Apr 1, 2004: It’s interesting what many of our guests focus on. Of course they want to know what to do, what tours to go on, what hikes
to take, what snorkel spots to try. Most are inquisitive about the weather. One thing that fascinates everyone is just the idea of living in
Hawaii. What’s it like? What are the people like? Can you actually pluck fruit off the trees? And fish out of the sea? What do people do
for a living? What kind of jobs are available? Is the cost of living really one of the highest in the United States? How can we afford to live
here? What does a house cost?* What are the schools like? How in the world did someone like us, Eileen and I...malahinis, or strangers,
come to adopt Hawaii...and be adopted by Hawaii. How did we come to call it home?
I guess the unspoken question is also: how can I come to call it home? That, and: Do you really go surfing every day?
It’s a broad question... living in Hawaii, that is, not surfing every day (that's settled: YES! ). So we choose "Living In Hawaii" as the initial
theme of this newsletter. In the course of considering the question, we’ll editorialize. Share photos. Draw cartoons. Tell stories. Modern
Hawaii is a land of immigrants. Even many of the Hawaii nei, the local people who were born here, have interesting stories about how
their parents or grandparents came to Hawaii. There are very few Kanaka Maoli, pure Hawaiiians, and the history of one of the most
generous peoples on earth is sad. But even they were, originally, immigrants...probably from Tahiti and thereabouts. Which is another
interesting story, because we’re talking about upwind, open water sailing without a G.P.S., a sextant, or even a simple compass (as
western men know it).
The history of Hawaii is intriguing. Perhaps we’ll argue about island politics. Spotlight island opportunities.* Focus on island food.*
Island music.**
Island wildlife***. Island religion.****
We'll notice trends in island motor vehicles.
We'll discuss our pets...ours, and our friends.
We’ll tell Hawaiian children’s stories.
Recount Hawaiian legends.
So, as the Jimmy Buffet song goes: "follow in my wake...you've not that much at stake, for I have plowed the seas, and smoothed the
troubled waters. Come along let's have some fun, the hard work has been done." If there is anything you would like to know about
Living In Hawaii, drop us an e-mail at OleHawaii@hawaii.rr.com .
No guaranteed answers, but if can, can; If no can, no can.
Come visit us in Hawaii one day. Until then, check back
from time to time for more about how We Live Hawaii!
Aloha,
Ole & Eileen :-)
to take, what snorkel spots to try. Most are inquisitive about the weather. One thing that fascinates everyone is just the idea of living in
Hawaii. What’s it like? What are the people like? Can you actually pluck fruit off the trees? And fish out of the sea? What do people do
for a living? What kind of jobs are available? Is the cost of living really one of the highest in the United States? How can we afford to live
here? What does a house cost?* What are the schools like? How in the world did someone like us, Eileen and I...malahinis, or strangers,
come to adopt Hawaii...and be adopted by Hawaii. How did we come to call it home?
I guess the unspoken question is also: how can I come to call it home? That, and: Do you really go surfing every day?
It’s a broad question... living in Hawaii, that is, not surfing every day (that's settled: YES! ). So we choose "Living In Hawaii" as the initial
theme of this newsletter. In the course of considering the question, we’ll editorialize. Share photos. Draw cartoons. Tell stories. Modern
Hawaii is a land of immigrants. Even many of the Hawaii nei, the local people who were born here, have interesting stories about how
their parents or grandparents came to Hawaii. There are very few Kanaka Maoli, pure Hawaiiians, and the history of one of the most
generous peoples on earth is sad. But even they were, originally, immigrants...probably from Tahiti and thereabouts. Which is another
interesting story, because we’re talking about upwind, open water sailing without a G.P.S., a sextant, or even a simple compass (as
western men know it).
The history of Hawaii is intriguing. Perhaps we’ll argue about island politics. Spotlight island opportunities.* Focus on island food.*
Island music.**
Island wildlife***. Island religion.****
We'll notice trends in island motor vehicles.
We'll discuss our pets...ours, and our friends.
We’ll tell Hawaiian children’s stories.
Recount Hawaiian legends.
So, as the Jimmy Buffet song goes: "follow in my wake...you've not that much at stake, for I have plowed the seas, and smoothed the
troubled waters. Come along let's have some fun, the hard work has been done." If there is anything you would like to know about
Living In Hawaii, drop us an e-mail at OleHawaii@hawaii.rr.com .
No guaranteed answers, but if can, can; If no can, no can.
Come visit us in Hawaii one day. Until then, check back
from time to time for more about how We Live Hawaii!
Aloha,
Ole & Eileen :-)
Winter, 2004
LUCKY WE LIVE HAWAII
We have been thinking about pets lately. Our kitty “Pris” (for “Prissy Cat,” which describes many female cats, but
especially our old lady) died two years ago now, at the age of 18. Eighteen cat years, I would guess, equal at least
90 human years. She was so doted upon that she lived to be ancient!
So we’ve been without an animal for two years. We’re so lonesome for a pet we borrowed a dog recently. My old
ambulance partner has three dogs...has always had three dogs since he moved from Los Angeles to Nanikuli, a
very local neighborhood on Oahu, lo these many decades ago. But he left for the Philippines on vacation
recently, and needed someone to watch his dogs. Our mutual friend, also an ambulance colleague, agreed to add
them to his pack of two for the duration. But one of the dogs, “Manini,’ is much smaller than the others. The
Hawaiian word “Manini” refers to a small fish, and to anything small in general. Our next door neighbor, who
taught school on Kauai for 30 years, says it also refers to a lack of intelligence (‘small intellect’). Manini is small
indeed , but very smart. We are amazed at how patiently she takes getting tromped on by the others as they mill
around enthusiastically in the bed of her master’s truck or at the gate to his friend’s yard any time a human
threatens to give them some attention. She’s older than the others, so even though she’s smaller, she still is the
“alpha momma.” Yet she doesn’t have the hyperactive personality that most small dogs possess. She’s
Napoleonically small; calm. Just the size and breed...Papillon...Eileen and I have been thinking about. Small
enough to carry aboard an interisland passenger jet, but not one of those “yappers,” that constantly ,
unnecessarily, bark in an irritatingly high-pitched voice. The Papillon is supposed to have the personality of a
Labrador Retriever (like my old dearly departed “Rufus”), but the body of a Chihuahua with lots of hair and very
big, “butterfly” ears. “Papillon” is the French word for “Butterfly.”
A “Poi” dog, in Hawaii, is any dog that is not a purebred animal, that is, “all mixed up.” Like poi, a Hawaiian staple
starch mashed from the root of the Taro plant. Manini is only a “Poi dog,” but has a lot of Papillon in her, so we
were very interested in her. We wanted to try living with such a dog. Our living situation is quite strange. In a
sense, we are like Harry Potter, living in the “cupboard under the stairs.” We have guests in the house above us
much of the time, and neighbors all around, except for makai (toward the ocean). We cannot have a dog that
barks unnecessarily. Nor one that threatens guests who are not used to dogs. Nor one that is dirty. So when our
old Labrador Retriever died, we settled for just Prissy Cat. Then Pris died, and we’ve had no little furries at all.
We miss ‘em! So we offered to look after Manini whenever her first “babysitter” went off on his 48 hour
ambulance shift, and he agreed. We kept her with us in our little owner’s apartment under the Ironwoods. She
played in the yard, eventually, after some training, without wandering off. She slept on our sofa. Quietly. Except
when the wind would get up in the middle of the night and began blowing the straw mats on the windows! That
scared her. The first time it happened I thought I heard a whimpering in my sleep. I rolled over and my arm
dropped off the side of the bed. A little cold nose and furry head began rubbing my hand, so I lifted her into bed
with us. That one hand was all that I needed. The second time the wind came up in the middle of the night, she
jumped up into bed with us on her own.
She is such a fearless watchdog...she once held off a squad of police officers investigating an alarm that was
going off in her master’s house while he was away on his ambulance shift...while the other dogs cowered in the
garage! Yet a little wind would frighten her into bed with strangers!
So anyway, that reminded me that the Pet Quarantine laws have changed here in Hawaii. Historically, Hawaii’s
isolation has protected it from Rabies, and the authorities wanted to keep it that way, so they have always
required a 120 day quarantine of any pets coming in to the State. That has been very difficult, both for owners and
for their pets. The quarantine facility is on Oahu only, so it is especially tough on neighbor island owners and
their animals. There were complaints about the care the animals were receiving at the facility, so many people
hired “caretakers” to visit their pets on Oahu and make sure they were being properly looked after. Some of
these so-called caretakers, the rumor has it, took the money and never visited the pets.
Also, Hawaii residents could not take their animals to the mainland for a visit without putting them through the
trauma of 120 days in quarantine when they returned. That meant that dog breeders and fanciers could not travel
to the big dog and cat show events on the mainland. Needless to say, there was a lot of griping about the
quarantine laws for many years, and just recently our legislators did something about it! The laws have been
changed, and it is now possible...if you carefully follow all the rules...to have your pet released to you at the
airport on the same day you arrive.
The catch, of course, is the bit about following the rules carefully. There are basically three: (1) Your pet must
have been vaccinated against Rabies twice, at least 90 days apart, in it’s lifetime. The last vaccination must have
been done at least 90 days before arrival, but less than 12 months (for 1-year vaccine) or less than 18 months (for
3-year vaccine) before arrival, and this must be documented by a vet. (2) The pet must be identifiable by an
implanted microchip. It must be possible to scan the chip using a standard US-issue AVID scanner, and a vet must
verify this. The chip must be implanted before (3) an OIE-FAVN Rabies blood test is performed by an approved
laboratory between 18 and 4 months prior to arrival in Hawaii. The pet may not arrive in Hawaii before the 120 day
waiting period following the receipt of the blood sample by the approved lab. The only two approved labs are the
Kansas State University lab and the Food Analysis and Diagnostic Laboratory in Texas. Not only must one comply
with all three of these rules, but one must have all the proper documents, submitted in the proper time frames.
For more information, see the Hawaii Department of Agriculture website at http://www.hawaiiag.
org/hdoa/ai_aqs_info.htm .
It’s easy to see why, although we have always been considered “pet friendly”.... in that we are willing for guests
to bring their pets with them... no one ever has! So here we are, petless and lonely for an animal. We content
ourselves with petting our neighbor’s dogs and giving them dog biscuits through the fence.
It’s pitiful! So if you want to bring your animal with you on vacation, you’re welcome here! Just make sure you
follow all the State’s rules. And check back with us from time to time for more about how Lucky We Live Hawaii!
Aloha,
Ole :-)
 |
Summer, 2005
A Kekaha Story
Toby, a young paramedic colleague of mine, just had a new baby so he is home on family leave, taking his
turn watching his new daughter while the wife goes back to her nursing job. He was sitting in his house
in Kekaha on west Kauai the other day, looking out in the back yard, when a brown chicken flew over the
fence. A few moments later and old Filipino man popped his head up and looked around. He appeared to
be about 95 years old, but he managed to climb over the fence. My friend went out into his back yard to
ask what was going on.
The old man did not speak English, but it was obvious he was looking for the chicken. Using sign
language and a few words mutually understood, like “chicken?” my friend let the old fellow understand
that he would help him catch the chicken. Toby stood on one side of his shed while the old man chased
the bird from the other. When it tried to escape from behind the shed, Toby caught it. The old man was
very appreciative, and thanked Toby in Filipino and halting English.
A little while later Toby was out in front of his house washing his pickup. A neighbor from down the
street, also a youngish man about Toby’s age, drove up.
“Hey, Toby,” he greeted him. “Did you just help my Grandpa catch a chicken?”
“Sure,” Toby admitted, and proceeded to describe how the two of them had trapped the bird behind the
shed.
“Well,” said his neighbor, “ He just came from the Philippines just four months ago, and he’s been trying
to catch a chicken ever since. We told him ‘No Tutu (Grandpa) we don’t get our chicken like that here. We
go to the store and buy it.’ Grandpa replied ‘But why buy chicken when you can catch?’ and kept trying to
capture one. We figured he was too old to actually catch one, so we let him do it. But now he’s in the
back yard with the chicken beheaded and gutted, and he pulling all the feathers out. My wife is freaking
out, and I’m on my way to the store to buy chicken! Please don’t help Grandpa catch chicken any more!”
aloha
Ole
Niihau Island from Manu O'o, in front of
Ole Kamaole's Beach House, Kauai
(Click on Photo)
Ole Kamaole's Beach House, Kauai
(Click on Photo)
MANINI
Toby with his daughter
Fall, 2005:
A Sampling of Guests and their Comments
Nov 1994: Our very first guests are Matt and Todd from Temecula, California. Contractors to a famous Hollywood
stunt man, on Kauai to do a Pepsi commercial. They are "Base Jumpers." Low-altitude parachutists. Specialize in
jumping off buildings and the like. Matt tried Surf kayaking. Todd opened up the louvered pocket doors to the
bathroom to stretch his parachute out through the house onto the deck so he could pack it. They were looking
around in Waimea Canyon for 600 foot drops! The famous stunt guy gave me the privilege of helicoptering with them
up to Nuololo Mauka (a ridge above the Na Pali coast) to watch them film a bicycle, with it's rider (Matt or Todd) drop
from 2,000 feet while being filmed, before opening their almost-invisible parachute. I also got a "Stunts Unlimited"
cap!-Ole
Nov 1994: Spanke, Vonde, Bonnie, and Tish from Kula, Maui - "Great!!"
Nov 1994: Robert Dietz, Brea, CA - "Excellent. I recommend it highly."
Dec 1994: Michele and Chris, San Francisco, CA, want to stay over Christmas, but another couple has reserved it.
They leave the day the other couple is supposed to arrive and stay at the other end of the island. The other couple
never show up. Chris and Michelle return for the remainder of their stay on Kauai.
Jan 1995: Eileen's nephew Lane Heginbotham, from Kileen, Texas brings his sweetheart, Sabrina Hensen from
Memphis, TN. He proposes to her while dining at Gaylord's. She accepts.
Jan 1995 :Ethan & Rhea, Palo Alto, CA - "Thank you both for a comfortable stay. This is a very nice side of the
island and a safe rest with a great view."
...
Apr 1995: Jim & Floy, Gilroy, CA -
" B-eautiful!!
OlE and Eileen!!
KAyaking!!
BeaChes!!
MaHalo!!
MaHalo!!
HOspitality!!
FUn!!
FiShing!!
RElaxation!! "
May 1995: Howard and Marie, Playa del Rey, CA- "Another wonderful vacation has come to an end. What a way to
spend a birthday! My dream came true and I had a Hawaii Five -Oh, rotting on the beach, and we couldn't have
picked a better location or host and hostess. They are terrific and have all the answers ...
Thank you Ole and Eileen, it just doesn't come any better than this! PS- Could you please have more fish in the
ocean next time - for Howard? (Or maybe it would be better if you gave him fishing lessons!)"
May-June , 1995 - Denny and Steph, from Marina del Rey, CA. Denny and Ole were yacht salesmen together for a
year at A House Of Yachts, under the humor-loving leadership of ancient mariner B.Ware in Marina del Rey in
1979-80.
"We can't tell you how much we have enjoyed our stay at "Ole Kamaole's Beach House". We have had the
adventure of a lifetime. Thank you for allowing us to share your wonderful beach house. Just being here has made
our world seem brighter. Thanks for your sincere hospitality, and we hope to see you very soon. Thanks again for
everything. PS - Spellbound 3 looks forward to an adventure on the high seas with our friends. Love, Denny & Steph"
June, 1995 : Jason & Alison, San Francisco, CA - (cute little drawing of OK Beach House perched on Kauai's edge)
"Words to best describe our stay at the Ole Kamaol'e Beach House: *RELAXING *LIESURLY *PEACEFUL *QUIET
*HOSPITALITY *OCEAN VIEW *SOUNDS OF THE SEA - GORGEOUS *EMPTY BEACHES *BEAUTIFUL
WATERFALLS *HELICOPTER RIDE *STARLIT NIGHTS *CASCADING MOUNTAINS *KAYAKING *SNORKELING
*FRIENDLY HOSTS...BETTER THAN A RESORT *SUNNY EARY MORNINGS
August 1995: Dennis & Jill Fitzpatrick, Makawao, HI - Fitz and Ole were partners on the Makawao ambulance in the
'80's. "Thanks for providing us with a "second Honeymoon" we unexpectedly found at Ole Kamaole's. We'll have this
memory forever, and it's a good one. Your hospitality is unequalled. Mahalo, Jill, Dennis, and Family
A Sampling of Guests and their Comments
Nov 1994: Our very first guests are Matt and Todd from Temecula, California. Contractors to a famous Hollywood
stunt man, on Kauai to do a Pepsi commercial. They are "Base Jumpers." Low-altitude parachutists. Specialize in
jumping off buildings and the like. Matt tried Surf kayaking. Todd opened up the louvered pocket doors to the
bathroom to stretch his parachute out through the house onto the deck so he could pack it. They were looking
around in Waimea Canyon for 600 foot drops! The famous stunt guy gave me the privilege of helicoptering with them
up to Nuololo Mauka (a ridge above the Na Pali coast) to watch them film a bicycle, with it's rider (Matt or Todd) drop
from 2,000 feet while being filmed, before opening their almost-invisible parachute. I also got a "Stunts Unlimited"
cap!-Ole
Nov 1994: Spanke, Vonde, Bonnie, and Tish from Kula, Maui - "Great!!"
Nov 1994: Robert Dietz, Brea, CA - "Excellent. I recommend it highly."
Dec 1994: Michele and Chris, San Francisco, CA, want to stay over Christmas, but another couple has reserved it.
They leave the day the other couple is supposed to arrive and stay at the other end of the island. The other couple
never show up. Chris and Michelle return for the remainder of their stay on Kauai.
Jan 1995: Eileen's nephew Lane Heginbotham, from Kileen, Texas brings his sweetheart, Sabrina Hensen from
Memphis, TN. He proposes to her while dining at Gaylord's. She accepts.
Jan 1995 :Ethan & Rhea, Palo Alto, CA - "Thank you both for a comfortable stay. This is a very nice side of the
island and a safe rest with a great view."
...
Apr 1995: Jim & Floy, Gilroy, CA -
" B-eautiful!!
OlE and Eileen!!
KAyaking!!
BeaChes!!
MaHalo!!
MaHalo!!
HOspitality!!
FUn!!
FiShing!!
RElaxation!! "
May 1995: Howard and Marie, Playa del Rey, CA- "Another wonderful vacation has come to an end. What a way to
spend a birthday! My dream came true and I had a Hawaii Five -Oh, rotting on the beach, and we couldn't have
picked a better location or host and hostess. They are terrific and have all the answers ...
Thank you Ole and Eileen, it just doesn't come any better than this! PS- Could you please have more fish in the
ocean next time - for Howard? (Or maybe it would be better if you gave him fishing lessons!)"
May-June , 1995 - Denny and Steph, from Marina del Rey, CA. Denny and Ole were yacht salesmen together for a
year at A House Of Yachts, under the humor-loving leadership of ancient mariner B.Ware in Marina del Rey in
1979-80.
"We can't tell you how much we have enjoyed our stay at "Ole Kamaole's Beach House". We have had the
adventure of a lifetime. Thank you for allowing us to share your wonderful beach house. Just being here has made
our world seem brighter. Thanks for your sincere hospitality, and we hope to see you very soon. Thanks again for
everything. PS - Spellbound 3 looks forward to an adventure on the high seas with our friends. Love, Denny & Steph"
June, 1995 : Jason & Alison, San Francisco, CA - (cute little drawing of OK Beach House perched on Kauai's edge)
"Words to best describe our stay at the Ole Kamaol'e Beach House: *RELAXING *LIESURLY *PEACEFUL *QUIET
*HOSPITALITY *OCEAN VIEW *SOUNDS OF THE SEA - GORGEOUS *EMPTY BEACHES *BEAUTIFUL
WATERFALLS *HELICOPTER RIDE *STARLIT NIGHTS *CASCADING MOUNTAINS *KAYAKING *SNORKELING
*FRIENDLY HOSTS...BETTER THAN A RESORT *SUNNY EARY MORNINGS
August 1995: Dennis & Jill Fitzpatrick, Makawao, HI - Fitz and Ole were partners on the Makawao ambulance in the
'80's. "Thanks for providing us with a "second Honeymoon" we unexpectedly found at Ole Kamaole's. We'll have this
memory forever, and it's a good one. Your hospitality is unequalled. Mahalo, Jill, Dennis, and Family
Spring, 2007
My friend Toby likes to camp up in Kokee. It's pretty remote; cell phones don't always
work there. And it can rain. It can really rain.
Toby was up there a while back, camping with his wife and two kids. A tourist couple
with their two kids set up a campsite nearby, so they became friendly. The night before
the tourists were supposed to leave, it rained and rained. It rained so hard the former
road became a muddy quagmire. Toby has four wheel drive, but the tourist didn't. The
next morning he was fretting about getting out.
"It wouldn't really matter," he said, "since we have several more days here on Kauai. We
would really rather not leave today anyway, we're having so much fun. I'm just worried
about my friends, who are expecting us back today. If we don't show up they will think
something happened to us."
"Why don't you call them?" Toby volunteered. "I have a cell phone."
The tourist was stoked, but the cell phone was out of range. From past experience, Toby
knew that if he just hiked up to the ridge he would be able to make contact. But the
tourist was worried about leaving his kids.
"It's OK," Toby told him, "we'll watch the kids. Just take the cell phone up to the ridge
and call your friends."
So that's what the tourist and his wife did, and he was much relieved. Not only did his
friends know he was safe, but they could enjoy an extra day or two of camping and leave
when the road was dry again. However, upon reflection we was a little bemused.
"Isn't that just like Hawaii," he said. "The only place in the world where you can leave
your kids with strangers, with only a cell phone for collateral!"
My friend Toby likes to camp up in Kokee. It's pretty remote; cell phones don't always
work there. And it can rain. It can really rain.
Toby was up there a while back, camping with his wife and two kids. A tourist couple
with their two kids set up a campsite nearby, so they became friendly. The night before
the tourists were supposed to leave, it rained and rained. It rained so hard the former
road became a muddy quagmire. Toby has four wheel drive, but the tourist didn't. The
next morning he was fretting about getting out.
"It wouldn't really matter," he said, "since we have several more days here on Kauai. We
would really rather not leave today anyway, we're having so much fun. I'm just worried
about my friends, who are expecting us back today. If we don't show up they will think
something happened to us."
"Why don't you call them?" Toby volunteered. "I have a cell phone."
The tourist was stoked, but the cell phone was out of range. From past experience, Toby
knew that if he just hiked up to the ridge he would be able to make contact. But the
tourist was worried about leaving his kids.
"It's OK," Toby told him, "we'll watch the kids. Just take the cell phone up to the ridge
and call your friends."
So that's what the tourist and his wife did, and he was much relieved. Not only did his
friends know he was safe, but they could enjoy an extra day or two of camping and leave
when the road was dry again. However, upon reflection we was a little bemused.
"Isn't that just like Hawaii," he said. "The only place in the world where you can leave
your kids with strangers, with only a cell phone for collateral!"
|
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SPRING, 2009
Way out west, there's a beach, Polihale.
Of them all, it's the grand finale.
But the sun will command
Your respect, 'cause the sand
Burns your feet like a hot tamale.
Limerick by Kirk Miller (3-time guest: May '98; Oct '01; and May '06)
Polihale is the most unusual beach on the west side of Kauai. At 17 miles, it is perhaps the longest beach in
the State. But it has always been hidden, and therefore usually as empty as a graveyard, reached only by
driving through a sugar cane field. Little known by tourists, kayakers who have done the Na Pali coast may
be familiar with it as their hellishly hot landing spot at the end of a long, memorable paddle. It is on the dead
lee side of the island. With no wind to stir the air, the white sand becomes white hot as the sun heats it
during the day. It can literally raise blisters on unprotected feet! But once you have seen it at sunrise or
sunset, you will always want to return, for it is one of the most spiritual places in Hawaii. The Ancient
Hawaiians believed it was the jumping off place for the souls of the dead leaving earth and headed for the
afterlife. It is said that those who broke a "kapu," or forbidden practice, would be pushed off the high cliff at
the Na Pali end of the beach to their death on the sand far below. Hence the name, "Poli Hale," or "House of
Bones."
Unfortunately, the State Department of Natural Resources has closed the beach recently. A heavy
rainstorm last mid-December eroded huge ruts in the dirt road and, more importantly, degraded the footings
under a bridge originally designed to allow passage of the sugar cane trucks harvesting the fields. With the
State facing a billion dollar budget shortfall, the Department of Natural Resources is unlikely to have the
funds to repair the road or bridge anytime soon.
On March 11 my friend Bruce Pleas and other members of the community met with Gary Hooser, our
Hawaii State Senator, at the entrance to Polihale to discuss ways to get the road reopened. Ron Agor, the
architect who designed part of Ole Kamaole's Beach House and State Republican chairman, volunteered
his expertise to determine what needs to be done to repair the bridge. Community members volunteered
their time, money, labor, and equipment. The Department of Natural Resources is cooperating. It looks like
Polihale may be open again by summer! For the Garden Island News story, go to :
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2009/03/12/news/kauai_news/doc49b8b94a2e300706522722.txt
Way out west, there's a beach, Polihale.
Of them all, it's the grand finale.
But the sun will command
Your respect, 'cause the sand
Burns your feet like a hot tamale.
Limerick by Kirk Miller (3-time guest: May '98; Oct '01; and May '06)
Polihale is the most unusual beach on the west side of Kauai. At 17 miles, it is perhaps the longest beach in
the State. But it has always been hidden, and therefore usually as empty as a graveyard, reached only by
driving through a sugar cane field. Little known by tourists, kayakers who have done the Na Pali coast may
be familiar with it as their hellishly hot landing spot at the end of a long, memorable paddle. It is on the dead
lee side of the island. With no wind to stir the air, the white sand becomes white hot as the sun heats it
during the day. It can literally raise blisters on unprotected feet! But once you have seen it at sunrise or
sunset, you will always want to return, for it is one of the most spiritual places in Hawaii. The Ancient
Hawaiians believed it was the jumping off place for the souls of the dead leaving earth and headed for the
afterlife. It is said that those who broke a "kapu," or forbidden practice, would be pushed off the high cliff at
the Na Pali end of the beach to their death on the sand far below. Hence the name, "Poli Hale," or "House of
Bones."
Unfortunately, the State Department of Natural Resources has closed the beach recently. A heavy
rainstorm last mid-December eroded huge ruts in the dirt road and, more importantly, degraded the footings
under a bridge originally designed to allow passage of the sugar cane trucks harvesting the fields. With the
State facing a billion dollar budget shortfall, the Department of Natural Resources is unlikely to have the
funds to repair the road or bridge anytime soon.
On March 11 my friend Bruce Pleas and other members of the community met with Gary Hooser, our
Hawaii State Senator, at the entrance to Polihale to discuss ways to get the road reopened. Ron Agor, the
architect who designed part of Ole Kamaole's Beach House and State Republican chairman, volunteered
his expertise to determine what needs to be done to repair the bridge. Community members volunteered
their time, money, labor, and equipment. The Department of Natural Resources is cooperating. It looks like
Polihale may be open again by summer! For the Garden Island News story, go to :
http://www.kauaiworld.com/articles/2009/03/12/news/kauai_news/doc49b8b94a2e300706522722.txt
*DISCLAIMER: The intent of this newsletter is to entertain. It is not
offered as investment advice nor real estate advice. Indeed, we
are not qualified to dispense such advice. Although Ole once held
a Hawaii Real Estate Salesman license, it is no longer active.
Eileen is a good cook, though, and we've both had lots of
experience grilling on the beach!
**I do claim to be a musician. Some would dispute that. Eileen
studied voice, but you can't get her to sing outside of church.
***I have my B.A. in Zoology from UCLA.
****Eileen has taught Sunday School on Maui.
offered as investment advice nor real estate advice. Indeed, we
are not qualified to dispense such advice. Although Ole once held
a Hawaii Real Estate Salesman license, it is no longer active.
Eileen is a good cook, though, and we've both had lots of
experience grilling on the beach!
**I do claim to be a musician. Some would dispute that. Eileen
studied voice, but you can't get her to sing outside of church.
***I have my B.A. in Zoology from UCLA.
****Eileen has taught Sunday School on Maui.
Spring, 2005
I lived most of my bachelor days, the years since I left home at 18 until I married Eileen at 45, without a pet. She had a big dog. I mean a HUGE dog. If not
HUMONGOUS dog. Waldo. He weighed 150 pounds. His back was broader than mine. The first time I drove up to Eileen’s house, he greeted me by sticking his
head in my Volkswagen’s window and slobbering on my lap...without jumping up! But he died the year before we married. Unfortunately, while I was dog-sitting
him, but that’s another story. The point of this one is, even when I married Eileen in the late eighties, I still didn’t have a dog. Eileen had Prissy Cat, but Waldo ...
the big slobbering, friendly beast who totally overwhelmed the teeny yellow Dodgette pickup truck that Aunty Eileen used to tool around in, wearing her big flat
straw hat...was dead.
So when we spotted a big, dirty yellow Lab-“Poi-dog” mix with no collar or tags at the local Japanese market near the cattle fields in upcountry Maui, and he
appeared quite ready to jump in the truck and go with us, Eileen urged me to adopt him. “You should have a dog,” she said. His head looked like Waldo’s. Waldo
had a Mastiff’s body, but not the Bull Mastiff. The other kin’ Mastiff. Waldo’s head was a (wide) hound’s head, and so was this yellow lab’s. Just not as broad. He
also had Waldo’s goofy, indiscriminate friendliness. A real Hawaiian dog. Must’ve been roaming the fields chasing cattle, we figured. We’d had a problem with
cattle getting into our yard at our place on Maui, which is adjacent to 88 acres of cow pasture. One of the cows had learned to jump the cattle guard. She loved
to munch on Eileen’s rare “double” Hibiscus. She was teaching the trick to her calf and trying to get the other cows to follow too. When Waldo was alive, there
was no problem. He had a bark as big as his body, but he liked to keep silent. He had a lot of Bird Dog in him. He would point at a bird, flush it, and retrieve it
unharmed. He even retrieved a baby Franklin once, holding it gently in his big jaws, never even bruising it. With cows he would sneak up in a silent, crouching
crawl. At the last moment, just as the cow realized he was there, he would leap out and bark uproariously. The cow would of course spook in a grand panicky-cow
fashion, which delighted Waldo. It kept the cows out of the yard, too!
But Waldo was dead, so we took “Rufus,” as we called him, home with us. Oh, we asked the Japanese man in the country grocery if he knew who the dog
belonged to. He said it was a stray. We posted a “FOUND” notice on the store’s bulletin board for a week or two. We even put an ad in the Maui News, which
brought a telephone call. It was from Rufus’ former owner’s landlady. Apparently Rufus’ former owner was from the mainland, and had returned abruptly,
abandoning Rufus. The landlady had been feeding him, and wondered about him when he disappeared. But, seeing we were giving him a good home and she
already had other dogs of her own, she was glad to let us keep Rufus. We figured he would solve our problem with the cows.
But Rufus was afraid of cows. Must have been kicked a time or two. You could tell from the scars on his body that he’d had a pretty rough life. Years later, when
he was dying, we had a chest x-ray done. At some point in his life he’d been shot...twice. One bullet remained lodged in his chest cavity all those years. But even
though Rufus wasn’t able to do the job he was “hired” for, we loved him from the start anyway. He was so happy to be with people! Eileen and I, having no kids
and only an aloof cat who seldom noticed us, lavished attention on him. In return he was very attentive to us, and would do anything we asked.
Except keep the cows out of the yard! I tried tying him up next to the cattle gate, but he howled in misery at being confined away from everyone. We relented and
let him stay in the carport and, finally, in the house. After
he’d had several baths.
It was the late eighties, and I worked as an Emergency Medical Technician on Maui’s ambulance service. I worked 48 hours on and four days off, so I had many
mornings free. It was Eileen and my habit every morning I had off in those days to go to Baldwin Beach in our Volkswagen Van. I would run on the beach and
Eileen would sit in the car and write children’s stories. Probably the first morning we had Rufus, we introduced him to the ocean. We loaded him into the van and
took him down to Baldwin Beach. He got out of the van eagerly enough, but then I tried to get him to run on the beach with me. Apparently he’d never seen the
ocean up close before. The waves scared him! Haleakala Volcano is over 10,000 feet high, and it’s slopes comprise hundreds of square miles. I guess Rufus
had roamed around in the cow pastures at about the 1-2,000 foot elevation, the sea only a blue line on his horizon, his entire life until then. But, having water-
dog in his genes, he soon got over his fear of the shore break, and learned to really love running on the beach with me. He would even splash in tidepools, as
long as there were no waves. I carried a leash, and would leash him whenever we approached another beachgoer, but in those days Maui’s beaches were often
empty early in the morning. Later, when we moved to Kekaha and were right across the street from the beach, we did our beach run in the late afternoon. If I got
carried away working at my desk, Rufus would come up behind me, place his nose under my armpit, and try to lift me out of the chair. He was saying “come on
boss, it’s time for our Beach Run!”
Moving to Kekaha was another Rufus story. It was August of 1990. We had packed up our Maui possessions and shipped by ocean container to Nawiliwili Harbor
on Kauai everything...we thought...we owned. All that remained were “a few items” we thought we’d take on the plane with us, and the animals: Prissy and Rufus.
We had travel carriers for each of them, and their Vet had prescribed a sedative for Pris. Those other “last few items,” however, filled the back of the pickup
truck. The passenger airline wouldn’t carry them. Way too much. They told us to go over to Air Freight. We had plenty of time before our flight to Lihue, so we
ambled over there. The folks at cargo were very nice....but they couldn’t take our stuff like it was. It had to be packed in boxes. Luckily they had some boxes
someone else had discarded in the dumpster, and they lent us a roll of packing tape. Our luggage was already checked, so while I boxed up our stuff Eileen
parked the truck in the lot where a friend would pick it up later. I told her to go on to the gate while I finished up at Air Freight. I could easily walk from the cargo
area to the passenger terminal. But by the time I got everything packed and shipped, our flight was boarding. I sprinted from Air Freight to the Passenger
Terminal and out to my gate. In those days there was no “Security” check-point.
When I skidded up to my gate, the agent had just shut the door. Out on the tarmac, they were rolling back the boarding tower and the aircraft was preparing to
start its engines. I ran up, waving my ticket in air, and exclaimed “my animals are on that plane!” The agent got on the radio. The pilot aborted his engine startup
checklist. They rolled the boarding tower back up to the plane. The agent unlocked the ramp door and I sprinted out. The stewardess opened up the fuselage
door and I hustled down the aisle, grinning sheepishly in the face of the glowers and stink eyes, to my seat beside Eileen. I had lived in Hawaii for ten years by
that time. I knew that if I’d cried “My wife is on that plane!,” the agent would have told me “Too late. You missed the plane. Catch the next one.” A wife can take
care of herself. But animals, no they’re much too important!
So Prissy, Rufus, Eileen and I retired to our little plantation house on the beach in Kekaha. Every afternoon we ran on the beach. If I tried to sneak off and go
surfing, Rufus would come after me, stand on the beach, and bark and bark. One time I didn’t know he was there until I saw Eileen frantically waving from shore.
Rufus had grown impatient that I was out there and would not come back, so he decided to swim out an get me. But he was already old. He could swim, but not
through the waves! Yet so strong was his love for me, it overcame his fear of the waves, and he swam right out into the impact zone on the outer edge of the
reef! I had to rescue him, pulling his 70 pound body up onto my surfboard and swimming him to shore.
After the first year in Kekaha, however, Rufus got so old that he couldn’t keep up on our Beach Runs. He would stumble to a grudging halt, then bark at me to
“wait up, Boss!” I would stop, go back, reassure him, and tell him to “Stay.”Once he understood I would come back for him, I could finish my run while he cooled
off his belly in a tidepool.
One morning when I had to go to work he was not in his usual position on the porch. I called and called, but no Rufus. I drove around the block, but no Rufus. I
was just about to go to work and leave Eileen to look for him when I spotted him across the road, lying on the beach.
Now it was not unknown for Rufus to go out on the beach by himself. We didn’t tie him up and we had no fence.
He was trusted to stay around because we knew he loved us and wouldn’t leave. Oh, he’d run over on the beach to “go shee-shee” (Pidgin for “go pee-pee”),or
to dig up a nice, dried-up baby shark that some fisherman had hooked and discarded on the beach. That was understandable. His vet had put him on a low salt
diet. Eileen used to cook special low salt dog food, using the lowest grade hamburger and corn meal, in a big pot for him. But as a result he craved salt, and
would often chew on dried up baby shark carcasses. But he never went off to the beach and failed to return. Until this morning. There he was, lying on the beach,
just over the dune where I hadn’t immediately spotted him in the dim predawn light. I had been calling him within twenty feet of where he lay, but he couldn’t do
more than raise his head...barely that. He was very weak. I tenderly picked him up, loaded him in the back of my pickup, got Eileen to go with us, and drove him
to the ambulance station. The Vet’s office was only a block away, but he didn’t open until an hour after my ambulance shift started. At the station we gave him
oxygen and put an EKG (with old disposable electrodes, of course!) on him. He was having premature ventricular contractions...often an ominous prelude to
sudden cardiac death. We had some date-expired Lidocaine, which was the drug of choice in humans, we knew, to treat PVC’s. Since it was due to be discarded
anyway, we started an intravenous line and administered the old Lidocaine. It quieted his PVC’s. But just then we got an alarm. I had to respond with my partner,
so we left Rufus in the back of the pickup, Eileen holding his IV bag aloft, with instructions that she was to take him to the vet as soon as he opened.
Our ambulance call was minor, yet serious enough to warrant transport of the patient to the hospital, so it was a couple of hours before we returned to the
station. Eileen and Rufus, of course, were gone. I called the Vet, and they were there. Rufus was still on EKG and oxygen and was being given meds by IV. The
vet had taken a chest X-ray, discovering the old bullet wounds. But his prognosis was poor. Eventually his kidneys shut down and he died. Aloha, old Rufey-
Doofey!
I lived most of my bachelor days, the years since I left home at 18 until I married Eileen at 45, without a pet. She had a big dog. I mean a HUGE dog. If not
HUMONGOUS dog. Waldo. He weighed 150 pounds. His back was broader than mine. The first time I drove up to Eileen’s house, he greeted me by sticking his
head in my Volkswagen’s window and slobbering on my lap...without jumping up! But he died the year before we married. Unfortunately, while I was dog-sitting
him, but that’s another story. The point of this one is, even when I married Eileen in the late eighties, I still didn’t have a dog. Eileen had Prissy Cat, but Waldo ...
the big slobbering, friendly beast who totally overwhelmed the teeny yellow Dodgette pickup truck that Aunty Eileen used to tool around in, wearing her big flat
straw hat...was dead.
So when we spotted a big, dirty yellow Lab-“Poi-dog” mix with no collar or tags at the local Japanese market near the cattle fields in upcountry Maui, and he
appeared quite ready to jump in the truck and go with us, Eileen urged me to adopt him. “You should have a dog,” she said. His head looked like Waldo’s. Waldo
had a Mastiff’s body, but not the Bull Mastiff. The other kin’ Mastiff. Waldo’s head was a (wide) hound’s head, and so was this yellow lab’s. Just not as broad. He
also had Waldo’s goofy, indiscriminate friendliness. A real Hawaiian dog. Must’ve been roaming the fields chasing cattle, we figured. We’d had a problem with
cattle getting into our yard at our place on Maui, which is adjacent to 88 acres of cow pasture. One of the cows had learned to jump the cattle guard. She loved
to munch on Eileen’s rare “double” Hibiscus. She was teaching the trick to her calf and trying to get the other cows to follow too. When Waldo was alive, there
was no problem. He had a bark as big as his body, but he liked to keep silent. He had a lot of Bird Dog in him. He would point at a bird, flush it, and retrieve it
unharmed. He even retrieved a baby Franklin once, holding it gently in his big jaws, never even bruising it. With cows he would sneak up in a silent, crouching
crawl. At the last moment, just as the cow realized he was there, he would leap out and bark uproariously. The cow would of course spook in a grand panicky-cow
fashion, which delighted Waldo. It kept the cows out of the yard, too!
But Waldo was dead, so we took “Rufus,” as we called him, home with us. Oh, we asked the Japanese man in the country grocery if he knew who the dog
belonged to. He said it was a stray. We posted a “FOUND” notice on the store’s bulletin board for a week or two. We even put an ad in the Maui News, which
brought a telephone call. It was from Rufus’ former owner’s landlady. Apparently Rufus’ former owner was from the mainland, and had returned abruptly,
abandoning Rufus. The landlady had been feeding him, and wondered about him when he disappeared. But, seeing we were giving him a good home and she
already had other dogs of her own, she was glad to let us keep Rufus. We figured he would solve our problem with the cows.
But Rufus was afraid of cows. Must have been kicked a time or two. You could tell from the scars on his body that he’d had a pretty rough life. Years later, when
he was dying, we had a chest x-ray done. At some point in his life he’d been shot...twice. One bullet remained lodged in his chest cavity all those years. But even
though Rufus wasn’t able to do the job he was “hired” for, we loved him from the start anyway. He was so happy to be with people! Eileen and I, having no kids
and only an aloof cat who seldom noticed us, lavished attention on him. In return he was very attentive to us, and would do anything we asked.
Except keep the cows out of the yard! I tried tying him up next to the cattle gate, but he howled in misery at being confined away from everyone. We relented and
let him stay in the carport and, finally, in the house. After
he’d had several baths.
It was the late eighties, and I worked as an Emergency Medical Technician on Maui’s ambulance service. I worked 48 hours on and four days off, so I had many
mornings free. It was Eileen and my habit every morning I had off in those days to go to Baldwin Beach in our Volkswagen Van. I would run on the beach and
Eileen would sit in the car and write children’s stories. Probably the first morning we had Rufus, we introduced him to the ocean. We loaded him into the van and
took him down to Baldwin Beach. He got out of the van eagerly enough, but then I tried to get him to run on the beach with me. Apparently he’d never seen the
ocean up close before. The waves scared him! Haleakala Volcano is over 10,000 feet high, and it’s slopes comprise hundreds of square miles. I guess Rufus
had roamed around in the cow pastures at about the 1-2,000 foot elevation, the sea only a blue line on his horizon, his entire life until then. But, having water-
dog in his genes, he soon got over his fear of the shore break, and learned to really love running on the beach with me. He would even splash in tidepools, as
long as there were no waves. I carried a leash, and would leash him whenever we approached another beachgoer, but in those days Maui’s beaches were often
empty early in the morning. Later, when we moved to Kekaha and were right across the street from the beach, we did our beach run in the late afternoon. If I got
carried away working at my desk, Rufus would come up behind me, place his nose under my armpit, and try to lift me out of the chair. He was saying “come on
boss, it’s time for our Beach Run!”
Moving to Kekaha was another Rufus story. It was August of 1990. We had packed up our Maui possessions and shipped by ocean container to Nawiliwili Harbor
on Kauai everything...we thought...we owned. All that remained were “a few items” we thought we’d take on the plane with us, and the animals: Prissy and Rufus.
We had travel carriers for each of them, and their Vet had prescribed a sedative for Pris. Those other “last few items,” however, filled the back of the pickup
truck. The passenger airline wouldn’t carry them. Way too much. They told us to go over to Air Freight. We had plenty of time before our flight to Lihue, so we
ambled over there. The folks at cargo were very nice....but they couldn’t take our stuff like it was. It had to be packed in boxes. Luckily they had some boxes
someone else had discarded in the dumpster, and they lent us a roll of packing tape. Our luggage was already checked, so while I boxed up our stuff Eileen
parked the truck in the lot where a friend would pick it up later. I told her to go on to the gate while I finished up at Air Freight. I could easily walk from the cargo
area to the passenger terminal. But by the time I got everything packed and shipped, our flight was boarding. I sprinted from Air Freight to the Passenger
Terminal and out to my gate. In those days there was no “Security” check-point.
When I skidded up to my gate, the agent had just shut the door. Out on the tarmac, they were rolling back the boarding tower and the aircraft was preparing to
start its engines. I ran up, waving my ticket in air, and exclaimed “my animals are on that plane!” The agent got on the radio. The pilot aborted his engine startup
checklist. They rolled the boarding tower back up to the plane. The agent unlocked the ramp door and I sprinted out. The stewardess opened up the fuselage
door and I hustled down the aisle, grinning sheepishly in the face of the glowers and stink eyes, to my seat beside Eileen. I had lived in Hawaii for ten years by
that time. I knew that if I’d cried “My wife is on that plane!,” the agent would have told me “Too late. You missed the plane. Catch the next one.” A wife can take
care of herself. But animals, no they’re much too important!
So Prissy, Rufus, Eileen and I retired to our little plantation house on the beach in Kekaha. Every afternoon we ran on the beach. If I tried to sneak off and go
surfing, Rufus would come after me, stand on the beach, and bark and bark. One time I didn’t know he was there until I saw Eileen frantically waving from shore.
Rufus had grown impatient that I was out there and would not come back, so he decided to swim out an get me. But he was already old. He could swim, but not
through the waves! Yet so strong was his love for me, it overcame his fear of the waves, and he swam right out into the impact zone on the outer edge of the
reef! I had to rescue him, pulling his 70 pound body up onto my surfboard and swimming him to shore.
After the first year in Kekaha, however, Rufus got so old that he couldn’t keep up on our Beach Runs. He would stumble to a grudging halt, then bark at me to
“wait up, Boss!” I would stop, go back, reassure him, and tell him to “Stay.”Once he understood I would come back for him, I could finish my run while he cooled
off his belly in a tidepool.
One morning when I had to go to work he was not in his usual position on the porch. I called and called, but no Rufus. I drove around the block, but no Rufus. I
was just about to go to work and leave Eileen to look for him when I spotted him across the road, lying on the beach.
Now it was not unknown for Rufus to go out on the beach by himself. We didn’t tie him up and we had no fence.
He was trusted to stay around because we knew he loved us and wouldn’t leave. Oh, he’d run over on the beach to “go shee-shee” (Pidgin for “go pee-pee”),or
to dig up a nice, dried-up baby shark that some fisherman had hooked and discarded on the beach. That was understandable. His vet had put him on a low salt
diet. Eileen used to cook special low salt dog food, using the lowest grade hamburger and corn meal, in a big pot for him. But as a result he craved salt, and
would often chew on dried up baby shark carcasses. But he never went off to the beach and failed to return. Until this morning. There he was, lying on the beach,
just over the dune where I hadn’t immediately spotted him in the dim predawn light. I had been calling him within twenty feet of where he lay, but he couldn’t do
more than raise his head...barely that. He was very weak. I tenderly picked him up, loaded him in the back of my pickup, got Eileen to go with us, and drove him
to the ambulance station. The Vet’s office was only a block away, but he didn’t open until an hour after my ambulance shift started. At the station we gave him
oxygen and put an EKG (with old disposable electrodes, of course!) on him. He was having premature ventricular contractions...often an ominous prelude to
sudden cardiac death. We had some date-expired Lidocaine, which was the drug of choice in humans, we knew, to treat PVC’s. Since it was due to be discarded
anyway, we started an intravenous line and administered the old Lidocaine. It quieted his PVC’s. But just then we got an alarm. I had to respond with my partner,
so we left Rufus in the back of the pickup, Eileen holding his IV bag aloft, with instructions that she was to take him to the vet as soon as he opened.
Our ambulance call was minor, yet serious enough to warrant transport of the patient to the hospital, so it was a couple of hours before we returned to the
station. Eileen and Rufus, of course, were gone. I called the Vet, and they were there. Rufus was still on EKG and oxygen and was being given meds by IV. The
vet had taken a chest X-ray, discovering the old bullet wounds. But his prognosis was poor. Eventually his kidneys shut down and he died. Aloha, old Rufey-
Doofey!
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