Turns out these caveats are way true! It took us several days to accept them, but once accepted, we turned them to our advantage by sticking largely to the north shore, where we were staying, as well as by avoiding destination restaurants and eating local.
I now understand what Dull Gret meant when she said: PIG GOOD.
The two photographs here weren't taken by me; my partner took pictures a'plenty, but I knocked his camera off a table (accidentally, Prince, no drama to report there) just before we saw our two best days of jaw-dropping vistas...so these pictures are courtesy of Stephen and Karen Conn, interpid travelers whose photography I appreciate
because yes, this is what Kaua'i really looks like.Favorite thing about the island: the tropical showers that would come and go without warning. They could be fierce or soft as powder, but either way, the air afterward felt charged and shimmery. It's a lovely thing to be nudged into wakefullness in the night by the sound of a sopping shower; underneath its steady music, you hear water coursing rapidly through rivulets or dripping off the roof overhangs or drumming on the sand. A sonata to lull you back to sleep...
Got back to Portland just in time for showers of our own -- a perfect homecoming -- and to find that autumn is now in full swing here, with the dogwoods and maples showing their fall colors.
6 comments:
Am going there w/ my family for xmas. Your descriptions sound great (and am prepared for the food).
And thanks for the nice comment on my blog about my dog (who passed on). My wife read it and said, "Who's Mead? I really like what he said." I said I had no idea. Ahhh the weird world of blogging...
Mead, what about the chickens? As big a part of the sonic tapestry as the rain, or are they gone?
Right -- how could I forget the chickens??? Or more specifically, the crazy roosters. Rest assured they are still part of the tapestry, visual and well as sonic. I'm told they are the sons and daughters of Hurricaine Iniki; the birds were scattered all over the island during the catastrophe, and there was no rounding them up again. So now they roam the island more or less wild.
I'd been told to expect their serenades and aubades at all hours of the night and day, but it was not that constant, at least not where I was -- between Hanalei and Ha'ena, almost as remote on the north shore as you can get. The crowing would start in the far distance around 4am, then get closer and closer until around 7am, when some cock o'th'walk or other would be right under your window: wake up! wake up! wake up! I kind of liked it.....it was like a daily visit from an old friend.
au·bade (-bäd)
n.
1. A song or instrumental composition concerning, accompanying, or evoking daybreak.
2. A poem or song of or about lovers separating at dawn.
Thanks Mead!
Welcome back!
yay, dr. fun has returned!
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