“Is it raining?”
It’s hard to tell in Hana. Especially during the rainy season. Hana, we’re told, is on the rainy side of the island, which explains the abundance of tropical flowers and trees intertwined together, everywhere.
There’s also a seemingly ever-present mist. At least when we were there. And when you’re standing near a blowhole, watching as the waves crash against the jagged edges of the land and then spiral vertically into this opening, you’ll feel a splash.
And we did. A big one. At the same time it started to rain. Hard. But, we were in Hana, during the rainy season, so getting wet was part of the deal.
We even had to wait to roll our window down to show the park ranger at Haleakala National Park our pass, her face letting us know she thought we might be a little crazy to consider exploring during that epic downpour.
But, we had a bamboo forest to walk through. And some insanely beautiful waterfalls to stare at. And a collection of sacred pools to hike to.
I wish I could relay the smells and sounds and feelings in that park. For starters, we were practically alone, in this spot that is already super removed from everything. While hiking, stepping over trickles of water flowing downhill, inhaling the sweet and somehow herbal smell of crushed berries on the floor of the trail, I swear I could hear David Attenborough’s voice. Really.
It felt like we were in Blue Planet – a brief hiatus from the Jack Johnson song we’d been wandering through until then.
Everything seemed so untouched. And plentiful. And vivid and wet and full of life. I mean, except for the squished berries. The only thing that signaled human interference were the signs that warned of “fatal drops” and “fatalities” that had preceded us. Those cliffs were scary as shit. I usually try to get close enough to see over, but after hearing the power of that water crashing over the top, it was enough for me. Just the sound got my stomach.
It’s hard to believe, after hearing that roar, that people would be dumb enough to jump.
“Don’t look up,” Ron told me suddenly, snapping me out of my internal Blue Planet soundtrack. “Stop. Wait. Look at the ground.”
Usually I think “BUG!” when he does that. He’s not a fan of spiderwebs, and I’m not a fan of anything that crawls, or has any type of segmented body. So I thought something freaky was upon us.
He walked in front of me, stepping onto the bridge I had stopped short of. He wanted to capture my reaction – there wasn’t a bug.
THERE WERE THE MOST SPECTACULAR WATERFALLS POURING OVER THE EDGE IN THE DISTANCE!!!
And, I crumbled. The sight of them made me cry. I’m a softie, but still. Tears. Just wiping them away. And when we hiked closer, and I turned, there was a huge waterfall to my left. All flowing over this canopy of green goodness in this magical place we had all to ourselves.
I mean, really.
We hiked closer, and saw a sign that suggested we not cross the water if it was “flooded.” It was flowing, but how could we know if it was “flooded.” So, Ron steadied a log, and bounced across. I, like the old lady I can be sometimes, crawled across a series of downed trees on all fours, and we got as close to the falls as we could.
And, it had stopped raining. But with the mist of the falls, we couldn’t even tell. And we didn’t really care. We were in Hana.
And the adventure continues….tomorrow….