McBryde Garden/National Tropical Botanical Garden

Something we didn't do during our 2009 Kauai visit was tour the McBryde Garden/National Tropical Botanical Garden. There are certainly larger tropical gardens we have seen--many free and open to the public--but the McBryde features perhaps the largest collection of plants native to Hawaii. (Very little of what one actually sees here).

Main building/gift shop

Weird tropical fruit

The whole place is a couple hundred of acres, up from a
beautiful cove

More weird tropical fruit

South Florida, where I was born and raised, is loaded with

tropical vegetation; but Hawaii has the best hibisci

Vineyard, sort of

Staghorn fern, like one my mother had (until it was stolen)

Oozing orchid

Who can resist orchids?

Who can resist orchids, 2

Who can resist orchids, 3

An heron looks for lunch in the stream, surrounded by
papyrus

Mapplethorpe plant

Lipstick plant

Kauai North Coast

So one day we spent doing waterfalls on the east side of the island and then the north coasts...

Kauai waterfall and pool

Waialeale...the big one...see below

Not the rainiest place on earth, by inches of precip, but by

number of annual days of precip...360

Kilauea Lighthouse

We drove up around the top, shopped at Hanipepe, and visited

the beginning of the Kalalau Trail and the Na Pali coast

Norm and I got as far as the half mile marker; enough,

considering...

The view back down the trail; although it had rained lately,

the trail did not seem nearly as slippery as in February, 2009,

the last time I was on it; nor was I carrying all our

backpacking stuff...

Looking toward the Na Pali and more of the trail; I have some

seriously conflicting feelings about this place...

One of the big wet caves near the beginning of the trail

Return To Rooster Island

So we are on Cow Eye with Norm and Marie, guests of Bob and Beth, at a time-share on the east coast of the island, at Kapa'a. The time-share is right on the water, and we have a great view of the breakers, reef, paddle boarding, etc., from the balcony. Also the rain. Vicki and I spent a week or more here in 2009, doing all the sights, the Kalalau Trail, etc., and I devoted half a dozen posts to Rooster Island back then (search Kauai). So now I have more pix of all this, but I'll spare you, Gentle Reader, these updates. With one exception.

From what we have seen over the past 3 days, the feral fowl population of Kauai has diminished a bit. But one still doesn't have to go very far to find them. Any public place or parking lot will do. Apparently the departments of health and sanitation have done some Avian Flu preparedness drills and thus raised consciousness, if there was any.

A typical specimen; not an endangered species, as they say

So we are at a beach on the south coast near Poopie-Poopie or somesuch when 
there is a great flutterment among the fowl, all making a mad dash, a veritable 
stampede, for the pick-up that has just arrived. Apparently they know this guy.
The back of his truck is loaded with foods scraps, scoured no doubt from the 
dumpsters of the thousands of condos that line the coast here. At first I thought 
he was a county employee, distributing specially-doctored feed to the cluckers. 
(In Venice, they have brought the pigeon population under control by feeding 
them grain laced with sterilizing agents). But no, he was just a kind soul, with 
a special affection and compassion for poultry. "They are homeless, and 
someone has to feed them," he said in response to my innocent query. Obviously 
he hasn't been watching the Republican "debates." "Let him die!"

A homeless family feasts on Cheerios; family values among poultry are still 
pretty strong, despite these tough times

Ground-level view of chicken feed

After the chicken feed, Mr. Compassion turns his attention to a couple of  possibly 
homeless tourist cuties

And some extended hitting on the chicks; compassionately

In any case, the rooster notoriety has become big money here, and I doubt the 
poultry population will decline much more; at least until the pandemic...

Not pictured: Lihue, Kapa'a (Kapa'a Shores), assorted forgettable waterfalls, Anahola, Princeville (ick!), Hanalei, Wainiha Bay, Wet and Dry Caves (and moist caves), Kalalau Trail, Na Pali Coast, Mt. Waialeale, Poipu, the National Tropical Botanical Garden, Hanapepe, the Grand Canyon of the Pacific, Kalalau Lookout, Salt Pond Beach, Waimea, and more. See the previous Kauai posts. Maybe I'll do a Kauai out-takes post some day. 

Aloha, Hawaii

Arizona Memorial

Diamond Head

Monday we packed and turned in the Subaru, flew from Kaua'i to Honolulu, retrieved our bags from Bob Buss & Co. (thanks, again, wonderful Humanite people), and then repacked for the trip Tuesday to San Francisco. FWIW, our last night in Hawai'i was in a motel near the airport; not in a car or in the county park.

One might think of this as the end of our trip. Well, it is the end of the Asia/Pacific leg. For now. We have seen so much to which we want to return. For the next several weeks we will reorganize, refit, and re-provision, with our daughter Rebecca in Menlo Park, back “home” in Missoula mooching off friends there, and then in Orlando with Vicki's sister, Marie. There will be a reunion with Rebecca and Rachel in Orlando and a visit to my sister Carole and her family in Weston. And then we will be off again in early May—this time to Eurasia in an RV.

End of Kaua'i

Waimea Canyon, "the Grand Canyon of the Pacific"

Not too many chefs...

Surfing at Anaholi

More surfing at Anaholi

Forester Encampment

Sunday we drove back to Waimea, viewing the Waimea canyon again, and through Lihue, and then up the east coast to Anaholi, where we camped for the night at the county park. We're experienced at this now. Anaholi is an entirely different kind of place from Salt Pond, a very small camping area, all locals but for one other apparent tourist couple. The cove, as it were, is perhaps a mile wide, but the waves were gigantic—beyond the shoals, they looked far higher than the shore—and then they crashed on the shoals and dissipated. The final 100 yards to the beach was entirely calm, a surf of a foot or two. Farther out, half a dozen people were surfing in the watery tumult. See illustration.

We had a great lunch earlier in the day at Bennicke's at Poipu, so dinner was the final left-overs from our travels. I attempted to add roast chicken bits to chicken rice soup with chicken boullion, over coals left by pick-nickers (our propane had run out). The chickens watched with interest. I was tempted to see whether they would eat roast chicken breast, but then I was hungry myself.

Vicki insists I divulge that we slept in the rental car that last night on Kaua'i. It was a Subaru Forester, just like the one we used to own in Missoula, and the rear seat folds down to make a sleeping area just about the size of a 2 person tent. We had already packed for the plane, it was blustery, blowing salt spray everywhere, so, yes, our last night on Kaua'i was in the car, at the county park. At least the crashing surf and the windows rolled up muted the roosters a bit.

Koke'e, Kalalau, and Pihea

So there we were, at 4,000 feet, 20 degrees latitude north (about like Cuba), end of February, wearing our down jackets from the Himalayas. Cold and very wet outside. In order for us (me) to do some hiking in this area, Vicki booked us for two nights in the Koke'e State Park cabins. “Cabin” apparently is an Hawai'ian euphemism for shack or shanty. It was not as cheap as the county park ($3 per person); actually, at $75 a night we thought it was overpriced. There is a wood-burning stove in the “cabin,” and we are feeding it everything that will burn, especially considering the concessionaire charges $7.95 a 5-gallon bundle for firewood. I figure, at this price, a typical Hawaiian tree must be worth about $795 trillion. Ever collected fire wood in a rain forest? In the rain?

Saturday I did my hike. It was raining, of course, when I left the cabin. We are only a few miles from Kaua'i's big old volcano, which, at about 5,000 feet, is officially the wettest place on earth. 450 inches a year wet.

My hike was the Pihea trail, which takes you out via a long sort-of knife-edge ridge over the Kalalau canyon to Pihea Peak, and then down into the Swamp. I arrived at the Kalalau Lookout trail-head in the rain, sat in the car for half an hour while it rained, optimistically, and then, sure enough, some blue appeared, and then some more, and then it stopped raining, and then you could actually see some of the canyon below. I knew, in my non-Islands wisdom, it would clear up, the clouds and moisture would soon burn off.

So I donned my rain suit—just a precaution—and set forth over the red lava slabs that cover, or underlie, the ridge. After a few hundred feet, it became apparent this was the same volcanic mush that constitutes the Kalalau trail. The “rock” degenerates into mud of the slipperiest kind. At the half-mile mark, my clouds-burning-off delusion ended, the canyon disappeared, and it rained, and rained, and rained.

Mercifully, the trail was short. I can best describe it as a mixture of rock-climbing and solo mud wrestling. I am sure there was as much exposure as on the Kalalau trail itself, but the vegetation on Pihea entirely covered it. The wind was terrific, rain blowing side-ways. I reached the summit, photographed the marker--in the white-out there was nothing else to photograph—rested and reflected briefly on how much a person can accomplish through delusional determination and persistence, and headed down toward the Swamp. Here, the State of Hawaii has installed wooden staircases, the only concession to trail “improvement” I have seen on Kaua'i. But, after awhile, it occurred to me that a swamp was even less interesting in a white-out than a “mountain” “peak.” So I headed back, ascending, then descending, step by deliberate step. I slipped half a dozen times, but never actually fell. My ribs still ached enough from Kalalau.

We spent the rest of the day feeding the stove and going over the 38,000 photos we have taken on our trip. I think this is what you have with nearly 40G of pix. A few people have asked for slide-shows, and, of course, we will oblige, cutting it down to mere scores, or hundreds. Eventually, I swear, I will do the Picasa albums I have promised.

The Ohe Ohe cabin at Koke'e State Park

Kalalau Valley from Kalalau Lookout; I think Pihea Peak is the highest point on the ridge

Feral Fowl; or, Avian Flu, Anyone?

Feral fowl Up close and personal Feral cats Feral seal 

 Among its many other attractions, Kaua'i has a very large feral chicken population. Wherever people are, there are scores, hundreds, thousands of them, roosters, and hens, and chicks, but most conspicuously, roosters. See illustration. I am sure we have seen and heard 10,000 roosters in the past week. This is no exaggeration. They are clearly the island's largest biomass. Tyson's should buy this island. The guidebooks gloss over the chicken thing as one of the local curiosities. Most tourists stay in isolated, air-conditioned resorts, and do not have to endure the incessant cockle-doodle-doo-ing. They see them at the “sights” and oogle and even feed them. How cute. Look, Danny, it's a rooster, just like on a farm. What's a farm, Dad? I have asked a number of locals about the roosters and have gotten a variety of interesting stories. All begin with the hurricanes that devastated the island in the early 90s. Lots of fowl flew their coops. According to the more colorful stories, among those fleeing the coop were the King's Roosters. (Elvis? He had roosters on Kaua'i?). They mated with the hens that also flew the coop, and thus, their numberless progeny, as royal Polynesian descendants, are “protected.” According to other stories, people like them because they are “natural.” Personally, I think they are repulsive and possibly unhealthy, but that's just culturally-insensitive old me. Kaua'i also has a significant feral cat population. They are apparently tame, even friendly, most just looking for a hand-out or a good home. Cats are so sly. But they also are everywhere, even the Kalalau trail. Kaua'i benefits from them, however. Unlike the Big Island, we have seen no mice on Kaua'i. And the cats don't start screeching at 3AM. I think the cats should be encouraged to take on the roosters. No one else will. Clawageddon.

Kaua'i South and West

Our site at Salt Pond

Yes! We have no papayas! at the National Center for Tropical Botanical...

The Na Pali afternoon cruise

Returning; the "Forbidden Island," Ni'ihau, in the background
Longer-term campers at Salt Pond

After resting, relaxing, and washing, at the Kaua'i Inn in Lihue (expensive, to us, but free internet, breakfast, and very nice and helpful staff people), and re-provisioning, we drove generally west on the island's one coastal road, from Lihue to Hanipepe, stopping at Poipu to gawk at the resorts, and dozens of vacation homes and condos for sale, then an the National Center for Tropical Botanical something-or-other (vastly over-rated by the National Geographic, IMHO; and expensive, at least for a publicly-supported entity), and then finally camping on the beach at Salt Pond.

In our previous visits to Hawaii, we always wondered about camping on the beach, in a state or county park. Salt Pond is such a place, a favorite among locals. The old guys hang out there all day and well into the night, drinking and smoking in the covered pavilions, and doubtlessly scaring the teenies away. This is good. Salt Pond is a beautiful beach, small, but scenic, on the dry side of the island. There were about a dozen tents, the usual international mix. The one we set up next to the first night, unfortunately, turned out to be a case of local domestic dis-tranquility. We learned lots of new and interesting expressions (“get out of my #$%@-ing life!”; the tent is his; the pick-up hers; the stereo is his; the kids?; etc.). The beach and environs were nonetheless wonderful, if breezy. Hey, if we can hitch-hike on Monday, we can camp in the county park on Wednesday. We spent most of the 60s trying to claw our way into the middle class, rather than dropping out of it, so we have a lot of hippie-time to make up for.

We were awakened quite early the next morning by the island-wide feral rooster population (see next post), about 3AM, to be exact. Earplugs are no protection against these monsters. And, pursuing male competitiveness, they continue all day and into the night, trying to out-cockle-doodle-do each other. At 6:30AM, the park ranger showed up, asking for our permit. Civil servants are so conscientious. We had no permit, but knew we could buy one on the spot when so greeted. We were thinking perhaps the evening before, just after cocktails, not an hour before dawn's rosy fingers. But it's always good to get an early start on the day.

After buying a permit for the next night, moving our site much closer to the beach and away from the love-birds, we drove on to the end of the road, Waimea, Polihale, and the missile range. Even in paradise we have missile ranges. Thank you, DOD, Homeland Security, and USN. All this is a different part of the island, the south-west, dry, flat, 360 clear days per year, right up to where the Na Pali cliffs end on the west side. Another road that does not go ever on, but I'll spare readers the photograph.

We spent Thursday afternoon on the beach, Vicki reading her latest Sara Douglass novel (4th in a series of 6), me fighting off Beach Boredom. We were both born in Miami, had ample beach experience as teens, but have never returned to nor enjoyed the beach MO. The surf and waves are endlessly interesting...for about fifteen minutes. And I do not go in water that does not have significant chlorine content. The major entertainment of the afternoon was a Hawaiian monk seal sleeping on the sand next to us, just a few feet away. The tide was coming in, and every time it reached him he squiggled up a bit further on the beach, then collapsed again into deepest slumber. I wonder what he was thinking, or dreaming...the beach full of people, himself alone, cordoned-off by the life-guards, with signs about threatened species, do not disturb, no flash photography, etc. Was he bored?

Kalalau Curiosities

Avast! Whales; They're There, I Swear

Much of the Trail Passes Through An 
Old Coffee Plantation

Beans All Over the Place

This Was One of the Relatively Dry Spots

Part of the "Campground" at Mile 6; a Disgrace

Feral Kitty on the Trail

Another Hiker, After Quitting the Trail, 
Disgustedly Deposited Her Shoes in the 

Rubbish Bin; I Retrieved Them and Began 
This Incipient Kalalau Shoe Tree at the 
Trail-head

Vicki adds:

February 24, 2009—Kauai

So we are back one day early from our hike of the Na Pali coast. For me it was very disappointing not to have made it back all the way to the last beach. That beach and the surrounding valley and cliffs (and illegal hippie camping), are what everyone wants to see--maybe in my next reincarnation or when we have won the lottery and can afford the helicopter tour. The trail has been rated a difficulty of 9 out of 10 by the Sierra Club, so even to have done more than half was an accomplishment.

The day hike part ends after two miles—that is also the end of most maintenance. One of the semi-permanent residents who was hiking out to get provisions said that Hawaii doesn't maintain it because the rangers don't walk it; they fly into the last valley by helicopter to issue citations for all the illegal campers and then fly out, at $500 an hour. I can see that the state does have a dilemma. If they make it easier then even more illegals will be able to get back there and walk in and out for provisions, etc. However, if Hawaii put a ranger back there and collected the camping fees and enforced the rules, they could probably collect enough money to pay the ranger's salary. We did have permits, but I had a very strong feeling hardly anyone else did. You can only get them by mail or in person in Honolulu and at least 7 days in advance. The weather was part of the reason we couldn't make it. Though it was pretty dry on our four days, it had rained for two weeks solid before. If we could have waited two days for the trail to dry some, it would have made all the difference. But crazy us, we try to follow the rules! I take comfort in the fact that after the day hike part, I saw no woman over 30 and only 1 man our age—a German.

So now we are back at our cheap $100 a day motel, a mile from the bus stop and beach—and not able to get a rental car until tomorrow. Today I rest my knee, wash clothes and boots, and spend hours on the Internet. For those of you not familiar with our future plans, I will explain the need for all this research.

We head back to the mainland next week for 4 days with our daughter Rebecca in San Francisco and then on to our “home” in Missoula for 2 weeks or so. Next we head to Orlando where we will stay with my sister Marie during most of April. Both our daughters are also coming for a 5 day long weekend. Sometime during that 6 weeks, we have to locate a small diesel RV and arrange to have it shipped to Europe for the next 18 month leg of our adventure.