We thoroughly enjoyed our time on the island of Hawai’i,
which was spent resting up after our long passage from Fanning Island,
reconnecting with United States culture and society, celebrating the holidays
with an eclectic group of cruisers, doing a few boat repairs, and seeing some
of the Big Island.
Hilo is a laid back town, and there were many sights to
appreciate locally. We enjoyed its unique flora and fauna.
Hawai’i has many colorful songbirds, both native and
introduced. Around Hilo, we mostly saw the introduced species, but still couldn’t
help admiring the bright red head of the yellow-billed cardinal. We saw several
of the only species of native Hawaiian hawk, a chubby bird that looks more like
an owl. The introduced coqui frog, a type of tree frog, serenaded us with a
deafening chorus in the evenings, as we walked down the hill to Radio Bay. And
we saw many mongoose, whose story in Hawai’i has been well documented.
One of the trees sure to catch your eye in Hilo is the
umbrella-shaped monkeypod tree.
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| One of Hilo's many monkeypod trees |
Also known as a “rain tree,” we have seen these trees elsewhere
in our travels; but the specimens we saw on Hawai’i had much denser foliage
than others we’ve seen. We learned that the “rain tree” moniker comes from the
fact that the tree folds up its leaves in response to rain---a cool adaptation
to a dry climate---so that the rain saturates the soil directly beneath the
trees (and indirectly, its roots.) Supposedly, the grass really is always
greener under a monkeypod tree!
Another beautiful local tree is the African tulip tree, an
introduced species that thrives in the Hawaiian climate.
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| The red-orange blooms of an African tulip tree |
Another tree that is well represented on the Big Island---and which also we saw frequently throughout the Marquesas---is the banyan tree. Here is a banyan shown with some tourists standing next to it for scale:
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| Banyan dwarfing tourists |
Hilo's homage to banyans, Banyan Drive, is lined with banyan trees planted by celebrities starting in around 1935. Richard Milhouse Nixon planted a banyan on Banyan Drive. Some of the tree planters are memorialized with flowers to this day, such as these bouquets found beneath Amelia Earhart's banyan.
Under other banyans, the plaques have been vandalized or removed.
The loveliest garden was planted at the foot of Hawaiian princess Abigail Kawananakoa's banyan.
I was unfamiliar with some of the names represented on the plaques, which led me to do some research on Dr. Toyohiko Kagawa, a man who---like Mother Theresa---attended to the "sick, suffering, hungry, poor, and dying:" only Dr. Kagawa worked in the slums of Shinkawa, Japan instead of in the slums of Calcutta.
Hilo has many small local parks, what I like to call “pocket
parks.” They are beautiful natural areas that are not very extensive, including
many of the local beaches. One of the larger parks is Liliuokalani Gardens, a
Japanese garden, and a beautiful spot for a casual stroll.
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| Bridge and reflection in Liliuokalani Gardens |
Near Liliuokalani Gardens is the Suisan Fish Market, where
local fishing boats deliver fresh catch daily.
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| Da best poke bowl evah, ya? |
Just up the hill from downtown are Hilo’s Rainbow Falls.
While we didn’t see any rainbows at the base of the falls (we probably didn’t
arrive early enough in the morning), it was a scenic local stop.
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| Rainbow Falls |
While in Hilo, we visited the Pacific Tsunami Museum. Part
of Hilo’s history is the history of tsunamis in the Pacific. Hilo suffered a
massive, devastating tsunami in 1946, before widespread knowledge about what
tsunamis are, and before a tsunami warning system had been put into place. The 7.1 magnitude earthquake generating the tsunami originated near the Aleutian Islands. As
the sea retreated from the intertidal area, people flocked to the exposed rocks
to collect fish and shellfish. People who recognized the warning signs and tried to warn others about the impending wave were treated with disbelief because of the unfortunate date the tsunami occurred: April Fool's Day. There were 173 fatalities. On May 23, 1960, an 8.3 magnitude quake originating off the coast of Chile generated another seismic sea wave. During the 1960
tsunami, warning and evacuation plans were in place, and there were far fewer
fatalities (61). Even with the warning
plan in place, some people ignored the warnings, and some actually went towards the beach to
see the wave. After the 1960 tsunami, the town of Hilo moved its waterfront
back from the water. Entire former neighborhoods and the historical commercial
center of Hilo are now park lands; while the current downtown area is set a safer distance
from the waterfront. Further north, the town of Laupahoehoe, which was hardest
hit by the 1946 tsunami, also moved its location from the shoreline to the ridge
above the shoreline.
One of the neighborhoods destroyed in the 1960 tsunami was Waiakea Town, a primarily Japanese community near Hilo's waterfront. In another one of Hilo's informal memorials, people still leave flowers at the base of the Waiakea Town Clock----the hands of which are permanently frozen at 1:04 [a.m.], the time a 20 to 30-foot wave struck it--- in memory of the lives lost in the tsunami. A golf course now stands where Waiakea Town formerly stood.
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| The Waiakea clock survived the 1946 tsunami but permanently records the time of the 1960 event |
We also learned that a tsunami hit Hilo in 1957, between the 1946 and 1960 tsunami events, but since
there were no fatalities in that tsunami, it is lesser known.
The Pacific Tsunami Museum itself is located in an historic
building that survived both the 1946 and 1960 tsunamis. The museum is text-heavy
and not as interactive as it could be, but there are some videos of survivors’
stories and an interesting tsunami warning simulation. I found that the stories
of the survivors were the most compelling parts of the museum.
We also enjoyed the Lyman Museum and Mission House. The
museum had excellent collections of Hawai’ian cultural artifacts, shells, and
minerals; and the tour of the Mission House was worth it for the interesting
story behind the vocational program at the Hilo Boarding School for Boys. Several pieces of fine wood furniture produced by the Boy's School woodshop were on display in the Mission House.
While in Hilo, we rented a car for a week in order to do some boat chores and so we could do some sightseeing farther afield. Our first trip was to the Kona coast, where we met up with our friends Mike and Marie, who were vacationing for a week. We had a meandering walk along one of the beaches near the harbor, where we saw some ancient Hawaiian fish ponds and a lot of basking sea turtles.
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| Sea turtle basking on the Kona coast | | |
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| Patrick and Mike on the dunes...We never got that group photo, Marie! |
On a second trip to Kona to do some reprovisioning at Costco, we drove around the south end of the island and visited South Point, the southernmost point in the United States. South Point is also one of the windiest spots in Hawaii, and a dozen or so large windmills were whizzing away just above the point. On the point itself, there were the remains of a heiau, or temple (our photo of it didn't turn out well), as well as these interesting "canoe holes."
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| Ancient Hawaiians tied their boats to anchor rocks like this one |
The wind and currents are so strong at South Point that ancient Hawaiians, fishing from their canoes, would anchor themselves to land by tying their boat off to a boulder on shore in order not to be swept out to sea. In both the Marquesas and in Hawai'i, we saw smaller versions of these rocks that were used as underwater canoe anchors. The water at South Point is too deep to use a canoe anchor; thus began the practice of using canoe holes on shore.
One of our favorite places on the Big Island was the Hawai’i
Tropical Botanical Garden. While many in the collection of flowering orchids,
heliconia, anthurium, and other brilliant species are exotic (non-native to
Hawai’i), the garden is a spectacle.
We also found the introduced but
irresistible gold dust day gecko basking
among the bromeliads on Bromeliad Hill. (Gold dust day geckos are native to Madagascar.)
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| A gold dust day gecko |
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| The remarkable palette of colors on a gold dust day gecko |
After our visit to the botanical garden, we continued our exploration of the Hamakua coast with a visit to Akaka Falls.
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| Akaka Falls |
There, we learned that an endemic fish, a goby called 'o'opu alamo'o in Hawaiian, is capable of migrating up the 420 foot Akaka falls! The gobies prefer the upper reaches of fresh water streams.
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| Patrick and the goby's preferred habitat |
We went as far north as the majestic Waipi'o Valley, but we arrived late in the day and did not make the hike down into the valley.
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| Waipio Valley: One of many magnificient valleys between pleated pali (sea cliffs) |
Another favorite spot on the island of Hawai'i was Kilauea in Volcanoes National
Park. Unfortunately, we were unable to make it to Mauna Loa or Mauna Kea (which
requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle to reach the summit), but all indications are
that we would have enjoyed them equally well. The National Park is one of the
largest tracts of wilderness on the Big Island, if not the largest.
We made three trips to Kilauea. Our neighbors on sailing yacht Amandla invited us to go along with them on two excursions. During the first, we took
a naturalist-guided hike to Mauna Ulu, a summit on the eastern rift zone of
Kilauea. On this hike, we had our first encounter with nene, the Hawaiian native geese. Our park naturalist guide, Adrian, also introduced us to a variety of the native plant species found in the park.
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| Lisa and Fabio of SY Amandla on the hike to Mauna Ulu |
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| Note the light blue band on the male nene's leg: These nene are part of the park's breeding program |
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| Ohelo berries are a favorite food of nene: Edible for people too! |
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| Pukiawe (pronounced "pukiave") is another food source for nene |
We learned that the first species to colonize bare lava are lichens and ferns.
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| Pioneer species |
One of the most prolific native trees on the island of Hawai'i is the O'hia lehua tree. This tree looks exactly like the pohutukawa, or New Zealand Christmas tree. One very significant difference is that the stomata on the leaves of O'hia lehua trees close in response to sulfur dioxide gas; while the stomata on pohutukawa don't share this adaptation to a potentially toxic volcanic environment. How cool is that?
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| A young O'hia lehua tree |
Adrian, our guide, was a wealth of knowledge about the native plants on the volcano. He also shared some cultural information with us, like this legend of the O'hia lehua tree: O'hia was a handsome young man, in love with the maiden Lehua. This young man caught the notice of the volcano goddess, Pele, and she presented herself to him. Pele wanted O'hia to be her husband. O'hia refused because he was deeply in love with Lehua. His refusal enraged the goddess Pele, so she turned O'hia into a tree. Some of the other gods, hearing of Pele's wrath, took pity on the star-crossed lovers, and turned Lehua into this red blossom, so that O'hia and Lehua could always be together.
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| O'hia and Lehua: together forever |
During the hike to Mauna Ulu, we also saw an interesting variety of lava formations.
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| A spatter rampart |
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| A lava pit |
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| Volcanic landscape on Kilauea |
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| Our hiking group on the trail to Mauna Ulu |
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| A view of Mauna Ulu and the steam vents on the eastern rift zone of Kilauea |
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| A lava tree: The tree inside has been incinerated by the lava's heat, but the form remains |
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| A lava tree and a tree mold: "Lava trees go up, tree molds go down." That's what he said. |
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| Lavascape |
On the second trip, we drove down the Chain of Craters Road to the
Holei sea arch, then visited the summit caldera of Kilauea. During our visit to the Big Island, we were disappointed to learn that the live lava from Kilauea is not currently flowing into the sea. We were hoping to both hike to the lava and see it entering the sea at night, as we sailed past the south end of the Big Island. Instead, the live lava is now burning a path through virgin rainforest, and the only way to see it is by helicopter. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the Chain of Craters Road and the area around the Holei sea arch, where lava has spilled from Kilauea's caldera in the past and made its way downhill to the sea.
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| Cooled lava flows along the Chain of Craters Road with a rain squall in the background |
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| The Holei sea arch |
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| Flow patterns in lava on the edge of the sea |
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| A fern fiddlehead pattern made out of ropy lava |
The highlight of our visit to the summit caldera was to see the smaller crater within the caldera, Halema'uma'u Crater. This crater currently has a live lava lake in the bottom of it; however, due to danger from sulfur dioxide fumes, visitors are not allowed close enough to see the lava. The best we could do was to observe the volcanic gases rising from the lava lake at the bottom of the crater. However, this spectacle is enough to give you the feeling that you are on an active volcano!
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| Halema'uma'u Crater on a lava plain within the Kilauea summit crater |
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| At sunset, you can see the faint pink glow from the lava lake reflected in the plume of volcanic gases |
On our third and final trip to Kilauea, we hiked through rainforest and across a lava plain on the Kiluaea Iki
trail.
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| View from the Kilauea Iki overlook: Halema'uma'u crater in the background; the lava plain and the "bathtub ring" where the flowing lava piled up against the cliff bases |
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| Team Crochety on the volcano |
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| The disturbed lava looks like an asphalt freeway after an earthquake |
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| Patrick feels the heat from a steam vent on the lava plain |
We also made a brief trip to the Puna district, where we
visited Lava Tree State Park and I had a relaxing soak and swim in the
Ahalanui Thermal Pool.This black lava pool contains a mixture of volcanically-heated fresh water and sea water. The sea water enters the pool through a cut in the sea wall at the far end; while the fresh water enters through vents along the sides of the pool.
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| The temperature in the thermal pool was ideal on the day we visited |
After seven weeks in Radio Bay, we both felt that it was
time to move on. We had waited two additional weeks beyond when we were
actually ready to leave in order to have a favorable weather window to explore
a few anchorages on the Kona (leeward) side of the island. The title for this
post really should have been In the Lee of the Big Island, but
“cruising happens while you’re making other plans.” Shortly after we got
underway from Radio Bay, we heard a revised forecast over the radio. Yet another high surf advisory was being
given for Kona. In the meantime, we were making slow progress. We either had
winds on the nose or no wind at all, and we were only making two or three knots
whether sailing or motoring. It took us a day and a half (including two nights
at sea) to reach our first proposed anchorage on the Kona Coast, Honamolino
Bay. However, as forecast, the surf was high, and Patrick didn’t like the look
of the anchorage; so we continued on. I was sorry to miss seeing Pu'uhonua o Honaunau, the
historical park known as the Place of Refuge, which we had hoped to visit by dinghy from
this anchorage.
In Kaleakekua Bay, we again decided not to anchor overnight
due to surf; but the cove near Cook’s Monument (where no anchoring is allowed
due to the presence of coral) was calm enough for me to jump off the boat for a
quick snorkel.
With high surf on the Kona shore preventing us from
anchoring, we decided to continue across the Alenuihaha Channel to Maui. We
headed for the Alenuihaha Channel in ideal conditions, with fifteen knots of
wind forecast from a favorable direction. That night was forecast as clear,
while possible thunderstorms were predicted for the following night.
Knowing we were going to be underway that night, we fell
into our normal nap routine shortly after lunch. I relieved Patrick at the helm
in the late afternoon after I had taken an hour and a half nap. In retrospect,
as I pulled farther away from the Kona Coast while Patrick took his turn for a
nap, there was an strange feeling to the afternoon. I was hand steering as the
boat ghosted along at one to two knots in light airs. It was so quiet, I could
hear the blows of humpback whales that were surfacing at some distance from the
boat. One large bull was lolling at the surface, waving its flipper,
occasionally rolling over, and bellowing. A school of dolphins came up to the
boat, an unusual encounter in several respects:
first, because we were going so slow, and dolphins usually eschew boats
they can’t bow ride; and second, because
the dolphins lifted their heads out of the water and made eye contact. It was
so silent when the first dolphin approached, I could actually hear its squeal.
It was a magical, mystical late afternoon---just me and the sails and the
blows, bellows, and squeals of marine mammals---but in hindsight, it was eerie.
After Patrick got up from his nap, we listened to the
weather as we ate a quick dinner. Weather forecasts in Hawai’i change more
often than people change their minds, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that
the forecast had changed again. A special marine advisory had popped up from
the weather center at Honolulu. Radar had detected a line of electrical storms
capable of producing water spouts, with attendant winds of 40 knots, headed in
our direction. Mariners were advised to “take safe harbor immediately.” Oh,
great.
Patrick and I discussed it, but with the high surf advisory
against the lee shore of Kona and no apparent “safe harbor” behind us, we
decided to keep going. It was also unlikely, even if we did turn around at that
point, that we would be able to outrun the squalls, which were traveling much
faster than we were. I lay down for another nap with an uneasy feeling at 7
p.m. while Patrick took the first watch of the night. At 9 p.m., Patrick woke
me with the call to get dressed and stand by. We were in the Alenuihaha
Channel, and the first storm was over us. Patrick was already steering in 28-30
knot winds, pouring rain, and lightning. He had seen the storm coming on radar,
so when I asked if he needed his rain gear or ski goggles, his reply was, “I already
have them.” The boat was pointed all over the map---a good portion of time
headed back towards the island of Hawai’i---as the wind rotated around it, and
Patrick simply tried to hold the boat up into the wind. Luckily, none of the
lightning ever hit close to us and we didn’t encounter any water spouts. The
maximum gust was a little higher than forecast at 42 knots.
A couple of hours later, after the large storm cells had
passed and the winds were steadying up in the low to mid-twenties, we put up sail.
Not long after that, we dropped the sail again and started the engine, as the
wind had all but completely died again. At this point, we were both thoroughly
frustrated because we had made so little progress all night. We were about a
third of the way across the channel when Patrick woke me, and we were still a
third of the way across the channel, four hours later. At 1:00 a.m., Patrick---who
had already been up three hours past the end of his watch---took a turn in the
pilot berth. I made myself a cup of coffee and settled in for a watch.
Somewhere along the way, I had gotten my second wind. I felt wide awake and like I could go on forever.
Suddenly, two pieces of good luck happened. First, the wind
moved behind us for the first time on our supposed “downwind run” from the Big
Island westward; and second, it increased in strength. I joyfully threw out
the jib as we screamed across the Alenuihaha Channel on a broad reach. Patrick
woke up briefly, and I told him to catch another hour of sleep. I engaged the
wind vane, and the Monitor took over the steering. I held on and enjoyed the
sleigh ride as once again, the effect of five knots of boat speed was
positively dizzying after only traveling at one to three knots for the past two days!
I kept thinking I should furl some sail. But then: a reality check: Our angle of heel was below 15 degrees, our
boat speed was only five knots, and the wind speed was under 20 knots: We were fine! I sat back and enjoyed the
speed as the distance between the boat and Maui diminished. After awhile, Silhouette
started hitting over six knots consistently, as the wind slightly built. She
started yawing a bit since we didn’t have the main up to balance the jib. And
visions of the many humpback whales I had seen during daylight that afternoon
started running through my mind. It was a miracle we hadn’t hit one in the dark!
I partially furled the jib and slowed the boat down a knot.
I woke Patrick to relieve me at 4:30 a.m. I went to bed
after being up since 9:00 p.m. and most of the previous day and was up again at
7:30 a.m. The wind had lightened up and we were approaching the channel between
Maui and Kaho'olawe island. Patrick caught a brief morning nap, but I had to disturb him
when I feared that a tug and tow on our stern was going to try to squeeze
between Silhouette and the island of
Molokini (which was to starboard on the right side of the channel). After the name of the tug popped up on our Automatic Identification System (AIS) , Patrick gave them a
call on the radio and together they decided that Silhouette would move to the Molokini
side of the channel, as the tug was planning a turn to port after passing Kaho'olawe.
We spent the rest of the day on a slow approach to Lahaina,
sailing, motor-sailing, and finally motoring when the wind died completely. We
were treated to a show from humpback whales along the way: whales breaching, slapping their tails,
spouting, and waving their gargantuan flippers in a leviathan display of
colossal proportions.
We took a mooring in Lahaina around 3 p.m. that afternoon
and couldn’t have been happier. What had started out as an overnight sail from
Radio Bay had turned into three nights at sea.
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| A good day on the water |
