Last night we camped at Kumu Campground at Anahola Bay, one of the very few private campgrounds on the island. Kumu is run by the Anahola Hawaiian Homestead Association. It is one of thirty homestead associations controlled by native Hawaiians eligible for lands set aside in trust. It is on the northeast which seems to face the trade winds. The bay is beautiful with the typical crashing waves and lots of golden sand. A stream cuts the bay into two at high tide. A small native village encompasses the bay. The houses are small, unpretentious and designed for wind flow to keep them cool, one story and off the ground by a foot.

We arrived in a windstorm and parked the van between the beach and a bamboo wall used to protect tents from the winds. Trudy is keen to stay in the tent rather than the van. Three in a van works beautifully but it does heat up. We look at the 40% chance of rain tonight forecast and Ian and I try to persuade her that the van might be a better option but no. So we set up the tent and prudently throw a tarp on top. It doesn’t quite cover the tent and practically flattens the tent. Trudy tells us how Wayne would do it. Wayne runs the horseback trips in northern BC that Trudy goes on. ‘He would add a line above the tent just so here and that would hold the tarp up off the tent.’ That may be but we only have one 12ft line, a 6ft beach salvaged faded line, a shoe lace and a foot of blue ribbon. We try alternative tie ups only to see the tent sink lower and lower. We admit defeat and retire to the van.

By now, into our second pound of Costco cheese and having a cooked chicken twice the cost and half the size of the Costco $4.99 chicken we agree with Justin of Whitehorse who a few days ago on hearing Trudy’s horror story of actually having to go INTO Costco, up to now a source of pride for having avoided it, for chicken, replied sanguinely ‘Umm, yes but their roast chicken is the best deal on the island.’, Trudy is coming around to agree with our decision to do a Costco shopping foray. after all, we may need more cheese.

The wind and crashing of the waves doesn’t let up but provides a pleasant sound to sleep by. Our alarms go off: mine at 6:25 and Trudy’s at 6:30. I like to sleep in hence my psychological five minute sleep-in time. Today is a conference pre-meeting day that Trudy has to attend. She is here for the annual Pacific Seabird conference and I get to tag along as her guest, attending the poster session, opening water ceremony, a few select sessions and the dinner. Kumu is the closest campground to the conference, a 30 minute drive south, hence our early alarms. It isn’t really the closest, but the closest that allows camping in a vehicle. Lidgate campground is only ten minutes from the conference site but stories abound about the vigilant patrolling of permitted camps. Josh, Janie’s owner, told how one couple setup a decoy tent but the park staff didn’t fall for it and took down their empty tent and hauled it away. Salt Ponds doesn’t allow vehicle camping either but they turn a blind eye.

We drop Trudy off at the conference resort and scout the place. Hot tub! Outdoor showers, pristine beach, swimming pools and…Starbucks! Ian and I figure we can enjoy the comforts while accessing the van during the day. But not today, we have shopping to do- buy a bigger tarp and put up a tent.

We decided that Wayne was correct and we needed a centre line to hang the tarp on. We used the 12 ft laundry line and scavenged some poles. It looked solid when we left it in the still blowing 40mph winds.

We headed back to the conference to participate in the Sacred Water Ceremony. Trudy had arranged our contribution, a small vial of snow melt from Ian’s garden. Those who wanted to participate brought water from their homeland (chlorinated not allowed and it had to be boiled).

Three young Hawaiian men blew on conch-type shells to start the proceedings. They are students in a school, a school that focuses on Hawaiian culture, they are students of Sabra Kaunas, a renown Kumu (teacher) on Kaua’i who opened the conference with the theme ‘Ho ‘okahi Kakoe i Ke aloha (we are made one through aloha). She had each of us come up, introduce ourselves and say where our water was from, then we poured it into a large turned-wooden bowl. Water came from all over the Pacific including Japan, Alaska, Ottawa, Chile, New Zealand, California and even the Antarctic. Sabra then, sang a Hawaiian song and added salt to it. Not just any salt, but the salt from Salt Pond where we had camped a few days ago. She said the salt had been farmed for hundreds of years. It isn’t sold, just used by local Hawaiians. Then she walked the aisles sprinkling us with sacred wai (water) from which all life comes from.

That was followed by blessing songs, drumming, and dancing. Sabra emphasized that these songs and dances are not the typical ones for tourists but ones of the people.

So here’s the deal with camping on Kauai. You have three options:

1) Private campground but only one is currently open-Kumu campground.

2) State Parks, two to chose from but both require permits and we should have applied before we came as they were full and

3) State parks with more campgrounds and more availability, but a couple are closed due to mud slides, and some parks do not allow Van camping- side note: I don’t think there are any RVs on Kauai. However, most state parks close one day and one night per week ostensively for maintenance but more likely to keep you moving and discourage parks becoming sites for the homeless which we saw as a major issue Oahu has.

so we had to figure out our itinerary. We had booked Kumu before we left to align with the Pacific Seabird Conference as it was the closest campground (30 minutes away) to the conference. Our first priority was to have a place to stay for Tuesday night, it being the night two County Parks closed so we booked Anahola for Tuesday. Which meant we should do the South shore first then the north shore, then the northeast to be close to the conference.

After being south at Salt Ponds, we moved north to Anini Beach for two nights and spent a day exploring that area. Anini and Salt Ponds County Parks don’t allow van camping but they ignore it so we took our chances

At Anini the forecast was for rain late at night so we all stayed in the van. In the morning we saw a tent flattened by the rain, with all their gear soaking wet on the chairs and picnic table. I wondered where they were but not for long. No fools them. They had spent the night in their car perhaps already having experienced a previous rain flattening event or, maybe they were forced to abandon it in the wee hours.

Coming back that evening we parked in the public car park which by now had emptied of day trippers. We chose a spot right at the oceanfront between two cars. On looking closer at one car we realized it hadn’t moved in weeks. It also was piled with stuff inside and out front. Ian wisely moved our van a few spots away from what we suspected was a homeless hangout.

There was a lot of activity in the middle of the night and I, being up top in the roof tent had a birds eye view. On being awoken, I just had to roll onto one side or another and open a corresponding eye to peer out a side tent window too see goings on. A car pulled up a few spots away and parked. Meanwhile someone had taken over a picnic shelter and the light shone highlighting a couple of guys. Silhouetted in front of the shelter was someone dancing around. I could see the beam from a headlamp bouncing, turning, looking low, looking up. It took me a while to figure out it was someone raking leaves in the middle of the night! I went back to sleep. A light closer by woke me next. The homeless man was out and puttering around his possessions, stacking, moving tying things up. As long as he was focused on his possessions and not ours I figured I could leave him too it and went back to sleep…but not for long. A car with blue lights flashing was slowly driving along the main road. The homeless man was walking out of the parking lot and the police car stopped and they chatted, then the car went off and he headed to the washrooms close by. Back to sleep for a few minutes to be awoken again. Another car had arrived and parked between the homeless car and us. I don’t know how long it had been there so didn’t know how many people came in it but I saw a light shining between the two cars highlighting only one person. More flashlight activity around and in the homeless car and now the new car. This went on for awhile and then someone started up the car. They seemed to just sit there for a few minutes. Warming up? Then, with no headlights on, they backed out of the lot and backed down the road and backed into the lane next to the washroom building. Someone came out and more activity, then back into the car and they drive off not turning the headlights on until they were back on the main road.

Daylight brought hints. The homeless car junk had mostly been cleaned up. The garbage at the washroom contained two new huge black bags full of garbage. The picnic shelter was clean, the park had been swept. All my imaginings had merely been the Park night shift staff.

Looking at our schedule we realized we had double booked Tuesday night. We had reservations in the private campground at Kumu and at the County Park at Anahola which are practically next door to each other. The wind was howelling so we decided to go to Kumu which had bamboo walls in front of the tent sites. While attempting to put up the tent and young couple walking the beach asked us if we knew where the camp office was. We realized we didn’t have a clue. It being Tuesday night they booked too late and found Anahola was full and they were desperate. No problem we said we have a reservation at Anahola you can have. They were delighted! ‘What are the odds?’ He shook his head as they set off to set up their camp.

At breakfast we had an intriguing conversation with five year old Rowan (from Whitehorse) which went something like this:

Rowan: ‘Did you know that when walking your feet hit the ground but don’t really touch the ground?’

Us: ‘You mean in mid-stride?’

Rowan: ‘No’

Us: ‘When we jump?’

Rowan ‘No, I mean when your feet touch the ground but they don’t really touch the ground.’

Us: ‘Aah, you are talking at the atomic level.’

Rowan: ‘What is atomic level?’

Us: ‘when you are talking about atoms which are the smallest particle (almost) to make up anything.’

Rowan: ‘Yes! There is always space between!’

Rowan will start school in the fall.

While hiking in Kōke’e State Park, we met a man who highly recommended the hike in Po’ipū so we headed there and parked at the beach access next to the Hyatt. We entered under some pine trees growing in the deep golden/rust sand and crashing surf. Only a hundred feet in we talked a small cliff, not difficult but tricky with a large risk for Ian’s new knee so he turned back.

On top of the cliff the view was spectacular looking out onto crashing waves, wind blown foam from the top of waves, sun glittering off the water….and…spouts! Humpbacks according to the volunteers sitting in comfy beach chairs binoculars pushed up to their eyeballs, clipboards on their laps. Without taking the binoculars off, the woman told us what they were doing, interrupting every now and then to report a whale activity, ‘We’re recording what they are doing and …’one dive, one op’. Her partner scribbles numbers on a form while she continues ‘how many, ‘another blow’…’no two blows’…’possible mother and calf’. They are there for a three hour shift. A pretty nice volunteer job!

Trudy and I continue on the sandy trail between the pines. There are multiple trails and we take the more scenic one along the cliff edge. There are a few spots which are rather thin and require a downhill step, gripping the sand with your fingers, silently praying while stepping over…nothing…then an uphill scramble in the sand while thinking about the hundred foot drop at your behind.

We come across a heiaua, a Hawaiian sacred site. There are a few on Kauai easily recognized by the large rock walls. Some are temples, others aquaculture ponds, others sites of refuge. This one has the crashing waves on one side, the path going through it and a deluxe golf course on the other side. It is probably a good reflection of troubled island life.

Further down the trail we see a small sign marked ‘cave’ with an arrow pointing inland. We decide to follow it and find ourselves on a rim looking down into what appears to be a large round sink hole. It must have sunk long ago as palm trees and grass were well established on the bottom and a few people are down there being given a tour so we decide to join in. We follow a small trail down until we come to a small cave opening with a shag carpet. Someone appeared on their hands and knees, got up, dusted themselves off and left, so we got down and shuffled through.

Jerry, a volunteer explained the origin of the site. Originally a cave, the main roof had long ago collapsed. An archaeological dig had found a few treasures, and a biological look had found a unique species of a blind spider which eats a blind anthropoid-this is a case of the blind eating the blind. The now exposed floor had been planted with native plants and giant land tortoises from Africa had been imported to take the place of large exterminated herbivore land birds in the landscape. Outside of the cave acres of native forest had been planted and the giant turtles roamed underneath the canopy while red cardinals flew through them.

We continued on until we found a shady viewpoint to have our lunch, then turned around and headed back.

We have been here long enough that I was starting to lose track of what day it is.

Two years ago a group of us went on a Trudy adventure to Oahu where Trudy was attending the biannual Pacific Seabird Conference. The conference hotel was $400 a night but Trudy found a campsite nearby that only charged $9/person/night. We would drop her off at the resort in the morning, have coffee there, use the resort’s internet, make use of their beach, showers and washrooms, and pick Trudy up at the end of the day along with conference left-over boxed lunches. Back at the camp we would hunt for wild chicken eggs in the surrounding bushes for our breakfast. I am proud to say we did Hawaii for less than $50/day.

Two years later we are going upscale. We rented a VWCamper van called Janie. She’s beautiful! It still costs $9/person/night for a campsite as well as Janie but with hotels $300 and up, she is a real deal. And fun.

We took her south to Salt Pond County Park and set her up and went for a swim. Salt Pond is named for a traditional salt field next door, a low lying field of red iron oxide mud. A local told us that every ten years a group of families came and did whatever was necessary to the field (flood it with seawater?) and left it to do it’s thing (evaporate?).

There are birds everywhere, mostly on the ground, mostly chickens and beautiful cocky red roosters, mryna birds, zebra doves and a couple red crested Cardinals. Coming back I collected a few feathers because that’s what I do. I remember putting the feathers somewhere safe so the wind wouldn’t blow them away. Then I lost the van keys somewhere in the van. Thirty minutes of hunting produced nothing. I knew if I could remember where I put the feathers I could find the keys. I said to worry, they will turn up in a couple of days. Today was day 1, we had all the time in the world to relax and let the keys (and feathers) reveal themselves which they did within hours one I concentrated on the feathers and found the keys in the day pack I had already searched three times.

One disaster averted.

We have just lived with over a week of snow and below freezing temperatures. Time to head for the sun.

Cathy kindly dropped us for the PIsle ferry and we were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves for being 8 mins early. We waved goodbye and headed down the ramp to the ferry with Trudy patting her pockets. ‘ I can’t find my phone!’. Trudy is not just going to Kauai but proceeding onwards to Philip Island off Norfolk Island to volunteer at some bird project, then on to Australia. She will need her phone. We unpacked on the dock. Nada. While Trudy ran home to retrieveI phoned Cathy to meet Trudy at her place and once again, get her to the ferry on time. Which she managed.

Years ago, my very first adventure with Trudy started with a friend warning me that travel with Trudy always is an ‘adventure’. That seemed to check out when I phoned her to ask about gear needed to hunt old growth bats in the west coast. Her daughter answered the phone with a rapid staccato ‘ Mom can’t come to the phone. The BBQ is on fire and the house is burning down’. Click.

An old boyfriend of Trudy’s, reinforced the idea of Trudy adventures when he said he loved adventuring with Trudy because when you got home you felt so lucky to be alive!

On Trudy adventure I have learned that you need to figure out early, what item of Trudy’s is most important and keep your eye on it. In past it has been her car keys. Sometimes her binoculars. It seems to be her phone on this trip.

The day started with meeting Roland, a local who invited us to share a pomelo with us or perhaps more accurately to show us how to crack it open to eat it. It is like a giant grapefruit but sweeter. Roland showed us and then he was off to Waimea days to go to the rodeo.

Last night was a lesson in the world of chickens. As dusk approached, the head honcho roosters made their way to a tree with a large, wide branch structure and hoped and flapped up into the canopy, at which point they let out a cockadoodledo as if to say ‘Everybody to bed.’ This scenario was repeated, cockadoodledo, throughout the campground, cockadoodledo, as the various groups invaded the trees, cockadoodledo. I didn’t see any moms with chicks, I suspected they hid in the bushes across the road. Cockadoodledo. You get the picture.

At this point, Ian and I (Trudy being somewhere else) looked up at the tree, loaded with noisy chickens above their tent and then looked down at the tent, then at each other and silently pulled up stakes and moved it into the open field.

Roosters everywhere.

I had the good fortune to be sleeping in the van; poorer view but more relaxing soundscape or so I thought until woken by 4 police cars with blue lights flashing, interested in someone in a deep sleep inside a car parked nearby. They were quiet but determined to wake him. Knocking on the windows didn’t budge the sound sleeper. This wasn’t a big city take-down, this was a Hawaiian wake-up. One police officer went into the chicken-and-chicks infested bush causing some clucking and came out with a long thin stick which he poked through the cracks in the window and poked the guy awake. There was a brief quiet discussion and then the four police cars headed off and the guy, chickens, chicks and me, all went back to sleep.

At around 3a.m. the roosters again cockadoodledo-ed as if to say ‘it’s 3a.m. and all is well’. This was repeated up and down the campground before settling down for a couple of more hours when they cockadoodledo-ed again around dawn to wake everyone up.

We headed north up the Waimea Canyon seven mile up hill all the way to over 4,000 ft, as far as the road goes, stopping at every lookout where we fed on each spectacular view both to the canyon on the east and to the dramatic coastline on the west.

At Pu’u o Lila lookout we started to hike further up to the Alaki Swamp, the wettest place on earth with an average annual 423 inches of rain! We however were lucky enough to hike in on one of the rare dry days.

A couple of hundred yards

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton