Oregon II.II - Coast

Overall, I spent almost a week in Oregon. Most days were chilling and helping out around the homestead, but we took one other daytrip out to the coast. My friend is now a ranger for the state parks around Coos Bay, and she wanted to show me her favorite places in the park. It was fantastic.

Our first stop was Simpson Reef -  Dramatic seascape views, huge waves smashing against rocks, and  LITERALLY A THOUSAND SEALS and sealions hanging out. Largely just floating together, but also clambering over the miscellaneous rocks which make up the reef (rocky, not coral) swimming amongst the kelp, fishing, it's a magical place. And often (but not today) they have whales. I knew it would be good, but it rivals any coast I've seen and outclasses most of them. Then again: seals (the cutest animal), cliffs, and dangerous waves are some of my favorite things, so my opinion is biased.

Second on the list was Cape Arago a bit further out the peninsula, but the submarine terrain was a little deeper, so there were only a handful of marine mammals. However, there was also a sketchy trail heading down to the cliffs. So sketchy you were only a step or two from falling 40+ feet to a broken femur and then drowning while it hurt the whole time. After getting permission from my personal park ranger, I headed down the trail and up to the edge... and was immediately hit by vertigo as I looked straight down and watched the surf surge back and forth well beneath my feet. I love this shit. 

Next we hit the Arboretum. Mel said hello to a few coworkers, we admired the various plants on display, and even spotted a miniature snake and a full-sized rabbit. My favorite plant was probably the giant rhubarb. Like most plants in Oregon, I didn't know they got that big. The runner up is this trippy plant that looks like a render, a glimpse of the gorgeous math underpinning life. Behind the arboretum we took a trail down to a protected bay, where we checked tidepools (meh), inspected the kelp for critters, and got our first good view of the geology of the peninsula - the tectonic plates are clearly thrust up at a 45° angle, which is the main reason why the coastline is so striking. To add more volatility, each of the layers are made of different minerals which weather differently, and some layers are a mixture of soft and hard leading to bizarre balls (or hollows) thrusting out of the diagonal layers.

Our next visit - a section of unnamed coast just north of the arboretum - really drove home that point. Breathtaking cliffs thrusting out over the ocean, and thanks to massive winter swell rolling over an abnormally high tide, the waves put on a beautiful show, splashing 30, 40, occasionally 50' high.  Whenever I see a heavy ocean, I automatically plot out a survival route... and here, there isn't one. If you get lucky, swim out and hope to survive long enough for the coastguard to pick you up. But probably, you're stuck in hydraulics, sucked under and grated against the rocks as the coves constantly drain and fill. Unless your a seal, you're dead. And we were worried for the lone seal dumb enough to try it. It's awesome in the truest sense of the word. These cliffs continue into a beautifully weathered section of rock. Curves that would be at home in the canyons of Bryce or Zion, but posed 50' over the Oregon coast. And my ranger looked at me, before I even opened my mouth, and said "Yes, you're allowed to climb these too."

That was all I needed to hear, and I instantly set off clambering out to the edge, to watch waves smash over the island, and then plinko back to the sea as waterfalls criss-crossed around the concretions down the slanting backside of this tectonic splinter. Honestly, I love rocks, I love decoding geology from formations left over, I love heavy swell, I love sketchy bouldering, I love seals, this place is like heaven. Maybe I'll retire early and go be an underpaid ranger just to hang out in such a beautiful and invigorating environ. 

After all the chaos, it was time for something a little more chill, so we headed inland to Sunset Bay Campground. From here we did a 4 mile hike heading out the bog trail. This trail crossed through multiple microclimates and flaunted several types of forest, most of them with a thick moss-and-needle covered loam that is noticeably springy under each step. Plus, we were hunting mushrooms! Mushroom hunting is a super fun game with terrible prizes. It's like eye-spy IRL, and you get to spot and identify various species of bizarre and fascinating alien lifeforms, but all you win is that you can eat some of them and they're gross.   We filled an entire bag with porcini and lobster claws, while also spotting slippery jacks, amanita, several corals, forest chicken, and at least a dozen unidentified species - all of which are either toxic or even grosser than normal. It was a great time though, and much like their rhubarb (and every other plant), their skunk-cabbage is enormous. I had to ask what it was because they averaged two feet tall, about triple the east-coast variety I grew up tromping through.

Our final stop was Sunset Bay.  We started by inspecting the bridge that was Mel's first major project -  directing all the work and doing much of it. To my surprise it was a kit that was entirely fiberglass while being sturdy enough to drive vehicles across. We then hiked up to the group campsite to survey her upcoming project - rebuilding racoon proof trashcans - and to get a great view of some especially dramatic upthrust islands just offshore. Again, she read my mind, and told me they were strictly off-limits. They are bird-sanctuaries, so even if I could swim out to them without getting concussed, they are illegal to visit.  However, this didn't stop one family from hiking out to one during low tide a few months ago, climbing it, and getting trapped by the tide. They refused all help for over 6 hours until the tide came down, then slunk down and embarrassedly fled the park.  So what I'm hearing is I could probably get away with it... 

As sunset came we hiked back down to sunset bay itself. The tide was finally down, so we checked the tidepools (a few fish, a few chitins, and a seemingly infinite amount of sea-anemones (the soft ones!), barnacles, and snails. I climbed out the cliff face for a better view - the angled bedrock and dissolved concretions made it a pleasure to climb if not particularly challenging - and the view was about the same. But the journey is the goal, the destination an excuse, as per usual.  Back on the beach, we found the ancient tree-stumps that reach 20' across. The Cascadia Subduction zone formed all this geology and drowned these trees 1200 years ago, producing 9-point megathrust earthquakes (the strongest variety - which caused Fukushima, the Cascades, and the Himalayas) every 300-600 years, the last of which was in 1700.  ["Oh yeah, we're due. Rangers are required to park nose-out at sunset bay in case we get a tsunami warning."] Regardless of impending chaos, multi-level tidepools formed within these roots, water filled cavities bridging over lower gaps. And with the sun setting, it was time to head back to the ranch. We've got miles to go before we eat and bushels to jar before we sleep.

All in all this was fantastic, rivalling the highlights of other trips. If you ever find yourself in Oregon: toss your other plans, skip your work conference, and head out to the coast.

Oregon II.I - Eclipse

We awoke at 6 to predawn clouds, checked our cameras, packed our bags, and by 7 we were racing off through the switchbacks to attempt to outrun the clouds filtering in from the coast, with a goal of finding higher and clearer ground by 9:13am when the eclipse was scheduled to hit. The further we drove, the worse it got, and we went from the "the sun is there, behind that cloud" to "the sun is somewhere thatway, but the fog makes it impossible to tell". And then, suddenly, with 20 minutes until the eclipse, we popped out of the vapor. We headed up a noname mountain outside Roseburg, and ascended out of the foggy homesteads onto nameless logging roads. Unfortunately, there was still a layer of clouds far above us. 

The views were incredible, and despite our distance from anything / despite the clouds, there were still families parked at all the logging cuts - which offered unrivaled visibility. It's like they designed logging cuts for great views, instead of, well, logging. We drove the rest of the mountain, hoping for a spot where we could align some break in the clouds with the sun, but we had no such luck. I admired the view - the gently roiling fog forming a sea across the valley beneath us, mirrored by the clouds above - which still blocked the sun DAFSDFSDFSDFSDF. 

Anyways, with absolutely no chance of seeing the eclipse and our driver in desperate need of a restroom, we headed off the mountain and back into the fog. Up until now, the day had remained a twilight, growing no brighter as time passed. From a 6am dawn to a partially eclipsed 9am, it was almost as if the day stood still. And now, as we approached annularity, the fog turned a dingy brown, and the world visibly darkened. Headlights became required, not just advisable. Driving through a town long past it's prime complemented the post apocalyptic feel, as though the nuclear winter were now a boring everyday inconvenience. At this point, we couldn't even tell where the sun was (or wasn't) without using stargazing apps [Sky Map is awesome if you don't have one].

[[Interruption: As I type this on the plane. there is a massive wildfire to the south. I think we're entering the Rockies but the plane tracker is down so that's just a guess. I'll research and get back to you.]]

Once the eclipse was over, the world became slightly less dingy, and we headed to a subway. Mostly for the restroom, but also for breakfast and decision making.  Now that we missed the eclipse, what next?

Well, in our ill-fated flight from the clouds we'd made it half way to Crater Lake, so what's stopping us from making a day of it? Literally nothing, and so we did. We resumed heading east through the Pacific rainforests, along the Umpqua river, and past immense burn-scars. They were as intriguing as the forests, revealing the geography and geology lying beneath the verdant carpet, and before we knew it we were headed steadily uphill.  Our first stop was Diamond Lake, beneath Diamond Point. We drove a lap of the lake and stopped at the general store for coffee and views. This whole part of the world is beautiful. Diamond Lake and the peaks surrounding it, Crater lake, Umpqua River, random waterfalls next to unnamed logging roads.... Everywhere is beautiful.

After diamond lake, we continued upward, hitting the pumice? desert. The climate is totally acceptable, we're not above the treeline, good rain, but the pumice is so thick that nothing can grow there. [I left a note to look up the depth of the pumice, since I thought it would be cool to say "16 feet deep!" or whatever. It's 200+ feet deep. And that doesn't even count whatever regolith was blasted away in the initial blast, this is miles of 200'-300' debris from the continuing explosion. I should be used to it, but volcanos play by different orders of magnitude] And that was my first hint that this volcano was a beast. Well, second after the name "Crater Lake".

Crater Lake was just a typical volcano until 7700 years ago, smoking occasionally, bulging strangely but slowly, normal everyday volcano things. And then one day almost eight millennia ago - still within communal memory for the indigenous peoples, it went full send.  Just like Pompeii, it blew the entire peak into the stratosphere, and continued to expel ash and magma for OVER A MONTH until it had expelled 27 CUBIC MILES of material. I did a double take when Alex read out that fact, that's not a unit of measurement I typically have occasion to use. Fun fact, that's about 100 km^3. (Note to editor-Brice: Look up if they find volcanic material in coos bay [Yes]). And much like Kilauea (which was a month ago), that the magma eventually sank down, finding alternate escapes routes, causing the entire caldera to sink down. And since then, fueled only by snow-melt coming off the remnants of the crater rim since we're too high for rain at this latitude, the crater has filled to a depth of 2000', forming a beautiful lake.

What I didn't know ahead of time is the volcano wasn't quite done. While it's no longer shattering mountains, it still managed to push through the lake and form a new cone, entirely within the lake. A miniature volcano, within a lake, within a mega volcano. And that, that is the whimsical sight that greeted us when we crested the summit.  They'd already seen it, but I found it adorably stunning, which is a weird combo.

We drove the entire perimeter of the lake, switching back inside and outside the rim, above and below the snowline, stopping frequently to admire the views. I deeply appreciate that - much like Hawaii - there are always a few unofficial trails that reach out to the best overlooks, where you can look straight down and enjoy it a bit more intensely. At least, if you're weird like some of us.   At one such spot Alex launched a snowball towards the lake and into the void.... which was followed by another snowball from another off-piste tourist hidden behind trees a hundred yards away. And then we saw his waterbottle skiing down the slope before disappearing over the edge and impacting several seconds later.  "It's gone bro" "Awww.... I liked that one" 

We went to the gift shop, as Astro needed a sticker for her mini, yet another park unlocked. The eclipse had brought the crowds along with the clouds, and the park was slammed. The lot was a cutthroat mess of cars desperately stalking pedestrians... We got a spot through sheer luck, and they metered us into the giftshop/cafe a few at a time. I wasn't going to go in at all, too many people, but they had a penny smasher. So I reverted to my five year old self and begged grown women for $0.51. Great success, No Ragrets.

This overlook was also on the side of the lake with the volcano-island (which is charmingly named "Wizard Island" for it's resemblance to Merlin's hat), so we spent a while admiring it with the monoscope ("I have a monocle in my car, want me to grab it" "WHY DO YOU HAVE  MANACLES IN YOUR CAR?") Fun story: In the 1930s some dude set the whole island on fire as a promotional stunt. What the FASDF. The 1930's were so much fun. While we had the monoscope out, we also searched for the old man, which is a tree that's been floating, roots-up, around the lake for over a hundred years. No luck, but still fun to look.

After completing our circumnavigation of the lake we headed back to house. Ish. We had a few minor detours, including checking out the Umpqua river up in person (and their coffee shop), and then hiking down a long-unused dirt road, over a stream, and all over a cabin that's been abandoned for at least half a century. Not at all a noteworthy cabin, but it's always fun to tromp through the woods trying to decode the terrain and foliage to follow a road that was overgrown before any of us were alive.

...

...

[Postscript: The Dolores Range burn in the San Juan National Forest was a proscribed burn of just over 1000 acres, and was conducted without incident. Luckily(?) I had a lot of time to research when we stopped in St Louis to swap for plane that wasn't leaking oil :/  After reviewing a dozen maps and searching voraciously I found a single twitter post warning of the burn.]

Hawaii 10 - Waimea Canyon

 Hawaii: Day last.

Last day on the island, and we're going to make it count. We're all feeling a little worn out and maybe covidy... but we haven't let that stop us yet, so why start now? Today we're hiking Waimea canyon. Not all of it, it's 14 miles (as the crow flies) of brutal terrain,  but we've picked out two hikes, and we're going to finish strong.

The drive up is very promising, we get occasional glimpses of the canyon as we wind our way 19 miles horizontally and almost a vertical mile up the mountain, and those teasers reveal a massive chasm. But we skip every overlook, drawing out the suspense. Not for any narrative purpose, mind you - we want to make sure we hit the top overlook before the clouds do, and those with plans for a long hike are impatient to get moving before Kauai bakes in the heat, so we beeline to the peak.

The peak actually overlooks the backside of the canyon. We saw it from the air yesterday, and it's even more gorgeous from the ground. Lush cliffs plunging down to the valley floor in only a couple of miles before they meet the sea. This is pretty close to our beach-day, and it looks the part. The beach (where they buried kings!) at the bottom would be even better, but it's a 15 mile hike to get to.... so definitely not happening. We saw several helicopters beneath us, and a single tourist plane pass over. It must have been our pilot (or his wife, they trade off). Back on ground, there's a trail that goes past the official overlook, and it's even better. This trail lets you walk right up to the edge and look down, giving you a better view and that euphoric tingle that comes with heights.

We then backtracked to the second overview, which was largely a worse version of the peak.  However it had an excellent angle on a gorgeous quadruple-waterfall on the far wall, plus standing on top of a mountain is always a fun.

We then headed down the mountain to the trailhead for the canyon hikes, which doubled as a lookout opposite the coastal views.  The canyon side of the mountain is insane. It's just mind-bogglingly deep, and it stretches 10? [11.2 from the lookout] miles to the opposite side of the island.  And the whole thing is steep treacherous rock faces, vegetation where it can hang on, cliffs and scree where it can't. We chilled at the overlook for a bit and had lunch (and hopefully shot a timelapse). Then, Adam, Dani, and Sage (she's such a badass) all set off for their hike. They had a brutal 4 mile loop picked out, and none of the rest of us felt up to 4 miles on terrain this steep. Sans covid, I probably would have sent it... but Temet Nosce.

Recognize anyone?

After another 10-15 minutes, we lightened our packs and set off for the clifftop overlook trail. This was supposed to be a quick 0.6 in-and-out, but as we set off it became apparent this was not your standard hike, it quickly headed steeply downhill, and didn't stop until it was time to head steeply uphill. My mom was starting to admit to herself that she may also have the covid despite her negative test (which she told the whole beach about yesterday), and while she kept up a good pace she was apprehensive about the fact that we'd have to climb all those makeshift tree-root stairs we just descended. Metagame aside, it was totally worth it. We came out on a ledge that was deeply within the canyon (though admittedly close to the top). Probably 1000' above  ground level, but the local minimum would itself be the top of a 500' waterfall  a thousand feet downslope. It's such a cool landscape to be in, and we could see another trail on the next cliff a half-mile down. "I wonder if that's Adam and Dani" we joked... and then checked with the binoculars. It wasn't them. But [literally 20] a few seconds later two more hikers walked out the same trail and it became more serious "Wait, what color shorts was Adam wearing today? Blue? I really think that's them!"

We decided it was, so I called my brother. He answered the phone "Hey, can you see us?"  We waved back and forth, checked in, and after further perusing of the canyonside - enjoying the payoff of our hike - we turned around and started back.

How about now?

We chose to take the alternate track out. To be honest, my mom chose the  alternate track and my dad and I were both totally cool with the easier solution.  Coming off the cliff, we veered off onto a 4x4 road, figuring that had to be easier than what we just hiked. It was definitely easier, but also far longer. However, it was different landscape than what we'd just passed through, and the grade - while a steady climb - was similar to iki crater and never pushed us to exhaustion.  So we hiked at least a mile up this moderate track, only passing one 4x4, and then walked back down the main road to our lookout, for a total loop of around 2.3m (vs 2x 0.5 as the crow flies).

Back up top we re-rehydrated, and dad and I walked over to the lunch lookout to see if we could spot our trail.  Unfortunately it was just around the curve of the rock, which wasn't a surprise since we couldn't see this lookout from the trail earlier. As I was about to head back to the car I saw a bush-trail that headed straight towards our lookout, and figured others might have had these same thoughts, so I followed it to see if they found a view.

It was such a great view. I could have skipped the exhausting hike and just done this one. The trail was super sketchy, and it skirted the lip of the canyon, over the hump, and then gave great views of the other side. However if they made this an official trail... people would die. It was that delightfully on the edge. I was even slightly sketched, which obviously means I loved it. Great view, quite invigorating. In order to get a clear panorama showing both trails - ours and Adam/Dani's - I had to creep down the parabolic falloff (water towers have the same slope.... it's hard to know exactly what slope becomes fatally too much slope) to a tree on the edge, lock onto that, and then shoot. It was the sort of sketchy that brings hyper-awareness to every step, without being reckless.  Like I said, great trail. And then the trail continued and very quickly dumped me back in the parkinglot.

Our hike is the left star, and we spotted Adam/Dani/Sage at the right star!

So I walked down the parkinglot and grabbed my dad, and took him up to the sketchy overlook. He loved it. Then we killed some time and a mere 45 minutes later Adam and Dani (carrying Sage) came up the trail - the exact steep brutal ascent we avoided - having done 4.6 miles in just over 2 hours. Sage was hungry, so while Dani took care of that I showed Adam the sketchy overlook, and I followed him the down an even sketchier route back. It's a great day.

After getting the baby fed and the adults hydrated, we set off back towards home, figuring we'd find one more overlook on the way, We ended up at the official mid-canyon overlook, which really drove home how large this canyon is.  Far to the left, so far that people are only visible with binoculars and still look like ants, were the trails we were on. We spent hours and buckets of sweat to cover that tiny portion of the canyon.... And the panorama wrapped around to stretch another 10 miles past us towards the sea, with side canyons constantly. Waterfalls peeked out here and there, with countless more hiding around the bends (but hinted at by the constant helo flights looping through canyons). In the foreground, we could see that the erosion had eaten away the softer rock, leaving the harder, blacker basalts behind - but that wasn't true everywhere, as some portions were pure fractal erosion of of homogenous rock. The contrast revealed the bones of dead volcanos and geological violence, and was a super cool way to finish off the canyon. TBH we did this overlook in two shifts so someone could stay with the baby, and I went up with both shifts, because it's just that cool. And because I love - at a deep reptilian level - fighting strong winds on sketchy cliffs, even if these particular cliffs have railings.

Canyons conquered, we set off in search of shave-ice. The traditional Hawaiian treat, they are allegedly more delicate and fancier than snowballs (the traditional Baltimore treat which I don't care for either). You can have anything mixed in.... ice cream, condensed milk, coolaid in different layers... I just wanted blue (the best) flavor, and it was no better (but no worse) than any snowcone you'd find in any state across the nation. But any snowcone is still delicious after spending all day hiking mountains.

After that we headed home for-real forreal, because I had to pee real bad and all the portapots were locked. Wtf. I stumbled across the historical swinging bridge (DO NOT SWING THE BRIDGE), but there were tourists so I couldn't pee there, which was my only priority. We made it home,  relieved any emergencies, unloaded the car, and my parents ran out to the drug store since we'd run out of covid tests.

Back home, we took the baby over to baby-beach (the name of the beach we are staying at), to the baby-pool!  The locals had stacked the rocks to form a bit of a cove-within-the-cove, leaving a clear area where kids can play without worrying about stepping on rocks, getting too deep, or the waves being too strong. Scientific testing shows that contrary to the name, babies do not love the baby-pool at baby-beach. But do you know who does? Sea Cucumbers! I counted 10 of them (not knowing what they were), on the rocks bordering the pool. While we were trying identify them, Adam poked one. So I had to touch one, because those are the rules I guess? If you have brothers I'm sure you understand. Slugs are the one animal I truly despise, and sea cucumbers are lumped together in my mental taxonomy and hatred.  They were surprisingly firm (like a cooked steak), not slimy, and still disgusting. Also, can they change colors? I swear one went from white with small brown dots to red with white dots. Anyways, the baby was super happy on the beach out of the slug-pond, my parents got home, walked over, and dad did some snorkeling. The imaginary green flash was again stymied by clouds at sunset.

We cleaned ourselves up for dinner, ate all the leftovers, and packed for our 7am flight. It's kinda sad, but it's been great.  To finish out the trip my mom just got her test results, and on the last night of the last day she joined the rest of us in our positive club. Like always I need a vacation from vacation - some real sleep, a few days of recovery, and then I'll be dying to go again.

Hawaii 9 - Airtour

 I slept great last night. Windows open, fans on low, a hundred feet from then beach. Not sure where I'm going with this, but that couch is magic. I thought I woke up as soon as the first family member walked into the room, but they'd been in and out for an hour. Magic. Anyways, today was the day for our air-tour!

First things first: Sage has these adorable little ear-muffs that make her look like princess Leia. Our plane was an Airvan 8-seater, and loading up Adam and the pilot proceeded to talk shop, Dani took pictures of Sage, Dad took pictures of Dani taking pictures of Sage, you know. Standard things.

Takeoff was super fun. Taking off in a airvan on a runway designed for 737s is comical, there's so much room it feels like being the only car on a 10 lane highway. Plus with our power/weight ratio we were up and turning out before we even got to mid-field.

The first things we saw were gorgeous views of the coast, while also getting great overview and mental-map of the island... then we flew right over our house! We could spot "Baby Beach", from there we could identify the houses across from ours, and then ours and it's mirrored twin! Very fun start to the flight.

Our first cut inland we flew up (while still fully above) a canyon to see a some famous waterfalls, but with the wind coming off the terrain, we start to get some slips and hops. I ignored it, and snapped some pics, asking questions and such.... and the next canyon was more slippy and hoppy, and I spiraled. Not the plane, just me.

I don't know if the plane was super hot, if covid left me vulnerable to air sickness, or if I'm just not the badass I was at the age of 25 - but the rest of the flight was me sweating, trying to stay in the small blast of air from my window, trying to convince myself I felt fine because the views were stellar.

And the views were truly incredible, this terrain is amazing. The mountains get 500 inches of rain a year. Their record was 50 inches in a day. So the waterfalls are endemic and epic. While you would normally need a whole alpine valley to feed a waterfall, here every valley gets one or two..... or a whole chain, each waterfall world-class.  Absolutely gorgeous. I'm definitely not going to throw up. I'm totally fine.

Waimea Canyon is called the "Grand Canyon of the Islands" and it deserves it, this is epically huge. It must have taken every single year of Kauai's 50 million to carve this. (For comparison, the Big Island - the newest isle - is only 500,000 years old). Some rich dude even has a house on top of the rainforest-canyon, accessible only by helo. More waterfalls! This is incredible. They said mints will make me feel better. I'll eat a mint.

Dad took this one while I was reeling

Oh cool that's where we went to the beach yesterday! Only a half-mile down the coast from the secret beaches they used to bury their royalty at! This landscape is stunning. Another mint. Lets try Dramamine too. And one for dad.

Beach spot!

We finished it off with a beautifully performed but (in my experience) brutal spiral around a double waterfall famous for some 70s TV show, and a very smooth landing. Despite being on the ground, it took me several minutes before I was fully in my right mind... but I absolutely could and did fake blasé, regardless if my ears were at the same pressure or not.  Great tour though, so many incredible features and I now understand exactly where they are around the island.

On our way home from the airport we stopped by the Kaloa Puhi... aka 'Spouting Horn Blowhole'. I've been informed I can't call it a squirter.  I thought it was gonna be a little poofer, but it's actually probably a dozen poofers, of all different style and sizes. One is a hot tub, that violently fills and drains. Another just harrumphs at you like an angry whale with little visible consequence. Several explode like champagne bottles, but the good ones when you soak them in hot water to see how far you can shoot the corks. And the star of the show was throwing water at least 30' in the air. It was absolutely geyser-level, and I was quite impressed.

It's better in video... give me a month :)

We also did drive-bys of several beaches, and after lunch at our aribnb we decided on Piopo bay, just a few minutes down the road.  But my parents and I were feeling rough, so the the younger half of our crew headed over while we took naps and covid tests. My mom is the lone survivor. So far.  After an hour of recuperation, we headed over to the beach! I still spent most the time reading, but the breezes were better on the beach so I enjoyed it, and eventually, I felt good enough to snorkel. The first mask I tried was garbage (this is all communal airbnb gear), and I struggled to see or enjoy anything. But the second mask was great! And despite the silty nature and constantly dodging people you could actually see a lot of fish. Not Molokini quality, obvs, but bizarrely vivacious for such a high-traffic spot. The cool green-and-orange guys, angelfish, parrotfish, some sea slug or cucumber or something disguised as coral, one or two of the black dudes, and my favorites: A massive school of one-inch silver tetras (probably not actually tetras) fluttering, dancing, mesmerizing. 

I trudged up to shore to grab my gopro, and took a third pass to find those tetras on film, but instead I found a school of 8" long dudes hanging out by the breakwater. You could chill with them until a wave came over/through the breakwater wall and buried everyone in bubbles. I figured I should film this and accidentally pressed the wrong button on my gopro, putting it into slow motion. I was about to fix it, before I realized I should absolutely film this in slow motion, so went with it. It was a perfect blend of serene and visually intense. Hopefully I'll end this series with a chill b-roll competition, harass me if I don't.

Again, way better in motion... 

To round off the day, we swung by a fishery and headed home. Homecooked fish tacos (they were fantastic) preceded hanging out with the baby at Baby Beach, and another failed attempt at watching the green flash (typical). But even a failure to see the perfect sunset is pretty great, just like a squishy airtour is leagues better than documenting the daily minutia of firmware development.

Hawaii 8 - Beach Day

Day who-knows-anymore:

THE TURTLE IS GONE! He wasn't dead, just asleep . Great success. 

We woke up around 7 to head over to the beach at Ha'ena point on the other side of the island. Well, I woke up at 7, apparently the rest of the house woke up between 5 and 6, and I just didn't notice. My old friend insomnia has been stalking me across the globe and finally caught up, so I was awake reading deep into the wee hours. We had a casual breakfast, said hi to the semi-feral cat who loves me, packed our lunches, and headed over to Haena.

Most of the route was pretty standard, and we randomly picked a standard roadside park to take care of baby things, but standard means gorgeous in Hawaii, with roosters, cliffs, and signs explaining which whales you might see (in a few months when "winter" starts). Back underway, the last 10 miles or so were doubly gorgeous, and we started getting Road-to-Hana vibes, even a few one-lane bridges! Kauai is older than the other islands we've visited, and it shows. Everything is so green, especially the mountains. I was getting Jurassic park vibes, and it turns out they filmed some scenes right in this part of the island.  The mountains have the same abrupt jagged intensity typical to Hawaii, but every inch is verdant. Instead of discerning between various shades of brownish-black, there are a thousand colors of green. Very jurassic indeed.

Turns out you need reservations for this park. That explains the massive numbers of cars stacked at all the beaches prior to it, and it's too bad because it had some sweet looking mountains. There was no available parking at any of the public beaches we'd just passed, and even the side of the road was parked solid wherever a car could (mostly) fit. But we got creative and ducked into a neighborhood where there was plenty of parking, and very narrow trails out to the sea. I went to reconnoiter one such beach access pathway and found a seal at the end! Just a harbor seal, chillin.

I went back to update the family and one of the locals advised us that we should go two blocks down, where it's less windy. After 10 minutes debating a 5 minute walk (every vacation seems to have this day about a week in), we took their advice! It's a very steep beach with surprisingly soft/deep sand, but we found a nice big shady spot under some trees, and set up to chill.

I spent a lot of time watching the windsurfers, wing-surfers, and kiteboarders. They're all rocking the hydrofoils now, and it's super cool to see them rise up and glide over the water. After a while I set off to go visit the seal, since I'd neglected to take a picture of him and seals are so freaking cute. Definitely a top-five animal, they make me so happy. Back at base camp Adam and Dani (who had hiked the other direction during my seal excursion) reported sea turtles!  So we gave them back their angelic baby and set off in search. As described, there were a half-dozen sea-turtles off the point!  A bit further we saw a kite-surfer preparing to go into the sea, and when he was ready he whistled and immediately jogged into the waves. His dog appeared out of nowhere, sprinting down the beach at full speed, and chased him a hundred yards into the surf. Living the dream, both of them.

Back to our base camp, we did a bit of swimming. The temperature is amazing, the waves are massive but not really breaking, they just bobbed you about like a cork. I briefly attempted to snorkel, but only saw a single fish and a lot of silt so that was quickly abandoned. Most of my time was spent in my book.

Eventually it was time to go home, essentially the same trip as the way out, with two different but very important stops. Stop #1 was for these extremely photogenic horses:

Stop #2 was for dinner. We were all tired, poorly communicating, and couldn't make plans at all. Much like the first day of Rome last year, we seem exhausted with one another....  or we all have covid. Probably both.  Anyways, Dani and Adam had their hearts set on "sushi" made with fancy spam... I considered it, but I'm too tired to want weird food [I did sample it later, it was unexpectedly delicious but too salty for an entire meal].  After wandering the single block that made up main street I decided on Mexican, and my parents joined me. They don't have a local Mexican place, so they were excited to be adventurous.  I was pumped about it too, but just because I love fajitas.

The food revived us somewhat, and we finished the drive home in time to watch a fisher cast his nets by the light of the setting sun.... There was no green flash, allegedly due to clouds hovering on the horizon. I think it's a myth. Journal now, shower next, book and bed shortly (and by bed I mean couch - I'm quarantined to the living room... which gets far better breezes than the bedrooms, so apparently I coughed my way into the best room in the house).

Hawaii 7 - To Kauai!

Today was another travel day, so this should be quick.

The Hawaii [Big-Island] airport was much more chill and friendly than Maui, but hot and sweaty, which was only exacerbated by masks and sickness. Mom found a cool bracelet to give her church-friend as a gift, it donates to turtle-saving and gives you a code to track "your" turtle! And it comes in her favorite color (Turquoise), so I'm definitely getting her one for Christmas. It seems obvious, so maybe all of us will.... Which would be funny, so I'm not warning any of them. [Post-Christmas update: She loves it, and only got one!]

Hawaii-Honolulu was a quick flight. I was all ready to film a timelapse, but as soon as we accelerated down the runway my phone fell out of the window, under the chair, and slid all the way to the back of the plane. Which means I missed the epic shot of us rising through the clouds where only the volcanos peaked through. Trying and failing is how you learn though, so... progress!?   The highpoint of the flight was flying over Maui (again!), where we spotted turtle bay, Molokini, and what Dad and I both independently decided was our snorkeling boat!

Honolulu-Kauai was an even shorter flight. Just over 20 minutes in the air, a great SouthWest crew, and a foolproof filming solution for my timelapse! The safety-card fits perfectly in the window grooves, so I built a little nest for my camera, dialed in the angle, adjusted the timelapse rate, and made sure to lock the focus so I won't get closeups of window condensation.  I even picked a seat with two windows, one for the phone and one for me. What could go wrong? Well... My phone could overheat and shut down mid-flight. I failed learned something yet again.

In Kauai we picked up our new minivan, so here's my review of the 2019 Dodge Caravan: Don't. It's worse than the Chrysler Voyager in every way: the gauge cluster, the gps, the anemic v6, and the lumbar support which supports your kidneys so well they yearn to meet your sternum. [Update: Held down the "deflate lumbar" button while violently assaulting the seatback and it's much more comfortable. Still not a good van].

Our airBNB is super cute though. Second row off the water, no AC but plenty of fans and windows, and cute shore/whale vibes throughout. I read and hibernated on the porch, and tried to befriend the feral cat (she let me pick her up!)  Unfortunately, we think my dad my have caught the covid, so he spent this time napping while Adam/Dani ran out to the store for food, and then cooked up chicken Caesar for dinner! It was delicious and I didn't slip any chicken to the cat even though I really wanted to. We finished eating five minutes before sunset, so we cleaned up real quick and ran across the street to the beach for sunset (and I snuck the cat a scrap of chicken).

Sunset was gorgeous, and the beach was full of people waiting for it. My parents both witnessed the mythical green flash (Until now I literally assumed it was a myth). I was personally distracted from watching a legend in real life because I walked a few yards up the beach for a better view and almost stepped on a sea turtle! (Which would be a federal crime, lol). I was super afraid it was sick and dying, because it didn't move and only winked at me. Once.

Post sunset we all came over to look at the turtle, and he lifted his head up slightly.... so I feel a bit better? We all went back to the house where I did some research, and in Hawaii (and only in Hawaii), sea turtles will just sleep on the beach. So -  assuming it's not there dead in the morning - that was a super awesome experience. If it's dead I'll delete my pics, RIP bro.

Now: journaling, reading, and a pointless phone game.