Lessons learned from the Spouting Horn

Poipu, Kauai, Hawai'i, Nov. 18, 2015—There is a natural ebb and flow to life here in Hawai'i. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I have downloaded an App onto my phone that tells me when the tides are coming in and going out. I don't understand how all of this fits together, yet, but we have learned enough to stay out of the water at the edges of tidal extremes. During such periods, the waves are fierce and the water is murky. The sharp lava rocks that ring the coastline can punish the flesh of the unwary. For a man such as me who has the grace of a manatee, this is not so bad if I am in the water, but at the horizon of sea and air, I am essentially useless when the big waves are up, and I am tossed like bag of potatoes onto the rocks and raked back out to sea again afterward. The human body can only take so much of this, and I am not eager to test the breaking point.

The Nēnē is Hawai'i's state bird

They have put out a sign at our condominium complex stating that this part of the island has been inundated by parakeets. The birds are larger than the parakeets we are accustomed to in pet shops on the mainland, and they more closely resemble cockatiels. They are a brilliant green with bright orange beaks. When they roost, they unleash a cacophony of bird chatter, and they poop vigorously on the cars in the parking lot, and this apparently is a problem.

According to the notice, the county health department has deemed the poop a health hazard and has instructed the "victims" of parakeet infestations to unceremoniously kill as many of the noisy little bastards as possible. The condominium complex has opted for a different approach—air horns to drive away the flocks at sunset. Personally, I am pleased with this strategy, but not all of the residents agree. Last night, as the birds were congregating, our neighbor lamented their arrival.

"The poop!" he said with disgust.

We have no idea what kind of tree this
is, but they are beautiful and remind us
of home.

The complex's dumpster corral lies just at the edge of the parking area, which has been denuded of branches during the past couple of days to prevent the fugitive birds from roosting. The amount of bird poop seems trivial when compared to the small mountains of garbage produced each night by humans roosting in our condominium complex, but I held my tongue.

"I like the birds," I said.

The man regarded me as if I were bird poop and changed the subject, which reminds me....

Earlier in the day on one of the nearby resort beaches, we came across a large woman sprawled out on her lawn chair enjoying the sun. She had pulled her knees up towards her ears, as if she were about to give birth. Her porcine private parts had overwhelmed the small strip of tropical colored fabric comprising her bikini bottom, and her flesh was oozing out like a sea cucumber emerging from a void in the reef. It was impossible not to stare in awe.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" she chirped.

"Ummm..." was the best I could answer. Suddenly I wished I had an air horn.

Ahoy mates!

The visibility for snorkeling was poor on this day,
but we still had a lot of fun!

We awoke at the crack of dawn to meet Cap'n Andy for a boat ride to the Na'pali coast, which is regarded by many as one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world. Anyone who has seen Jurassic Park or the remake of King Kong has seen the area. It does not disappoint. The surf was incredibly high, so we would be unable to snorkel on the coast, which is located on the northwest tip of Kauai. Cap'n Andy stopped off the southern coast to provide us with an opportunity to get off the boat, but the water was cloudy and visibility was low, so there wasn't much to see. One woman dropped her mask and snorkel in the choppy water, so I dove about 20 feet down to retrieve it. The pressure at that depth was hard on the ears, but I was able to equalize the pressure just enough to avoid crippling pain and a busted ear drum. Another man inhaled a bunch of sea water and Cap'n Andy's crew had to drag him back onto the boat while he coughed and sputtered helplessly. The unfortunate man joined the gaggle of lesbians who had opted to enjoy wine instead of taking the plunge.

Yes, it's a baby dolphin with its mother. It
seems like any kind of baby animal is cute,
well, except for baby parakeets, according
to some people's opinions.

Later during the cruise, Cap'n Andy expertly guided the catamaran over the roiling waters and we enjoyed a good jump or two over some deep troughs between waves at the front of the boat. Two pods of spinner dolphins guided us during part of our journey, and Cap'n Andy's crew prepared a stellar lunch, which was served just in time to stave off the sea sickness. During the ride back in, most people jockeyed to "get their money's worth" of liquor, but we remained satisfied with sobriety. Being from the desert, any ride on a boat is a good one. Cap'n Andy had given us a great day.

The Spouting Horn

Just up the coast is a natural spectacle known as the Spouting Horn. The relentless waves have carved out a hole under a lava shelf that magnifies the action of the waves. At regular intervals, the unsettled ocean spouts through the hole and creates a magnificent fountain that is accompanied by a high-pitched raspy moan reminiscent of a dying man's last breath.

The spouting horn seemed to be a popular destination for the blue-haired visitors to Kauai, which seemed a little creepy to me after listening to its song. Many of these visitors aggressively positioned themselves along the chain link fence overlooking the natural wonder so they could earnestly hold their iPads over the top of the fence to capture the perfect shot. It's strange to watch people taking photos with iPads. I can't help but wonder why these people don't buy cameras? There are plenty of good ones out there, and they aren't even very expensive. They take better photos than an iPad, too, and aren't as cumbersome. But I digress.

I shooed an old man away after he had taken 20 or so shots with his iPad. While Caroline tried her best to capture the perfect sea water eruption, I tried my best to mimic the sound of the Spouting Horn during each geyser event. My seemingly disembodied voice, with its low hollow death rattle, and my open mouth, with its gritted teeth and tongue curled over my lower lip toward the ground—like a tiki statue warning trespassers away from kapu territory—was repulsive to the other visitors, and soon we had the place to ourselves.

There are those who find the Spouting Horn on Kauai
a little bit unsettling.

The Spouting Horn used to have a companion that produced an even more magnificent show. However, about 100 years ago, when sugar cane plantations were introduced to the island, the horn vexed the Sugar Baron because it was depositing salt-water spray on his crops, reducing their productivity. The industrious Sugar Baron used steam-powered muscle to widen the natural hole into a huge square scar that remains to this day as a testament to the greed of Men and the might of Industry. We keep the things we like if they are profitable, but we eradicate the things we don't without batting an eye. To Papa Sugar, the original Spouting Horn was just another parakeet.

Playing Chicken

The Nēnē is the Hawaiian state bird, and Caroline was fortunate enough to see one while I was out getting a massage. As it turns out, the masseuse happened to have come from Santa Fe and had trained our former next-door-neighbor back home in the healing arts as well. It's a small world.

I am not ashamed to say that Kauai is also home to some of the most beautiful cocks I have ever seen. Chickens run wild all over the island. Strangely enough, the locals seems to tolerate them more than they tolerate parakeets. The island is also lousy with feral cats. At nightfall, immense herds of wild felines come slinking out of the jungle and clamber into every dumpster corral. We have seen cars swerving to run over the cats, but we have yet to see a dead one. Dead chickens are everywhere on the highways and shoulders, but no one seems to eat them. And the grocery stores all sell eggs. With so many wild chickens here, I'd figure out a way to locate their nests for a constant supply of fresh eggs if I had more time here. I guess there are several people who are already doing just that. Kauai is one of the most expensive islands in the archipelago.

Before our arrival here, everyone cautioned us about the rain.

If you're looking for cock, there's no better place
than Hawai'i.

"Kauai is a beautiful place to visit as long as it doesn't rain," they told us. So far we haven't had a drop.

There is an ebb and a flow to this place. On one hand there are shoot-to-kill orders for parakeets, but wild chickens seem to enjoy immunity, even though they poop just as much as their wild green cousins. Thankfully, everyone seems to agree that turtles are sacrosanct. And while the Na'Pali coast gets eroded at a staggering rate each year due to the incessant pounding of the surf, the turtles and the Nēnē remain as a constant reminder of the fragility of our world, and how fortunate we are to live in it.

See you on down the road.