This, admittedly, isn’t the perception of just a day’s visit off a cruise ship. Hawai’i was the only one of these islands I’d visited before. I liked the whole feel of the place then, as I do now.
We elected to join a full-day tour organised through the cruise line called “Secrets of Puna”. Conducted by KapohoKine Tours, it did a fine job of giving us a taste of the diversity of the island and introducing us to local guides well versed in the culture. (I also have to give them a big commendation for being so accommodating to people with disabilities, making sure that my wheelchair-reliant mother sat up front, had the chair with her the whole day and got to participate in most of the excursions.)
Puna is a district obligingly close to the port of Hilo, so while we saw a lot we were never in the car for more than 40 minutes at a time. The company runs big 4-wheel drive vehicles with a built in video system for short explanatory films, accommodating up to seven guests at a time in relative comfort. Until you start off-roading on lava fields, over which no suspension can offer much ease.
We started at The Painted Church, a reminder of the influence western missionaries had on this island. The interior’s murals, however, have a distinctive island flavour, with the cast of the stations of the cross appearing as Polynesians, and other paintings dedicated to locals who’d been helped by more culturally sensitive missionaries. Still, there’s an understandable resentment amongst those with native blood toward the Imperialist past and its results, discussed openly and honestly by our guide. Both the native Hawaiian language and culture is experiencing a resurgence, and locals here are seeking many of the same protections that have been granted to Native American Indians. As the Polynesian history is one of the major things that makes these islands so unique, I can only hope that they succeed in maintaining and enriching that heritage.
The most interesting thing at the church, however, was our introduction to Noni, a fruit that grows wild across the island and is considered a bit of a cure-all by the natives. The church is, in fact, just across the street from a Noni refinery, and we saw locals harvesting the fruits (about the size and shape of a small mango) from plants on the roadside. Our guide split one open for us, exposing us to pale flesh and a remarkably awful smell. It’s no wonder that the juice is processed and sold in little sachets, as I can’t imagine anyone actually getting a bite of the fruit under their nose long enough to swallow it.
From there it was down to the coast to walk out onto a lava flow. Less than 20 years old, this particular stretch of black stone had filled in what was once an exquisite little bay. It’s easy to see where the old beach line was; a green margin at the edge of a half moon of dark, glittering moonscape. It was a partly cloudy day and still early, yet all that black rock was heating up like an oven. It wouldn’t have been a survivable walk on a summer’s afternoon. But it’s do-able at this time of year, and our efforts were rewarded by fascinating patterns in the rock (it looks like fudge that’s cooled as it’s been dumped out of a pan), fossils of fish caught in the flow and a dramatic black sand beach on the new coastline.
Next, a drive along the coast, where iron tree and palm forests swept down to beaches and cliffs pretty as any postcard. They were also wonderfully empty. Where other islands seemed dominated by resort hotels and sun-lounger crowded beaches, you get the impression that you could turn up in Hilo, find a nice B&B, rent a car and spend days wandering between ocean vistas you’d have all, or mostly, to yourself. Of course in the inevitable way of the world, the wealthy have discovered this fact and we passed plenty of impressive houses sharing the views. But on the whole, it was a drive of lovely and unspoiled natural beauty.
We stopped for lunch at Puna Girl Farms, a small macadamia nut grower (suppliers to the “Hawaiian Host” brand) with an open-sided dining pavilion on a hilltop with sweeping vistas. We’d transitioned from idyllic, palm-fringed beaches to rolling hills of forests and grasslands. The staff here were delightful and informed, there were copious local products to sample and they laid on a lunch of ribs that could compete with the best the Midwest has to offer. Probably a more satisfying and intimate experience than the Mauna Loa farm tour, the giant producer claiming most tourists. My only complaint? Discovering the next day on Oahu that I’d paid 30% over market price when buying from them directly. So, buyer beware: Purchasing direct at source does not guarantee the best deal here; go to the ubiquitous ABC stores (basically a Hawaiian Woolworths) for the best prices.
The landscape changed once again as we entered Lava Tree State Park, a primeval tropical paradise of ferns, foliage and flowers most of us only know from glass houses in botanical gardens. As magnificent as the foliage is, the real sight here is the collection of casts of trees made by a lava flow more than 200 years ago. Lava cascaded through a forest, surrounding its trees in an instant. Harder woods resisted the heat just long enough for the molten rock to start to solidify around their trunks. Unable to withstand the extreme temperatures, the wood ultimately turns to ash, leaving a cast of the tree behind. Intervening centuries wear down the lava, but peculiarities of the rock leave the lava tree moulds intact. Now they stand as otherworldly stone sentinels in an otherwise lush garden.
Yet another change of scene took us back to lava flows, but this time one of a totally different type of lava that splintered and mounded into sharp, fragmented piles rather than the sensuous candy cascades of the morning. This is where the 4-wheel drives came into their own, bumping us across the lunar landscape to a spectacular cliff above the Pacific. Here, the guides showed us how semi-precious stones could be found in, and picked out of, the lava; in this case, bits of tourmeline that resulted in green beaches elsewhere on the island. Black rock flecked with green, waves of a distinct greenish-blue glimmering under the sun before crashing into white surf against the dark cliffs … a wonderfully dramatic snapshot.
On a hot day, it would have been time for a swim. And that’s just what’s built into the end of the tour in a lagoon behind a breakwater within site of the dock in Hilo. (This is actually the beach signposted from the port and is in easy walking distance … about a mile … if you wanted to not stray far.) Unfortunately, it had never been blazing that day, and by late afternoon the clouds and wind had rolled into Hilo, the rainiest town in the United States.
One brave soul plunged into the rough, chilly surf, but I contented myself with taking pictures of the rolling breakers. I was hoping for gentler, warmer waves ahead. I was disappointed. I was never to find that combination of sun, sand and heat to allow for a peaceful swim. But plenty of other adventures were still to come…
No comments:
Post a Comment