Maui Strong
Saturday, December 30th was a rare morning for us. We had nothing planned until the normal human time of 8:30 AM, and most people would have slept in. Not us! We were up at 5, playing a game of dominoes and feasting on a breakfast of fresh pineapple. I’d like to claim an industrious nature for our early morning, but truthfully, it was just jet lag!
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/xW5YEgyND38nqi7R9
Demember 30th, 2023- Hawaii Day 4
The pineapple was an experience in itself. We discovered our lodge room had no knife to dissect our fruit stand find. In a streak of brilliance, I rummaged through our luggage and emerged with a pocketknife. As the sun crept pinkly through the palm trees, I stood on our balcony and sliced up a pineapple with a pocketknife. It was a strange way to start the morning, but so worth it. That fresh Hawaii pineapple was incredible!
A few hours after our pineapple breakfast, Tyler and I stood on the peak of a volcano. Click, click, click. The rhythmic clicking of bike’s gears was soothing as I walked to the edge of the road. I looked down over the sprawl of a volcanic landscape and briefly reconsidered my life choices. I was standing on the same 10,000-foot high volcano we’d watched the sunrise on yesterday morning. Today, we weren’t onlookers. We’d be riding bikes down that volcano.
The lack of gears on my modified bicycle alarmed me. I had assumed that all bikes were like my ten-speed at home. Turns out that’s not exactly true! My volcano-riding bike had two wheels, a seat, and a set of handlebars. I hoped it had good brakes too.
At our leader’s signal, our group of volcano bikers took off. A blast of chilly morning air wrapped around me like a reverse sweater. We had read that the temperature difference across the duration of our ride would be quite noticeable. Recalling yesterday’s frigid sunrise, we had layered accordingly. Now, as we whizzed down the roads, I was very thankful for my sweatshirt!
After a few steep turns of the curving volcano road, I forgot my nervousness. Somewhere beneath my ardent need for safety, I am slightly an adrenaline junkie. Tyler must be too, or else we wouldn’t be riding bicycles down a volcano! Truthfully, the ride was phenomenal. The cool air was refreshing, the views were unmatched, and nobody died. It was a win-win in our books!
We passed through several towns during our volcanic descent to the ocean. The bicycle tour company, knowing people’s propensity to be tourists, had allotted us extra time to explore the little towns. We took full advantage! In Makawao, we stopped for a bite to eat at Ohana Island Grindz, a small family cafe. Our waitress was the niece of the restaurant’s owners, and her cousins worked behind the counter. They were a terrific family. They were quick to smile, sang cheerfully with the radio, and made some dang delicious food. I tried an acai bowl for the first time and had my mind blown. I’ve seen acai bowls occasionally on Ohio menus, but I am convinced they wouldn’t be anything close to the Hawaiian cafe experience. The bowl was the perfect combination of sweet, tangy, and salty. It was remniscent of fruity ice cream, topped with fresh honey, fruit, and granola. It was SO good. Since our Hawaii trip, I still haven’t been able to bring myself to try an Ohio acai bowl. It just wouldn’t be the same.
The rest of our bike ride was scenic but fairly uneventful. We stopped for another quick visit at the beach to watch turtles and surfers, then returned our bikes to the rental company in Paia. Describing our Hawaii experience wouldn’t be entirely truthful without mentioning the drug issues present on the island. Some “hippie towns” like Paia feature it more than others. To be clear, we never felt unsafe anywhere in town. Once again, it was more about the removal of the “tropical paradise” veil. In Paia, unfortunate souls wander barefoot down the middle of streets. Some sprawl on the sidewalks or talk to themselves. As we passed one addled man, he looked at my sweatshirt and asked me “What does your shirt say?” Confused, I glanced down at my shirt. It had no words on it.
Hawaii is a difficult place to live. This was a fact we were realizing. It is expensive, isolated, and, at times, complicated. Many of the people we chatted with were renters, not homeowners. To make ends meet, many young people would rent a tiny house with four or five roommates. Once they secured a living situation, they would work multiple jobs just to attempt some savings. Maybe, just maybe, they might be able to buy a house someday. This is a big “if” for most. One of the cheapest Hawaiian homes for sale on Realtor.com right now is a 300 sq ft “studio” going for $98,000. That’s a tough environment to try to make a living in. I imagine that hordes of entitled tourists hardly make it more bearable. In this setting, then, is it surprising that many people turn to drugs as a refuge? I can’t blame them, truthfully. Hawaii isn’t a paradise. To them, Hawaii is just a beautiful prison.
The lack of paradise was most evident in the town of Lahaina. In August 2023, a series of wildfires ravaged the island, especially around Lahaina. Usually a refuge for the wealthy, Lahaina was leveled by the fires’ destruction. Even months later, the town was still blackened and brittle. Here and there, surviving buildings rose up out of the wreckage with a startled air, as if surprised to be standing. In Lahaina, there is no tropical paradise. In Lahaina, the only illusions are the rippling heat waves rising above the pavement. Our hearts ached as we drove through the ruined landscape. More than 100 people perished in the fires. Their photos hung on paper memorials all along the highway. Notes to the deceased or posters declaring “Maui Strong” draped like quilts over fences and burnt tree trunks. It is sobering to consider. No community desires or deserves the destruction of a wildfire. As I write this, there are several wildfires burning in California. It is tempting to let such destruction root bitterness and hatred in our hearts. When things are out of control, it is easy to let ourselves lose control too. Yet in these situations, I’m always struck by the people who remain strong. In our little Makawao cafe, for example, the cousins laughed and sang with each other as they kept their restaurant going. In Lahaina, a 150-year old banyan tree slowly regrows leaves after being nearly destroyed by the wildfires.
I find myself thinking of a a unique art gallery that we stumbled across in Maui. Karen Lei’s Gallery was out in the middle of nowhere on Kahekii Highway. Dark storm clouds boiled in the sky as wind whipped around us. Green trees swayed gently around the blue gallery. Beyond the art gallery, there was miles of nothing. Still, the gallery was very neat, beautifully lit, and wonderfully stocked with locals’ art. It was a gem in the landscape. In Ohio, such a place would close after a few years because of a lack of interest. Karen Lei, somehow, had the grit to hold on. She made her gallery into something sturdy and beautiful. I have to admire that.
While we were visiting the gallery, my attention was caught by an older couple standing nearby. They stood quietly along a blue fence, looking out over a cliff that dove into the sea. Rough waves crashed into the shore far below. A thick meadow danced in the breeze. Wordlessly, the husband slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders. She reciprocated, leaning her head against him. It was simple, sweet, and so profound. Those moments, I think, are the ones that keep us going. Maybe it sounds cheesy, but I believe that love is the driving force to our survival. There will always be wildfires and floods and catastrophe. There will always be struggles vying for our attention. If we faced them alone, we’d crumble. In community, however, we can be strong. That’s how Lahaina recovered after the fires, after all. They were Maui strong.
How are you strong in your life?
I’m sure most of you know by now that I believe in the peace that God gives in tough circumstances. Ultimately, I believe that there is none better to lean on than the One who created the world. But even if you don’t share my beliefs, I think we can agree that humans were made for community. So, my friends, make sure you are surrounding yourself with people who are there for you. Who can you lean on in times of trouble?
And, more importantly, how do you allow others to lean on you?
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