Letters From The Loft
Stuff From The Desk Of Chuck Thornton
Chuck And Sue And Ken And Deborah On The Big Island
PART FOUR
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Ken had heard that the best snorkeling on the Big Island was at Kealakekua Bay (pronounced "bae"). The trouble is, the bay's not accessible by land unless you hike in on a steep 2-mile trail, a trek that takes about 3 weeks for someone in my condition, once you factor in the multiple medevac trips and hospital stays.
After having no luck finding any local jet-pack-rental places, Ken arranged a snorkel cruise with an outfit called Fair Wind. They put you on a catamaran at Keauhou Bay (birthplace of King Kamehameha III) and carry you to Kealakekua Bay, home of the Captain Cook monument. (Don't read that last sentence aloud... it will make the roof of your mouth sore).
We checked in at the dock, but we had some time to kill before getting underway, so Ken went to the gift shop and bought me a nifty t-shirt with the Fair Wind logo on it. He asked me change into it immediately, I think in the hopes that I could masquerade as one of the crew and possibly secure more helpings of food during the trip. Although that seemed an unlikely scenario, I still changed into the shirt... in case of a mutiny, it's always best to be able to take either side.
Pretty soon, the vessel was prepared for boarding...
... but most of the ladies weren't. It seems that the prospect of using the boat's bathroom (or "head") had driven all of the female passengers to the small restroom (or "john") at the gift shop, and there was still a good-sized line of women (or "dames") there when boarding was announced. I was a little concerned that, like most sailors, Ken and I might end up leaving our women behind, but Fair Wind was apparently used to this situation and made sure everyone was on board before casting off.
After a half-hour or so of traveling down the coast, we chugged into Kealakekua Bay:
We dropped anchor sort of near those two little white boats you see to the right of center, near shore. They left in a hurry after seeing a boatload full of pot-bellied snorkelers approaching, but that was probably just a coincidence.
The bay is actually a state park, the only one in the country that is completely underwater, although there are a couple of California rest stops that may be added to the list if the toilets aren't fixed soon. Because it's a State Marine Sanctuary, and the geography keeps rain from draining down into it, the water is crystal clear and it makes a great snorkeling spot.
As I mentioned before, this is also the location of the Captain Cook monument:
At 27 feet, it's sort of what the Washington Monument would look like if erected in today's economy. It was erected by the Australians in 1878 to commemorate Captain James Cook, a British explorer who met his untimely end at this very spot. The historical details are somewhat disputed. Some say that when Cook's ship, the HMS Resolution, sailed into the bay, the locals were celebrating a festival dedicated to Lono, the fertility god, and the appearance and timing of the ship's arrival caused the natives to welcome Cook and his crew as gods (so far, so good). Cook and his crew left, but had to return about a week later with a damaged foremast, which apparently is a Lono no-no, because the natives ended up killing Cook and some of his crew. Some historians have since said that this story is hogwash, and it was just some strained relations and a misunderstanding about a stolen rowboat that led to the fatal skirmish. No matter which story you choose, they both end up with an obelisk on the shore of Kealakekua Bay, so I doubt if Captain Cook is crazy about either one.
While reading about the voyage, I did come across the fact that Captain Bligh was the sailing master on the Resolution before he became captain of the Bounty. Both men must have walked under a ladder together or something.
The snorkeling was fantastic. I was foresighted enough to pick up one of those disposable water-proof cameras that are encased in plastic, and snapped all sorts of pictures of the great underwater scenery. When we got back to port, I dropped it in the nearest trashcan for developing, and as soon as I get them back, I'll share them with you.
You have to hand it to the Fair Wind people: they don't just ferry you out to a bay and tell you to abandon ship. Lunch is included. After letting you snorkel for a while, they ring the dinner bell and barbecue up enough hamburgers and hot dogs to feed three boats' worth of people, so there was almost enough there for Ken and I. It's a convenient arrangement... after everyone gets their bellies nice and full, they can immediately jump back in the water. I noticed that after lunch, many of the folks seem to have gained their second wind, spending more time checking out the ocean floor and not coming up until their friends went down and got them.
It was a great day, and the snorkeling highlight of the trip. If someone like me, who is roughly the size and shape of a navy raft with none of the buoyancy, can have a good time doing this, than anybody can, so I heartily recommend the experience.
Aside from the afore-mentioned locations, there was one other public
beach in which we dipped our snorkels. It was near the hotel. I can't
remember the name, but it had a lot of vowels and at least one "k". It
was the only place we snorkeled where there were actual waves coming
right up to the shore. Granted, they were microscopic waves, much like
what one would generate easing into a bathtub. But they technically
qualified as an incoming tide (the papers are on file at city hall). I
watched Ken head enthusiastically and effortlessly out toward open water
and I put my head down and tried to follow him, but a couple of things
happened:
1. Water kept lapping into my snorkel and eventually nesting in my
lungs;
2. My body, apparently outraged by even the hint an opposing motion from
the tide, immediately shut down all the shipping lanes running between
my lungs and the other areas of my body that require oxygen. My
respiration rate correspondingly increased to that of a St. Bernard
summering in Palm Springs. Combined with item #1, I was soon floundering
in one of the shallowest points on the island.
What can I say? I'm perfectly fit when paddling through still water or going down a water-slide, just like I'm okay walking on level ground. But I'm incredibly short-winded when the terrain or circumstance even hints at pushing back. At the supermarket, I'll park the car at the far end of the parking lot and have no trouble hiking to the entrance; but if there are sacks of groceries involved on the return trip, I usually crawl into the cart and have my wife push me back to the car.
So probably, I could have stood up, strolled out further (where Ken was diving and then leaping out of the water like a dolphin), and tried again, but, frankly, I was too tired, and there was no guarantee that once I got out there, the ocean wouldn't still demand that I put my back into swimming. Ken was in the distance, asking if I was all right and gesturing for me to get out there, and I replied with some sign language of my own to let him know that I wasn't going anywhere. I had a good enough time being gradually nudged back to shore by the waves, and watching my friend have a good time.
He was having a good time, by the way. He had run across another sea turtle (you know... those animals that animal-lovers don't want us to touch?) and was riding him up and down the immediate coastline. I wasn't jealous... I was glad Ken had found another snorkeling companion and I knew the turtle wouldn't permanently take my place as Ken's friend as soon as Ken realized he couldn't fit the turtle in the rental car.
Luckily, it never got that far... the turtle turned around before we even made it halfway to the parking lot.
NEXT: DINING ON THE BIG ISLAND