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 within the ahapua'a, gatherers up high, farmers in the middle, canoe-makers and fisherman near the shore. Our destination was a place called I'ole Ahapua'a, an acreage in beautiful North Kohala. I'ole, as a quirky aside, means rat in Hawaiian. As the caretaker told us, the land was slated for development some 15 years ago, subdivided and ready to rip, when "The Campbell's Soup Guy" as she called him, a man who had earned his fortune on Chicken Noodle and Cream of Mushroom, stepped in to buy it all, then turned it over to a Buddhist-affiliated non-profit foundation to preserve for public use and education. The land was one of the first areas settled by Christian missionaries on The Big Island. Adjacent to the visitors center stand a dilapidated school house, home and cottage, circa 1840s. The land itself is an impressive parcel. There are three hikes, one, two and three miles each, the two longer ones not strolls like you'd expect, but pali and gulch treks through rainforest and across streams. Ours was the two mile jaunt. It led across a macadamia nut orchard, down, down, down into a gulch, across a stream three times, then back up, up, up through the thicket. We were pleased with ourselves for remembering to douse with a generous squirt of Deep Woods Off before we began. I walked away with only three bites on the tender, inside of my arm. I musta missed misting there.

Along the way, we scavenge some nuts, sour lilikoi (passion fruit) and a couple avocados. It was a great place to be on sunny day. After hiking, we ate a tasty lunch at a tiny place called Pico's Bistro in Kapa'au, then drove to the Pololu lookout, since Kathy had never been and since I never tire of that view (a photo of it is featured behind the title banner of this blog). Maui loomed to the northwest. We caught glimpses of the Valley Isle along highway 270 as we ventured home, Haleakala gigantic upon the shimmering sea. A wispy string of clouds stretched across her like a cotton-candy bra. So close was the mountain, it seemed you could swim, if you were Duke Kahanamoku accompanied by his aumakua (guardian) shark, or maybe the shark herself, or a dolphin, or a turtle when the sharks are napping or busy escorting Duke.

Since then, I've been deleting rejection letters from my inbox. There's something satisfying about that, though I suspect getting an acceptance letter would be even better. Someday, my literary dinghy will wash ashore.

A hui hou. Malama pono. Aloha!