Paddling a lunar path

Of course I paddled the full moon down the morning after.

Having everything

Not only did my birthday this year coincide with a magnificent full moon, it started with a long soak in a geothermally heated tidepool. All to myself. Mysteriously, all the regulars left it until later to come to do their lengths.

I had a blissful hour of solitude watching the light come up on the next day of my life.

All is restored: after years of primal natal confusion in frigid northern Januaries, tropical air restores the natural order of things for this KZN summer-born babe.

January moon

Hubris on water: the hour that the ship comes in

Thereʻs been a lot of big vessel traffic in my dawn paddles of late.

On this day a huge cruise liner came is just as the full moon was setting.

The man who rows the bay every morning in his row boat was braver than me. He went right up close. See him in a neon green top up front.

I hung back a little cautiously, but curiously this vessel did not make much wake, unlike those monster container barges in the Salish Sea.

"Pride of America." What a name for a floating hotel.

Investing in the future: Dragonfruit

Picking up some fresh greens one Saturday, from the nice people at the Hapuʻu garden down the road, I mention to Chong that I want Dragonfruit (specifically Hylocereus undatus) plants.

"How much you wanʻ pay?"  he says "One dolah, two dolah, tree dolah? How much?"

"Ummm. I will take two dollars" I hedge my bets, not knowing Chongʻs yardstick. I have seen potted 7 inch pieces at that orange-signed, big box store, for around $12

Chong fetches a serious looking, long handled, clipper device and heads into his Dragonfruit liar. He comes back with a cardboard box of five 12-15 inch pieces. He instructs me to leave the pieces lying around in the shade until they develop roots. If I put them in pots I must not bury them too deep.

Okay. Dragonfruit. Yes!

Looking forward to adding another moonflower - a nightblooming cactus which feeds me too - to my botanical companions.

Road trip, field trip: burying the wounded knee

 The first field trip of 2014 was to the Hawaiian cultural heritage sites on Kahaluʻu Bay.

It was an overnight camp. Kahuluʻu on the South Kona coast, is possibly the furthest point on the island from my house, meaning an early start for that always beautiful drive over the Saddle Road.

The site, believed to have held at least ten heiau, was a coastal hangout of Hawaiian royalty (aliʻi) and their courts. It has been through much in recent decades: hotels, shady investment deals, rumours of curse, demolition, restoration. A really difficult renaissance.

 We were lucky enough to be taken onto Hāpaialiʻi Heiau where the restoration process was begun in 2007.

This heiau was a calendar, too,  with stones aligned with important celestial bodies at significant seasonal times such as equinoxes and solstices.

 The heiau was also a place for children to be raised up and dedicated to the calling of the spirit.

An appropriate and significant place. A place of healing.

When it came time to sleep at night, I pulled my camp cot out under stars a little way from the dormitory under canvas where we were accommodated sumptuously.

With setting moon and bioluminescence on the waves it was a magnificent light show. I felt as though I did not sleep at all, yet was fully rested in the morning.

In the morning my crippling wounded knee was vanquished too. Gone. All gone. No pain, just a little stiffness. Magic?

As I am musing on this unexpected, painless, existence, a sailing canoe glimpsed through palms provides all necessary notary public for the contract.

Buried pain absorbed by ancient bones, brought home to health. Testimony.

In with a flood: first paddle of the year

Not only did 2014 come in with the moon, the first week of the year saw dramatic flooding where I live.

A few days after the storm, we find the water on Hilo Bay is filled with debris.

There were several enormous tree sized pieces of flotsam. Other more noxious plastic flotsam came back to shore with me.

Someone else was more interested in looking for coconuts to capture.

Mauna Kea presided, pinkly.

First moon

You know it is going to be an extraordinary year when the moon is in accord.

2014, Roman calendar, began with a new moon. How auspicious is that?

All aboard the chariot!

Volcano breath

On the last evening of the year, I spent some time with the blood of my blood at Kilauea, the worldʻs most active volcano,  experiencing Peleʻs steamy breath.

The flow from the Puʻu Oʻo eruption might have slowed down at the moment, but this is the steamiest I have seen the vents for a long time and the caldera was bubbling away as usual.

Gifts from the mountain

One of the advantages of living on a tiny dot of a volcanic island with 10 different climate zones, in the middle of a huge ocean, is:  if you donʻt like conditions where you are, you can be in a different climate without too much effort.

The little Halemahina is on the windward side. In December it rained. A lot.

Hoping to dry our sodden selves out a little, and looking for sunshine,  my visitor and I drove the Saddle Road, to the leeward side of the island.

Magically, as we drew near the summit, Mauna Kea unveiled a vision of a fresh snow mantle for us.

Aloha mai e Poliʻahu!

What a lovely gift from the sacred mountain!

It is all in the bones: mahalo nui loa.

Lava trickstering

My recent visitor really wanted to see lava flowing into the sea.

Unfortunately this wish could not be granted. The current lava flow became an ooze in late August 2013, and is no longer flowing spectacularly into the ocean.

We did try, alternately, to walk to the edge of the flow, only to find that that too has become inaccessible.

However we had a good conversation with one of the Civil Defence budget, county lava guardians:  folks who are paid to stand around on lava flows wearing reflective vests, keeping foolish people from endangering themselves at the interface with elemental natural forces.

One can pick up all kind of tips at the frontier, on the youngest solid earth on the planet: what it is like to live on the lava, how to get home insurance and haul water. Useful, practical advice for daily living.

Of course the volcano will have the last laugh. Always. No magma sleeps forever.

Sunrise on 2014.

Sunrise on the new year, edition 2014, the Chariot, the Canoe, at Ahalanui geothermally heated tide pool.

This ocean goes all the way to the other side of tomorrow: so far east it becomes west in the unbroken circle.

 All this and more. In my backyard.