Postcards from Maui - Going Home

11/10/2011


We awoke before dawn to the lovely sound of a distant marimba … since I left my iphone in the living room (that’s our alarm, and "marimba" is the sound it plays when it’s time to wake up). We were out the door on our run in early light. DeeAnn captured a few shots along our running route.  Here's the trail out on a point (click on images to enlarge). 

There's a path bordered by rocks. Really. Look closer!

Honolua Bay (of surfing fame) is in the distance, only about 2 miles off.

We ran this trail several times during our stay. Amazingly, neither of us is really a trail runner. More amazingly, neither of us fell! From the trail, we climbed up to higher views in Kapalua. Here are some of the views from Kapalua:

Sunrise

View towards Moloka'i

We returned from our run just in time to say our goodbyes to our friends who were leaving for Kaua'i just after 8.

By 8:45 a.m., we again emerged from our room, snorkel gear in hand, to bid farewell to turtles and reef fish. I gave DeeAnn a brief tour of the reef out in front of the point break, too.

There was enough left in the fridge for scrambled eggs with cheese, Portuguese sausage, and coffee. And, with that, we began to pack.  It was now our turn to make the goodbye sound all visitors must make: the click-click-click of our rollerboard luggage’s sidewalk trek from condo to car.

One of our condo “neighbors” created an exterior decoration reminding all passers by of something to look forward to: Valentine’s Day. This will be our 22nd, and there’s every reason to believe it will be the best ever. Here's the decorated condo:

The snorkel gear was dropped off, then I drove to Kihei so DeeAnn could scout for whales. The surfboard went home to Maui Wave Riders in Kihei, and then we were off the airport.

Every moment of every day here has been special and perfect. DeeAnn arranged a special treat: our return flight was nonstop from Kahului, Maui to San Jose (a mere five hours). As we approached the mainland around 10:30 pm, I spotted the bright lights of fishing boats dotting the ocean. Next, I could plainly see the outline of Santa Cruz's coastline below and  Monterey Bay to the south.  We were looking forward to getting home to our three cats.

Aloha!

Postcards from Maui - Day 12

Today was our last full day on Maui. There’s a gazebo that serves breakfast and lunch next door to where we are staying. It's cleverly named "The Gazebo." There isn’t a bad seat in the house. 

Small world story: The hostess notices my Bay-2-Bay race T-shirt and asks what that is. I explained it’s a race from Mission Bay to San Diego bay that include kayaks, outriggers, and paddleboards. So she said she wants to try paddleboarding and mimes holding a paddle. I said I’m a prone paddler, not standup, and she blurts out “Do you know so-and-so?” Yes, I said, I bought a paddleboard off him just last year. I love that prone paddling is a small community.

After breakfast, I surfed with grandpa turtle again and paddled the 10-foot rental epoxy board a mile or so. I came across 5 bodyboarders dealing rather well with a slab wave.  The rest of the day, I hung out.

Just before 5 pm, we situated ourselves with wine and appetizers at the outdoor spot surrounded on three sides by water, and watched the sunset unfold. 

A sliver of sun peeks through the clouds near the horizon, just above the island of Lana'i.

And as we walked the half mile back to our rental condo, we overheard: “The water’s warmer here than in Santa Cruz.” Yes, it is. Tomorrow we fly back to San Jose and by Saturday, I’ll be in even colder waters, in Carmel. And I will be happy with that, too.



We both have enjoyed every moment of being here on Maui’s Napili coast.

Aloha!

Poscards from Maui - Day 11

It’s nice to have a decent condo to rent, but it’s nicer to have the kind of weather to spend much of the day experiencing Hawai‘i outdoors. We’ve been blessed with a lot of outdoor time. This was another of those days for both of us, though we did it in different ways.

Our morning run was an extended surf check for me. Yep, everything, everywhere was going off. From reef breaks to shorebreaks to mutant slabs, it was all lit up. And even from a few miles off, it was apparent Honolua was maxing out. Not being interested in large crowds of local heavies, I gave Honolua a pass and opted to spend the late morning in the water right in front of our digs looking for a few good waves. I was richly rewarded. The break was occupied by surfers who preferred to go right. So I had the left-hander to myself. It didn’t come often, but when it did … And I enjoyed most agreeable company in the person of the great granddaddy honu (sea turtle) of Honokeana Bay.

Across that bay from where I surfed is Napili Point, offering a right (south side) and a left (north side). One or both of these is aptly named “hole in the head.”  The waves abruptly hit a shelf, jump up, and barrel.  Waves like these are called “slabs.” 

Looks promising. Punishment is possible.

It's as shallow as it looks.

Courtesies are not always extended.

There's getting shacked and there's getting worked: you CAN get caught inside.

 
There are beginner waves, intermediate waves, advanced waves, and then there are slabs. Slabs require a different approach: mental derangement coupled with extreme talent. Experience helps, but offers no guarantees. Pipeline is a slab. Teahupo'o is a more radical slab. Shipstern's Bluff is a slab that causes mutant demons to materialize out of nowhere.

A few days ago, when we were sipping wine at Merriman’s (on a point, surrounded on three sides by water), a particularly wicked slab dominated our view to the north. For example, waves cross the reef and collide at ninety degree angles, mimicking a checkerboard. The best hope for a ride breaks right over dry reef. Today, we went there for the sunset. And we noticed the slab had its own specialists. Two bodyboarders were ripping it to shreds. Just proves: no wave in Hawai‘i goes unridden.

Just before these photos were taken, we witnessed yet another amazing sunset:

Postcards from Maui - Day 10

The surf had been building throughout the day, and the lineup was empty. But I opted for a day of relaxing and guitar practice. I had finally decided to have a go-out, when an opportunity arose for a second whale watch, this time with our friends. I can surf nearly all year. The choice was obvious.

We embarked on the Ocean Explorer just before 4 pm. This is the smallest of Pacific Whale Foundation's fleet, and there was a bit of a swell on. You needed sea legs for this one, thought we weren't getting tossed.

We soon found ourselves surrounded. There were several competition pods, and the one we followed was fierce. I suspect that competition pods are so focused on the bar brawl (as our guide put it) that they hardly notice boats following them around. Our pod was following a mom with a week-old baby (merely the size of a pickup truck).

Humpback whales are classified as an endangered species, and there are several protections for them. One rule is to stay at least 100 yards away. Of course, the whales don't know this, so they might come closer than that to the boat. When they do, another rule comes into play: cut your motor. This is called "getting mugged by a whale." We got mugged. Two males swam under the boat and blew bubbles that surfaced right below us. Then one of them hung out just below the surface:

The light blotches are the whale just below the surface.

The following photos are of a baby whale we found on the way back to Lahaina. It was practicing tale slaps.

We were greeted by a Hawaiian monk seal (also endangered) as we cruised back into Lahaina harbor, proving the adventure never ends.

Here's our boat:

By the time we got home it was nearly dark. Here's all I could catch of the last light:

Postcards from Maui – Day 9

Got down to simply relaxing today. And watched the Super Bowl with friends.  That's it. Chillin' is good, too.  Maui offered up yet another spectacular evening of sunset variations ...

Postcards from Maui – Day 8

We witnessed the unfolding of dawn from the upper deck of Ocean Discovery, a Pacific Whale Foundation vessel. From the moment Lahaina Harbor was behind us, we got what we came to see and then some. Best line from the safety announcement on how to don flotation vests: “Once you have secured your vest and you are in the water, continue your adventure.” We have been on many of these cruises over more than ten years. None compared to this.

As we headed southeast, Haleakala shifted into view (all 10,020 feet of her) and the sun duly rose over her peak.

Sun rising over Haleakela in the distance

 
A pod formed just off our port side. At first they were pointed in the same direction, just floating. You might guess this was going to be low-key. But this was a competition pod. Things were, in fact, about to get intense.

What’s the competition you ask? It might be enough to say they are all males, who are competitive and seeking females. You get the picture. It’s not a fight to the death, but imagine the tonnage. And the barnacles. And the moves: Head lunges. Pectoral fins. Swerves. Quick directional changes. Tail slaps. Pedunkle throws. Flukes up and all dive to take it down below. And one spectacular breach only yards away. Think Robert De Niro at his most menacing: "Let's swim. You and me. Now. I'm talking to YOU. Swim. NOW."

Our captain deftly followed the pod for well over an hour – not too close, not too far, not too fast, not too slow. Just right. Eventually, one tired male swam away from the pod. He had clearly had enough.

There are no words to describe it. Here are a few of the pictures. I wish I could add sound.

Pedunkel throw

The weather changed a bit by the end of the day. These are from the property where we are staying.

Postcards from Maui - Day 7

I think we're snorkeling too much. I've seen so many turtles, I'm beginning to see them in rock formations.

The waves and the wind were both in abeyance. I took my 10-foot rental and went for a paddle, checking out a few of the local points. The water was like blue-tinted gin.

Other than that, I concentrated on doing next to nothing today. An unshaven, worthless beach bum. Dreams DO come true!

Oh, and DeeAnn whipped up a gourmet meal for our friends from Minnesota, and I managed the Ahi on the grill.

Postcards from Maui - Day 6

Honokeana Bay

Entry for snorkeling

The wind was down today, so whale activity was easy to spot. Seems like tale slapping is en vouge.

Our rental condo faces Honokeana bay, home to about a dozen Hawaiian green sea turtles (honu) and gazillions of reef fish. What we don’t have is a beach. The easiest bay entry from the property we’re on is pictured above. DeeAnn and I went today. Honokeana bay is well known for its resident honu population, prompting this educational note posted near the entry point: 

Translation: Don't pet the turtles.

Although the bay isn’t that wide, its center is mostly sand, with rock and corral reefs  lining the perimeter. All the usual suspects were present, including the Hawaiian trigger fish (humuhumunukunuku‘apau‘a – now say it fast three times!). We learned last year that name means something like “fish that swims backwards and snorts like a pig.” Isn’t that romantic? I’m not sure I heard the snort, but I did hear whalesong while underwater. If you’d like to catch live performances of the latest cetacean hits, log on to www.whalesong.net. As I write this, I’m listening to “A Little Night Music.” It’s seems like simple call and response music form (for you musicians, a lower range upward slur followed by a midrange downward slur). DeeAnn thinks it sounded unusual, like whales imitating cats.

We spotted several honu. I dove and swam at a respectful following distance, watching the graceful and unhurried undulations of flippers. Then there was the granddaddy, many times more massive than the rest. He wasn’t afraid to look right at us and take us in.

I decided to take a tour beyond the two points outside of the bay to check out the reefs that make the surf stand up. I’ll just say that taking a look only increases respect for the wave you’re paddling into. And it’s interesting to see that one large, fairly shallow spot that sends the boil up the face. Be sure not to wipe out until after the boil!

Back in our condo, DeeAnn noticed that at least a half dozen turtles were floating along the surface, something she noted occurs most mornings and evenings. So honu have parties. Cool.

Dinner was grilled mahi mahi with a pineapple-macadamia nut salsa, garlic mashed potatoes, string beans and a salad. Goes great with pinot noir. And garlic bread Yum! Thanks, DeeAnn!! 

Postcards from Maui - Day 5

Local Hibiscus

Lay day. Waves were small and fading.  But Maui's fascinations are ever present.

Our run found us traversing a trail along the ocean, including a trip out on one of West Maui's many points. Focusing on the trail and the stunning scenery at the same time was a little tricky, but we made it through just fine. 

Our friends from Minnesota wound up in the condo next door to ours, making it highly convenient to share morning coffee.

We're in a great location for whale watching. Kanesa Duncan once remarked that baby whales are a pain if you're out paddling. They'll pop up anywhere, including under your paddleboard. Yeah, kids are like that. So mom has a lot to do to teach baby about the ways of bluewater living.

Yesterday, maybe a half mile from shore, momma whale showed baby how to ditch a guy. We've learned over several years of Pacific Whale Foundation cruises that a hopeful male "escort" will often attempt to associate with mom. Well, this mom wasn't having any of it. As I watched the trio glide to the south, suddenly there was a swift about-face, jet-assisted lunge in the direction of the unwanted suitor. End of story.

Large amounts of white water frequently means a breaching whale. We've seen several this trip, including an airborne whale so high over the water that it's fluke reentered the water last, not far offshore near Ma'alaea Harbor. What caught my eye today was, I thought, pectoral fin slapping. Nope, it was fluke slapping, displacing enormous quantities of water. Then the calf started to mimic mom, with a pint-sized splash that diminished as practice progressed.

Magical Maui produced yet another unique and spectacular sunset. The photos below were taken just after. Can't wait to get back in the water, maybe have a look around while the swell is dormant.

Postcards from Maui - Day 4

A safe view of the waves ... for the paranoid.

It was a perfect day. That is to say, it began and ended in the water.

Morning saw another shot of northwest energy making its way to paddling distance from our condo. The entrance to the break is out over a rocky shelf and then jump in with your board. This would be my second go at the slightly sketchy entry. It was high tide -- even smaller waves swamped the low parts of the shelf. But the low parts looked more passable, so I crept along. Meanwhile, a local practically ran tip to tip across the high rocks to my left and was in the water in no time. You know who the haole is, right?

But I got the last laugh. Which is to say, I got a phat one to myself. It was well overhead, it was a fun drop, it was walled up, and it had a bowl. In short, it was a racetrack. Turn left, drive fast, exit. And with that, I paddled in. I'll replay that a few times if I have any trouble sleeping.

Speaking of paddling, that's how the day ended. Thanks to a member of the local paddling community, I got to do a late afternoon five-miler from Ulua Beach, south of Kihei. While I waited to meet Shawn, I caught two local popoki (cats) in repose. On approach, they slunk off, but not before I caught this shot ...

The other cat (black) is in the bush just in front of the car.

It wasn't hard to spot Shawn. Who else was gonna sail into the lot with a couple paddleboards atop his ride?  I could hardly believe the excellent stock board he was letting a total stranger use. I think it weighed less than my shortboard.

It turned out to be a classic uphill to downhill paddle, and I had the best host. Turns out there aren't that many prone paddlers in Maui, but these proud warriors always hold their own in the Moloka'i race (known here simply as "the channel"). It sounds like they number only slightly more than on the Monterey Peninsula plus Carmel.

We headed straight out into the windswell, which is to say directly out to sea. Didn't see a single boat. It's the downwind leg that's addictive. Someday, there'll be a twelve step program for downwind paddlers ("Came to believe we were powerless over downhill races and that our lives had become unmanageable"). I learned that the Maliko run, about 10 miles on Maui's windswept north shore, is coming right up ... two days after we leave. I'll just bottle that up and save it for our own Wilder Coast runs.

Life is gooooood!

DeeAnn captured our daily sunset while I was en route from my paddle.