DAY 42- A Simpler Life

John Reppun is the Director of Key Project. He is also a farmer. He drove to work the other morning with his "fancy shirt" dangling from the rear-view mirror. I was in that mirror, sitting in the back. My tarp taking up most of the room between myself and a boy named La'a.

I had monday off and decided to visit John's farm, and why not do a little camping as well. I met him at a gate at the end of Waiahole Valley Road; it had "Government Property", and "No Tresspassing" signs plastered all over it. John along with a few others, including two of his brothers, till the ground here, and lease the land for cheap from the government. 

Which is fitting, considering that they fought long and hard for this land. You'll find their names in various case records. 

John unloading his Jeep

I came to labor in the fields with John and to hear what there was to hear. He showed me two trails. One that cut south across the Waiahole valley, and one that cut across a valley to the north. He showed me his guava trees, his papaya trees, his seedlings of tangerines, and his patches of ground cover. We weeded out certain areas, and picked the ripened papayas, tearing them with a pleasant crispness from the trees. Herb gardens he had, bees he had, kalo he had. By the time we made it back to the house I had a bucket full of freshly picked fruit. I've never seen John happier.

Newly planted fields

—Have I told you my father's prescription story yet?— He inquired.

—No—

He told me a story of his father, a local physician. A local man came in to see him. He cared for a custom ship building shop. He told John's father that he did not feel well, that he felt ill and stressed. His father listened. At the end of the visit, John's father quickly scribbled down something on the prescription form, folded it, and said goodbye, before turning to another patient. 

As the man was returning to his home he stopped in to a pharmacy. When he got to the counter he unfolded the form and looked down at it, baffled. After a moment or two he realized that what was written wasn't writing at all but a map, leading up to John's and his brother's farms. 

The man followed the prescription. He went and visited the farms, got into kalo farming, is feeling great and hasn't stopped since. 

For many farming is the answer. For others it is an answer. 

For me it brings me back to a scripture, the words written by the Nephite prophet Jacob: "do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy."

The separation of labor from the enjoyment of the product has greatly reduced man's satisfaction and peace of mind. 

Instead of popping endless Tylenol, painkillers, and happy-pills, perhaps we should instead create something and find joy in its use, or at least have the slightest idea of where the things we use come from. 

Fuits. 

We harvested the fruits of his labor under misty grey and blue sky. We tasted those fruits, and nothing ever tasted so good. 

Misty grey and blue sky

O bytheway, John happened to build his own home over the past couple decades. Out of nearly all recycled material. Ask him about his living room window— it has a great story.  He says building your own home is one of the greatest pleasures of life. 

Rocks and things for decoration

Oyster shells. Yummy

   Boxes for bees and their knees

Harvested fruit

A tangerine, eaten

The view from a nearby looming hill

The view to the north

Looking down on John's farm 

My hammock arrangement

DAY 40- A few notes

Ma'o Organic Farms was the first of various organic farms featured in this weeks issue of Honolulu Weekly. Just letting you know that I am keep myself one step ahead of the pack for you guys.

Next, in regards to my article about the Waihe'e stream, apparently there was an information mix up- the water from the stream does not go to Honolulu, but actually services Kaneohe, Kahalu'u and the closer areas. As to the specifics on the stream and such I'm still trying to figure that out.

Today I've been visiting John's farm, climbing mountains, and swimming beneath waterfalls- the usual holiday thing. This week I'll be saying good by to Emma's place and transferring over to Bradley's on Okana road, and then as Meredith, bless her heart, will be coming in on thursday, I'll et her stay there, and I am finally going to go camp on the beach. 

DAY 39- Touching the Sky

Me in my hammock late-night

I spent the night in my hammock. Alone, and surrounded by darkness but full of light. I had arrived at the gate later than I would have liked, after waiting for the bus alongside a cursing Puerto Rican man. By the time I arrived it was dark, and a boy on a unicycle pointed me in the direction of the trail. I navigated my way through some sketchy late folk and their business, hiked in a few miles and made my small footed camp.


After a dinner of sausage and crackers and a breakfast of peanut butter and jelly and some fruit. I made my way up the mountain through the morning light, happy to have the trail all to myself.

The dominating Norfolk Pines

I was hiking the Hau'ula Loop Trail, and I had gotten my permit earlier that same day. Its clear that permits are very loosely enforced in these wilderness areas; not like Washington. I made my way through an invasive grove of towering Norfolk pines. I crossed the Waipilopilo gulch and travelled makai along the ridge.  At some point I arrived at a sign that attempted to direct me in course, the which I did not want make. It herded the general hiker off the ridge and back to the beginning in a loop. I wanted to forge on onwards, so thats what I did.


And it was clear that other hikers had done the same, as I followed their somewhat narrower trail. I wanted to touch the sky. This new trail started off in a gradual climb through groves of a pine tree I did not recognize, and then through something which looked like a relative to the Madrona tree. As i climbed higher I noticed a distinct taper in the trail. Eventually I wove through beautifully architected gatherings of what am told was paper eucalyptus trees. All I know is they were beautiful and I felt love radiating forth from their insides. 


Near the end I came upon a great tree that, only a few feet from the ground branched out in all directions, leaving a nice bowl shaped opening in the middle. There I stopped for a time to nibble on some fruit cake and partake of the word of God, which I had in my bag. Here I believe is where most people stopped. 

The end trail view of Hau'ula and the bay

But it was not the end. To reach the end I had to leave behind my bag, and use a little walking stick for leverage. Pushed up a muddy slope, and through ever thickening brush. Crouched under overhanging bushes and waded through dense ferns, trekking along a narrow chute of firm ground at the top of the ridge only as wide as a few of my shoulders. Up one wore slope. And then, I finally turned around, and there it was the world to behold. 


The ocean and the land and the mountains and their valleys. I little farther ahead was the end. I white flag clung to a stick blowing in the wind. After, the ridge stopped and fell in to a steep decline. I had reached it, the end of the trail, and the beginning of the sky. 

The white flag, blowing in the wind

I think I may have smiled a bit. 

View of Hau'ula from the trail

Nice thing

The mountains arrange themselves in orderly fashion

Views from the top

First gate at the end of Mauka road, off of Homestead rd.

After the second gate, walk a ways and you'll see this sign on the right 

Second gate, go through this one

Behind this sign, in the right of the photo, is the path I climbed up the ridge

DAY 37- Waihe'e Falls

Kaipo

—Ain't nothing compared to when I was a kid.

When I was young, all of this was full of fish. Fishin' was easy, but it's all fished out. —

These words came from Kaipo, as we drove down the dirt road to the gate. The gate was locked, and it told people that only authorized people were allowed beyond it, but that didn't seem to keep them from hopping over it and continuing up the road to Waihe'e falls.

That morning I had been one of those people, accept for I had proper access. We drove through the gates, using our keys to open them. The Division of Aquatic Resources (I believe) was coming up that same road later in the day to do research on the stream, the run-off from the falls, and I was to photograph them, after climbing up to the falls myself.

I hiked the road that twisted through the jungle up to the falls, following the stream up the mountain side. Native species have been on the decline in this stream. Due in part to a concrete overhang; due in part to increased water temperature.

Native Hawaiian stream species

First, the overhang. Back in the 30's they created a narrow chute out of concrete, collecting all of the water at one end, and then dropping it off into a pool at the other end. At the time this was used to measure water flow. Now, as the concrete drop-off at the end has eroded away creating an overhanging concrete ledge, it serves no other purpose than to make it impossible for native species to move up stream above that point.

The concrete long since eroded away, leaving only a harmful concrete overhang. 

Second, the increased water temperature. At some point, the city of Honolulu drilled into the side of the mountain, and redirected water from before the falls towards their own city. From what Kaipo told me, this about two-thirds of the original flow of the stream. This decreased the water flow drastically all across the stream, raising the temperature of the water. Native species like cold water. Many invasive species like warm water.

= Decreased native population.

Who cares?

The pipes indicates Honolulu's hand

—Many people around here wouldn't even notice if all of our native species disappeared, because they themselves are not native,— remarked Kaipo, as we drove down the road. —What gives us the right to kill them? They were here first.—

The researchers were coming to do research to measure the life in the stream before and after a new fish ladder is installed; a fish ladder that will allow only native species pass on up stream. They are expecting a lot more activity upstream after its installation. None was the amount of activity above the concrete overhang that they reported on their first sample. I climbed to the water fall, and photographed their work briefly, as Kaipo removed invasive plant species with his bare hands and a chef's knife.


We descended down the road in his car, and out onto the asphalt.

Researches measure the stream width. They repeat the process of measuring and counting at numerous points in the stream, becoming an all day project. 

Waihe'e falls

Water comes down over the Waihe'e falls. Once upon a time the water flowed more plentifully

A rope swings illustrates the respect the gates and signs garner

Clouds hang low over the road leading to the falls

Organic harp anybody?

DAY 35- I am not Homeless

Escaping the confines of society has proven more difficult than expected. I set out on my journey seeking freedom and seeking adventure, I have found both but perhaps not to the desired extent.

We helped people move their food at the food bank as I took pictures. I soon discovered that I also qualified for food, having no income to speak of. 

I live in a house with people I did not know existed when I arrived in Hawaii. They let me stay for free. I get my food from a bi-monthly food bank. I always have just enough in my bank accoun. It seems that other people are always going in the same direction I need to go when I travel, and there is always an open room where I need to stay when I sleep. I come to lunch with nothing and I leave with boxes of food and full.

I do not mean to complain, I am very grateful for the blessings I do receive. But it is clear that the charity of people in society makes it difficult for them to lose one of their own. I feel like I could not escape society unless I did something to betray, to brand myself an outsider. There will be no slipping through the cracks. No one will let me go unnoticed. Not in this world. Nothing short of running for the fences, dodging every offer and side-stepping every good turn would get myself free from society.

So tomorrow morning I will hike for the falls, at the end of the road which I live on, Waihe'e. It will be my first time. And in my mind at least I will exit the bounds of society and find solace for a brief period.

And I will be grateful for societies warm arms.

DAY 34- The Dolphin Swim

My snorkeling thingy-ma-jig kinda raggled as I breathed in and out. Water filled the bottom of my goggles as I peered down into the water for another look. There, down below me, swam the realization of little children's dreams, and the realization of my fanciful conversations- dolphins. A whole pack of them, weaving through the water in apparent bliss. Content. Happy. Dolphins. Doing what they do. 

Whale fin thing.

We had waited our turn to see them. Our boat, the Island Spirit, had sent its members over to go snorkeling in the reef while others, the ones that got there first, played with the dolphins. I found myself a volunteer aboard the ship by way of a curious and unlikely series of events, that sort of which I've become well acquainted. 

At first I was told to stay up on deck, and count the numbers of clients in the water, and shout out the play-by-play in the captain's blind spots. But then once the dolphin time came, the crew member told me gear-up. Had I ever been snorkeling? No, I said. Had I ever been in deep water? No, I replied. A perfect noobie volunteer. I walked down the steps from the boat into the water with my floppy fins flailing about. And then I managed something quite out of the ordinary- a somewhat graceful dive. I thought of Meredith. 

The Waianae coast, nobody told me it was beautiful, they warned me it was dangerous. Dangerous it was and beautiful it was. 

The Kalo, Taro, leaf. According to Hawaiian
 mythology the Taro plant is the first offspring of
  Mother Earth and Father Sky. Man is the second. 

Sun down at the beach. On the windward side of the island you don't get to see it go down. 

Right by this cove I stashed my stuff.
I locked it to a tree with a padlock and some rope. 

Swedish tourists look for mammals of the sea. 

Captain Steve, manning the Island Spirit. 

Whales spraying stuff. I'll probably know some cool facts by the time I'm done.

Back at the boat harbor.