After an unbearably hot plane ride where I thought I may not live to see another day; a 10-hour lay-over in San Francisco; an hour wait on the tarmac (they originally told us it would be two hours, so one seemed pretty awesome) and a bumpy second flight that may have been scary at any other point in my life (but because of what we had just been through seemed like a walk in the park) – we finally touched down.
Yes, it was 3:30 in the morning Hawaii time and yes we were supposed to be there at 1:45 in the afternoon the day before and yes we had been traveling for over 24 hours, but who cares? We made it.
We had arrived. Maui. Paradise.
My husband and I were about to experience the vacation of a lifetime and we were beyond excited. And exhausted. Excihuasted.
We made it to our room and I would say we slept like babies, but I have never understood that analogy. My babies woke up every few hours, cried, wanted to eat, needed their diapers changed and sometimes refused to go back to bed. We absolutely did NOT sleep like babies. More like rocks. I get that analogy.
When we woke up the next morning we were greeted by sunshine, fresh ocean air and a breathtaking view. Our harrowing trip to the island was well worth it.
That evening, we went to a luau and saw people move in ways I never knew possible. They danced with fire and told beautiful stories about their culture and while their hips were shaking and fire was flying, we ate….and ate….and ate some more – and I realized as I looked down and saw the deep purple hue on my plate that even the sweet potatoes in Hawaii are prettier – and I was giddy with happiness.
We rode aboard a catamaran on a bright, sunny day and went snorkeling with exotic fish and gigantic, graceful sea turtles – and I was sure if one of those sea turtles were to talk they would sound just like Crush – and I was giddy with happiness.
We went whale watching and saw two enormous humpback whales breech and then a smaller, baby whale followed suit a second later. And even though it was only a baby, it was still one of the largest, most remarkable creatures I had ever laid my eyes upon. The whales flew into the air and landed with splashes that were so ginormous it seemed as if they could surely be seen for miles. The captain of the ship told us this was the first double breech they had witnessed all year (and we saw a triple!) – and I was giddy with happiness.
GOPR0888.3gp (Click here to see some whale breeching footage)
Nearly every morning, we would wake up and go for a jog on a path that wound around the coastline. We ran with clear, baby blue skies above and the ocean beside us. We watched the waves roll in and crash against the rocks, spraying the air with glistening drops of salt-filled water. We ran and we talked and we laughed and we eventually would stop talking and laughing because we were tired from all of that running. My heart was full, my legs were sore – and I was giddy with happiness.
We rented a car and drove along the narrow Road to Hana with its bends, twists, 617 hairpin turns and 59 one-lane bridges. The road to the quaint, isolated town of Hana is roughly 52 miles. Seems as if you should get there in no time. Right? Think again. This trip took us an entire day. Close to ten hours to be exact.
Part of the reason the trip takes so long is not just the hairpin turns and 25 mph speed limit, but because of the many stops made along the way. On more than one occasion, we stopped to hike and we hiked and hiked and hiked some more and saw the most beautiful sites –
lush green foliage,
painted eucalyptus trees,
a black sand beach,
a red sand beach,
and on and on.
God’s great beauty as far as the eye could see –
and I was giddy with happiness.
We stopped at shacks on the side of the road where local food was being prepared with great love and care. The conditions were questionable and I am pretty sure they weren’t being regulated by the Department of Health, but that was fine. It was all part of the experience.
At one location, our food was handed to us inside of a hollowed out bamboo shoot with small bamboo sticks to use as our utensils. It felt as if we had left our country and flown around the world to have our meal.
It was delicious – and I was giddy with happiness.
And finally, after traveling and hiking and eating and just being present with each other and God’s glorious creation – we arrived at our destination, the town of Hana.
We were told that tourists are supposed to drive to the town of Hana, turn around and drive back because past Hana the road becomes more dangerous. We were told some rental car companies make you sign a paper saying you will not drive past the town. Ours did not. We spoke with some locals and they encouraged us to keep going past Hana, saying it wasn’t that bad. Being the rebels we are, we decided to go for it. We had already faced danger along the way.
Driving past the town of Hana did make my heart skip a beat on more than one occasion. The guard rails on the ocean side of the road were rusted and crumbling apart. The volcano side had a flimsy net that was supposed to serve as some sort of protection from any falling rocks. I am pretty certain it would protect us as much as the guard rails. The road became very narrow and unpaved. We bumped and jerked and shook along the way.
But the beauty. Oh the beauty. It was breathtaking. We had left early that morning, but found ourselves racing the sun on the last leg of our journey. As the sun was going down, we were both painfully aware of the plethora of twists and turns on the unpaved, unlit road. We could not go faster, we could only hope for the best. The race was on –
and I was scared.
*This is part two of a now three part blog series.