Unforgettable Hamoa Beach

          UNFORGETTABLE HAMOA BEACH

                                                      The road to Hana led east from Paia, Maui - it was a dangerous sharp-curved narrow
road, the scene changing constantly around each turn, with steep drop-offs and hairpin turns making the drive extremely hazardous.  The new macadam road was paved over old graveled ruts and potholes of yesterday that had kept only the most adventurous from traveling on it.  Many were the streams and water falls, some impenetrable, others where you could stop and take a dip.  The green rain forest was sprinkled now and then by wild ginger, red and green ti's, banks of ferns, banana groves and bamboo forests.  Only a few clusters of houses were noticeable, some with taro patches in the small villages.

            My sister and I were excited about this trip to Hana in the summer of 1953 as we were going to Hamoa Beach for a swim a few miles past Hana town.  We would meet up with our two friends in the village.  A pale blue cloudless sky and inviting sun-drenched beach awaited us.

            The ocean pulsated with a vital force as we eagerly jumped into the waves racing over the beach fanning onto the sand; swimming way out to try to ride one back in, I could imagine underneath the surface the collection of fins, tentacles, claws and other amazing sea life in this expansive deep blue endless sea that welcomed us.

            Oh dear!  All of a sudden I was in peril.  A huge riptide had caught me in its swirling water and was pulling me swiftly under fast as the speed of light.  The extremely powerful consuming ocean had me in its grips.  Immobilized with fear, I felt its relentless whirling, sucking sensations encircling me and time rapidly rushing by...  Oh, God, could I hold my breath long enough to survive this submersion very close to the rocky cliff line?  After what seemed like an eternity, with the sound and force of the ocean still vibrating around me, I finally popped up arms reaching for air, lungs burning, muscles aching; exhausted, with my heart pounding fast, I swam back to shore looking over the waves, salty spray flashing over my head and collapsed, my weak limbs sinking into the warm ochre colored sand where my sister was waiting.

            Her brown, and beautiful expressive eyes, were fixed with concern on me as she stood to greet me back on shore.  She cried out, "You look beat!"  Lifting my head to her gaze I sputtered, "Wow, it's more dangerous than it looks out there.  I had the scare of my life and could have surely drowned this time."  "You're crazy, sister, to swim so far out.  I'm glad I swam closer to shore than the rest of you clowns."  "Don't you remember only a few short months ago when you encountered a school of jellyfish in Kihei while swimming that wrapped their stinging tentacles around your arm?"  "Oh, yes, those were Portuguese Man-of-War.  They were sure painful, but not half as frightening as today."  Oddly, I was feeling euphoric.  The sea I loved - always so therapeutic, caressing and embracing to me.   Into its realm I had been enveloped and luckily escaped its threatening capture today.

            As the four of us rose from the soothing sand to leave the copper sun was sinking, its gold casting through the waves, its shadows lengthening on the beach.  Karen and I decided to stay the night in Hana as my sister and her friend left for the long drive home. 

            Early sunrise the next morning we woke to a light tap on our car's window.  An old Hawaiian man with a twisted smile stood transfixed and bewildered as he peered into my old Chevy sitting in his driveway a foot off the road.  "Are you lost tourists?" he asked in a gentle voice as he smiled down on us through owlish spectacles.  We sheepishly smiled back at him, explaining we were too tired, it was too much trouble to drive back home to Wailuku that evening after we had been body surfing and partying, thinking this property would be a safe place to park for the night outside of town.  We apologized profusely to him, this nice stranger with a kindly disposition.  Kimo, that was his name, chuckled, "I'm happy that you were safe and I did not mind your overnight stay."  After visiting awhile with our new friend, then waving goodbye, Karen got in the car.  "You were supposed to wake me at the crack of dawn before anyone might see us," she whispered.  I mumbled back, "I thought you would awake first!  I can't believe we did this and got caught, although he was an awful nice gentleman about the whole thing."  Filled with the delight of youth and no sense of danger, we had paid scant attention to any repercussions since there were no ‘keep out' signs on the property to declare the house might be occupied.  Weeds choked the yard, twigs and branches covered the unkempt lawn, walls cracked with paint and windows white with closed blinds gave no indication of occupancy.  

            Driving home that morning, my final thought upon leaving the unspoiled serene beauty
of Hamoa Bay was that I would be back.  We not only survived the road to Hana and our overnight stay, but I survived my swim at Hamoa Beach.  Could it have been my aumakua (animal guardian spirit) watching over me, the beautiful green sea turtle called a honu.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           

by Poppyseed9