North America

Convertible Bonds

Being a merciful sort, I rolled up the top until we arrived at the Blue Water shrimp truck, where we met Carol, our instructor and owner of North Shore Surf Girls. She had surfed competitively so she knew her stuff. We headed to Chun’s Reef where we would be having our surf lesson.

Pop Ups Should Only be a Toaster Pastry

Joanne and I were on the sunny side of 50 and while she’s petite and fit, I’m… well, to put it simply. Not. Sure, I’m in shape. After all round IS a shape! Carol exhibited great patience and understanding with the greatest challenge a surfing instructor might face… a hefty old guy.

The first 20 minutes to half hour of instruction took place on the beach and consisted of the basic moves to enable one to “pop up” on the surf board. Hands under the shoulders, push hard and “pop up” using your outstretched arms for balance as seen in the instructional video a couple of paragraphs south of here.

We were supposed to start lying prone with our heads high. My belly already made sure my noggin was at a higher altitude than the rest of the class by about a foot and a half. Maybe that made it easier because after a few of these Carol asked if I’d been an athlete at some point in my life because I caught on quickly. I should mention I’ve always been  surprisingly athletic, in an Indian rhinoceros kind of way.

I’ll substitute my name and pronouns for “Indian rhinoceros” in this National Geographic article and edit lightly in red and you’ll have a sense of what we’re talking about here:

“Mark can move very quickly when aroused. His charges to the refrigerator have been clocked at 30 miles an hour. Despite his bulk, he is nimble and can jump or change direction quickly to avoid doing chores.”

Unlike the Indian rhinoceros, I do not have a prehensile lip to grasp food items (although that does seem like a pretty handy evolutionary outcome).

So in one smooth motion you go from lying prone, to pop up with your right front in the place your belly button occupied on the board. This is Spiderman level stuff to a guy like me. I’m gonna need a radioactive Shave Ice for this one. The fact I caught on quickly didn’t work out so well for me. Although I was comfortable, Carol said to continue to practice with the class rather than wandering off for a cigarette so I “popped up” 42 more times in a row. I’m probably overstating that, in retrospect it really only felt like 39 popups. I was GASSED. Finally, I told Carol maybe I’d watch Joanne surf, which was ironic because Joanne hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place. However, being a kind woman and a dream wife she said she’d come along. Carol suggested that I at least try body boarding and I said I’d give it a go.

That Would Be the Downward Dog

We were using 12 foot boards or “guns” in surfspeak. The swell was three to four feet. Not much by North Shore standards. It was a gorgeous afternoon with a few wisps of cirrus cloud in the sky and temperatures in the mid 80’s. At the water’s edge, I dropped the board in and waded in up to my knees and the next swell hit and almost ripped me off my feet. Then the undertow almost pulled me off my feet in the other direction. I got on the board as quick as possible and started paddling… it just felt safer.

Both Joanne and I had an instructor with us swimming alongside and offering advice while we bobbed on the waves. Carol was with me, her “special needs” student. I wondered whether we should have a priest paddling alongside for potential last rites.

Kristiane and Michelle had tagged along and were ashore taking video of our little adventure. On video I look like a supertanker had somehow drifted into a random group of surfers on its way to anchor but no, that’s just me floating on my “gun.” Michelle thought that I was apparently preparing for  the “Downward Dog” yoga pose rather than actually surfing.

It was the instructors who actually did the work to launch on our way. They would look for appropriate waves for us to catch then yell “PADDLE” and give us a little push to get us started. I don’t think Carol could do much with me in that respect. I honestly don’t think Elon Musk’s SpaceX solid rocket boosters could provide the necessary thrust to get me going.

Surfer Down

Joanne was up immediately and surfing like a… well, I can’t say pro. I can’t recall seeing pros wobble quite so much or windmill their arms, but she looked smoother and more confident every time she got up, which was pretty much every attempt. For me… well. I never did stand up. I did hit the water a number of times trying. While I may not have stood up it was only the final act of “pop up and pivot” that I failed to achieve. If I were younger and weighed closer to the ideal for my 5’9″ frame rather than that of someone 8’7″, I’d be moving to the North Shore and doing this all the time.

Vid of our surf lesson with North Shore Surf Girls. My daughters provide commentary. I have NO idea where they picked up the smarty pants gene. Nothing like that ever happened on MY side of the family.

I did manage to body board and it was incredibly fun. There’s high velocity and white water all around as you drive in towards the beach. After the final run we thanked the ladies, tipped them and headed back to the house for supper. We were exhausted and still had not adjusted to the time shift yet, but I was really looking forward to going shark cage diving with Kristiane the next morning.

Next time on TTWTH: Haliewa Shark Cage Diving

Previously on TTWTH: Haliewa Surf Lessons, or “Surfer Down” in My Case

A Soar Spot

We finished our breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, muffins and fruit. It was a pretty solid breakfast, but you couldn’t get much further from traditional “Hawaiian” fare unless you were eating muesli, kippered herring with maybe a borsch slushy on the side. After breakfast, the girls wanted to go for a dip in the pool and I wanted to go for a drive. I’d booked a glider flight with Honolulu Soaring for 10 a.m. at Dillingham airfield which was 15 miles away on the northern tip of the island. I’d pitched the idea to the ladies but none of them felt that adventurous so I thought I’d check out the North Shore in the early light of morn enroute to the airfield. It was 80 degrees and sunny with a hint of a breeze. I rolled the top down on the Mustang and headed out.

As-soar-ted Sites on a Morning Drive

The house was perched on Pupukea ridge and once outside the residential area, Pupukea Drive turned into an audacious switchback that sliced its way down the almost vertical 350 foot drop from the ridge to the base of the cliff. After that it was a gentle incline to Foodland. I was too intent in trying to stay on the road rather than rubberneck and risk taking a more vertical path in rolling the car down the hillside.  Aside from catching glances of the Pacific on my left and dense, verdant vegetation on both sides, what stood out in my mind was the “falling rocks” sign I’d passed at the top of the ridge. The switchback had an incredibly sharp turn that would have challenged a unicycle before the grade once again became kinder. I made it to the intersection next to Foodland without the acquaintance of igneous rock to my noggin from above. I took a left on to the Kamehameha Highway (henceforth referred to as the Kam Highway. It’s not that I’m too lazy to add the extra letters, it’s just easier to read. Okay… it’s also because I am too lazy to add the extra letters.).

It was literally night and day in comparison from our drive the night before and the view under Earth’s yellow sun was spectacular. Associating the word “highway” with the Kamehameha is akin to calling Hunter River, Prince Edward Island a burgeoning metropolis. It’s not going to “burgeon” much beyond its current population of 300 or so and with that fact the “metropolis” part becomes self-explanatory. The Kam Highway is a cramped, two lane road encroached upon by vegetation, fences and… well, of course chickens. When the words “Kamehameha” and “Highway” collide in the same sentence it becomes an existential paradox given my experience of highways. That being said, it’s also one of the most beautiful drives in respect to scenery I’ve ever encountered. However, be prepared. When traffic is heavy during big wave season, you get to look at that scenery for a very, very long time from a whole lot of different perspectives as you move 12 feet, then stop for 12 minutes. Not much traffic this morning though.

Initially, I only caught glimpses of the Pacific Ocean through the thick greenery, gigantic ferns and the treeline of palm and other deciduous varieties of tree. That changed when the highway took a sharp left and Waimea Bay exploded into view. I’d seen pictures of Hawaii and always thought they’d been airbrushed to make the colors more vivid. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The bay itself was a bold, rich turquoise and this provided a harmonious counterpoint to the brilliant buttery yellow of the sun-drenched sand of the beach itself. For me, it was hypnotic and when the sun was shining it drew my eyes every time I passed that week. While I didn’t go off the road, I was drawn to rubberneck the view like a leashed dog passing a hydrant. I’ve yet to see a picture that captures that vivid contrast.

As Waimea fell behind the vegetation grew sparse for large stretches on the seaward side and I could see the breaking whitecaps of the Pacific surf rolling in. In the distance, the Waianae Range shimmered golden green in the early morning light, cut with deep shadows by the vertical couloirs breaking up the symmetry of the range; wrinkles in its primordial face. It wasn’t long before I arrived at Haleiwa Town, which is the focal point for the Mecca of surf that is the North Shore of Oahu.

Haleiwa Town

I made the turn into Haleiwa and passed a rather large park on the ocean side in which palm trees lined the sea wall like street lights. I could see the harbour and marinas a short distance across the water.  Passing a couple of surf shops I then crossed the Rainbow Bridge spanning the Anahula River. It was postcard picturesque but it left me wondering if the word “rainbow” had a different definition in Hawaii. I would have named it “White Bridge Yellowed with Age” which admittedly, isn’t nearly as sexy and maybe a tad too literal.

Haleiwa has one main road, and immediately after crossing the bridge I arrived at its one main intersection. I was now in downtown Haleiwa. There was a 76 gas station beside which is parked the Blue Water Shrimp truck. Food trucks are everywhere on the North Shore and apparently it’s mandatory to patronize one while visiting… but not for breakfast so I continued on my journey. Along the main strip are a number of colorful shops, some restaurants, a couple of strip malls and within three minutes, I was through Haleiwa and continued on to Dillingham.

Skirting Waialua via the Farrington Highway — which in terms of North Shore highways is as substantial as the Kam Highway – there were fields, mountains and trees on my left, fields and ocean on my right. Parachutes blossomed in the sky ahead. I hoped they weren’t jumping from gliders which had sub-standard maintenance. Fortunately, it turns out Dillingham airfield is shared by Honolulu Soaring and a number of skydiving companies. I parked the car and headed in to the office.

The North Shore from Above

I’d booked a 30 minute sight-seeing tour as I was over the 205 pound weight limit for the acrobatic flight. For some reason they’re apprehensive about flying 360 degree loops with the equivalent of a human refrigerator aboard the plane. Go figure. I had been up in gliders a few times in the past and it’s a gloriously pure flight experience so I was pretty excited.

 

It was mostly overcast by the time I boarded the plane, but still a balmy 80 F. My pilot was Big Don and at 6’5” I felt the nickname was appropriate. Unfortunately for me, his size mandated the front seat so I was in the less roomy and somewhat more visually restricted rear seat which would make video recording less than optimal. The glare on the canopy in the interior didn’t help much either. The tow plane raced down the runway and with a jerk we were on our way up to 2000 feet at which point Don released the towline and we were catching thermals, warm currents of air pushed up by the Waianae Mountains.

The mountains of Oahu are different than any I’d ever seen. They looked ancient and oddly unstable. They appeared to be comprised of pale greyish, ochre coloured stone and the mountainside was covered in patchy scrub and stunted trees. Very Planet of the Apes. Very Flintstones. They appeared frangible and crumbly. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover “Waianae” is Polynesian for “dried road apple.” We bumped upwards with each thermal updraft as we hugged the side of the Waianae mountains until we reached 3,000 feet, or “angels three” as it might be called in B grade WWII flick. I could make out walking trails up the side of the mountain and could see individual hikers as we blew by them.

Below stretched the airfield and there were huge ponds nearby which were obviously artificial. When I asked Don about them “shrimp farms,” was his response. White fingers of froth smeared across the aquamarine water close to shore, blemished with patchy deep blue shadows from coral formations. The surf break appeared frozen like a frosty rime on blue stained glass from that height. Further out the colors bled into a rich cobalt blue. The only sound aside from our conversation was the wind rushing by the canopy.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Gliding over Dillingham Airfield on the North Shore – The Movie

BIg Don was very accommodating when I asked if we could do some hammerhead turn stalls after we leveled off at 3000 feet or so. He’d pitch the nose up and bleed off airspeed until we stopped moving and were hanging frozen in the air for a split second. In that moment, the five point harness bit into my shoulders as we experienced negative four g’s but what was really striking was the absolute, barren silence without even the sound of the wind. It’s somewhat unnerving coming out of a stall because suddenly the plane slides backwards for a moment, until Don yaws the craft on its axis until he’s pointed the nose straight at the ground then banked on the wingtip to reverse direction. At the bottom of the dive and we were pulling 6 g’s. It wasn’t my first experience with this maneuver so no change of underwear was required. We leveled off at around 2,000 feet, got back to the mountainside and rode the thermal escalator back up again.

We spent the next half hour climbing, stalling, and whipping around and all too soon we were lining up the runway for the approach. Swooping down, there was the tiniest of bumps and it was over. For me, gliding is the most exhilarating roller coast ride I’ve ever experienced.

We deplaned and then there was post flight euphoria where one exults over the experience… but you don’t want to exult too hard. One must always be conscious of the exultation principle whereby the correlation between expectation of the sum of the tip increases proportionally to the amount of enthusiasm demonstrated by the client. So I feigned indifference and left. I’m kidding! I always tip well… although from Don’s reaction I think I over-tipped. No matter, it was worth it to me. I climbed back into the Mustang and headed home for lunch. Joanne and I had surfing lessons booked for the afternoon and I was ready and raring to go.

Next time on TTWTH: Haleiwa Surfing Lessons or “Surfer Down” in my case

Previously on TTWTH: Pupakea First Impressions: Sunrise

First Impressions: Sunrise

It was 5 a.m. when I woke up, realized I was in Hawaii and hopped out of bed. I don’t “hop” out of bed. Ever. I slackly undulate my way out of bed once I’m somewhat semi-conscious. I’m the antithesis of the “morning person.” However, it was my first chance to explore after the trials of arrival the night before and I was excited so I made an exception.

Joanne and the girls were still asleep. This was unsurprising as we’d arrived at our rented house in Pupukea on the North Shore of Oahu at midnight after slogging through 20 hours of air travel. You’d think we would have arrived earlier than midnight given the fact this was my second trip to the house that night. We should have been in at 5:30 p.m. but my two daughters, Kristiane and Michelle’s connecting flights were delayed four hours, so we had to wait.

Rough Arrival

When the girls were delayed, we realized there was no way we could get the four of us and our luggage in the little red Mustang rental, so while Joanne stayed at the airport to wait I thought I’d take our luggage to Pupukea and be back in short order. How hard could it be to find my way around? Oahu is teeny tiny! Of course, with almost a million people we’re talking significant infrastructure in respect to the road system. I got lost immediately and ended up at Hickam airfield. I headed back to the airport to puzzle out the route. I had hit a six on the stupid scale.

There are three interstates on Oahu… which is anomalous in itself. It’s in the middle of the Pacific so it doesn’t “inter” with ANY state. Looks easy on first glimpse at a map. No matter, I rolled with it and started from scratch. This time I studied the map like I was a med student studying for an anatomy final. Last minute cramming. The H1 bone’s connected to the H2 bone. The H2 bone’s connected to the Kamehameha bone and so forth. You’ll have to trust me on this, but you might want to check out the Hawaii Department of Transport’s (HIDOT) site for construction before you visit if you’re going to be driving.

The second thing I noticed was this terminal wasn’t entirely closed. Connecting sections of the airport were huge breezeways, which had a roof but no walls of which to speak. This was the first time in my life I’d seen the open concept taken to this extreme, but then this was my first trip to the tropics. I would find it just as jarring later on to discover hotels that had massive stretches with no walls at lobby level in Waikiki.

Lastly, the floral and exotic aroma of plumeria which infused the air despite the fact I was at a major airport. This was heady stuff; in my experience outdoor air just doesn’t normally smell this good… unless it’s just rained and I’m not near a salt marsh or a swamp. It was dark when I left and once outside of Honolulu my world was to what I could see in the headlights, which was the Kamehameha Highway which isn’t particularly well lit. From Waihewa mid-island, it’s a narrow, two lane highway that bisects the island and wraps around the North Shore and eastern side of the island. However, I could have been driving anywhere except for that ever present floral balm as a constant reminder of of fact I was in an exotic, foreign place. I finally arrived at our residence, dropped the bags then left with just a glance at the interior as I was running late. The glance was promising, the interior looked great and my excitement escalated.

Rushing back to the airport I picked up the girls then started back only to run into a major traffic snarl on the H2 due to construction. Still… we were in Hawaii and everyone was excited so I rolled down the top so everyone could take in that sweet aroma. This was the signal for the Hawaiian goddess Lono to open up the skies and douse us with rain. Well… it was more drizzle really, so we rolled the top back up which was her signal to stop the rain. Once we found the house I found the bedroom and was finished. I was a rogue elephant and the pillow proved to have the tranquilizing effect of dart dripping with a double dose of phenobarbital. It was just after midnight and it had taken two and a half hours to get here.

57% of a Full Night’s Sleep Later

The next morning when I awoke that fragrant scent reminded me where we were. It was still too dark to check out the grounds, but as I made my way to the lanai (balcony) I was impressed with what I was seeing. A baby grand piano greeted me at the bottom of the stairs in the living room of the ground floor. It was airy and spacious with large picture windows overlooking the grounds. I padded through the French doors into the darkness on the lanai.

The satin grey of the pre-dawn sky provided a backdrop for the silhouette of palm trees in the huge back yard. It had rained during the night and I inhaled the blossomy scent, appreciated my surroundings and enjoyed the moment. While I couldn’t see the ocean, I could hear it off in the distance. It felt unreal, it felt exotic… then a rooster crowed. What the??? Was there a poultry farm nearby? Then it crowed again and was answered by roosters elsewhere providing counterpoint and further adding to my confusion. More farms? I’d always thought Hawaii was known for pineapples, not poultry. Huh.

Something Fowl Afoot

It was almost 6 a.m. and the sun was rising so I put the top down and drove to the grocery store at the bottom of the hill to pick up some supplies and the fixings for a fine breakfast for the girls when they awoke. What proved to be a bit of a challenge was avoiding running over roosters and hens wandering loose around the Foodland parking lot. Someone must have left a gate open somewhere at the poultry penitentiary and they were making a bid for freedom.

I didn’t have a mallet with me, so I headed in to the store to buy breakfast components. Inside I learned that Hawaii has a feral chicken problem. Loose poultry is a common site on the islands. I found prices at Foodland comparable to prices at home. Produce tended to be cheaper, meat a bit more expensive but it wasn’t as expensive as I’d been led to believe, what, with all these free range chickens wandering around.

Despite the fact that tasks I was performing were familiar, there was just enough “off” from my typical shopping experience at home that it felt somewhat alien. It’s strange to find such a large selection of items in such a small grocery store. As a Canadian, it’s strange to find an an entire deli case was devoted to a local delicacy which consisted of a varieties of raw fish called “poke,” or that half an aisle was dedicated to Spam. I rolled up to the cash, paid, and rolled out to the car.

Sweet Surroundings

By the time I got to the house, the girls were up and exploring the house and grounds. Coconut palms, banana, mango, papayas and lime trees surrounded the pool area in the lush back yard. If we ran out of grocery money, we’d at least be set up for fruit salad. In the morning light the place was even more impressive with the view from those huge picture windows. They were filled with a “green scale” of color from the light green of the sunlit lawn to the deep hunter green of vegetation in the shade. The pool was barely visible from the lanai, so I headed down to check it out.

The pool area was everything for which I’d hoped. I switched on the waterfall and it had a “grotto” effect. Just looking at it I felt like a much shorter Hugh Hefner minus the house coat, pipe, money, bunnies and publishing empire. The pool was a good size, kidney shaped, although that’s assuming that somewhere there are kidneys shaped like mutant turquoise peanuts. There was a hot tub that would seat six, a Balinese lounging gazebo and a similar style bar area with a thatched roof. Life felt good in that moment.

Sadly, it wouldn’t feel so good that evening, when I realized that the pool lights were all burned out and the tiki torches had no “tiki.” Another problem that subsequently surfaced was the bar area by the pool was filthy. The girls spent a good amount of time cleaning out cobwebs and assorted detritus from the drawers of the bar area. The seal on fridge freezer was broken, which proved to be a problem. We were not impressed given the price we paid. The pool lights were most disappointing for me. I had been rather looking forward to relaxing in the evenings by the pool. If only I’d packed Navy SEAL night vision goggles.

I headed back up to the house and cooked breakfast for all. I had booked a glider flight for 10 a.m. at Dillingham airfield and that afternoon Joanne and I were going for surfing lessons with North Shore Surf Girls. We drank in our surroundings and enjoyed bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, muffins and fresh fruit and I was feeling a building excitement for the busy day ahead.

Next time on TTWTH: Dillingham Airfield and As-Soar-ted Activities
Previously on TTWTH: Hawaii: The Flint is Struck