Pahoa, Hawaii 19.493874° N, -154.945874° W, day three. Yesterday we hiked along the rim of a volcanic caldera. I could feel the hot ground under my flip-flops. I pondered their melting temperature as we watched the fishers puff out wisps of smoke. Just so you know, Ethylene-vinyl acetate melts at 194 °F.
We are fortunate enough to have a friend who does work-exchange for housing when friends and neighbors are traveling off the island. She was able to house us in a lovely little home in an eclectic, vivid neighborhood. The owners are deeply spiritual people and have an amazing array of tools or tokens you might call them.
Tuning forks, decks of tarot cards, and little trinkets adorn a diverse altar. Authentic native artifacts, paintings of aliens, and psychedelic artworks give off a complex vibe that is difficult to describe. Strangely, the same book I’m reading at home that I debated on bringing along was on the nightstand upon arrival.
I enjoyed a hot bath after wandering a beach with black sands and overhanging cliffs exposing millennia of volcanic layers that had been eroded by the powerful sea. Children ran naked and free. Waves crashed and rose in a fantastic spray against jagged rocks. Men and women lay on towels feeling the breeze over their bare skin.
Kevin came down with a cold, likely a mix of allergies from the ever-blooming flora in this strange land. There’s arid desert-like landscape of recently-cooled lava flows and jagged boulders for miles without any vegetation. We drove up a slight incline of long-silent volcano shrouded in mist. Jungle abruptly met us on the other side.
We went to a local art show. One of the pieces was eerily reminiscent of my favorite book, Duma Key by Stephen King. It showed a trail dwindling into a jungle landscape, disappearing into whatever lay beyond. I have read it several times over the years, but only in it’s entirely three or four. It gave me a sense of familiarity and unchanging charm in times of chaos, conflict and difficulty. I immersed myself to the point of living in the book, knowing the characters, imagining them in my dreams.
If I had a home in which to hang it, I would have considered buying it—I would also need to check it at the airport for our flight back to Alaska next week. I have found it’s hard to be homesick after having sold everything we owned a year ago and having no definitive roots. When we had the farm, I’d cry when we were away more than a week. I haven’t felt a pang of anxiety since landing here. Everyone hugs, some even before introducing themselves.
I’m not sure where we will stay tonight as the owners of this home are retuning late-morning tomorrow. I find myself entirely unconcerned.
Pahoa, Hawaii, day four in paradise. We moved to a new vacation spot last night to a much larger house with a beautifully manicured lawn and various wild fruit trees. I have made a point to try as many local foods as I can. It’s raining today, at first a thick mist that has progressed to a calm patter.
I’m excited to start a partnership with a major client soon. I’ve been going over the details on this lazy day as jungle birds and frogs make calls foreign to my usually well-trained ear, and the gentle cooling tropical breeze flows through the open windows. I love getting to know the interesting plants and animals here. And the people, who are on a whole other level of interesting.
There is a shower in this second house that has a glass wall between it and the living room—and the living room has a large wrap-around deck called a lanai in Hawaii with three large sliding glass doors. The bathroom is a walk-through design, as was the last house. Needless to say, things are a lot more free and open in a very literal way here on the world’s most secluded islands.
Unfortunately all is not well back in Alaska with the RV. It has began to die while on the road and not turn back on. We had that happen a couple times and had hoped changing the filters would help. The Cabela’s parking lot where we’d been parking closed for maintenance, forcing Danny and his father to park at the nearby Target. They asked the manager if they could stay and they gave him 24-hours. There is very little we can do from here, and I’m getting annoyed by the constant updates and calls that only make things stressful for us while we are trying to enjoy our getaway.
Just before we’d left to pick my ex-husband up from the Anchorage airport we’d blown a tire. We nearly missed picking him up. Although we were fortunate enough to break down next to Lake Jerome, a stocked lake on the Kenai Peninsula, we didn’t catch a damn fish—and not for lack of effort.
It was bad enough having to have my ex-husband in the RV for two days with us due to our flights getting messed up from the Microsoft Update Crash. To make matters worse, he brought a terrible sickness with him. Much like the first half of our drive from Maine to Alaska in the RV, we have been sick in Hawaii. Kevin spent a full day in bed, and has been napping frequently.
