Green your Beach

Papakolea beach gets its green sand from a cider cone
that has a high content of olivine, a mineral mixture of 
magnesium iron silicate. Volcanic eruptions on this island
contain differing concentrations of olivine, which can be
used as a tag to determine the date and source of the lava. 

KA LAE, HAWAI'I, December 26, 2016—According to the locals, high-season for tourism begins the day after Christmas in Hawai'i and continues through April each year. With Papakolea Beach (aka, "The Green-Sand Beach") being one of the top tourist draws on the Big Island of Hawai'i—one of the Big Three must-see destinations—we thought we'd test this statement by heading to the southernmost point on the island to check out the beach, which gets its unique color from a cinder cone that is rich in Ovaltine, the signature drink of the Christmas season made famous in the movie, A Christmas Story, which played continuously for 24 hours the day before on cable television.

The rental car agent had warned us not to go there. He said the vehicle would be pillaged by hostile locals. We disregarded his advice and found ourselves at the parking area amidst a sea of tourists, most of them dismayed by the fact that regular vehicles cannot drive to the Green Sand Beach, and traveling there requires a two-and-a-half-mile walk along the coastline in buffeting winds. A hoarde of industrious locals had set up shop to cater to the lazy. For $15 to $20 a head, they'd drive you out to the beach in their 4x4 pickups. Business was brisk. There was more green exiting tourist wallets this day than grains of sand on the beach.

On our walk to the beach, we had helped a Japanese family navigate their large 4x4 rental SUV over some of the more treacherous spots in the road, but we lost sight of them about halfway along. Once we got to the beach, two young boys approached us and thanked us for helping their family navigate the giant vehicle.

"So you made it?" I asked with excitement.

"No," the older boy said. "Our father parked the car, so we ran here."

In which I face off with a big wave at the Green Sand
Beach.

Last time we had come here was a decade earlier. There were a half a billion fewer people on the planet back then, and the difference was apparent. While we previously had shared the beach with four other people, when we topped the overlook after our hour-long overland journey this year, we saw that the beach was packed to the gills with tourists.

Down on the beach, the waves were huge. People from Europe ate wraps and drank dairy products, while Asian tourists frolicked in the sand, kicking up clouds of green silica particles that were carried by the fearsome winds into every nook, cranny, and orifice of our bodies, as well as into the European lunches. Despite the winds, the smell of stale beer hung heavy in the air at the northern edge of the beach, and abandoned, forgotten, or discarded articles of clothing flapped helplessly in the wind along the cliff face above us. 

I waded into the pounding surf. The sea was roiling so much that the water was dark brown, apparently because the Ovaltine was being mixed so well in the surf. I wondered whether the Europeans had mixed some of the sand in with their dairy drinks to create a vitamin-packed chocolate-flavored treat. The undertow was harsh, so I forgot about the European drinks and I swam for only a few minutes, keeping my eye on the shoreline. The parade of people in and out of the beach area during that time rivaled the crushes of humanity who entered and exited shopping malls across the country in search of post-Christmas bargains.

We climbed back up to the rim of the beach, where I changed out of my snorkeling shirt. One of the Hawaiian locals in one of the shuttle trucks noticed my massive girth and offered to drive me back to the parking lot for $10. I thumped my chest. "Kamehameha!" I grunted. He winced and ran away.

We took a slight detour on the walk back that took us close to the shoreline. Just off the coast I noticed a pair of whales among the white caps. We watched them with binoculars for 15 minutes, marveling at their size and grace. As we neared the parking lot, a large Hawaiian woman nearly ran us down in her truck full of tourists. A monstrously fat man grinned and slapped his knee at the spectacle of me stumbling to escape the front wheel of the vehicle that was being steered by the Mammon-intoxicated woman.

"You pussies," I hissed at the group of riders.

The green sand was actually a little greener in a little
inlet just south of Papakolea Beach.

We told a walking Japanese couple and a nice family from North Dakota who had set out on the road about the whales we had seen, and they thanked us profusely. I knew that the hope of seeing a whale spout would drown out some of the monotony of the walk and the wind and the crowds. A sad-looking woman asked us, "was it worth it?"

"Hell yes!" I said.

Back at Ka Lae—the southern tip of the island, with the next stop being Antarctica—the ocean below the cliff shimmered like topaz. A pair of buff local boys snorkeled in the blue pool, and a retired marine named Mark told us about the fishing and hunting opportunities on the Big Island as he tended to the two poles he had cast off the coastal cliff. Later we tasted coffee from the Kau district of the Island before driving back north. It was delicious.

While we are certainly here during the high season, any place that has warm tropical winds, brilliant blue waters, tasty coffee, and sweet exotic fruits beats a day at the mall on the mainland. The green sand was stuck in my memory and contrasted with the bright red poinsettias we see growing wild here. It was a great way to round out the Christmas season.

See you on down the road.