The relaxing view from our lanai. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After a hardy breakfast of veggie omelets and fresh fruit, we left for the Maui Ocean Center. We drove through the burned-out section of Lahaina, and I didn’t realize it at first with all the rebuilding that had been done.
However, the many empty lots and scorched concrete block walls bore witness to the devastation. A respectful hush came over the bus. Everyone sensed the apparent dichotomy. As tourists, we embraced the beauty of the islands, its rhythmic language, the friendliness of its handsome people, and pride in their cultures. Yet, they had no homes, and still, they welcomed us. They needed the tourism jobs.
Sections of Lahaina still waiting to be rebuilt. Photos by Bruce Stambaugh
Though we left the hotel early, we arrived at the ocean center late. An accident caused a long traffic jam on the two-lane highway to the bay where the aquarium is located. The bus driver said accidents along this stretch of road are frequent.
A guided tour of the Maui Ocean Center gave us a good understanding of the sealife around Hawaii. We watched various fish, sharks, and stingrays swim past the aquarium’s large underwater windows. Humpback Whales breed and give birth in the waters off Maui, but we were a little early to see any whales.
Back at the hotel, we strolled down Black Rock Beach to a seaside restaurant. The locals were getting a headstart on celebrating the holidays. A large Christmas tree stood fully decorated at the end of a walkway to the beach.
The setting, the views, the flowers—everything was gorgeous. Parasails caught the trade winds offshore and glided high above the intoxicating indigo ocean.
After a bit of shopping, we continued to take it all in. We rested on the balcony of our third-floor room, which gave us great views of the catamarans sailing by, teenage boys taking turns jumping off the black lava rocks, and the soothing tropical breeze. We had to pinch ourselves to ensure we weren’t dreaming.
As evening approached, I wanted to get some sunset shots from the beach. I went down early, surprised to see how few people were out and about. Clouds began filling the sky, and I feared the sunset would be a bust. I need not have worried.
Over Pineapple Island, opposite the channel, warm, amber crepuscular rays began to filter through the clouds. They appeared like spotlights against the higher clouds, creating a surreal scene. I wondered what the natives long ago would have thought had they experienced this. Was this a sign from the gods? If so, what did it mean?
I snapped away at my good fortune. Could this vacation get any better? Yes, it did.
Water Lilies bloomed outside the hotel restaurant. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Our first sunset on Maui. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I knew I would like Maui. From the air, Hawaii’s commitment to green energy was evident. Giant white windmills stood out on the black lava mountainsides, and acres of solar panels and agricultural fields stood side by side.
The bright morning sunshine highlighted two cruise ships docked at the small harbor. I was glad there weren’t more.
Windmills.Agriculture.Solar farm.Cruise ships.
Lunchtime called when we left the busy little airport that looked more like a Hollywood movie set. We boarded the bus and headed to Paia on Maui’s north coast. Paia’s fame hails back to 1870 when the first sugar cane crop was planted there.
The old town wasn’t built for tourist buses, so we had to exit expediently to avoid blocking traffic. With only 14 passengers, the bus emptied in record time, mainly because we were hungry.
Most of us walked to the Paia Fish Market for fresh seafood. Lunch was on our own, and our tab demonstrated the high cost of living in Paradise. However, given the quality of our seafood, we didn’t quibble.
Soon, we headed to Iao Valley State Monument, which features a phallic rock nicknamed “the Needle,” which the ancients worshiped. I didn’t ask any questions. Once there, I enjoyed an easy hike to the viewing area, which provides a lovely view back down the valley we climbed to reach the monument.
Visitors and their pet dogs lounged in the refreshing, cool waters of a stream that carved the valley millennia ago. I enjoyed the pleasant views and the invigorating air. The adorned natural monument stands between two steep mountainsides.
From there, we drove to the Maui Tropical Plantation, a campus with a restaurant, a large gift shop, and an impressive pond that allowed me to see the Hawai’i state bird, the Hawaiian Goose, or Nene. I also spotted a Black-crowned Night Heron attempting to swallow a big, fat fish. It was still wrestling with the fish when it was time to head to our hotel to check-in.
I secured a seat on the bus’s ocean side and enjoyed the views of the turquoise Pacific Ocean and the many parks and beaches along the way. The island of Lanai, or Pineapple Island, was just across the way.
The bus took the bypass around Lahaina, where the devastating fires broke out and burned much of the historic town. Still, we saw vacant lot after vacant lot. Only a small percentage of buildings and a few homes have been rebuilt. A few hardy people live in campers where their houses once stood.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
When we arrived at our hotel, we found our room had an ocean view in the middle of the resort. We walked around the charming property to orient ourselves and couldn’t believe our good fortune. With these arrangements and the balmy breezes, it was an absolute Paradise. But we were only beginning our incredible stay in Maui.
That evening, we experienced our first sunset and then watched the nightly reenactment of young men diving from the black rocks that jut into the ocean. A single young man with a lighted torch climbed the rocks, reached his arms high to the gods in appreciation of another day, and jumped into the sea. The tradition started from much higher cliffs, but the demonstration was still impressive.
A video of jumping from the rocks.
The experience was a marvelous way to finish our first day in Maui, especially with my wife feeling better. We happily wondered what was ahead.
Kehena Bland Sand Beach, Kona. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Our fifth day in Hawaii was filled with many wonders and one big downer. My wife woke up not feeling well. She encouraged me to go on the scheduled excursion to explore much of the Big Island. I did so, but reluctantly.
Our day trip had multiple stops, and the local bus driver added some of his favorites, making the exploration day a success. Our first stop wasn’t far from the hotel.
It was a tourist stop, but our guide wanted us to experience a geologic phenomenon. We explored a lava tube formed by molten lava flowing from a volcanic vent through existing lava rock that had solidified years before. Once the lava flowed out, only the outer shell of the flowing lava remained, leaving the tube-like feature. It was the first of several intriguing stops.
The lava tube. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We drove south high above the ocean to our west. Lucious vegetation captured our attention as the bus maneuvered the two-lane highway on it wound its way up, down, and around the parameters of the island.
The island’s official name is Hawaii, and it is located in the county of Hawaii in the state of Hawaii. Consequently, the locals prefer Kona to avoid confusion, and I concur.
Near the island’s southern tip, an overlook affords splendid views of previous lava flows and the blue Pacific. Miles away, we could see the southernmost point of the US. Sorry, Key West. No haze, cell towers, or skyscrapers spoiled the view. Giant windmills turned in the tropical wind. From our vantage point, they looked like children’s pinwheels.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
I wished my wife could have seen this. I kept wondering how she was doing and hoped for a signal to check in with her. I would have to wait a while longer than I wanted.
The landscapes and foliage changed drastically as the bus driver adeptly navigated the undulating and winding curves. The land was either barren and chunked up black lava or many shades of green with pastures, shrubs, and trees of all shapes and sizes.
Every now and then, we saw another Hawaiian human-caused phenomenon. Because of the rural nature of the islands and the tricky terrain for motorized vehicles to maneuver, crashes are frequent. Instead of towing the wrecked cars, they are pushed off the roadway and over the hillside where they stay. This only applies to vehicles deemed not worth towing.
Many demolished cars, trucks, and vans were either stripped of their valuables, burned out, or both. They had been there long enough for young trees to grow through the tipped-over junkers. This practice seems to run counter to the nearly litter-free islands. Recycling is the norm in Hawaii, with old, crashed vehicles apparently exempted.
When we reached the tiny village of Naalehu, we stopped at the southernmost bakery in the US. The Portuguese donuts were scrumptious. I only ate one but took one back for my wife.
Too soon, we were back on the road, heading north. The ocean was on the right, and slush pastures dotted with windswept and stunted trees on the steep slope of a volcano on the left. This was the windward east side of Kona, where the prevailing winds bring ample rains compared to the western part of the island.
We arrived at Punalu’u Black Sand Beach Park and were pleasantly surprised. As we approached the beautiful beach, I noticed popup canopies, and many people stood around observing.
Our visit was well-timed. Scientists, professors, and marine biology students from the University of Hawaii were capturing, evaluating, and tagging Green Sea Turtles. In fact, a few large ones lay on the beach, absorbing the warmth of the noontime sun.
Since we had lunch reservations at our primary destination, our time on the beach was limited. The black sand is the product of lava being eroded and pulverized many times to form the beach.
The bus steadily climbed the gradual slope to the Hawaii Volcanos National Park’s visitors center, where a tasty lunch awaited us. After lunch, we joined our guide outside.
I was expecting a tall volcanic cone where we peered over the edge to look down into the crater. I underestimated the size and power of these massive domes. It was at least a half mile away. I think Manhattan could fit inside Kilauea’s gigantic crater.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
I also expected strong odors to emit from the caldera. Instead, it mainly was steam from vents along the volcano’s sides, although the fumes from Kilauea’s center would have been noxious.
To get a closer look, some of the group walked with our guide along an abandoned highway about half a mile. We could more closely see the steam rising from the crater’s center.
Several birds popped out before us on our way back to the bus. We headed back down the mountain, through the aptly named little burg of Volcano, and on to Hilo, the island’s largest town.
We stopped at Rainbow Falls in Wailuku River State Park, and I finally had a signal to contact my wife. She had Covid. Our guide jumped into action and tried to find an urgent care facility where Neva could be seen. However, all three were either closed or about to close, so my dear wife had to take a cab to the local hospital emergency room, where she spent four hours before being seen. All she wanted was a prescription for Paxlovid, which the ER doctor faxed to the local pharmacy.
Our guide assured us Neva and I could continue on the tour. She said the tour company treats COVID-19 like the flu. We would isolate on the bus and wear masks when around others. With only 14 people on the tour and riding a bus for 46 passengers, we could easily comply. I informed the other group members, and they were most understanding and concerned.
Darkness began to fall as we headed west up over a pass that took us past several volcano domes. The twilight gave them an eerie appearance. My poor wife didn’t arrive back at the hotel until 11 p.m.
We spent the next day relaxing around the hotel after I retrieved Neva’s prescription. I did some birding and enjoyed exploring the nooks and crannies on the hotel property while my wife rested. We finished the day watching mantarays feed in the shallow waters along the lava rocks in front of the hotel.
I got so busy with the holidays that I forgot to post this photo of a Snowy Owl that showed up in mid-November in western Rockingham County, Virginia, five miles from where I live. So, I thought I would let this beautiful bird wish you a Happy New Year!
When I heard about the Snowy Owl, my wife and I headed out, hoping to see it. I wanted to document the rarity with photos, too. A few other birders were already there when we arrived. In a matter of minutes, we were joined by several others, including two different school groups from nearby private elementary schools.
The bird sat on a 55-gallon steel drum near a pasture. Another birder had set up his scope and allowed me to take this photo with my iPhone 14 Pro. Otherwise, I would have had to heavily crop the images I took with my camera. The next day, the bird was gone, not to be relocated.
So, on behalf of the Snowy Owl, I wish you the best in 2025.
This is where the owl was found and what we saw with the naked eye. Can you find the Snowy Owl?
This year is about to end. For my recap, I chose one photo per month to represent the daily subjects I encountered.
January
Sunset at Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Silver Lake is slightly more than three miles southwest of our home. I visit it often to photograph birds and sunsets. The sunset actually produced more color in the northwestern sky. So, naturally, that’s where I aimed to capture this photo.
February
Iridescence cloud. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Imagine my surprise when I stepped outside to refill my birdfeeders. This rare iridescence cloud caught my attention. Formed high in the much colder atmosphere, the pastel colors are created by the sun’s rays highlighting ice crystals in the cloud. This photo is even more unusual since the sun is also visible.
March
Cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin, Washington, D.C. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I had always wanted to see the cherry blossoms in bloom in Washington, D.C. I never considered going when we lived in Ohio. But once we moved to Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, I had it on my “to-do list.” When I learned the blooms were peaking earlier than expected, I visited our nation’s capital on a sunny but blustery Wednesday in late March. I was awestruck at their beauty. In this photo, the morning sun highlighted the pale pink petals on the trees planted around the Tidal Basin. The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial is on the right-hand side of the photo.
April
Edith J. Carrier Arboretum, James Madison University. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I love to visit the Edith J. Carrier Arboretum on the campus of James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. It’s a lovely place to seek serenity by connecting with nature’s variety of beauty in any season. Springtime is my favorite. Songbirds, including migrants, are singing and marking their territories. The arboretum’s staff and volunteers ready this remarkable gem for the onslaught of visitors, including many school children and their teachers. I had so many photos to choose from that I called upon my wife to help me decide which picture to share with you. We chose this one because it best represents all that is the arboretum. The blooming daffodils and other plants, plus the giant boulders that secure the pond bank, serve as an attractive, textured foreground for the native redbuds, showy ornamentals, and the dogwood tree, which the pond reflects. The hillside mixed woodlot is an appropriate backdrop for the photo’s main subjects.
May
Blue Cornflowers and one orange Poppy. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Birding, hiking, and photography are three hobbies I can combine into one outing. I enjoy capturing the unusual, like this field of blue Cornflowers infiltrated by one orange Poppy.
June
Trout fisherman at Rapidan Camp, Shenandoah National Park. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Shenandoah National Park is my favorite place to hike. This photo was taken beside Rapiden Camp, President Herbert Hoover’s summer retreat. Hoover loved fishing at the camp to escape from the confines of noisy city life and the country’s politics. This young man caught rainbow trout, just as Hoover had. My friends and I accessed the camp by hiking more than a mile down the Millprong Trail from Skyline Drive. The other way is to book a ranger-guided tour when they are offered and ride the fire road down to the camp.
July
A Great Spangled Fritillary on Hayscented Fern. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I never tire of watching the many varieties of butterflies that frequent Shenandoah National Park in the summer. Unless we have a severe drought, wildflowers, dense forests, and the sparkling water of rapidly running streams provide the right habitat for them. I was photographing Turkscap Lilies when this beautiful butterfly flitted past me and landed on this Hayscented Fern plant to bask in the bright morning sunshine. Moments like this keep me returning to the park again and again.
August
Storm clouds brewing. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
From little on up, clouds have fascinated me. However, I am long over imagining shapes in the clouds. I enjoy their beauty, their constant reconfiguration, and, in the case of severe storms, their power. I was astonished at how quickly these cumulus clouds grew into cumulonimbus clouds, and by the time they reached the Blue Ridge Mountains in the background, a severe thunderstorm warning had been issued. We were glad for the rain since the entire Shenandoah Valley had been in a summer drought.
September
Beauty after the storm. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
September started off right with a much-needed rainstorm followed by a stunning sunset. Other than that, I’ll let the photo’ beauty draw you in.
October
Post-peak splendor. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
October’s photo was the toughest one to choose. Even with an extended drought, the colors didn’t disappoint this year. Still, we had two celestial stunners in October that could have been selected. I was fortunate to photograph the Aurora Borealis and Comet C-2023 A3, also known as Tsuchinshan-ATLS. Plus, I could have chosen golden maples at the height of their colors. But this photo stood out. The bare white branches of the gray birch trees adjacent to the stands of red oaks guarded by pines and cedars show the glory of Shenandoah National Park even after most of the leaves and tourists have left. Also, note that mountainside forests in the distance at lower altitudes are still holding fast to their lovely leaves. This year, October had it all.
November
Ho’okipa Beach, Maui, Hawaii. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
November’s shot was nearly as hard to pick as October’s. I was torn between being a birder or a tourist. Obviously, I chose the latter. Ho’okipa Beach is one of Maui’s most famous and popular attractions, not just because of its beautiful blue waters. Surfers clamor for the rolling, long-lasting waves, especially when the tide is high. In the afternoon, people of all ages watch giant Green Sea Turtles come ashore to soak in the afternoon sun that warms the beach. My birding option was a photo of a Snowy Owl, which you will see in a later post.
December
A glorious December sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
It is only appropriate to close out 2024 with a sunset, a beauty at that. With the low cloud deck, I was ready for this one, which didn’t disappoint.
I greatly appreciate you following this blog all these years. I wish you all the very best in 2025. Happy New Year everyone!
Flowering shrubs, coconut palm trees, and brilliant rainbows were ubiquitous in Hawaii.
Our tour of Hawaii continued as we flew to the Big Island, which the locals call Kona. As our morning flight left Honolulu, I got a shot of Waikiki Beach and Diamond Head. Flying over other smaller islands, I was amazed at how deep blue the ocean was.
We landed at Kona’s small airport, where the luggage claim carousels are outside but covered with square thatch-like material to resemble native huts. Our small group boarded the bus for Kailu-Kona, where we had lunch. Our guide gave us a heads-up to sit at the bar where the prices were lower and the food just as good. We followed her wise advice and enjoyed our fish tacos.
Waikiki Beach (left) and Diamond Head (right).
One of the islands we overflew.
The fish tocos.
Where the locals swim.
A downtown city park.
We strolled around the oceanside town, window-shopping and enjoying the balmy breezes. Still, the sun was hot, so we refreshed ourselves with a cup of tasty shaved ice before boarding the bus again.
Since Kona has six volcanoes, traveling is either up, down, or around the island. We did all three on our ride to a historic coffee farm, now run by the Kona Historical Society, a non-profit organization. The farm is the only living history coffee farm in the country.
Along the path to the old farmhouse, bright red coffee cherries bent the bows of coffee bushes. Most were nearly ripe for picking. Tropical songbirds flitted from tree to tree, but there was no time to investigate them. A staff member from the historical society greeted us and gave us an overview of our visit.
As we neared the old, original farmhouse, an elderly Japanese woman appeared. Tradition calls for visitors to present a gift to the head of the residence. The docent, of course, had one and presented it to our host, Paula, who graciously accepted it.
Paula had a precious and moving story about her life on the farm. When she was four, her parents apprenticed her to the farm, where she mainly assisted in homemaking activities and worked in the garden.
Paula explained the traditions and daily routines the family went through to keep the farm operating. Her personal stories of a child doing an adult’s work moved us all.
Japanese came to this part of Hawaii in the 1920s, when the farm was established. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the Japanese were rounded up and placed in detention camps. However, Japanese farmers were not. Consequently, the coffee farms were deemed essential and continued to operate.
The farm was exquisitely maintained, just as when Paula helped on it. All the buildings were original to the farm, and each operation was explained. Having been to Honduras several times, I had seen the entire process of small coop coffee farms. I even helped pick the coffee cherries. The Japanese methods of growing, harvesting, and processing the cherries and the beans they contained were remarkably similar to what I had experienced.
We dressed up.Local lore in song.Local lore in dance.The worriers.The finale.
An exception was the way the beans were dried. In Honduras, beans are often placed on concrete pads or tarps and dried in the sun. The shed where the beans were dried at this historical farm had a slanting roof to prevent the tropical rains from spoiling the crop.
Our group was impressed with Paula and the simple but efficient way of producing the rich Kona coffee. It was a great introduction to the Big Island.
Our day ended with a traditional evening luau with roasted pig, poi, poke, rice, and fresh vegetables and fruits. Lots of singing and acting out historic events followed with dancers and native warriors. Of course, a light rain briefly drizzled us, which is customary and unavoidable.
A gentle rain began to fall, but in such a setting, it didn’t matter. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
King Kamehameha’s statue near the Hawaiin capitol in Honolulu. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
My wife and I couldn’t wait to get to Hawaii. Our flight plan took us from Washington, D.C., to Los Angeles, California, to Honolulu. We weren’t looking forward to two long flights.
Little did we know the travel time would become even longer. We rose at 4:30 a.m. for a morning flight to LAX. Despite some turbulence in the west, the flight went well overall. The flight to Honolulu was a different story.
About 10 minutes over the Pacific Ocean, the pilot announced that we were returning to LAX due to a compressor failure that controlled the plane’s hydraulics. Even with the little I knew about commercial aviation, I realized we would be on an emergency return.
One of seven fire trucks met us on the runway on our return to LAX.
We landed fine, but seven fire trucks surrounded the plane to check the brakes and tires for any overheating or fire due to landing heavy. Everything was fine, and we deplaned, wondering what was next.
We waited until another plane and crew arrived. The gate agents announced a later departure time more than once. We were to arrive at our hotel in Honolulu around 6 p.m., but it was actually 11 p.m., so our dream of watching the sunset on Waikiki Beach on our first day was just that—a dream.
There would be other days and sunsets. We were in Hawaii, the 50th state, to join the Union.
Our first full day on Oahu was election day. With all the hype and drama throughout the campaign, I was glad we were far from the mainland. Poor Hawaii. They vote knowing the election has already been called by the time their polls close. That was the case again in 2024.
We met our group and tour guide for an early breakfast. We had chosen a small group tour, meaning the group was limited to 26. However, half of the group had canceled for multiple reasons, so we only had 13, plus Debbie, our guide.
The breakfast was delicious, and our small group climbed onto a 46-passenger bus. We spent significant time touring the Waikiki Beach area of Honolulu, which has many shops, markets, and historic buildings. We saw the Iolani Palace, home of the last reigning Hawaiian royalty. King Kamehameha’s statue was across the street in front of a government office building.
The Hawaiian State Capitol.
King Kamehameha’s statue and government office building.
Iolani Palace.
My wife and me.
The view of Diamondhead beyond Honolulu on the road to the Punchbowl.
The flat gravestones in the Punchbowl.
The memorial in the Punchbowl to those who died in the Pacific.
The USS Arizona Memorial, Pearl Harbor.
Names of those who died on the USS Arizona.
The US flag above the memorial.
The USS Arizona Memorial.
The Navy boat that shuttled us to and from the memorial.
We drove through the Punchbowl Crater, home to the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, which honors U.S. military members who died serving their country. Since commercial vehicles are prohibited from stopping, we could only view it from the bus.
The solemn respect for those who died continued as we visited Pearl Harbor. We boarded small Navy transport boats to see the U.S. Arizona Memorial. The ship sank during the attack on December 7, 1941, and 1,177 sailors and Marines were buried in the rubble of the battleship. Out of respect, visitors were silent as they walked around the memorial. It was a stark reminder of the brutality of war.
That seemed to drain the strength from us, and I was glad the group headed back to the hotel for the rest of the day. Before dinner, I hustled to get a shot of Diamondhead from the beach before dinner. Hotels are built so close to the beach that it’s hard to get a decent shot of the famous landmark. When I returned to our room, the heat and humidity had soaked my clothes.
We enjoyed our dinner in the hotel’s open-air lobby. We were supposed to dine around the spacious pool, but with rain a possibility, the staff moved us under shelter. We knew the results of the election before our food arrived.
A better view of Diamondhead. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
As I sat at my computer, I heard a familiar roar. I grabbed my camera and raced outside. But I was too late for the shot I wanted.
The low-flying DC-3 airplane had already zoomed west and out of range for a photo. However, I had seen this pattern before. I figured the plane was on landing approach to a private airport eight miles southeast of us.
Sure enough, the plane turned south and then southeast into view. I snapped three quick photos, but the aircraft was again out of sight. When I viewed the pictures on my laptop, I was pleased that everything was in focus.
This photo stood out. The dappled, gray clouds seemed to frame the old airplane, and the late afternoon sun reflected off the underside of its fuselage. In a way, it looks like the plane is on fire, but I’m sure it landed safely.
There’s a lot to like about Hawaii: the views, the surf, the coral-blue ocean, the wildlife, the food, the quietness, the history, and the cultures. Each is wondrous to behold.
On a recent vacation there, my wife and I learned that the people of Hawaii make all of those incredible features sparkle all the more. They are a gracious amalgamation of Polynesians, warm, welcoming, and immediately inclusive.
We were among a relatively small group of travelers. None of the 13 senior citizen travelers had met before, but that made no difference to the guides and bus drivers who showed us the beautiful Oahu, Kona, and Maui islands.
Three of our able and knowledgable bus drivers.
Each one, independent of the other, welcomed us as family. We weren’t tourists. We were cousins. That’s what they called us, and they treated us with the utmost respect, which quickly earned them ours. It set the tone for the entire 10-day trip.
Why would they do this? Native Hawaiians and those who embrace Hawaiian culture understand that we are all connected to each other and to the beautiful world around us.
They know the fragility of life and try to live each day to the full. Hawaiians realize they need one another and us to survive and thrive. It’s in their DNA to do so. Consequently, we felt welcome everywhere we went and by everyone we met.
Each guide and driver shared similar stories, not from a script but from their personal lives and hearts. The drivers took us through areas not on the scheduled itinerary, and in some cases, we passed through their neighborhoods.
They wanted us to experience what they experience daily. When we stopped in small towns, they told us their favorite places to eat and where the best ocean views were and gave us recommendations for shopping.
Honolulu from the Punch Bowl with Diamondhead in the background.
They made stops where they knew the owners and where we would experience authentic Hawaiian food, art, and history. Each guide and driver was proud of their history and culture of inclusion and respect for all, their ancestors, and Creation itself.
Polynesians arrived in waves to the Hawaiian Islands from all over the Pacific Ocean, searching for a better life. They didn’t find one but instead made a good life by respecting their differences and embracing their similarities. That tradition continues today.
All of our tour guides shared from their personal lives. They volunteered how they survived the high cost of living in such a paradise as Hawaii.
Individualism isn’t their thing. Community, centering on family, is. Many live communally in households of multiple generations to share the living costs. In one instance, our driver showed us a poorly maintained home on the exterior and asked us to guess the price of the old bungalow. The answer was $1.1 million. The house had two bathrooms and four bedrooms, one family per bedroom.
Hawaiians work hard to enhance their community, no matter which island you are on. They work two, three, or four jobs to make ends meet. They pool their earnings, their joys, their sorrows. Yet, they somehow still keep family central.
The crime rate in Hawaii is low compared to other states. Indeed, we seldom heard sirens blaring, even in congested Honolulu, our first stop. Little graffiti or trash was seen, reflecting their unified regard for nature and the lovely land on which they live.
The view from our Maui hotel room.
Hawaiians fully understand the natural course of evolution. With each volcanic erruption, their ancient islands continue to grow, sometimes at the peril of residents who inhabit this magical paradise as the roiling lava flows to the sea.
The state of Hawaii consists of 132 islands. Many smaller islands, and even some larger ones, are owned by wealthy individuals, a conglomerate of partners, or corporations. Most islands are uninhabited, mainly because they lack drinking water. That’s especially true if the island is situated where rain is scarce.
The windward and leeward portions of each island we visited were prominent. Where the tropical rains fell regularly, sometimes daily, life thrived. Green was ubiquitous in all shades and shapes. On the leeward sides, trees were fewer and shorter, and vegetation was more sparse.
I will attempt to share the beauty and spirit of our Hawaiian vacation in subsequent posts. I admired how the Hawaiian values reflected the Advent lessons of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love as we experienced them.
My wife and I, both in our 70s, were most grateful to experience this tropical nirvana and its amazing, humble people. I hope you enjoy the upcoming series that shares more details about our trip.
Roadkill Crossing 
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