The editor was a little droll today as well as having a teeny ‘bite’ in her humor, too. More about
that later. We received a wonderful surprise on Friday in the form of an email from a good friend from the
old country who, of course, no longer lives there. Dianne Ginsberg, from Sydney, made contact which brought
us joy. Thank you, Di. Talking of South Africa, what sadness for many of us and the country itself; so many
former citizens live elsewhere. Could ‘Cry the Beloved Country’ be more apt?
The Ninja, the Hawaiian State bird...sorry, Nene. 'Who are you looking at, buster?'
Jenni reaches the "L" after an exhausting climb with added extras, the summit still higher to go. (See cryptic note to right about large photo's)
'A little telephoto' from the summit approximately 4 miles away.
One of the first questions Dianne asked was whether our directions, (she obviously remembered how
bad they were), had improved. Truth be told, we would rather be remembered for something more substantial.
However, at this stage, we’ll take whatever we can get. Today, we headed for a somewhat dubious trailhead
that is apparently closed and promptly got lost in the bush. We think that’s a good enough answer for Dianne.
We ended up traipsing across gulches and on the mountain in the real thick stuff, sans trail. After 50 minutes,
we regrouped a little beyond the trailhead and commenced once again. We tried to explain to the editor that it
was a very good warm-up for the tough trail. She didn't buy that. The hike is rated strenuous and is, indeed.
We were not impressed when the editor, lost in the tall grass, wondered if we might be the first people to discover
snakes in Hawaii.
The "L" magnified from a few hundred feet above ground-level; the grave at the summit above.
The high school name begins with...you guessed it, an 'L'—a popular American tradition.
Jenni walks up the 'L'. Always looks closer and less steep than it actually is.
Some Hawaii giants as a backdrop.
Relaxation at the luxury resorts, Ka'anapali or a little action up above.
Up we went, straight up in the tall bushes and finally arrived at the ‘L’ in hot weather. American
colleges and high schools have a tradition of decorating mountainsides with their letters. After the steep
and slippery climb, we headed for David Mahlo’s grave which lies on the summit further up, a man who had influence
on the island nearly two hundred years. Once again, we were not excited to hear our editor whisper,
“Hey, Dave, make space for me; I’m too tired to go down that slope.” Yes, editor, we did hear you.
David Malo's grave. A pall bearer's nightmare.
The surround at this summit while the hiker is dirty, sweaty and...smelly.
'Tree smile' as Jenni emerges from jungle like conditions along top-third of climb.
Mr. Mahlo was a historian, preacher, devout Christian and intellectual. He wanted to be buried this
high so the Western Colonists would not desecrate his grave. Good thinking. They say to bury a person is
an admirable act. However, we say to carry a coffin up a steep slope of 2,000 feet shows enormous love.
David Mahlo married two local girls, not together though, following the death of his wife. The second woman
converted to Christianity and changed her name to Batsheba. The third underwent conversion and called
herself Rebecca. We got to ground-level and called ourselves ‘bloody’ tired.
Commonly termed the 'Nene Goose strut' including designer style ankle bracelets.
Later that evening, we watch another of many daily 'miracles' (nothing further to add).
It was one of those days, but for the last twenty minutes closing in on the peak, that we felt charged up
and afterwards, elated. We leave soon for three days in Haleakala which is the intended highlight of this
island visit. We look forward to time alone in the great volcano with our delightful editor. We warned her
that should the ‘earth move beneath her feet’**, it may not necessarily be a natural eruption. Sometimes,
we flatter ourselves.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
** Apologies to Carole King
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