Pedaling through Paradise

After a morning of flying, we took a load off and relaxed outside, breathing in the clean air scented with Birds of Paradise and Anthurium flowers growing all around, gazing at the abundance of plant life thriving everywhere.  After we carried in all of our stuff, we began thinking about the fact that we were now where we wanted to be, at least in terms of being on the Big Island.  Next would be finding our land, where we wanted to build our little piece of Paradise and create our own reality.

We didn’t do much the rest of the day, or on Sunday or Monday either, because we needed to decompress from all the travelling of the past two weeks.  It felt so good to chill out and not have to get in the car and drive anywhere.  We had stopped at the grocery store during our cab ride from the airport, so we were stocked for at least a few days.  Monday didn’t even feel like Labor Day, probably because neither one of us had worked in a month nor were going back to work on Tuesday.  In fact, we wouldn’t be going back to any jobs for a while.

On Tuesday morning, we headed out around 8:30am with the intention of catching the bus into Hilo in order to get our bikes.  As we left the driveway and began walking down the street, we ran into Ron, the next-door neighbor, who was driving by in his jeep.  He said he needed to head into town and offered us a ride.  We accepted, and got to talk with Ron as we drove to the bike shop.  He even offered to wait until we got our bikes, just in case they wouldn’t be ready and we needed a ride back.  He is an amiable man in his early 70’s, but he has the personality and zest for life of someone half his age.

After we got our new bikes and had some accessories installed, we rode down into Hilo to lease some storage space for our belongings that will be arriving in a few weeks, and then went to get some lunch.  After lunch at Ken’s Diner, we rode around downtown to see what was going on. There was the usual bustle of a small tourist town and the ever present ocean to the east of this quaint locale.  On our way out of Hilo, we stopped at Sports Authority to get a few more things for biking, along with a couple of milk crates, compliments of Wal-Mart’s loading dock (yes, we “liberated” them from the dock, but Wal-Mart can afford to lose a couple crates, right?).  Our ride home was almost thirty miles and took almost three hours, but if felt good to get some real exercise after all the driving we had done for the majority of our cross-country trip.

The lady from whom we're renting is a vibrant woman in her 70's named Nishta.  She makes beautiful jewelry, is a Reiki master and gives reflexology treatments and soothing, facials with all-organic food-grade products.  She has a lovely dog named Honi Honi ("Kiss Kiss") and two kitties, Paca and Pubah.  Nishta's been gracious enough to take us on Tuesday and Friday mornings to the local Qi Gong classes at the community center, which are free. J

After a couple of weeks on the island, we have started to get used to our new mode of transport. We have our almost-daily trips into the tiny hipster town of Pahoa, a thirty-minute bike ride downhill into town and an hour trip uphill for most of the way back. The ride is kind of like a roller coaster with steep grueling hills that burn the quads into Incredible Hulk standards. Pahoa has been good to us though. There is a natural food store, several mom and pop restaurants and even a local bank branch. And the beach is not very far away, a thirty-minute downhill ride and the bus route to bring us back, bikes and all.

We made it down to the beach recently and just sat there, mesmerized by the beauty of the turquoise waters with its white foam crashing on black lava rock lined with chartreuse mosses. We wound down the 137, a/k/a Kapoho-Kalapana Road through mango and ohia forests, always within sight of those crystal blue waters stretching endlessly outward for thousands of miles. One can feel the remoteness of this mysterious place, but to us it just feels right.

Recently, we were fortunate to have found a spiritual community called the Center for Spiritual Living, right here in Puna. When we arrived at the partially-built skeleton of a church, there were building supplies scattered around the parking lot. The side walls of the church were open and there was no glass in the window frames, but the people were as warm as the Sun, and we were immediately greeted with hugs, kisses and shell-beaded necklaces around our necks. The Sunday morning service was refreshing, and there were many like-minded folks all gathered together to share in and honor all paths to love. We knew we had found the right place and will be going back next Sunday for sure.

One of the most exciting things going on right now is the fact that we recently put an offer in on two acres of raw land, high and dry up the mountain. Our realtor drove us to several acreages, and we found one that really resonated with us because it wasn’t too “jungly,” and we feel that we can get into it reasonably well with our machetes. The acreage is abundant with ancient, native ohia trees with their velvety looking trunks and fuzzy orange flowers. We can already envision ourselves creating much harmony on that property and are keeping our outlook positive about the purchase. The price is also right, coming in at the amount we had intended for our budget. With a little negotiation, we will be right where we need to be to start our homestead. Wish us luck!

Time Travelers in the Southwest

Our journey continued onward from Yellowstone and into the Grand Tetons. The stunning, jagged giants of the Tetons were not as clearly visible as we would have hoped due to a fair amount of smoky haze in the air from ongoing fires in Idaho and northern California.  Passing through Jackson Hole, we eventually stopped for the evening at Station Creek Campground, right along the Snake River in Bridger Nat’l Forest.  There we met Richard Ricks, a good soul with a big heart and strong passion for the outdoors and white water rafting.  Richard informed us that he had been rafting for the past fifteen years, and rowing himself for the past two.  His zest for rowing and guiding others downriver was exceptional. After greeting us at the campsite, he offered to take us on a private rafting adventure in exchange for ensuring that his companion, Copper, a sweet old dog of seventeen years, didn’t abandon ship.  Copper seemed to really enjoy rafting too, and she would usually sit with her front paws up on the edge, peering over the side as if she were ready to jump in after a fish.  Richard hadn’t quite figured out yet whether this behavior meant that she was afraid, ready to mutiny, or was just loving the ride and anxious to see things up close.

Nevertheless, we were grateful for such a rare opportunity to raft for free with a personal guide who possessed intimate knowledge not only of the river’s geologic features and recent physical alterations, but also of the local fauna.  We talked and laughed and had a great old time as we plunged through Triple Shot and Kahuna, getting a wee bit soggy along the way.  And boy did that water feel refreshing!

We managed to get some beautiful shots of the river and surrounding mountains, but were unable to fully capture for you the smells in the air of fresh, mature pines surrounding us and the briny undertone of wild trout from the clear, cold mountain waters drying quickly on our sun-drenched skin.  When we completed our eight-mile trek, Richard asked us if we might email any good photos to his mum and daughter, mainly to show them he wasn’t traversing these waters alone.  We gratefully obliged the very next day.  It was a special treat getting to know Richard and sharing such a wonderful experience together.  We’re so grateful to you, Richard! J

From there, we continued our drive south on the 89, briefly passing into Idaho for literally a few minutes before returning to Wyoming and then seeing Utah’s welcome sign.  Before long, it was that time again, so we stopped in the Wasatch Nat’l Forest and made our camp along the Bear River where we were the only souls in sight.  When we rolled into camp the weather was perfect, the light was dancing on the leaves of the birches and our campsite was literally right beside the babbling Bear River which looked more like a stream. As we pitched the tent, dark clouds rolled in and the winds began to increase. We managed to get a decent fire going to cook our dinner, but after we ate we decided it was best to retire to the tent for the remainder of the evening to avoid the rain.

That night our sleep was restless. Being alone in a campground with no host or ranger, or anyone else for that matter, has its pros and cons. We were in the heart of bear country, and with no other folks around, Venus was on heightened alert due to our vulnerability. That night, she had a dream that a bear was pressing onto the tent and sniffing at a bar of soap inside. Venus awoke abruptly and had trouble getting back to sleep. At about 4am the sky was as clear as still water and innumerable stars dotted the blackened sky. She finally was lulled back to sleep by the perpetual conversations of the river spirits.  It was chilly that night, but thankfully not as cold as Yellowstone.

Rising early Monday morning, we continued south through Provo and then east in search of warmer climes.  We reached Moab in the afternoon, and were awed by the red rocks and fault lines surrounding the area known as the Arches, or Arches Nat’l Park.  We made a brief drive-through of the park, barely keeping to the road as our heads turned left and right to gaze upon the faces of all the Stone People greeting us.  This was a magical, mystical, and very sacred place indeed.  We decided then and there that we must return in the morning to hike around and feel the powerful energy emanating from this ancient city of rock.

We stayed at a motel in Moab that night and enjoyed some good Mexican food at La Hacienda before falling asleep in a comfortable bed. The next morning it was back to the Arches. We got off to an earlier start for we had quite a few plans for the day: Arches, Natural Bridges Nat’l Monument, and hopefully, if time permitted, get ourselves into the Grand Canyon before dark. We started out with an early morning hike in the Arches, hiking through one of the popular trails there. We wound through a maze-like vista of soft, rounded rocks of terracotta hues. Portions of the trail were sandy and some were rocky, all that same terracotta color. After about an hour, we turned around to make our way back to our vehicle and onward to Natural Bridges.

Natural Bridges was a much smaller park with only one two-lane road that encircled the area, giving us high vistas of deep canyons with bridges that kind of resembled arches like those we had seen at the previous park. The rock there was yellowish-white and the surrounding area was pretty well covered with juniper trees, their trunks twisted and weathered as though they were easily on their 200^th year. We snapped a few photos and took in the splendid views, then continued onward. 

The ride out of the park was a bit more exciting, a little more stressful than we would have ever imagined. We came down pretty steep roads, and then arrived at a part of the road called the Moki Dugway that the map had pointed out as being a dirt road, but it failed to warn of the hairpin turns and deadly drop-offs that we encountered. The speed limit was 5mph and with good reason. We kept envisioning ourselves in the time before cars, as we would have gotten through that stretch probably just as fast if we were on horses, maybe even faster. The view from the Dugway was nothing short of spectacular, and one could see for miles and miles. We saw a pyramid shaped rock in the distance and huge mountain ranges. It almost didn’t look real from that vantage point, were it not for the wind reminding us in hushed whispers that we were indeed on the edge of a great wide open space.

As we got on the 163, we entered the lands of the Navajo Nation. There were numerous outposts of Navajo people selling their jewelry and crafts. Curious and willing to patronize these native peoples in hopes of a conversation and some insight into the spiritual history of these great lands, we stopped and perused their wares. We were greeted by a stout, dark skinned man who asked us where we where from. We told him we were from Boston and he took the opportunity to try out his own rendition of a Boston accent, inquiring about the "Red Saahks." We chuckled and he continued to tell us that he was a welder who was having a hard time finding work in his field, so he and his wife made and sold jewelry to supplement their income. Venus purchased a beautiful buffalo bone necklace carved into the shape of a long tooth with the head of an eagle at the end and attached to a leather cord. Jack purchased a simple necklace with tiny orange beads and dried juniper berries. Our proprietor said the berries were known to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck. After chatting a bit more, we thanked him for his service and continued on our way.

We couldn’t help but notice how many of the towns in the Navajo Nation seemed run-down and in need of restoration. We felt a tinge of sadness mixed with unnecessary guilt for these people and their ancestors who had had so much taken away from them. We often sensed the disdain they seemed to have for tourists while still sharing a codependence via the income they received from us. That night, after a full day of travelling in the dry heat, we stayed in Kayenta which seemed a transition between the Navajo lands and the Grand Canyon Park. We ate dinner at the hotel’s restaurant where all of the staff were clearly indigenous people. Jack had a native lamb stew with fry bread and honey and Venus had Buffalo wings and a Cobb salad. Our waitress, Rosie, was a very sweet native woman somewhere in her sixties, but it was hard to tell her exact age. After dinner, we visited the gift shop where Venus bought a Native American cedar flute with an authenticity label indicating that it was made by a native with his name and picture on the tag. At the restaurant, we noticed that many of the other guests at the hotel were European, mainly French and Germans. We were a little surprised due to the ongoing state of the European economy, but we realized that, like ourselves, there are always people who are doing okay regardless of the current economic trends.

The next morning we got off to another early start, wanting to get the most out of the daylight hours. We stopped for breakfast in a small town called Tuba City in the heart of the Navajo lands. The portions were absolutely enormous! And we couldn’t finish them even if we hadn’t eaten in days. But the service was good and the natives in this town seemed a little friendlier and not quite as put off by our presence. We had a nice conversation with the woman at the table next to ours. She and her husband were from Abruzzo, Italy and were driving a motorcycle through the Southwest. She recommended we take a mule ride through the Grand Canyon.

We then continued driving along the hot, dusty desert road until we came through the eastern entrance of the Canyon called Dessert View. The park was run like a ship with perfectly maintained roads and crews updating the walking areas near the visitor center. We stood at the edge of the rim, mesmerized and awed by that endlessness of the Canyon, bigger than we could have ever imagined. It teased us with its depths. We went into the visitor center and Venus bought a native made dream catcher to use later in her dream circle work. Jack bought postcards that many of you have already received. We then went back to our car and made our plan for the day as it was just about lunchtime and we had plenty of daylight left to enjoy. We decided to go to a campground called Ten X that a park ranger had recommended to us, just outside of the park in a town called Tusayan. The ranger said it was rustic and rarely ever fills up, definitely our style. The camp hosts were a really nice elderly couple who had been hosting there for five years. They told us about a good pizza joint where the food was consistently good, and they warned us that Tusayan has the most expensive McDonald’s in the U.S., second only to Tokyo for most expensive in the world. Good thing we don’t eat at fast food chains. They also told us how awesome the helicopter rides are and gave us a couple of coupons.  So we went to our campsite, pitched our tent and went to get some yummy pizza and a helicopter ride.

After our first ever chopper ride, we went to the Geology Museum and learned a few cool things about the rocks and water’s effects on them over deep geologic time.  We walked along the rim before going to the IMAX theatre to see a film about the secrets of the Grand Canyon.  It was well produced and was good educational entertainment. While we were getting our tickets, we realized that we had been living an hour behind the time zone and were pleased to know that we had gained an hour.  Then we were off to Sophie’s across the street for some great street tacos and a funny photo op before returning to Ten X, making a nice fire and then heading to bed early.

Why so early?  Because, while we were chilling out in the tent that afternoon, we decided to call the Havasupai Nation to see if there were any available camp sites for the next night.  Luckily, they had just received a cancellation, which meant we were going!!!  Venus had always wanted to see Havasu Falls, located within the reservation, so this was a dream come true.  Thank you, universe!

On Thursday, we awoke at 5:30am, broke camp in record time, brushed our teeth and hit the road south on the 64, then west on the 40 before jumping on the historic Route 66 and seeing the famous Burma-Shave jingles along the roadside. We were looking for Indian Highway 18 that lead to the hilltop parking area where we would begin the eight-mile hike down into the Grand Canyon and eventually into the Havasupai Nation’s remote little village.  We got to the hilltop around 9:45am and started walking down the steep, dusty winding trail about an hour later.  What a challenging and somewhat grueling hike!  It took us four and a half hours, which was good considering we were carrying all of our gear on our backs, unlike many folks who opted for the mules to sherpa their belongings. 

As we reached the bottom, we hiked through an old dried-out riverbed.  The whole atmosphere was incredibly beautiful! The rocks were terracotta colored and worn by the flow of water from countless ages past. There were native peoples riding in and out with tourists’ packs on the backs of hard-working mules and other natives sitting in the deep crevices of the rock, taking a break from the intense sun and brutal heat. Hikers passing by were obviously drained and had empty expressions from overworked muscles and sore feet.

We arrived at the village around 3pm and got our first glimpse of the clear turquoise waters. The waters in Havasu are renowned for being clear turquoise blue due to the white travertine that naturally lines all the pools and riverbed. The contrast of color between the terracotta rocks and blue waters is quite surreal and words don’t really even begin to describe the wondrous beauty of this place.

The local store was filled with chips, soda and candy, the children and adult natives were mostly all overweight, and there seemed to be only a couple of homes with small gardens, mostly growing corn.  We were concerned by the lack of sustainability in the natives’ way of living down here, and we hope that sooner rather than later, some of those folks start growing more of their own food and stop relying on the helicopter shipments for their sustenance.

After a much-needed lunch at the local café (great burrito and burger), we continued for three more miles to the campground.  Venus was exhausted and a bit dehydrated, and Jack’s legs and neck were junk, but the pain was so worth it!  We pitched the tent and went straightaway to Havasu Falls for a memorable dip in the crystal blue waters and some gazing at the majestic waterfall. The water was cool and full of mineral deposits. It felt great on the skin and gave our hair extra body. We sat for a while at a picnic table overlooking the falls. The breeze was at once warm and dry and then cool and moist from the mist rushing towards us from the falls. 

Dark storm clouds started rolling in around 6pm, so we headed back to camp and took a short nap.  We woke up to some light rain, distant lightning, and a harried group of German tourists frantically relocating their camp (“Macht schnell, macht schnell!”) next to ours because it wasn’t windy there against the canyon wall.  After our new neighbors settled down, we fell sound asleep again. On Friday morning, we woke up around 6:30am and went for a short walk down toward Mooney Falls. These falls were even grander than the others, and the mineral deposits on the rock made it look as if it were terracotta ice frozen instantly in motion.  We were sore and didn’t have much time, so we didn’t get to explore further down the canyon to some of the other falls, but it was still a beautiful walk.  We got back, broke camp, and took one last look at Havasu Falls before commencing our two-mile walk back to the village.  

On the way, we stopped at Navajo Falls to take one more refreshing dip in the soothing crystal pools.  A guy was walking down towards us as we were leaving and he struck up a conversation with us.  We had seen him at the campground spring a few times earlier filling up his bottles like everyone else. He was saying how he was on his way out too, having spent three days in Havasu Falls.  He introduced himself as Dominic from Toronto.  He walked with us and we talked.  Dominic had visited Chaco Canyon in New Mexico and had lots of good feedback about its geologic and anthropological significance.  Dominic revealed that he was studying archaeology and history, having traveled a good deal through the Southwest and all over Texas.  He had a nice way about him, and we enjoyed talking with him.

He mentioned how he had formed the impression from having talked with many Americans that several of us have an apocalyptic view of the near future and a deep mistrust of government.  In contrast, he told us that he didn’t think that Canadians felt quite the same way.  Dominic was born in Poland, was half German, and had lived in Europe before moving to Canada.  We talked until the helicopter arrived and was about ready to take us out of the canyon.  We exchanged emails, gave him our blog address, and he went on his way.

The ride out took five whole minutes!  Jack got to sit in front with the pilot, and Venus got to sit in back with a nice native girl with whom she was able to have a brief conversation. The young woman shared with her how everyone in the reservation all know each other and that there were only ten outsiders living in the village. We got back to the car, packed our stuff back in the trunk, and started out for Las Vegas.  We stopped for lunch at the Chinese buffet in the town of Kingman.  Then we got on 93N and drove over the newly built Pat Tillman Bridge overlooking the Hoover Dam and marveled at the beautiful yet harsh mountainous terrain in which the dam was situated.

We arrived in Vegas around 6pm, and drove down the strip until we reached the Luxor Hotel on our right.  We checked in and went to our room. The room was very spacious and had an upscale feel. We had a view from directly behind the Sphinx and Obelisk facing east, very auspicious on this Blue Moon. J After cleaning up in the huge walk-in shower, we walked down to the Burger Bar and sat right at the bar, enjoying awesome burgers and great service.  Jack had the Hubert Keller burger and Venus had three burger sliders.  Everything was really delicious and satisfied our deep hunger.  After dinner, we walked through the hotel casino and played a couple slots before driving up the strip to the Venetian Hotel.  We saw the fake blue sky and the gondola drivers singing their way as they wound through the indoor canals. Being in Vegas was a little bit strange after having been camping in rustic towns and small villages for two weeks. We were a bit anxious to leave the congestion of the materialistic mecca known as the City of Lights and get on to our new home.

We got back to our room just before midnight and crashed.  The next morning, we left the Luxor, returned our rental car and had a very smooth flight to Honolulu Int’l Airport where we ate delicious sushi while waiting for our connecting flight to Hilo.  The second flight was short and sweet, and we had some fun along the way.  

We got a cabbie at the quaint Hilo Airport who was so sweet, friendly and nice, a native Hawaiian named Winston.  He shared with us some interesting and useful information about the area as we drove to our destination in Pahoa. Arriving at our rental apartment, we were greeted by coqui frogs, lush tropical foliage and a studio apartment that has screens but no glass on the windows because it never gets cold here. Ahhhh, thank you, Pele, thank you!