Blue, blue is my world...with a touch of yellow.
Koko Head is one of the places a person returns to often...the more frequent, the better. Besides rather
stunning views including wonderful sunrises, it keeps a person honest. By that we mean it's a grueling climb of
some 1,200 feet and usually against competition and always, the clock. It is also treacherous in places, particularly
when walking along the sleepers across the bridge. The 1,048 steps begin steeply and become even more acute over the
second half. By the time a person reaches the final third, one is really tired and is then greeted by the steepest
segment of the climb.
Still blue but more yellow light.
City of Honolulu begins to wake at dawn.
Editor reflects while waiting for daylight after a record climb to the peak.
We hiked last Wednesday to the top and then onto the rim. Our times were less than satisfactory then
and so we convinced our editor to try again but this time with the sunrise as a reward. We knocked off ten
and five minutes respectively, achieving personal records. This means that we are positioned towards the bottom
of the fastest three million climbers. At least we have potential to improve. If things go as planned, we might
have a couple more runs at Koko Head.
Dawning...morning has broken.
Clouds and mountains glint in the early morning sun.
Unhindered sun shines all the way from California coastline.
Houses nestled on slope bask in early morning sun.
We awoke at 5:15am with the intention of getting to the summit before the sun. We made it but have now learned
a number of new terms. An overload of information can be confusing. Besides dawn and sunrise, our old favorites,
we now can be at the peak by 'Astro-twilight, Nautical-twilight or Civil-twilight. There must be more occasions
we have missed. It seems the editor is planning on a more comfortable time of mid-morning tea with cookies and sweat.
City lights of Honolulu at dawn, Diamond Head on left.
Palm trees on the summit of Koko Head face a ball of fire.
Looking down from the peak of Koko Head into Maunalua Bay.
When we arrived at the trailhead in the dark, we thought of Mom. We are in the middle of winter, it was dark,
we hadn't eaten but we were ready to ascend.
"Where's your sweater, Jeffrey? It's the middle of winter, you'll catch a death of a cold."
'Mom, it's nearly 70 degrees.'
"It's dark outside. You'll lose your way."
She's probably correct about that.
"You don't think you could wait a little for the sun to rise?
"With your body exposed like that in the wind, you'll get a stiff neck."
'I'll cover up, Mom.'
"You haven't had breakfast. You'll faint from low blood-sugar and fall off the mountain."
'I'll have a banana to start. Mom.'
"I didn't raise you to act like a monkey. This hiking is not for me."
'I didn't think so, Mom. After all, you are 86 years old. And by the way, Mom, I'm six-two already.
Maybe you should let go a little.'
"And I always thought Jenni had more sense than you."
'Live and learn.'
The early light and its effects on the clouds never fail to delight.
The valley wakes gently, touched by the soft morning light.
Golden lights below Diamond Head as camera struggles in early dawn light.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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