Skip to main content

Road trip to Na'alehu

Today, I had a great excuse to drive to Na'alehu. With my reporter hat on, pen and pad in hand, I went to interview the founders of the Naohulelua Garden. It's a collection of endangered endemic and indigenous plants, along with what are called canoe plants. The garden is less than two years old, but already displays a respectable sampling of now rare flora and fauna on this tiny plot of land. For those of you non-biology majors like me, indigenous plants are those native to a specific location. They may also be found elsewhere in the world. Endemic plants are those exclusive to one location. They are found nowhere else in the world. Here in Hawai'i, we not only have endemic plants found only in the islands, but some that are endemic to a particular island and some endemic to a particular patch of ground on a particular island. Anyway, these folks are doing their part to preserve endangered plant species. Canoe plants are those brought here by the first wave of Polynesians to the Hawaiian Islands. They include coconuts, bananas, taro (kalo), breadfruit and noni. Another thing that's very cool about this parcel is that it is home to one of the oldest church ruins in the islands, built by the fathers and brothers of the Sacred Heart, which is Father Damien's order. In fact, it is believed that while Father Damien did not help build the church, he did perform services at Sacred Heart in 1868 before making his way to Moloka'i. It is also believed that there was once a Hawaiian village at this location prior to the building of the church. Logic would indicated, after all, that there would be no reason to build a church where there were no people nearby.
The church and plants are actually in Waiohino, just a stones throw from Na'alehu in the Ka'u district of the Big Island. Ka'u is still very rural with a long, proud heritage of marching to the beat of it's own drum. It is said that King Kamehameha united all the islands. In fact, he conquered them. The only area he did not officially defeat was Ka'u. The people of that district are quite proud of that fact, even today. Ka'u is also home to many veterans of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team. These are the legendary Japanese-American Soldiers who fought gallantly in Europe during WWII.
I ate lunch at the Hana Hou Cafe in Na'alehu. It's claim to fame is that it's the southernmost restaurant in the United States. While there, I met a nice guy named Steve who moved here from Seattle within two weeks of when we did last winter. I also encountered a goofy looking but still cute dog outside the door of the place. She was a sweet, friendly one, jumping up to greet me. I gave her a pet, only to discover that she smelled pretty awful. Whew! What a stinky mutt! Her owners came looking for her right about then to distract her from me. Thank goodness. I went across the street to the Punalu'u Bakery. It's the southernmost bakery in the U.S. It's right next door to the Na'alehu Ace Hardware. Yep. You guessed it. Southernmost hardware store in the U.S. And the Na'alehu Theater across the road? Southernmost.... Anyway, before buying my loaf, I was compelled to pop into the restroom first to wash away as much of the doggy stink as possible. I could still smell it on my shirt when I got home.
I took a slight detour down to Punalu'u Black Sand Beach to take a few photos. Check out this honu, napping peacefully.
On the way, I stopped at a roadside stand to buy some Ka'u coffee. There, I again ran into my new friend, Steve. (He's the guy on the right.) It was a lovely day in Ka'u; cool and pleasant but still nice enough for shorts. In January, no less. Ya gotta love that.
A hui hou. Aloha.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fruity booty

It was a long drive from Glenwood to the northern tip of the island -- three hours -- so for sustenance, we stopped at Baker Tom's for malasadas on the way. My pal Kathy and I were headed to Kapa'au for a hike, one we'd read about in the local newspaper. The couple who run Baker Tom's (not sure if the husband is actually Tom or not) are delightful, with enduring stamina. They're as old as radio, yet they're always on duty, ready to serve behind the counter, as they have for many years, frying, baking, brewing and smiling, there in Papaikou , gateway to the Hamakua Coast. The malasadas are enormous, cheap and delicious, the coffee OK, the tourists all happy to have discovered this place, buzzing with sugar and caffeine. They make a killer pumpkin cheesecake at Baker Tom's, too. It's always a pleasant stop. Ahapua'a . It's a Hawaiian land division, usually a strip or wedge, stretching from mountain to sea. Hawaiians lived in villages wit

Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud

Small town observations

Every day at noon, a siren blares from atop the city government building in Gunnison. Each time I hear it, I want to shout, “Yabba dabba doo!” even though it’s nowhere near happy hour. I’ve blurted this once or twice, only to elicit blank stares in response. Am I that old? Doesn’t anyone remember the The Flintstones? I hear that horn and imagine Fred sliding down the long neck of his gravel-quarry dino-dozer (which, thanks to Jurassic Park and the miracle of Google we all recognize now as riojasaurus). Quitting time! Fred flees, his fleet feet slapping toward a rack o’ ribs and a night of good times with Wilma, Barney, Betty and Dino. That’s Dino the dino, pronounced Deeno the dyno. Think that’s delusional? Another day, walking downtown near the source of the noontime wale, it struck me, a revelation it was, that the ramp up to full blast sounds just like the introduction to Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, only this is a mega-air-raid, civil-defense siren solo rather than a clarinet, whic