Huh! An expressive face tells the story, still another 1,500 feet to ascend. Interesting terrain, too.
The owner of the bag took a look at the cliff wall and ran the opposite way.
We are often reminded when we see plants surviving in extreme circumstances that we have
to manage 'the hand we are dealt'. It's a tough lesson to learn...to accept.
We were preparing for the Mauna Kea ascent, a few hundred feet less than 5,000, so we thought a warm
up would be in order. However, although this hike of close to 8 miles and an ascent of 2,000 feet seemed just
right, it turned out to be much tougher than anticipated. Sometimes one gets it wrong even though the heart
is in the right place, well, left side to be more accurate. Sometimes we get it wrong often. though.
The opening picture, one or two unpublished photos too, capture Jenni's face in the most natural state
of bewilderment. The expressions portray more than words how tough the climb was on a very rough path, steep
incline and once again, wind and heat. Good thing we are in the middle of winter on the Island of Hawaii.
Nature is, at times, quite humbling when it produces such scenes.
Not the smoothest, nor the most gentle of slopes, nor without wind.
When the world gets too much...Actually, we called a rest period in the forest earlier. Editor
overrode the suggestion and we rested after 6.5 miles on the 'soft lava' instead.
Our stay on the island was split between the east and west coasts, Hilo and Kona respectively.
We actually stayed in Volcano, nearly thirty miles south of Hilo. The average rainfall in this area
is 150 inches per year—unbelievable. Fortunately, we got it right and seemed to be in the region between
storms and raindrops. On the other side of the island, the rainfall is a mere ten inches per annum.
The contrasts are amazing. From Mauna Loa and Kea summits, clouds blanketed the eastern region on all
three occasions we climbed the latter volcanoes.
A peek into another crater, very bleak or perhaps, opencast mining in Hawaii.
After climbing out the crater on the Iki Trail, we see smoke and of course, think there must be fire.
In the town of Volcano, we rented a two-bedroom house in what seemed like a forest. Although we had
neighbors surrounding us, we never heard or saw them. When we strolled down the roads in the development,
it was rare to see a car. Although there is electricity, water is obtained through rain collected in tanks
either under the house or in the backyard. On opening a faucet or flushing a toilet, the pump 'kicks in'
and the water flows. Trash is not collected from where we were positioned—owners dump it themselves.
In many of the places we have visited, we think it's possible to live in the wilderness and never
be discovered. To state the obvious, it is a very large world contrary to the clique of 'Nowhere to hide'.
We are not intending to flee just yet, Mom.
A contrast of the near desolate with the very much alive, enough to make spirits soar.
Looking back from the lava-covered landscape and viewing reclaimed land between cliff and ocean.
Previous week we hiked down and back up, a little west of this position.
The mentalities and idiosyncrasies of people are interesting. Our landlord, Len, a very interesting man,
recounted stories of some of his tenants. Perhaps, our oddities will be passed onto future visitors, too.
Things are extremely casual on the islands. However, tourists arrive and lock cars and house doors, we
certainly do. When we left Volcano for Kona, we left the house open with the front door key hanging inside
the entrance. Our cottage in the Kona or Captain Cook district does not have a key to the entrance.
Perhaps that's why so many geckos visited us (see end). Anyway, following along with the security issue,
we were camped in our car on Mauna Loa on Sunday night, watching the rain and hoping for a visible sunset.
Along came a car, parked next to us and a man alighted. He locked the car and stood twenty feet from us,
returned to his vehicle, took out an umbrella and relocked it. We can only conclude he was driven solely
by habit or we look like thieves preying on unlocked cars in the middle of nowhere, thousands of feet
above sea level.
coast line, the shimmering water and the 'newish' lava beach.
You put a dent in the Mazda, you ride in the back, Editor. Our carport roof has had better days.
The house is tucked away in a suburb of Volcano, a quiet forest-like environment. It is unique.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
Guess who's come for (to/as) dinner? Is this red or white meat? Don't be dumb, it's obviously green. (Sorry!)
No comments:
Post a Comment