Day Ten / Maui

Aloha!

If there was one thing to do in Maui, we were told, it was to make the drive to Hana. It would take all day, so an early start is recommended. We got in the Jeep around eight in the morning and started the journey east.  

It took close to forty-five minutes just to get to the beginning of what is called "The Road to Hana." We downloaded an app that provided a guided tour based on your GPS, which came in handy once cellular service became non-existent. Along the way the app provided contextual facts for what we were looking at, or indicate where we should stop, or pull over, to explore. 

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The black sand beach.  

The black sand beach.  

While I would like to give you a detailed description of each spot we saw, or pulled off at, it was difficult for us to even keep track of it as we were going. The road to Hana requires your utmost attention as it is long and windy, with over six hundred sharp turns and a lot of one-lane bridges. My knuckles were white, gripped firmly to the wheel at ten-and-two and my eyes were affixed to the road ahead of me as the guided app told me to look at a beautiful shore or bay to my left. 

From our hotel, in Wailea, the trip to Hana and back is one-hundred and thirty miles, taking five hours to complete without stopping. A one-way trip from Boston to New York City is almost one-hundred miles longer, but an hour and a half shorter. While the road from Boston to New York City is fairly straight looking at a map, the one from Wailea to Hana is reminiscent of the last strand of spaghetti on a plate. The speed limit signage tops out and thirty miles per hour, but the majority of the trip is in the fifteen to twenty range. 

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Along the route are amazing views of beaches, cliffs, and waterfalls. Even the more densely forested parts were amazing to see, and reminded us of Jurassic Park. Absent from Hawaii is a broad range of wildlife—cattle and boar being the main inhabitants. But, as pointed out by my arachnophobic wife, it is crawling with spiders. As we drove through a picturesque beach town, she blurted out a noise that I would describe as "muffled terror." I expected to look over and see someone sharpening a machete within reach of the Jeep; instead she was reacting to a house that was literally covered in spiderwebs. She rolled up her window quickly and I hit the gas pedal firmly. 

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The town of Hana is a quaint little beach spot. The app told us that forty-five minutes beyond Hana is a "must-see" attraction of sacred pools, but it was passed three o'clock and sunset was in a couple of hours, so we turned around. 

The ride back was mostly downhill and I was a seasoned pro on the roads at this point. With an underhand grip at six o'clock on the wheel, I wove around all of the turns while the voice on the app gave us a detailed history of Hawaii. We pulled into the hotel around seven o'clock.  

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We had dinner at one of the resort's restaurants and called it a night early. The road to Hana is supposed to be a long, grueling day full of hikes to waterfalls and swimming in natural pools. We opted to just see what was absolutely necessary and get some good pictures. For what is considered a leisurely version of the excursion, it really takes a lot out of you. Or maybe we are just getting old. Most likely it is both. 

Anyway, aloha! 

Day Nine / Maui

Aloha!

Maui, the Garden Isle, has a much different feel than Kaua'i. For starters, the road from the airport to our hotel, The Four Seasons in Wailea, was a four-lane highway most of the way—a relative luxury. But, the real luxury began upon checking in. 

We were told by the hotel clerk that a note under our reservation stated we were VIPs, a string that was pulled by Sarah's boss on our behalf. The status came with an upgraded view (from mountain to ocean), a plate of meats and cheeses that greeted us in our room, and a bottle of champagne to wash it down with. This is something we could get used to. 

The grounds of the hotel are stunning. There are gardens, and waterfall fountains, and torches, and pools, and even two birds name Ricky and Lucy. The views of the ocean, especially at sunset, are what you envision when you think of Hawaii. 

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There are three pools: the main one, which has a large, loud fountain in the middle, as well as kids doing cannonballs, anchors one side of the resort; in the middle is the Keike Pool (kids pool); and through a gate and up a flight of stairs is the Serenity Pool, an adult-only pool that features a swim-up bar, infinity pool, and private cabanas. Of course we chose the Serenity Pool. The attendant told us they were all full for the day, so we ended up setting up shop at the main pool. We put our name on the list in case anything opened up. 

 Not cool, Sarah.  

 Not cool, Sarah.  

Several hours later, we were lounging on the padded beach chairs of the Serenity Pool and getting offered an Evian mist spray by a woman who works there. We didn't accept, because that is ridiculous, but it is nice to have the option should we decide that we need another human being to cool us down. My preferred method of that is jumping in the pool. As I tried to do the back float I thought I heard something under the water so I did a full dunk to investigate. Turns out I did: music plays under water. The sound was clear as a radio that you'd play in your bedroom. 

One bite turns this from English to Latin.  

One bite turns this from English to Latin.  

For dinner we went off-property, to Sarento's, to meet a couple we know from the Jersey shore that were coincidentally in town for a work event. After a few hours of laughter and drinks it was time to call it a night. We dropped them off at their hotel, the Grand Wailea, next door and then drove to ours.  But, whereas Kaua'i (and the St. Regis) is like your parents setting your bedtime at nine o'clock and rigidly enforcing it, Maui (and the Four Seasons) is like a friend throwing rocks at your bedroom window telling you to come out and party.

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We stopped off at the hotel bar for a drink, which gave Sarah an excuse to inspect their Louis XIII offering. The bartender sussed out that we were on our honeymoon and gave us a free dessert, which was nice of him. A Hawaiian couple sitting next to us bought us a round of drinks to celebrate, which was nice of them. An hour and a half later, it was time to go to bed.

The alarm is going off early and we have a long day ahead of us. 

X

Day Eight / O'ahu

A date that will live in infamy. A dark day in American history.

Whatever you want to call it, the effects of December 7, 1941 are still being felt at Pearl Harbor, our stop for today, Election Day in the United States. Our excursion started off on the wrong note as we got in a cab at the airport and told the driver we would like to go to the USS Arizona Memorial. "Is that even open today?" she asked. "Government employees have off today to vote." We told her to drive there anyways so we could at least have a visual of the area even if it was closed. "If it is open," she continued, "the chances of getting to see any of the sights are slim because you need to buy tickets in advance."

As we pulled into the venue, a swarm of tourists were wandering around, a good sign that it was at least open. I was initially struck by the surroundings; when I think about Pearl Harbor, aided by movies and photographs, I normally visualize an idyllic Hawaiian atmosphere, with palm trees and women doing the hula. In reality it is more industrial, and in the shadow of Aloha Stadium, home of the University of Hawaii's football team, as well as the venue for the National Football League's Pro Bowl. 

A solid rewrite.  

A solid rewrite.  

Once at the entry gates, we were welcomed by a Park Ranger. She immediately looked at Sarah's engagement ring and then introduced herself to me. "I would like something just like that!" she beamed. "What are you two lovebirds doing here?" We told her it was our honeymoon and she seemed genuinely happy. "Wait right here!" She ran off for several minutes, with us standing in the spot she told us to. Sarah and I looked around wondering what just happened. She came running back, waving a piece of paper. "This is a ticket for every attraction here," she said. "My gift to you for your wedding! I'm so happy for you!"

We walked into the museum extremely thankful for her generosity. Our tickets for the viewing of the USS Arizona Memorial were for 11:15, so we had an hour to kill. We walked through the exhibits and saw the first draft of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt's speech to Congress. There were several artifacts from the events of that day on display as well—a piece of the USS Arizona; an exploded torpedo shell; and images and quotes from the people who survived the attack. 

As we waited in line for our viewing time, a Park Ranger told us the story of Uncle Herb—Pearl Harbor survivor Herb Weatherax—who just had a heart attack this week at the age of ninety-nine. He is doing well and recovering, but the ranger lamented that we would not see him today, as he usually makes appearances to greet visitors. The ranger asked Herb the secret of his longevity, to which Herb replied to marry young, as his wife still gives him massages. She is ninety years old. 

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After watching a short film on the attack, we were ushered onto a small Navy vessel and escorted across the harbor to the memorial. Designed by architect Alfred Preis, the all-white structure has two peaks on either end and a sunken middle, to symbolize the depression of the nation during the war.  Once aboard, a somber mood takes hold. This is a watery grave for some nine-hundred soldiers that had been entombed when the boat sank, as well as the final resting place for some of the survivors that wished to be reunited with their crew members decades later. Walking through you look down and see the hull of the USS Arizona as gun turret three rises out of the water. The whole area smells of oil, and the water is covered with a rainbow shine—the result of almost nine quarts of the ship's oil being released every day for seventy-five years, still a fraction of the almost five hundred thousand gallons aboard when the ship sank. At the end of the memorial is a shrine to all of those that died aboard the ship. A volunteer guide from the Marine Corps told the stories of a few of the dead, as children of some of the visitors squealed and played, visibly irritating the guide. As our time aboard the structure was coming to an end, the guide remarked that this was the place the war began for America. He gruffly directed our attention to the USS Missouri, docked a bit down the harbor. "And that's where we ended it," he said. 

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Back ashore, we rushed over to the shuttle busses that would ake us on a bridge over the harbor to Ford Island, still an active naval base, where the USS Missouri is docked. Ford Island has much of the charm I was looking for in Pearl Harbor. There are bungalows that President Kennedy once stayed in; the sandy fields are specked with tufts of grass as palm trees jut out every so often; mountains loom in the background. The bus we were on played the hits from the Forties to set the mood, notably Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade."

The bus pulled up to the ship and we forewent the guide tour to roam around on our own. The first stop was the Surrender Deck, where General MacArthur accepted the surrender of the Japanese, and all of the heads of the participants of the war in the Pacific signed a treaty for peace. I was dumbfounded at all the Japanese tourists on deck, smiling and snapping photos. "This is their history, too," Sarah told me. She is right, of course, but it still was a sight to see. The rest of the ship is remarkable in how ships on such a large scale usually are. It had been operational through the first Gulf War, so any traces of its history in World War II were ornamental.

We had a flight to catch, so we boarded the bus again to go back to the entrance of the museum. On our way out of Ford Island, we drove past the Pacific Aviation Museum, a place we would have liked to have seen if we had the time. The observation tower, which looks like a very large barber shop pole, was the original one the Japanese planes flew over, as depicted in the movies "Tora! Tora! Tora!" and "Pearl Harbor."

The songs of the time played as we looked out the window at a piece of America encapsulated in time. It reminded me of the final line from my favorite book, F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby":

 So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. 

Day Seven / Kaua'i

Aloha!

It was a rainy day on the Garden Isle. That allowed us to have a relaxing day full of food and naps. While that doesn't provide a lot to read about here, it gives me space to inform you of the various odds and ends of the trip we have experienced this week.  

On some path.  

On some path.  

The St. Regis 

For such a high-end hotel the food is terrible—and insanely expensive. The first morning we went to the terrace restaurant for the buffet breakfast, which we were told by our travel agent was included, and we were bowled over by the price: $140. We went to the front desk to ensure it was indeed included in our rate only to find that—joke's on us!—the travel agent messed up and it was not. The travel agent said they would cover the mistake. We avoided that breakfast buffet for the rest of our trip. 

The hotel is valet only, meaning you have to have someone both park and pick up your car for you every time you get in or out. That adds up to a lot of tips. However, on the very first day, I gave the valet/bellman a twenty-dollar bill in my dazed state. That turned out to be both incredibly generous, as well as fortuitous since our keys were always on the top of the pile whenever we came out to get our car. 

Music

Our car didn't come with a USB port, which meant that we couldn't play our own music and had to rely on the local radio stations. If there is one thing we learned it is that Kaua'i loves reggae and ZZ Top's "Legs." Every time we turned on the radio station it was either a reggae version of a popular song (replaced with Hawaiian lyrics) or "Legs."  

Sunset over Mount Makuna.  

Sunset over Mount Makuna.  

The Roads

There is essentially only one road to get you anywhere you want to go on Kaua'i: Highway 56. There is rarely any traffic and the views along the way are stunning. It hugs the coastline and has amazing mountain views. The speed limit tops at fifty miles per hour, however, and there is only one lane each way. The goings can be slow. A twenty mile trip can easily take an hour. The reason for the one main road is Kaua'i's climate; they tried to build other roads through the mountains but were constantly halted by avalanches caused by precipitation. As long as you factor in the timing, and have "Legs" cranking, your drive will be enjoyable.  

The Roosters 

Roosters are literally everywhere. They are outside your bedroom window, on the roads, in the restaurants, and haunting your dreams. There are many reasons for this, but the main one seems to be that there are no mongooses—who eat the eggs of ground-nesting birds, such as chickens—on Kaua'i . This results in a high birth rate of chickens. It is also illegal to kill the chickens on Kaua'i so the chicken/rooster issue is never-ending. 

Dinner at Postcard Cafe in Hanalei.  

Dinner at Postcard Cafe in Hanalei.  

Tomorrow we are off to O'ahu for a quick trip to Pearl Harbor before we go to Maui for the last leg of our trip. Until then, aloha!

X

 

Day Six / Kaua'i

Aloha!

Today started with a "presentation" of a timeshare over at the Westin, two miles away from our hotel, and also a Starwood property. When we're booking our excursions earlier in the week, the vacation agent told us that sitting through this for ninety minutes was an easy way to get ten thousand Starwood points. It was also an easy way to get guilt-tripped into not forking over sixty-two thousand dollars on the spot for a property you have no real ownership of.

After repeatedly turning down a fabulous destination for all of you to come and stay with us at, we went back to our recently upgraded room that has a lanai (patio) overlooking the beach, mountains, and pool. We lounged on the beach chairs until the sun started its descent west and our umbrellas provided no more shade. Down at the pool, we found a spot with ample cover and a good view for people watching. 

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Across the pool from us was a group of people around our age consisting of men with several tattoos, and beautiful women. I posited that it must be a band on tour, relaxing between shows; Sarah disagreed. She correctly placed one of the women: Audrina Patridge from the MTV show, "The Hills." It turns out that she and her husband, BMX rider Corey Boham, were married the day before at the hotel in an "intimate ceremony" of a hundred or so people. They seemed genuinely happy, and we wish them all the best. 

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After a beautiful sunset, enjoyed from our lanai, we got back in the Jeep and went to Hanalei for a sushi dinner at The Dolphin, a restaurant that had come recommended by several people. There are only so many restaurants in the area so it was no surprise that this one had a long wait. I did a double-take when I saw a man with a very long white beard walk by. I told Sarah that it looks like the famous hip hop producer and record label executive Rick Rubin. We fired up Google for confirmation. It sure was him; this was a great celebrity sighting for me—even for New York standards. This was the man that started Def Jam records in his NYU dorm room with Russell Simmons; put Run DMC together with Aerosmith on "Walk This Way"; produced the Beastie Boys; and reimagined Nine Inch Nails's "Hurt" with Johnny Cash, among many other notable things. The fact that he sat on a nearby bench, with his beautiful wife, holding a buzzer was even more endearing. The food at The Dolphin was really good, by the way. 

Our evening ended back on the lanai, sipping wine and watching the waves crash into Hanalei Bay by moonlight. There is only a week left of our honeymoon. Woe is us. 

Anyway, aloha! 

Day Five / Kaua'i

loha!

We got a late start this morning, getting up at eight in the morning. The rooster didn't crow—we hope everything is okay.

Our day had us driving an hour and a half south, on Highway 56, to Port Allen for a catamaran sail along the ā Pali Coast. It gave me the chance to do something I've always wanted to do: act like Simon Le Bon in the Duran Duran video for "Rio." Once aboard the Northern Star, our captain, Tony, gave us a quick safety rundown and then let us move to grab our seats. Sarah and I went to the very front and our ship set sail. 

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It is considered winter in Hawaii, and the northern waters are considerably more choppy than they are in the summer months. We were assured by the deckhand, Tyler, that although were front and center, we had the driest area of the boat. It sure seemed like it as the catamaran sailed over the waves, dousing all of the other passengers. By the time drink service started, with the catamaran sailing at sixteen knots, in a headwind, I was astounded to see Tyler navigating the deck spinning, twirling, and expertly balancing an entire tray full of drinks. We were having trouble just getting the liquid into our mouths, but our man Tyler was putting on a performance worthy of the ballet at Lincoln Center. 

Forty-five minutes into our journey, with me in full Simon Le Bon mode, all of the passengers had their eyes on the beautiful coastline to our right. As a matter of happenstance, I was looking off to the ocean's horizon. And then it happened: a northern humpback whale jumped out of the water, with its fin in the air as if it was waving to me, and then majestically splashed back into the water. Unable to contain my excitement, I pointed and yelled "OHHH SHHH..." and before I could finish the expletive, the entire boat was catching the whale as it splashed back into the water. Tyler ran up to me and asked, "Did you see it?!" I told him I sure did. He said he hadn't seen one in the year he has worked on the boat, but that he caught the end based on my excitement and saw it before it splashed back. Tony, the captain, told us that the whales normally come a month later to mate or give birth. It seems like this whale wanted to get a head start. 

For the next half hour, the passengers were now fixed on the water, looking for activity in the ocean. And, as luck would have it, a pod of dolphins approached the catamaran and started to put on a show. It was, to put it mildly, a great sight for a couple of city kids. 

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In order to get around to the ā Pali Coast, we first had to navigate through extremely choppy waters. We went back to our dry area to ride it out. The wind was strong and the waves stronger, but as the other passengers were getting annihilated by the spray I commented to Sarah that I was still bone dry. "You just jinxed us," she responded. And did I ever. Moments later, as the boat was starting its turn, the waves got very rough and we were doused with an entire wave's worth of water. Head to toe, we were drenched. The brochure said to bring a change of clothes. It's a dinner cruise, we thought, and that seemed unnecessary. Welp, with two hours remaining and dinner service still to come, we were sopping wet. It was some consolation to head to the back of the boat to dry off and see a woman horribly seasick. We'd rather be wet. 

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The rest of the adventure had stunning views of the coastline as we had dinner and drinks. The boat turned around to head back to the port with a nice tailwind and calmer waves. We had the tough choice of viewing the sunset to our right, or the beautiful coast during sunset to our left. We chose the coast. 

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After the trip we got back into the Jeep, still wet, and drove the hour and a half back to the hotel. We pulled into the valet of the resort and got out. "Apologies, the seat is wet" I told the valet, as I handed him a wet five dollar bill. "Fun night?" He responded. I just nodded. 

Here's to you, Ahab!

Day Four / Kaua'i

Aloha!

Another day, another rooster woke me up at six in the morning; Sarah was again successful in sleeping through it. An hour or so later we both got up ready to tackle what is the most active day of our trip: a four and a half mile kayak of the Waliau River on top of a three mile hike to the Secret Falls. 

But first we decided to get a Bloody Mary and lounge on the beach for an hour and a half to gear up. Once the shutters came down on the poolside bar, the circling patrons pounced to get the attention of the bartender first. I wandered over after the initial wave and stood next to a man who ordered two pina coladas and talked briefly about the virtues of the drink on a humid morning. His voice was familiar, as was his shock of hair. It took me a minute after he left for me to place him: he was comedian Ron White.  

Back on the road, heading south today, we had a forty-minute drive to get to the river tour. As we pulled into the river tour's parking lot we noticed that we were the only car. We walked into the hut and were greeted by a young man named Ty. He informed us it was just us and him today—a private tour!

We placed the kayaks in the river and went upstream as Ty—a native of Illinois living in Kaua'i for the last five years—told us all about the area we were in. There were too many things of note to mention here, but he knew his stuff and it made the fact the Sarah and I were amateurly zig-zagging across the river, essentially doubling our journey, bearable. 

Entering the trail for the Secret Falls.  

Entering the trail for the Secret Falls.  

Two (most likely more) miles later we pulled our kayaks onto the shore and started our hike. We noticed that Ty was going barefoot along the trail. Sarah asked him if that hurt his feet, to which he replied that he has been going barefoot everywhere on the island. Sarah was wise and bought a pair of water shoes; I thought my boat shoes would work just fine, since they are meant for nautical excursions anyways. It turns out that they don't have the proper grip when scaling inclines covered in wet roots. Go figure. 

Ty explaining the origins of the flower.  

Ty explaining the origins of the flower.  

A half hour into the hike we arrived at the Secret Falls. It is a "secret," much like the identity of Ronan Farrow's biological father. Ty provided lunch for us, which we ate on a rock overlooking the Falls. With a belly full of a turkey sandwich and Ty's expertly carved pineapple, Sarah and I descended the rocks to the water. 

The Secret Falls.  

The Secret Falls.  

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I took the first steps in and confirmed that the water was cold. One tepid step after another and I thought my manliness was secure until a young boy in an uncovered arm cast waded all the way in to the waterfall. He was then followed by his father. I felt I didn't have to prove myself and started to make my way back until I saw an older man bounding into the water yelling, "Here comes grandpa!!!" There was now no excuse. I was going under this waterfall.  

Grandpa under the waterfall.  

Grandpa under the waterfall.  

On the hike back, Ty gave us the history of Kaua'i and the land we were currently traversing. He informed us of all the different fauna and flora that make up the area. To our right was a rock that the original settlers drew on to carve up the counties of the island, a map which is still in use today; to our left is a tree that literally uproots itself and walks over a period of years to a different spot to get better sunlight. 

Back on the river we were faced with a headwind that made the trip feel twice as long, even without zigzagging. But, we made the trip back safe and relatively dry. We bid adeui to Ty, and hit the road back to the hotel. 

For dinner we went to Bar Acuda, a tapas joint in Hanalei that has been highly recommended by many people we've come across while here. It didn't disappoint. 

At Bar Acuda.  

At Bar Acuda.  

Tomorrow we have another fun day planned. 

Until then, Aloha!

X

Day Three / Kaua'i

Aloha!

The morning began with our rooster friend saying hello at six o'clock, again. Luckily we have acclimated, and it served as a nice wake up call. We decided to hop in our Jeep, put the top down, and head north on Highway 56 all the way to the end of the road.  

En route we stopped off in Hanalei to get some coffee and do a little shopping in the center of town. Along the road north there are several little scenic outlooks and secluded beaches that we would pull into to see what's what. Each time we would run into a young couple who incidentally was sitting next to us on the beach yesterday. Chad and Leigh were in from Lancaster, Pennsylvania (shout out to Mrs. M!), though Leigh lived on the Upper West Side, on Seventy-Third Street, for many years.

The last stop on the road before you get to the end had a cave on one side of the road and a nice beach that was occupied by hippies and drifters on the other. We got right out and made ourselves at home. There was an older couple selling coconuts for six dollars, so we bought one. We concluded that coconut milk tastes like a foot. 

Further along, about three football fields away, was the end of the road: Nā Pali Coast State Park. There are several hikes you can take, the most extreme was an eight-mile hike that would take eight hours to complete round trip. We opted for the least extreme: a quarter-mile hike to a lovely lookout that would take eighteen minutes.  

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Hiking in the Nā Pali Coast State Park. 

Hiking in the Nā Pali Coast State Park. 

Take a hike, Sarah! 

Take a hike, Sarah! 

A cave at Ke'e.  

A cave at Ke'e.  

Exhausted from our hike we decided it was time for lunch. We hopped in the ole Jeep and drove south, deftly navigating roosters, cranes, and one lane bridges along the way. We pulled off at the Kilauea Fish Market for a lunch of the fresh catch—well, as fresh as something can be after a forty-five minute wait. It was delicious, though, and worth it. 

The time came to head to the Princeville Airport to catch our helicopter for an aerial tour of Kaua'i. We were on the same helicopter with two other couples, both celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. When I asked one of the other men if he had been on a helicopter before, he simply said yes, when he was in Vietnam. We left it at that.  

Our pilot, Mac, looked like he just finished filming an episode of MTV Sports from 1992; however, he was a great pilot. As we ducked in and out of valleys, through canyons, and even into the crater of the volcano that created the island, Mac was quick with the relevant fact. There was one point where he fired up some Enya to pump through the headphones as he pulled over an awe-inspiring landscape. He was a showman through and through. 

A helicopter ride is pricey, but we cannot recommend it enough.  As you fly through a vista untouched by man, you get a true sense of wonder. It is no stretch to say we will never forget this day for the rest of our lives. 

On the tarmac before the helicopter ride around the island.  

On the tarmac before the helicopter ride around the island.  

Ready for lift off! 

Ready for lift off! 

The Nā Pali Coast. 

The Nā Pali Coast. 

Welcome to Jurassic Park, well at least the area they filmed the original movie. 

Welcome to Jurassic Park, well at least the area they filmed the original movie. 

I forgot where this is.  

I forgot where this is.  

Waimea Canyon State Park, the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. 

Waimea Canyon State Park, the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. 

Tomorrow, we plan to get our feet wet. Here's hoping our phones stay dry.  

Anyway, aloha! 

X

Day Two / Kaua'i

Aloha!

The day started with a rooster crowing at what sounded like the foot of our window around 6am. I woke up to it, but Sarah inexplicably slept through the whole thing. A few hours later we got up for breakfast and enjoyed a prime view for our first real meal in Kauai. 

Afterwards, we went to the beach for a day of leisure in the sun. We had mai tais, fish tacos, and poke for lunch—very island of us. But, we were drawn into the noise at the poolside bar from the contingent of Cubs fans that got their hearts ripped out by a homerun that tied the game. 

At the bar, behind the diehard fans, we met a couple of couples (fun with grammar!) that had no stake in the game, and we got to chatting. Jimmy and Tea were in from San Diego with their one year old daughter, Margot; James and Ashley were in from Boston, honeymooning as well. It was all cut short at the start of extra innings when the bartender said they were closing. The look of sheer fear on the Cubs fans' faces when they were told that they had to walk ten minutes to the closest sports bar to see the end of the game made us anxious for them, until they ran off and we finished the game in the comfort of our room. 

The night ended at a local pizza spot for dinner. It was definitely a local spot, that served pizza. Tomorrow we have an activity planned that will take our photos to new heights.

Until then, aloha!

Breakfast with a view.  

Breakfast with a view.  

Poolside.  

Poolside.  

Sarah taking a photo of Matt... 

Sarah taking a photo of Matt... 

... taking a photo of this.  

... taking a photo of this.  

Possibly the aforementioned rooster.  

Possibly the aforementioned rooster.  

The view our backs saw while we watched the Cubs game. X

The view our backs saw while we watched the Cubs game. X

Day One / Kaua'i

It is 9pm local time and we are going to bed. After a 5:00am wake up in NYC, an eleven-hour flight, an hour layover in Honolulu, a forty-minute flight to Kauai, and an hour drive to Princeville, we are spent. The resort is eerily quiet and dark, with only the outline of the setting visible in the moonlight. We can't wait to see it during the day. 

We made it.  

We made it.  

On the ground in Hawaii, about to hop on the propeller plane to Kauai.  

On the ground in Hawaii, about to hop on the propeller plane to Kauai.  

CBGB's in Newark Airport's Terminal C.  

CBGB's in Newark Airport's Terminal C.