Sitework

October 16 - November 12, 2014

It took about a month to prepare the site for the house and driveway. We had to make a little bit of a dent in the jungle and remove a pile of lava rock. Our sitework contractor, Moore's Excavation, did a fantastic job saving as many trees as possible!

First, George needed a dry spot to get out of the rain.

  








 Then the small equipment arrived for the initial tree clearing.



 






























The driveway was opened up to allow the bigger equipment in.

Once the trees were cleared, it was time to take out some rock.
















 We used the rock that was removed on the driveway.

 




























Next, the septic tank was installed.



















 And the driveway and house site were compacted.

A little lot plotting

Fast forward one year, and we are back in Volcano to do a little clearing and ponder how a house might fit on the lot.

George slashes away at the dead uluhe

A new hapu'u frond getting ready to unfurl

Among the ohi'a trees and hapu'u tree ferns, there was also a tangle of uluhe fern and invasive Kahili ginger. We did a lot of hacking! It will be impossible to get rid of the ginger with its huge, spreading rhizomes. All we can do is keep chopping away as the shoots appear. And some will actually be useful as a screen around the perimeter. All the brown stuff in the photo is dead uluhe fern, which is tough and scratchy. But we were able to make a nice little clearing and figure out a good location for about a 1,000-square foot house.

A mass of ginger rhizomes

During the week we spent swinging our machetes and lopping, we stayed in our favorite Volcano vacation rental - the Crater Rim Cabin. We feel so lucky to have found this place! The owners, Barry Stokes and Jim Griggs have made this the coziest vacation rental you could imagine. Jim is a long time photographer for the USGS and has taken some of the most stunning pictures of Hawai'i volcanoes. Many of these are on the walls and in books in the cabin. One of Jim's photos was even selected for the back of the Hawai'i quarter.

A piece of the rainforest

Our Volcano rainforest lot

We bought our half acre in Volcano Village in the spring of 2013. This is what it looked like from the street, Kekoanui Blvd. (also know as Road B).

We loved this lot for so many reasons - some that were immediately apparent, and others that we came to appreciate over time. First was the beauty of the fern-ohi'a forest lot that was more or less in a natural state without too much intrusion by invasive plants like ginger and guava.

We also loved the surrounding area, across the highway from Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park. I don't think we could ever run out of places to explore in the park. And if we get tired of the rain (100 inches a year in Volcano!), it's a two-hour drive to warm and sunny Kailua-Kona.

Riley becomes an honorary hard core hog dog

One of the disappointing things I've learned about Maui is that there is not much in the way of hiking trails. Most of the hiking on the island is in and around Haleakala crater, which is fun to explore, but you don't want to go there every week...or even every month. It takes a while to make the 36-mile winding drive up there, and the main trails are long and can get really misty or even rainy.

Halemau'u trail - Haleakala National Park

Outside of Haleakala there are few options. There's the Waihee Ridge trail, which starts out on a steep paved road next to a cow pasture. But there's a nice view at the top and you can get your dog to pose in a picturesque manner in the foreground.

View of Maui's north coast from the top of the Waihee Ridge trail

I only hiked this trail once. Because even though the view was nice, you never really feel like you're away from civilization, which is what I crave when I go hiking. If you lose sight of the city below, there is sure to be a helicopter flying overhead within a few minutes.

Overall, Maui's few hiking trails are not really dog friendly. And what's a hike without your dog? So mostly, George and I take Riley for walks in the Makawao Forest Reserve, which is only about two miles from our house. At least Riley has a chance to be off his leash for a while so he can stretch his legs and get up a little speed.

There's a pretty substantial trail network in the forest reserve. For the most part, it's kind of dark in there amongst the eucalyptus and cook pines, and the trees sway in the wind and make eerie squeaks and groans.

Are you guys coming or what?

Trail through the trees

On the trail that we hike most of the time, there's a spot where we always like to stop for a few minutes and eat an orange. And give Riley a drink.

Nice logs for sitting and taking a break...

...and getting a drink.

Hikers, runners, dog-walkers, and bikers all like to use these trails. But the forest reserve is also a popular destination for local pig-hunters. You can recognize their pickup trucks in the parking area by the combination dog cage/pig rack in the back. And in case you miss that clue, there's always the full rear window sticker.

On one of our recent hikes in the forest reserve, Riley got a whiff of pig and took off like a bat out of hell. Down the hill he went and instantly disappeared into the shrub-choked gulch. Since he does this running off behavior fairly often, we figured we'd just hang around until he showed back up again, which is when he's good and ready and has nothing to do with how loud or strenuously we call his name. We heard some crashing through the brush and then nothing for a few minutes.

The next sound we heard was this god-awful pig squealing and then the worst kind of multi-dog barking and growling and a whole lot more pig sqealing. A couple of guys came running by in their orange pig hunter getup and I yelled out to them that our dog was down there. They took off down the hill and George went after them. I waited on the trail with visions of my dog lying in shreds, laid low by a wild hog and a pack of hard core hog dogs. But then the snarling and squealing stopped and I heard snatches of talking and laughing. When George reappeared he had Riley with him, worn out and panting like crazy, but not a scratch on him. George gave me a vivid description of the scene he came upon: Riley had joined up with the hunting dogs for a full-on pig attack. They had it on its back and were tearing away at it when the hunters showed up and killed it with a knife. I was so glad I did not see that.

And that was how Riley became an honorary hard core hog dog of the Makawao Forest Reserve. From now on, he stays on his leash.

An encounter at the post office

"What's your secret?"

That's what the little Hawaiian lady asked me at the post office. I looked at her blankly.

"What?"

"What's your secret?"

I looked at her closely, trying to figure out what she could possibly be talking about. She was about five feet tall, with a short fringe of wispy mouse-colored hair and a face like a freckled walnut. She took on a jaunty stance, leaning on one elbow at the table where I was sorting through my mail. Her flowered red muumuu was a splash of color in the drab post office lobby.

"You have such calm eyes. You must get a lot of rest at night."

"Um...sometimes." I thought about my eyes. They definitely did not feel calm or rested.

And that's how it started. For the next 30 minutes, the old Hawaiian lady (for lack of a name, I will call her Auntie) wove a fantastic tale, in chapter after chapter, while I stood there, completely at a loss as to how to extricate myself.

"Can science explain what I have seen, three times in my life? The first time when I was eight years old. I was in bed and I saw a milky white shape, with arms that beckoned to me. I was so afraid, but I couldn't speak. Then the legs disappeared. Then the hips disappeared. Then the chest. Then all that was left was the head, a white ball, that floated up to the ceiling where there were many other white balls, floating around. And then they were gone.

"...and then..." These were the words that I learned would signal the start of the next chapter.

"And then...the next time I was a teenager. I was in the kitchen with my father, washing the dishes. I looked out the window and I saw a white shape and it was beckoning to me. I told my father to quick come and look, but then it was gone.

"And then...the next time, was just after I was married. We didn't have indoor plumbing then. I got up to go outside to the outhouse and I saw a white shape, beckoning. I was so scared. I ran back inside and my husband said, 'Why are you afraid? You've been going outside by yourself for months!'

"And then...after that, I was never afraid of anything again. Because I knew there was something else out there."

I don't remember what I said at this point. I shuffled my mail. People came and went.

"I've been in 18 car accidents," she added.

"I was driving from Lahaina one day and a devil wind blew down the mountain, just as I was about to drive into the tunnel. It lifted my car right off the road...one...two...three times it lifted me up. On the last time, my car slammed back down and the police came. I heard them talking...'is she okay?' I thought, 'Why are they saying that? Can't they see I'm alive?' Then two nuns came to my car. They said, 'It's a miracle!' I thought, 'What is the miracle?' And then I saw my car. The windshield was smashed. The front and back were pushed in like an accordian. I went to the hospital and I was unconscious for three days. When I woke up, someone showed me a picture of myself that was taken right after the accident. My face was black. My neck was black. My hands were black. I looked like a corpse."

I wondered if I was going to hear about the other 17 car accidents and I started to get worried. I took Auntie by the elbow and walked towards the door.

"Those are amazing stories," I told her.

She nodded. "My son told me I should write a book. But who would read it?"

"I would," I said.

She smiled and waved and got into her car. It was an SUV. She couldn't possibly have been tall enough to see over the steering wheel. It would have taken a miracle.

Stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight

Every once in a while, a friend talks me into trying some new activity that they are convinced is the most fun ever. This accounts for my attempts at water skiing, snowboarding, windsurfing, scuba diving, inline roller skating, and jumping off the high diving board at the community pool. In spite of the good intentions of my friends, and their valiant but futile attempts to instruct me, I have been a spectacular failure at every one of these. But it's only after they have actually seen me fall, sink, face-plant, crash, tumble, sputter, or keel over while standing perfectly still, do they admit that I must have some genetic deficiency that makes me better suited for sitting under a beach umbrella with a beer. And yet, thanks to human ingenuity, there always seems to be some new athletic challenge that just might turn out to be my thing. Last weekend, that challenge was stand up paddling.

For those who are not familiar with this activity, stand up paddling involves a really big surfboard, a really long paddle, and for most people, really flat water. You put the board in the water, you stand on the board, and you propel yourself around with a sweeping stroke of the paddle. Real surfers don't think much of stand up paddlers. I heard one refer to them derogatorily as beach janitors because of their slow, sweeping motions with the paddles. Real surfers hate it when they're riding a wave and a beach janitor sweeps by right in front of them. So mostly real surfers and stand up paddlers stake out different territories on the ocean.

 Stand up paddling - fun for the whole family!

In Maui, you can go to almost any beach on the south or west sides and see all kinds of people, of all different abilities, young and old, cruising around on their stand up boards. According to a recent article about stand up paddling in Connecticut, of all places, "anyone can stand up on the board and paddle on the ocean." I beg to differ.

My friend let me try stand up paddling on her new, lightweight board, which was probably a mistake (I saw her checking it out for damage after I returned it to her). It took me approximately 10 seconds to fall off for the first time. That pretty much established the pattern for the rest of my relationship with the board. There is something misleading about the term "flat water." Water is not flat. I will put money on that. Several times, as I was heaving myself back onto the board after cartwheeling into the ocean, some well meaning soul, a 90-year old geriatric or a kid with one leg, would paddle by and offer me words of encouragement. "Everyone falls off the first time!" "Use the paddle to help you balance!" "Don't look at the board, look at the horizon!" I felt sorry for them. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

I looked like this for about 30 seconds, max.

All the while I was trying to give it a go, my friend was paddling slowly around me, telling me how well I was doing, and actually keeping a straight face while she said this. I finally called it quits when my legs started to shake and a fair amount of the ocean had gone up my nose. By this time I had drifted almost out of sight of the place I had started and the only way I could get back was to paddle laboriously from a kneeling position, which made paddling feel like I was waving a flag pole.

And so I add another attempt to my scrapbook of (to borrow from David Foster Wallace) supposedly fun things I'll never do again. Well, maybe one more time. Just to be sure.

Getting used to a new home

So I got a little sidetracked in May, what with the end of the semester and our decision to move to a new house. In April, my friend Lee from school asked me if we might be interested in renting the upstairs of her two-story rental. We weren't really looking to move, but after visiting Lee's place, we immediately agreed. The timing was perfect - April was the last month on our six-month lease, so in a frantic rush, we moved everything over in a couple of days and set up our new house on May 1.

Lee moved to Maui in the 70s when she was a wild young hippie chick. She and her (now ex-) husband bought some property and built their dream house. Now, more than 30 years later, Lee and her partner Cynthia live in a newer home that they built together on the same property, and they rent out the separate upstairs and downstairs of the older house. There is also a tiny cabin on the property that is rented out too. So here we are in a little Maui commune with Lee and Cynthia in the new house, Margie in the cabin, Mary downstairs, and us. The whole property is about three acres at the end of a winding dirt road, bordered by huge eucalyptus trees. And we even have an ocean view from the big front deck.

 Our new house peeking through the trees

One of the many fabulous things about this place is all the mature fruit trees: bananas, papayas, oranges, lemons, guava, and more. I walk outside in the morning, pick three or four oranges and have fresh-squeezed juice for breakfast.

 Backyard fruit basket

I never picked bananas before. They are the wildest things. A huge flower blooms on the plant and then all the bananas form on a long stalk. When they start looking plump (but still green) you cut down the whole plant because after one banana stalk grows, it's done. But they grow pretty fast and it doesn't take long before another tree grows out of the old roots.

Banana flower

Banana stalk

Another prolific fruit tree is the papaya. They are the funkiest looking things - just a few leaves at the end of a long stem and a bunch of bulbous fruit clinging to the top.

Papayas

I think Lee said there were nine orange trees on her property. They are amazing - full of fruit and the blossoms are so fragrant.

Oranges!

Oh, and I can't forget the avocado tree that grows right next to our deck and is taller than the house - it is HUGE and has dozens of avocados - maybe hundreds. But I'm afraid I'm going to be away when they finally ripen. How disappointing!

And I can't forget the goats! On Maui, homeowners can pay lower property taxes if they use their land for agricultural purposes. Which seems like kind of a racket, because all you need is one animal to claim your exemption. So lots of people have horses or goats. Lee chose goats.

Mama goat with her two kids, Cinnamon and Nutmeg. The black sheep (goat), Shadow is adopted (but don't tell her!).

It is almost paradise...but I wasn't exaggerating about the commune-like feel of the place. And after having 14 acres and a 2,700 square foot house all to myself in Idaho, having someone living downstairs is taking a little getting used to. Part of it is being able to hear another person, although Mary is as good a neighbor as anyone could ask for. But the other part of it is knowing that someone else can hear YOU.

It's all part of the big Maui experiment.