the surf. The children love to play and swim.
I tried to body surf on the whitecaps, and tumbled into the breakwater.
Our children build their castles against the sea, bury their feet and
legs in the wet sand, and then snorkel with us. In the early afternoon
we return to the cottage to shower, eat an excellently prepared lunch,
then do school-work Hawaiian style - sitting under a palm tree.
Activities are planned as learning experiences for the children,
land-locked mid-westerners who know next to nothing of the ocean.
Several thousand miles from any continent or major island group, the
islands of Hawaii are the most isolated islands in the world. Being so
isolated, it is no small wonder that nearly thirty percent of Hawaii's
marine life can not be found anywhere else in the world.
Ulua Beach in Wailea, we can enjoy the unique opportunity to snorkel
with a naturalist from a local marine life foundation, who educates us
on names of variety of tropical fish and the urchins that live within
the coral. We ventured out on the PWF's complex of marine life to do
some snorkeling at Molokini and turtle viewing at Turtle Town. These
trips have a reputation of being great for children, even taking them
one on one during the boating expedition for an educational talk, with
the opportunity to be an certified Junior Marine Naturalist.
Not all of our time is spent underwater. From Lahaina, we traveled to
Ka'anapali riding the old Pacific Railroad Sugar Cane Train. A long time ago,
when sugar was king, the steam train hauled cane from the fields to mills
for processing and sold to foreign merchant vessels. Now, the 1890
locomotive steams along the narrow track, while a conductor tells us about
the sites along the old pacific corridor.
Our day of fun comes to an end and we walk along the ,many travelers
rental vehicles, parking at the end of a long queue. The valet steps out
from a car in front of us, mumbling about the smell of spoiled fruit and
fish. "Nothing like that back home," I smile. She seats herself into the
driving seat and her nose begins to crinkle. We run off to the airport taxi
thinking about how life is so different where you travel to.
