One last chapter from Quickstride & Shambler‘s first trip to Kauai. I hope you enjoy! Remember to check out the shop to pick up a book or any other holiday gifts. Use the coupon code holidaycheer to save some dough!
As was typical of Jenny and me, we woke early on our last day on Kauai. I made a pot of coffee, then sipped the bitter, life-affirming liquid pitch black and steaming from a ceramic mug I found in the “clean” section of the sink. From inside the small kitchen, I could look out over the dunes and into the vast Pacific Ocean. It was grey that morning, overcast and promising rain.
I refilled my mug and went out to the lanai. From the porch, I watched the waves crash in. The waves were loud and violent, slamming into the beach, pushing and pulling the sand with the tide. It was cool, the air fresh and salty, defeating even the aroma of the coffee I held to my face. Jenny joined me on the porch, watching the waves with me while we waited for our friends to wake up.
Shortly, the unmistakable head and neck of a goose poked up over the dunes. An endangered Hawaiian Nene (nay-nay), wandered up onto the grass from the beach. We had seen a ton of chickens on Kauai, but only a few Nene. None of them came this close. Jenny and I watched the goose waddle around before returning to the sand.
Blaine and Bo joined us shortly, getting to glimpse the Nene before it left for good. We had a half day left on Kauai, our flight back to Oahu was in the early afternoon, but we still wanted to get as much in as possible. Jenny picked out one more short adventure to knock out before we left the Garden Isle.
Waimea Canyon State Park, also known as the “Grand Canyon of the Pacific,” was our target for the day. We packed up our gear, tossed out any rubbish we had, and checked out of the cottage before driving to the park. As everything else on Kauai, Waimea Canyon was close. Jenny piloted the rented Subaru hatchback up the twisting road through the mountains, bringing us to our first stop of the day.
Since we were short on time, our little party was simply planning to drive into Waimea Canyon Park and stop at as many of the scenic overlooks. Our first stop was a very popular spot on the road, the Waimea Canyon Overlook.
I admit to being skeptical of the title “Grand Canyon of the Pacific.” The Grand Canyon, the one in Arizona, is huge. It is wide and deep and stretches out forever in every direction. Waimea Canyon, by the simple fact that it is located on a small island in the middle of the Pacific, cannot compete with the King.
Waimea Canyon makes a damn fine effort though. Where Waimea lacks in depth, width, and length, it more than makes up for in color. Red dirt, pink rocks, green foliage, and blue sky all collide to make the canyon breathtaking in its own right. And it is huge, vast enough that helicopters fly below the overlooks, appearing as loud specks zipping far away through the canyon.
We took in the natural beauty of the canyon, snapped a few pictures, then hopped into the Subaru to scoot on over to our next stop. This was my favorite spot of the canyon tour. It was just a few hundred yards, as the crow flies, further up the canyon from our first stop, so the scenery wasn’t too different. There was, however, a goat.
As we walked up to the next overlook, we could hear the bleating from this goat almost as soon as we left the parking lot. It grew louder and louder as we walked closer, but when we arrived, we couldn’t see it.
The goat kept bleating, screaming his fool head off to everyone in range. We looked around, and then leaned a bit so we could see further down into the canyon. There he was, standing on a rock and giving it his all. Just screaming into the void in front of him.
What he was screaming for, we may never know. It could be to attract a mate (most likely), or he was just proud of himself for climbing that high. Maybe he just likes to hear the sound of his own voice. Whatever the reason, the goat kept screaming until after we left to drive up to our third and final overlook.
The last overlook gave us another view of the Na Pali Coast, which meant that we had now seen the same coast line from the sea, from land to the North, and now from land to the South. The only way to see any more of the Na Pali Coast would be to acquire a hiking permit and hike further up the trail we hiked the day before.
While we were parking, we walked past a dingy looking minivan that had a hippie sitting in the trunk. We paid them no mind, as hippies are only dangerous if you make eye contact. When we were returning, we could hear the hippie loudly talking about how he hated that you can get cell signal anywhere on Earth now, and that we needed to stop putting satellites into space. I don’t remember why he was concerned about the internet and satellites, because his jaw-jacking had drawn my attention to a sign that was newly placed next to the minivan: Breakfast Burritos – $10.
At that point in the day, I was getting pretty hungry. As I read that sign, my stomach gurgled, and I became acutely aware of the ten-dollar bill I had in my wallet.
“You interested in a burrito, my man?” Apparently the hippie had sensed my hunger. He probably could smell the crisp Hamilton folded in my wallet. Or maybe he saw me reading his sign.
“I might be,” I replied cautiously.
“Well come on over,” the hippie waived, his blonde dreadlocks swirling about his Rastafarian hoody. “I’ve got loads with vegan bacon and vegan eggs.”
“Oh no thanks,” I replied. “I don’t eat fake meat.”
“It’s just bananas and peas fried up to look like bacon, man.” The hippie tried to salvage the sale, but my stomach had stopped gurgling at the mention of vegan. I broke into a run, desperate to distance myself and my wife from this hippie and his imposter food.
We made it to the Subaru safely, fired up the engine and tore out of the parking lot, leaving the Hippie in our trail. Perhaps cursing whatever Earth-god is most appropriate for when some Haole shuns your vegan burrito.
Instead of succumbing to the siren’s song of a vegan burrito from the back of some smelly hippie’s van, we instead went to the park’s restaurant. There, I was able to get some Loco Moco, which is about as far from vegan as you can get. A hamburger patty on a bed of rice, topped with mushrooms, onions, brown gravy, and a runny egg. I had found comfort and safety in the warm atmosphere of the Koke’e Lodge.
Our time on Kauai had now drawn to a close. The last thing we had to do was drop off the rental car and board our flight. We had one last conundrum on our hands: when we visited the Koloa Rum plantation, we picked up a few more bottles than we were able to drink. We couldn’t carry them onto the plane, and we suddenly didn’t want to pay to check bags. What to do?
Bo found our solution. Using her keen eye for locals, Bo spotted a group exiting the baggage claim that looked like they were coming home. She approached them to confirm they did indeed live on Kauai, and offered them our unopened bottles of rum and rum drinks. They happily accepted, threw us a quick shaka, and went on their way while we went on ours, back to Oahu for the time being.
So ends the tale of our first trip to Kauai.
I hope you enjoyed this series! Be sure to stay tuned for more adventures, hunting articles, and more! If you would like to support the blog, the cheapest (free) way is to subscribe! If you want to toss a couple bucks this way, check out the shop for books, stickers, and more! Promo code holidaycheer saves you an additional 10%!