Maui - Island off the Map
posted 2003-05-27
Latitude North 21:00:49
Longitude West 156:38:16
F-53
Suddenly you pull over to the side of the road next to the pineapple field marked F-53 and there's Wayn-o driving up smiling. He's got two dogs. He's always got two dogs. Talking story, back in time like it was the morning session and laughing. He surfs the Bay the right way.
He animates how to enter the tube from behind and be pushed out of the vacuum that it becomes, aiming into the spectral light smiling, dripping, with just the right hand movements then carried out into the flats of the Bay where the boat ramp sits under the shadow of Iki Crater watching and laughing cause they've all been there a million years and you've only seen a few days.
Wayn-o taught us all how to surf the West Swell and the ensuing pit that followed the pitch into the bowl. Pulling in at full velocity on his big Red gun, so far back, so far back, it's Wayne and it's dark in there and you can here him chant, "Ohm Dao Nabba Bow-Wow!" And we all laugh. Hey, Remember the dawn patrol and we were going to pull that beat up car into the roadway to stop the town surfers from enjoying the morning barrels. We didn't but could have easily.
Figured karma might surface sooner or later.
He still lives in the valley, surfs when it's good, and smiles a lot. Did I tell you he has two dogs?
The Mill
Situated up country on a grassy knoll and overlooking a sandy beach that is set against a backdrop of steep cliffs, is Punalau. Every bit the tropical paradise that it appears, this idyllic setting is as mellow as it gets. The true meaning of Aloha permeates everything there and you feel refreshed just visiting. It's a magical spot for all that have called in to take in the panoramic views, the pounding surf, or the friendliness of the people who call it home. It is every bit the Hawaiiana a stranger could ever find and it makes you feel good to think of its presence in fond memories.
The surf is consistent and knowledge is needed to score. The locals like it that way. Paddling out in the light blue water that marks the shallow part of the reef there is a natural symphony at work, with a ballet of time along a wall of water. So intense, so fulfilling you carry memories of it for years in thoughts, dreams, and conversation.
On the land there is the afternoon sun filtering through the trees muting the light The golden rays light the hillsides like nowhere else mixing the red clay color with the greens of the cane and lush vegetation on the now extinct volcano. The trades are strong here during the day, but in the late afternoon everything backs down to a slower feel where time seems to turn into sweet banana syrup, oozing along at a snails pace while the people enjoy the taste.
A few come from town. Someone shows up with some fish. A big Ono' caught only a few hours earlier on a hand line. Strong and firm it will feed the crew. Others bring fruit and salad. Some sweet bread and sashimi and soy. Beer flows cold and foamy and everyone is dry from the heat and the surf and the wind. The waves were good and the vibe is right. Surfboards stand silent sentinels against the trees and on the lawn, wet and waiting for tomorrow's action. A guitar sounds off in the distance, maybe across the road, instantly recognizable slack key.
