Waipi'o

We trudged down and up the 900 foot drop in less than a mile (americanisms have seeped into my psyche) into the sacred Waipi'o valley where the guy on the top admonished us to not take anything up or leave anything down, not even a rock. The valley is still used for Taro farming. But judging by the derelict sheds and sort of secret feel to the place you wonder if Taro is a euphemism for pot. The ocean is very powerful on this north eastern tip. You wouldn't even dream of venturing in. But you can imagine just a line leading from the edge of the cliff all of the way across the ocean to BC. The black sand is very fine and feels nice. There is nothing to be seen on it though, no shells, no vegetation, no sea creatures except the occasional small jelly. At the edge of the river leaving the valley and meeting the ocean Kyr and Mist built an inukshuk with volcanic rock which is always surprisingly light to lug around.

There is a small feeling of triumph when you finish the climb, enough to let Joop share his turkey sandwich with a stray cat that had a lame hind leg. I couldn't tell if it was a fracture or infection. The poor thing had a voracious appetite. Hunting is not so great when you are ill.We thought we'd finish off the day with a snorkel on the west side and a trip to visit the Hart-Arthurs new condo. We were thwarted by a brush fire that had blocked off the ocean highway. I hope it is under control today so the Arthurs can join us on our trip to Hilo market and the lava tree park. Plus I don't want to be kept from our beaches. A day without snorkeling can feel like a poor day indeed.