The Setting   Hawai‘i was defined for me by James Michener. And in reflection, so was a huge piece of my travel philosophy in general. I’ve described in the past how, in 1957, when I took my first European trip with a friend, someone in the Roman Forum showed us a map of the Forum in book form. The main map showed the Forum in ancient times, and you then folded down a number of glassine pages, each of which had painted on then additions from various centuries. When all were folded down, you saw the Forum as it looks today. This image of history as a layering of time, of buildings, of events, of people has stayed with me.

Two years later, in 1959, Michener wrote his epic novel “Hawaii”, which I read at the time. Even though I haven’t read it again since, I still have the layering imagery of the history of the islands. After describing the volcanic formation of the barren land, he describes birds flying in from elsewhere, and in their droppings and in their feathers were seeds, which started plant life on the islands. Following chapters describe one by one the arrival of the Polynesians, the American missionaries and merchants, the Chinese, the Japanese, and other ethnic groups, which eventually bring the history of the islands up to the present. While the events are historical, the individual characters are fictional, yet give life to the historic events. It was the first of many episodic Michener novels that have affected my views of history, geography—and of course, travel. (My other favorite of his is “The Source” about the layered development of cultures in the Middle East.)

So again, this imagery defines both my general travel outlook and specifically, my mental and emotional image of Hawai‘i. I see the volcanic rock, the birds and plants, the descendents of Hawaiians and other ethnic groups, and it all falls into place.

The Islands   It all starts with the Hawai‘i Hotspot. Now I know that sounds like a teenage hangout, but instead, it’s the underground point from which magma leaves the earth to form volcanoes, and it’s the most famous volcanic hotspot on earth. As the Pacific Plate moved over the Hawaii Hotspot, it created the Hawaiian Islands.

Use this imagery: picture a puddle of water on a tabletop. That’s the hotspot. Now put a tablecloth on the table over the water. Where the tablecloth gets wet is where you’ve just created Kaua‘i. Lift the tablecloth, move it to the upper left (northwest), and set it down onto the water again. Now you’ve created O‘ahu, do it again for Maui, and again for the Big Island of Hawai‘i. The Hawaiian islands were created one by one as the Pacific plate kept moving to the northwest over the hotspot, which kept on sending magma upward to form volcanoes, which became islands. And this history shows that the islands go from the oldest, Kaua‘i, to the youngest, Hawai‘i, whose southeast shore continues to grow, even as we speak.

Do follow with a map, even if you’re somewhat familiar with the island layout. There are four major islands, and four minor islands, but, as I’ve learned only recently, it really comes down historically to the four big islands, as the others are all satellites. They do run from northwest to southeast, pretty much in a row, where they’re still growing. If you forget which is which and where they lie, use the acronym KOMBI, or K-O-M-BI. Running on the diagonal, it’s Kaua‘i, O‘ahu, Maui, Big Island (of Hawai‘i), or KOMBI. By pure coincidence, this KOMBI sequence is also the lineup of the islands in size, from smallest of the major islands to largest.

Now if that last island mentioned confuses you, let’s make you feel less like a haole. The name of the biggest island is what gave the archipelago (group of islands) its name. That could be considered an honor, but it’s really a curse. Since the entire archipelago and state use the name Hawai‘i , to use that for the biggest island would be confusing. So people rarely do, essentially cheating the island out of its name. The biggest island is called just that, the Big Island. Honolulu Airport flight screens say this flight is going to Maui, but that flight is going to the Big Island. Only if the context is entirely clear can you safely call the Big Island by its rightful name. Weird. But the Big Island holds up to its name, since it encompasses 62% of the total land area in the islands.

Still, even all the islands together are not all that large. It’s only the 43rd state in size, followed, in order, by the small states of Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, New Jersey, Connecticut, Delaware, Rhode Island. It’s only 3.4% larger than the state behind it, Massachusetts.

Now let me clarify something I said earlier, based on something I just learned that I found amazing. I said the eight islands, four major, four minor, can be considered just four. As a matter of fact, they are indeed considered just that way in the designation of the four counties that make up the state, named after the four major islands. Let me explain.

As the four major islands line up (KOMBI), three small ones all cluster near Maui (why didn’t I get suspicious earlier?) and one, Ni‘ihau, that private “recluse” island, lies beyond Kaua‘i. Some people guess incorrectly that Ni‘ihau is older than Kaua‘i, but that is not so. As a matter of fact, it lies, oddly, southwest, and therefore out of the alignment of the rest. Well, as I just found out, Ni‘ihau can be considered a child of Kaua‘i. Kaua‘i was formed 5.1 million years ago, but just 4.9 million years ago, a secondary volcanic vent developed underwater laterally from the volcano that formed Kaua‘i to form Ni‘ihau on southwest side. So geologically, Ni‘ihau really is related to Kaua‘i, and it is appropriate that Ni‘ihau is part of Kaua‘i County. Although I didn’t get to see Ni‘ihau from at distance on this trip since that day it was too hazy, it does lie close enough to Kaua‘i (17 mi / 27 km) that we saw it in the distance on our first trip.

The even more surprising quirk involves Maui and the small islands near it. For this we have to talk about Maui Nui, and to do that, I want to talk about the word “nui”, and while we’re at it, its opposite, “iki”.

“Iki” means “small”. When visiting the round caldera on the top of Kilauea, you come to the protuberance on one side that looks like a panhandle, a secondary crater known as Kilauea Iki, or Little Kilauea. Recently, when I was pondering this, another fact struck me. Of course that word keiki has to mean children. There sits iki at the end, and we said that the definite article ka (the) has a variation of ke, so keiki means literally “the little (ones)”, in other words, the children.

“Nui”, on the other hand, which means “large” seems to come up more frequently. Let’s start with Rapa Nui, the Polynesian name for Easter Island. What can “rapa” mean? Well, the Rapa Nui language seems to include an R, but Hawaiian only allows an L in that area of the mouth, so I looked up “lapa”, which in Hawaiian means “ridge”. So there we are, Rapa Nui would mean Large Ridge. But that’s too literal. Let’s get more style in our translation and say it means Great Ridge. Maybe even better would be Grand Ridge, take your pick.

Flying to and from Tahiti in February I’ll be on Air Tahiti Nui, a well-regarded, four-star airline. It does the international flights, while the older Air Tahiti, a separate airline, does domestic flights. Even blended with non-Polynesian words, nui makes it clear which of the two airlines has the larger route map.

Well, we know Maui, so what’s with Maui Nui? Something very interesting, and it explains why Maui has those three satellite islands—and satellites are just what they are. 1.2 million years ago, when the island that became Maui was formed volcanically, that island was much larger than the present Maui, and INCLUDED what is today Moloka‘i, Lana‘i, and Kaho‘olawe, all in one larger island, which scientists now call Maui Nui. Then in time, two things happened. The volcanoes settled under their own weight, and also the lower sea levels caused by polar glaciation began to rise as the polar ice melted. As the land settled and the sea level rose, the exposed land of the saddles between volcanoes began to flood, and the large island of Maui Nui became the Maui of today and its three satellite islands. (Actually, a potential island west of Moloka‘i flooded over completely, and is now a shallow area known as Penguin Bank.) In addition, the four islands are all part of Maui County. As I was flying during this trip from O‘ahu to the Big Island (Honolulu to Kona, just 40 minutes), I had an absolutely perfect view from the air of Maui and its three keiki. A Google satellite map (no pun intended) couldn’t have been clearer.

As to location, my round-trip flight on this side trip to Honolulu was from Seattle. Seattle is 122°W and Honolulu 158°W, so the islands are well out into the Pakipika, and considerably south; while Seattle is at about 48°N, Honolulu is way down at 21°N. While we’re talking about it, the southernmost point in the United States is on the Big Island, but more of that later.

The 1970 Visit   I’ve said many times before that in 1968-1969 we took two VERY extended driving trips in our VW camper, visiting all US states and Canadian provinces, so in 1970, we decided to see our two last states. We made our way driving, by train, and by ferry to Alaska, ending up in Anchorage, from where we had booked ourselves on a direct flight to Honolulu, which we considered a particularly fun connection. However, a few weeks in advance of travel, the airline informed us that that direct flight was cancelled (it has possibly since been reinstated), and we were booked instead from Anchorage to Seattle, where we had to overnight at the airport, cutting a day out of our Hawai‘i time, flying to Honolulu the next day. I mention this, since it is such a coincidence that it worked out that Seattle was my point of departure again for Honolulu in 2008.

We were there then for sixteen nights in July and August. We visited the four major islands, and I’d like to mention two things that worked quite well in our favor, flights and car rental.

Those were the years of stopovers. Airlines would sell you tickets to a distant destination, and include one or more free stops. The deal we were given was this. If you entered Hawai‘i at Honolulu and left from its second city, Hilo, on the Big Island (or vice versa), you could fly between all four islands for $5 a ticket. I’ve told this to people, who don’t want to believe it. It worked out fine, and we left from Hilo to San Francisco, then Las Vegas.

The car rental company was also good to us. They gave us a good price on a two-week-plus rental that covered all four islands: drop off car, fly, pick up new car on a continuing rental. That meant that we didn’t have to do an expensive short-term rental four times. I doubt that they still do that, but they might.

On that trip, we became so enamored of something that we bought some to take home, and I brought it back with me this time.

We’ve talked about the state fish with the long name. Also of interest is the state tree, the kukui, or candlenut tree, and more specifically, the kukui nuts themselves. They are the size of a small walnut. I understand they’re similar to macadamias, which are also a big crop on the Big Island. Apparently, the nut is quite oily, and were traditionally ignited and used as candles, hence the English name.

But kukui nuts have another use, as jewelry. The riper they get, the darker they get, and black kukui nuts are the ones you see most. To be used as jewelry, the nut has to be removed, which is the most curious part of the process. The shell is pierced top and bottom, where they will eventually be strung, and the nuts are then buried in the ground. Enough time is allowed for insects to eat away the nut inside, and then the shells are processed. They are very, very hard, and can be highly polished. They are strung and made into leis. We purchased a lei and also a bracelet. These are worn by both men and women, and I brought my kukuis back to the islands this trip, where I wore them frequently: almost always on the ship, and often at other times. After all, I wanted to fit in and not look like a haole.

After the 1970 visit, for many years we declared Hawai‘i to be our favorite place, and vowed to return soon. We never did, until I did this year. And now, although I am highly enamored of Hawai‘i, I’ve become wise enough not to declare any ONE favorite place, but to include in my collection many, many favorite places, each with its own special aspect.

The Ship   It seems to me that on a first visit, one should visit all four major islands, and on a later visit, one could be selective. If my second visit had been closer to the first, I might not have wanted to see all four again, but with over 38 years in between, I felt I needed to touch base again with all four. Not at all do repeat everything I’d done, which would have been boring, but just to experience all four again.

To do so, one has two choices. Fly, as we did in 1970, or take a one-week island cruise. But this latter choice requires some background explanation.

Whether you realize it or not, all travelers in the US have to live with the Jones Act, formally known as the Merchant Marine Act of 1920. It was meant to protect US shipping and US jobs. You may agree with it, or may espouse free trade, but at the end of the day you have to live with it as a traveler. The act restricts carrying passengers (or freight) between US ports only to US-built and US-flagged vessels that have at least a 75% US crew. Phrased differently, it means domestic service is restricted to domestic ships. Any other ships can only do international service.

But there’s a big problem. There ARE no more US-built vessels, since there are virtually no more shipyards in the US, and US-flagged vessels are few and far between. Furthermore, most ship crews today come from countries where wages are considerably lower, such as the Philippines or Eastern Europe, and there are few Americans in these jobs. Since there are only non-US ships making most connections, they have to use the “international” loophole.

If you’ve ever taken an Alaska cruise that sailed from, say, Seattle, it was probably on a non-US ship. You will recall that you didn’t go directly from Seattle to Alaska, but stopped in Vancouver. There’s nothing wrong with Vancouver, it’s a nice place to visit, but after all, it’s not Alaska, is it? The main reason you stopped in Vancouver is the Jones Act. By stopping in Canada, it became an international trip, and the non-US ship got by on the loophole.

There are coastal trips in California, some even going to Hawai‘i, and all make a stop in Ensenada, Mexico. I’m sure there is absolutely nothing to see in Ensenada, but you now know why they stop there.

When I sail on January 10 on the Queen Victoria from New York via the Panama Canal to Los Angeles, I’ll be connecting between two US ports, but there will be stops in the Caribbean and in Mexico, making it an international trip. However, the first stop after New York is Fort Lauderdale, and the trip will not yet have become international, so presumably no passengers can disembark there other than for sightseeing. This demonstrates living with the Jones Act.

For a number of years, non-US ships have serviced the four major Hawaiian islands, but they had the same problem. Yet it was harder to solve, since Hawai‘i is so isolated and there’s no Canada or Mexico next door. What those ships usually did was to take a long trip south to Fanning Island, where there is absolutely nothing to see, just to make it an international trip, wasting a full day or more in what was supposed to be a seven-day Hawaiian trip.

Well, finally, Norwegian Cruise Lines did something about it. In 2004 they formed NCL America, a US company that is a subsidiary of NCL. They built several ships, including the one currently providing Hawaiian service, the Pride of America (can you flag-wave your intentions any more than that?) which has a 75% US crew (I chatted with a number of them), with the rest heavily Filipino. It’s the first US-flagged cruise ship built in fifty years. As far as I can tell, there’s only one problem. The act says the ships are supposed to be US-built, but the Pride of America is German-built, a fact I knew, and confirmed by finding the plaque saying it was built in Bremerhaven between 2000 and 2005. I can only imagine NCL America got a waiver for this condition. So now we have a ship that can legally stay just within the Hawaiian islands, serving nothing but one US port after another.

The sailing on the Pride of America was my 44th voyage. It’s a good-sized ship with 15 decks, carrying 2146 passengers. Externally it’s white with colorful painted ribbons on the bow, so it’s just a bit flashy, but that tends to be the NCL livery. Its lobby has a two-deck atrium with the de rigueur fancy staircase, and glass elevators. It has the new features obvious on the QM2, such as numbered (and not named) decks, hallways that look like hotels and not rabbit warrens. It apparently can turn on a dime because it uses the pod technology for propulsion. It had decent, but slow, internet service that was pricey, but again I had an on-board credit that pretty much covered it. It was supposed to work from one’s cabin, but didn’t, so I worked in the ship’s library, game room, and once in the computer room.

As for a cabin, I had arranged for something new—a cabin that faced the back of the ship, to see where you’ve been. Right under the breakfast terrace on deck 11, I had one of six cabins on deck 10 that faced the back, then there were more on 9 and 8. The cabin was decent-sized, and the good-sized longish terrace was comfortable. I did sit outside, but we weren’t underway enough to make it as much fun as possible (more on that below). More often than not I had a view of containers being loaded and unloaded on the pier.

Would I recommend this ship and so-called cruise? Absolutely, as long as you knew what you were getting into. The ship was attractive and comfortable, and it took you to all the islands. You could have taken all sorts of tours day after day, and one “shore excursion” on each island was the opportunity to rent your own car and drive where you wanted. I’m tempted not to call this a cruise, though, because you almost never cruised anywhere. That’s the problem with the Hawaiian islands, they’re just too close together. On the first night we left Honolulu at 10 PM for a crossing (like thieves in the dead of night) of a couple of hours, and woke up watching containers being unloaded in Maui. With an exception or two that I’ll point out, it was just a floating hotel that showed up in different places in the morning for different things to see. But you almost never were “at sea”, and first-time cruisers (of which there were many) didn’t know what it was they were missing.

To me the worst negative is what NCL America touts in its ads as “freestyle cruising”. In other words, do what you want. There is open seating, no specified seating times, no dress-up times of any sort. They define it as “resort style” with open seating “like top shoreside resorts”. From this you will clearly see they are courting vacationers exclusively and not travelers, which to me is a big no-no.

They had two main dining rooms, one above the other and both attractive. One was done in Art Deco, including a frieze of repeated images of the top of the Chrysler Building around the room. The other one was all red-white-and blue, with statues of Washington and Lincoln. I never ate in either. I always stuck to the buffet, which was decent, for all three meals. It was adequate for me.

The other point to be made is the demographic that they draw. I talked to some very nice people, but there were a lot of first-timers, a lot of non-travelers. At each stop there were free bus shuttles to shop at Hilo Hattie’s (you can judge by the name what they must sell) and—get this—free buses to Wal-Mart. I think that clearly defines the demographic. There was also a group on board of several hundred women barbershop singers.

For the negatives involved, I still recommend the ship and I’ll still say it was worth it to get to all four islands. I didn’t necessarily do too many activities on each, yet did all I wanted to do. It was also relaxing to read and get a lot of writing done. Also, it gave a cozy, unifying feeling to go from island to island in that way.

I might add here that the superferries are coming to the islands. I understand these car ferries now link O‘ahu and Maui, and will soon link O‘ahu and the Big Island. The connection to Kaua‘i has been postponed because of local opposition of people who didn’t want more traffic, but it will probably still come about. When all connections are done, at least locals will be able to drive their cars to all parts of the islands. I’ve heard that car rentals are not allowed on the ferries for some reason. That might just be rumor, or if not, might change, but these superferries will offer an interesting alternative to flying or cruising. But one last point—the fact that ferries can make the short hops between islands in no time tells you how close the islands are, and further points out that a big ship will do little cruising in these waters.

The Four-Island Route   The Pride of America connected five ports on four islands (two stops on the Big Island) over seven nights, with either one or two nights in a port.

O‘AHU (DEPARTURE) I will talk about the arrival from Seattle to Honolulu and the first half-day there before I boarded the ship when I describe O‘ahu later. In the late afternoon I boarded the Pride of America in Honolulu Harbor and settled in. The ship sailed very late in the evening, like a thief in the night, as proved to be the usual case, and must have been using pods, because you could feel little to no motion. I found out later that from O‘ahu we had swung around the north side of Moloka‘i, not witnessing anything, on the way to the north coast of Maui, where we stayed for a couple of nights. I woke up the next morning with us already docked in Kahului, where I watched from my terrace the inevitable containers being loaded and unloaded.

MAUI Maui is shaped like someone on his knees looking down a hole, with his head on the left. Most of the island (the person’s body, on the right) is filled with the massive shape of Haleakala (it’s technically ha.le.a.ka.LA, but most people say ha.le.A.ka.la), the volcano whose bulk covers 75% of Maui. If you are in a more mundane mood, it’s also called the East Maui Volcano. The infamous Hana Highway runs along his spine to Hana at his tailbone. No highway runs along the south shore, so you have to backtrack.

His neck forms the central valley, and Kahului, where we were docked, would be at the nape of his neck. The smaller peninsula that forms his head, includes the much eroded West Maui Volcano, thus explaining why there is a central valley. Located where his eye would be is the old whaling port of Lahaina, which was featured in the Michener novel.

In 1970 we had really seen everything we had wanted to see, including driving up to the top of Haleakala at dawn to see the sunrise. You also get to see a rare and protected plant at the top called a silversword. In addition, up in the various mountains you are supposed to see the nene, the Hawaiian State Bird, which all crossword puzzle fans will recognize under the clue “Hawaiian goose”. I’ve still never seen one. I’ve seen my humuhumunukunukuapua‘a, I’ve worn my kukui lei, but I’ve never seen a nene. It is the world’s rarest goose, and is related to the Canada goose, which implies that that’s where they originated. It’s estimated that there had been some 25,000 nenes in Hawai‘i when Captain Cook arrived in 1778, but hunting and introduced predators reduced the population to 30 by 1952. But the nenes have been bred and re-introduced, so that there is now an estimated 800 birds in the wild and another 1000 in captivity. But I’ve never seen one.

All I wanted on Maui this trip was to see Haleakala again, and believe me, you can’t miss it. It’s not only massive, it seems to fill the horizon. From the ship on the north shore you could see the lower western mountains, the central valley, and the bulge of Haleakala to the east. And I mean just that. It rises so gently (as do Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa on the Big Island) that it’s just a gradual slope going up and then coming down. I had first considered taking a bus tour (ugh) to the top, but since my first helicopter flight over Victoria Falls this summer, I decided to do all three helicopter flights available in the islands.

The flights are about 40-45 minutes. You have to weigh in, and they seat you (up to five people plus the pilot) based on your weight for proper balance. Everywhere it’s pointed out that anyone over 250 lb / 113 kg had to buy two tickets. How embarrassing. You have earphones and a mike so that everyone can talk to the pilot.

Going roughly southeast from the airport we quickly reached the slopes, and gradually rose to the top as we looked at the plantations with sugar cane and pineapples (the cultivation of which is severely diminishing in the islands). We swooped around some clouds at the summit (10,023 ft / 3,055 m) and looked at the crater, which is some 7 mi / 11 km wide, 2 mi / 3 km wide, and 2600 ft / 800 m deep. Officially, Haleakala is dormant, and hasn’t erupted in several centuries.

We then flew down the south slope which was wilder and had lots of waterfalls and pools. It was a particular thrill to look further to the southeast and see in the not-too-far distance on the Big Island both Mauna Kea on the left and Mauna Loa on the right, both with the same gradual, gentle slopes as I had just seen.

Watch this helicopter flight on YouTube: Helicopter over Haleakala, Maui. Note in particular:

On the return, we flew over Hana on the east end, and then followed the infamous Road to Hana (Hana Highway, Hana Road) along the northeast shore back to the airport. It looked just as challenging from the air as it had when Beverly and I drove it in 1970. And since Hana is a dead end, you have to drive it back.

The Road to Hana connects Kahului, where the ship and airport were, along the northeast shore to Hana. It was built in the early 20C when cars went much, much slower. The route is very scenic and passes many bays and waterfalls in a lush rainforest, but because of the nature of the road, you can’t really pay much attention to the scenery, since it winds around one small promontory, around a bay, and then around the next small promontory. In this fashion, there are some 620 nausea-inducing curves along the length of the highway. Even though Kahului and Hana are only about 52 mi / 84 km apart, the road length is 68 mi / 109 km, and a typical one-way trip takes about three hours. There are 59 bridges, most dating from 1910, 46 of which are one-way, requiring traffic to yield. The Road to Hana is a challenge many visitors want to take. It is also listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Take a look at this video on YouTube of the drive. Watch the painted markings on the road indicating where you should stop to yield because of a narrowing of the road: Road to Hana, Maui

The ship was to sail at 6:00 that evening, but the captain said that because of high winds, we’d sail at 6:30 instead. He then announced something that made me laugh, given how close all these ports and islands are. He said we shouldn’t worry about the time, that we could have left at midnight and have still have arrived in Hilo on time. Indeed. The islands are so close together, a rowboat could have made it in time.

BIG ISLAND This will only be a quick discussion of where the ship stopped on the Big Island, since the full discussion will come later, when I went back there. I woke up in Hilo harbor, watching you-know-what. Hilo has little to offer, and we had visited it and its area, including a macadamia factory, in 1970. But the volcanoes are nearby, and I took the “Circle of Fire” helicopter tour, described later. At about 9:30 that evening, we were told to be on deck as we passed the lava entering the sea, also discussed later. It was the first “cruise-like” event of the trip, even though it was at night.

We proceed around Ka Lae / South Point in the wee hours, so we saw nothing, and woke up in Kona harbor, but without containers being moved around on the pier. The only reason for that is that Kona harbor is not big enough for us to dock so we, lay at anchor, with tender service to shore. This is the only port where I never got off at all, since I was coming back to Kona later. From the ship, though, I was able to admire the vast mountainside straight ahead where I’d be staying later at a charming hotel on a coffee plantation. After Kona, we took the longest hop of the trip, from the Big Island all the way to Kaua‘i, but it was all in the dead of night and we saw nothing. Does this really count as a cruise?

KAUA‘I Smallish Kaua‘i is essentially round, with its main town, Lihue, and Lihue’s port, Nawiliwili, where we docked next to the containers, located at about the 4 o’clock position. To me, there are essentially two things to see, Waimea Canyon and the Na Pali coast. Waimea Canyon (there’s another place name using Wai) is a deep slash in the western part of the island running from about 7:00 to a dead end above the Na Pali coast at 10:00.

Waimea Canyon is referred to as the Grand Canyon of Pacific. It was given that name by none other than Mark Twain, whom I’ll be quoting in the islands in two other contexts, dealing with places he visited. However, Twain never saw Waimea Canyon, but his description nevertheless stuck. Beverly and I drove the length of the canyon in 1970. Its size (10 mi / 16 km long, 2 mi / 3 km wide) and depth (up to 3000 ft / 900 m) are startling. This deep incision was carved by the Waimea River as it drains the extreme rainfall of Mount Wai‘ale‘ale, one of the wettest spots on earth (more on that in a moment). From the lookout at the far end, we had just a bit of a view down below of the Na Pali coast, but seeing a lot more of that coast was one reason I wanted to come back to Hawai‘i. I ended up seeing it twice in the same day, once from the air and once from the sea.

The helicopter proceeded to the mountains of western Kaua‘i. The pilot said we were flying over and along Waimea Canyon, and as good as my geographic sense is, I couldn’t tell where it lay between the mountains, so I’m certainly glad we had had that good driving experience years ago. At the northern end we flew out over the sea, and then along and over the mountains and cliffs known as Na Pali (The Cliffs), which lie between the 10:00 and 11:00 positions on the island. They run for about 16 mi / 26 km and are up to 4000 ft / 1200 m in height. They are stark and drop right into the sea, and it’s obvious why there is no road going completely around the island. The best way I can describe their unique eroded shapes is that of a paper muffin cup turned upside down. The ridges are more irregular than that, but that gives what I consider a proper mental image. I found this clip on YouTube of a helicopter overflying the coast: Na Pali Coast

Coming back diagonally across the entire island to the airport, we passed Mount Wai‘ale‘ale. Again, wai is water; ‘ale is a wave, ‘ale‘ale, the reduplicated form, means “rippling”, which seems logical, so the name means “Rippling Water” which is appropriate for the excessive rainfall here, which carved Waimea Canyon. Its 5148 ft / 1569 m make it the second highest on the island. This mountain over the last three decades has averaged an annual rainfall of 460 in (over 38 ft) / 11,680 mm per year. Its record rainfall was in 1982 when 683 in (almost 60 ft) / 17,340 mm fell. It summit is one of the rainiest spots on earth. It’s promoted to tourists (bless their gullible hearts) as THE rainiest spot, but then you have to watch your statistics. There is a place in India with a slightly higher rainfall, but that rain is concentrated in the monsoon season, while here, the rain is more evenly distributed throughout the year, so you can argue either location, depending on your definition. (Here I can quote Mark Twain from long-ago memory: “There are three levels of untruth: (1) lies; (2) DAMN lies; and (3) statistics.”)

I read that there are several reasons for this heavy rainfall on this mountain. One is the location of Kaua‘i as the first island in the chain, which frontal systems bringing rain encounter first. Then, its peak is round and conical, exposing more rain-catching surface. The height of its peak is such that moist clouds produced by trade winds cannot rise above it. Finally, its steep cliffs cause the moisture-laden air to rise rapidly—over 3000 feet in less than ½ mile / 900 m in 800 m. Rippling Water indeed.

The flight at the mountain itself was amazing. It was hard to picture just where we were. I figure it was the extremely deep caldera of the mountain. We flew into it at mid-level, and it appeared to be a deep tube, open at the top and also open on about 1/3 of its side, which had fallen away. It was very different flying next to the very stark crater walls that seemed close enough to touch (hey, watch it, there) while being inside this formation. There were also waterfalls that fell WAY down to there. We were actually quite high up, and looking down, there was another helicopter circling way below. It was spectacular, and eerie.

The ship sailed in the mid-afternoon in what was therefore a first. We actually cruised for the first time in the daylight! The next day the trip would be over and we finally were at sea during the day. Leaving Nawiliwili harbor we had nice views of the mountains, and then the ship circled about half the island, from the 4:00 position to the Na Pali coast at the 10-11:00 position. When we got close, it was announced that we should go to the port side to see the cliffs, so I saw them for the second time that day. Frankly, they were much more impressive from the water. We sailed along their full length, and since the sun was getting low, the cliffs started glowing more and more golden. It was a nice finale to the voyage.

O‘AHU (ARRIVAL) Then, we again sailed overnight, seeing nothing. We apparently backtracked around Kaua‘i and then southeast, arriving in Honolulu on O‘ahu, the next island over, in the early morning. I will say again that the voyage on the Pride of America was worth it, and recommend it. It’s an attractive ship, and goes where you want to go, if you want to sample all four islands. The food is so-so, the demographic is vacation-minded and touristy, and this voyage is hardly a cruise, since you hardly experience sailing, at least in the daylight. Still, you have a large selection of shore activities, including doing nothing at all (but write on the laptop).

Here’s my island summary. If you’re a vacationer, any vacation spot on any of the islands will please you. If you’re a traveler, take the ship to the four islands to sample each, and then, if you have time, go back to your favorites (or go back to your favorites on a later trip). My second favorite is Waikiki, on O‘ahu, and by far, my most favorite is Kona, on the Big Island. And that’s where I went next, and, as it turned out, in that order.