Hawaii 2014, Part 1: Maui

Maui. Last time I was here I was nine years old. I don't remember much in detail (mostly lots of green drippy plants and moss), so this trip was all new to me. Of course, that visit was also 45 years ago, so aside from the beaches and volcanic rock, a lot of Maui is likely to be new to Maui since then, too.

In early December, Ken and I took a two-week "vacation from our vacation (sort of)" RV lifestyle to stay on Maui for one week, then the Big Island for another week (see the next blog for that island). 

Our beach-front/street-front condo rental was a mile or so from Lahaina's shopping district to the south and about 1.5 miles from the Ka'anapoli resort area to the north. Decent place, but the chance to relax was marred by constant construction going on at the condo--a small backhoe and bobcat working poolside to repair the seawall and yank out concrete, roofers banging away to replace the roofing substrate, and multiple trucks and construction equipment often barring in/out access to the only available parking, which was a super tight space under the building itself.

Beeeeep beeeep, grrrrr grrrr, crunch crunch, grind grind...the sounds of paradise drifted across our balcony.

Despite this and some other minor annoyances, the location was great. We could watch the sun set over the island of Lana'i from our deck; I saw a spectacular morning moon; and every morning and afternoon several sea turtles would bob in the surf at the seawall while nibbling at the rocks. We took miles-long morning walks north along the waterfront, passing through several contiguous beach parks and picnic areas, as well as along the boardwalks of the fancy hotels in Ka'anapoli, most of which we also explored.

Full moon in the west, taken about an hour before sunrise. More than 20 boats were anchored in view of our condo the whole week.

The same scene with the sun rising behind us and the full moon setting ahead of us. I must have snapped 50 photos of the changing sky and colors within 15 minutes.

The sun sets over the island of Lana'i, due west of our balcony. A layer of cloud covered the top of the island the whole week. Us? Only one morning of overcast and nary a raindrop the whole time.

 

Maui Splash, a sweet and refreshing pineapple/passion fruit wine from a local vintner.

A sea turtle pops up for air beyond the seawall at our condo.

Sea turtle swimming in the shallows. I could have watched these guys roll and float for hours. Most sightings were of their rounded backs, their poking-up butts (much like a duck going bottoms-up for fronds), or a quick heads-up for air. Use the link below for a brief video of this guy.

Video of this sea turtle's bouyant antics: https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/49032964/SeaTurtle_04.MP4

One of the many views along the Ka'anapoli resorts boardwalk.

And one of the many warning signs along the same path. Really makes you want to go into the water! Other similar signs also warned of "possibility of crime," leaving tourists to choose the lesser of many fates.

So, many just rented a chair and umbrella instead.

One day we drove the winding, slow-going, one-lane-bridge-ridden Road to Hana along the north/northeast coastline (more a journey than a destination--Hana isn't much to talk about). Our stops were suggested by our "GyPSy guide"--a nifty smartphone app that gives a running  commentary/tour based on your GPS location. Sites included several beach overlooks, an offbeat muddy unattended open-ended explore-it-yourself arboretum, and a walk through a rainforest replete with squawking chickens and roosters. Rather than take the same agonizingly slow route home, we decided to circle the island completely (frowned on by rental agencies because of five miles of gravel road, but really not that bad) and arrived home just after sunset.

Black sands beach, Road to Hana

One of the beach points at Kaumahina State Wayside Park on the Road to Hana. A vendor at this stop was selling home-made banana bread, warm from the oven. They use local "apple bananas" for these recipes. They are slightly tangy-sweeter than the ones we're used to...more flavorful overall. I managed to make my small loaf last all week as a treat with my morning tea.

This is a 30-second video of the beach above...no action other than the waves, but pretty to watch.

At another stop somewhere along the coast. These leaves are bigger than Ken's head. Almost everything on the wet side of the islands is water-rich and super-sized. Some plants are almost too alien-looking for words.

I have no idea what this tree is called, but it dripped ever so beautifully over the pathway. It's also bigger than it appears...the lowest strand was almost out of Ken's reach.

 

Yes, this is a rooster in a tree--about 20 feet up, in fact. These fowl run wild throughout Hawaii and can be found pecking, clucking, wooing, and scratching up dirt everywhere, including along roadsides and in Safeway parking lots. Charming to tourists, a bloody nuisance to locals. Their cock-a-doodling near our condo roused us every morning.

'Nuf said.

Coconut cannonballs

A typical rainforest specimen; this is in the Keanae Arboretum on the Road to Hana. Free and with no check-in booth of any kind, it was more like a meander through someone's wooded and wild acreage, with occasional plant-identification signs. Oh, and did I mention bugs? We made a hasty escape after Ken got nibbled by about five no-see-ums. 

An Indonesian import: painted gum tree (eucalyptus). They really do look like an impressionistic painting.

Nature doesn't do anything small in Hawaii. These petals were also waxy and firm.

A very happy plumeria. Not all of the plumeria were this full-flowered, but I could always find fresh, fragrant windfall to put into my hair and float in a bowl.

An inhabitant you don't want to bump into unawares. This lovely guy's body is an inch long, his span about three inches. They festooned plants everywhere and have bright, butter-yellow bodies. Thankfully, all the ones I saw were off trail and could be appreciated at a distance.

The Three Bears waterfall along the Road to Hana. We were lucky to have enough water for all of them to be flowing this well. Not many waterfalls are actually visible from the Road to Hana. This one is within view of one of the 40+ single-lane bridges, which meant that all the waterfall paparazzi mobbed the bridge and parked their cars everywhere they couldn't. Traffic was backed up both directions at the bottleneck. We waited so long for the bridge to clear that I was able to nab this shot right from the car...after I had first waited patiently for every other tourist to step out of the way!

The south side of the island...much drier and with its own kind of beauty. The clouds are obscuring the top of Haleakala National Park. Note the old lava flow down the mountainsides.

Southern coastline of Maui...practically desert by comparison to the rainforests we'd been through.

A popular spot for whale watching, passed on our way home from the Hana road. We did spot a few distant whales at other times, but we were a little too early in December for a lot of action. Jan-Mar is their best time.

Another day's visit was to Haleakala National Park, home of dormant volcanoes and craters. The top is at 10,000 feet, extremely cold in the morning. We were very lucky to have great weather the whole way up and while we were there. Fog usually roils around this mountain (as in photo above), obstructing views until the winds blow them away. We hit some of these mists on the way back down.

Haleakala crater is actually a shallow expanse full of more than a dozen cinder cones...those anthill-looking mounds in the middle that are actually several hundred feet tall. They're lined up roughly in a row, graphically demonstrating the creation of the Hawaiian islands on a small scale. (Short, simplified version: there's a nearby hotspot on the seafloor that almost constantly spews up lava; the tectonic plate that Hawaii sits on drifts about 3 inches a year across this vent. Sooner or later, enough lava piles up that new holes and lava flows burst through on an existing island, or entire new islands break the ocean surface. Once a land mass passes over the hotspot, its cinder cones, volcanoes etc. go dormant, and then extinct. This all takes millions of years. An aerial view of all the islands reveals this "connect the dots" pattern of islands forming as the plate moved over the hotspot. The northwest-most island, Kauai, is the oldest in the chain; the southeast-most island, Hawaii, is the youngest and still spews lava because it's still roughly over the hotspot.

Ken reads about the cluster of observatories at the top of Haleakala; a new observatory is under construction, with cranes working while we were there.

A rare and endangered specimen that grows only at Haleakala--silversword, or 'ahinahina. The leaves are covered with fine, soft hairs like lamb's ear. It sends up one stalk of flowers in its lifetime and then dies, dispersing thousands of seeds to the winds.

Hatching Fish in Jackson WY

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, having mostly (a) ignored the blog in favor of not publishing the drivel of daily travails and travels, or (b) handled travel updates via brief, more easily managed emails with a couple of picture attachments. Internet access for uploading photo essays can be somewhat flaky and bandwidth limited on the road, but we're finally at a place that not only has interesting things to post, but also kinda-fast-enough DSL to let me do it.

We're in beautiful Jackson, WY, for the summer, volunteering at the federal fish hatchery. We work three days on, three days off, trading time with another pair of full-time RVrs whom we almost never see because of our back-to-back work schedules. The exchange seems fair...full hookups, gorgeous views, and access to hiking in the Tetons and Yellowstone in exchange for giving daily guided tours and misc jobs like mowing and weed-whacking.

The photos below tell the story.

Our host sites. We're on the left. We park the truck away from the rig to enjoy an unobstructed view of the National Elk Refuge when we take breakfast from folding chairs on our "veranda."

Our veranda view, looking east. Afternoons often bring thunderstorms from the west that darken the sky but mostly skirt our direct area, dropping rain instead onto Jackson 3 miles south, or Grand Teton National Park, about 3 miles north.

The Jackson National Fish Hatchery. The area abuts the National Elk Refuge and covers about 40 acres. The building at the left is our guest greeting area and houses the hatchery's invasive species displays. There's also a fishing pond, the main hatchery building, "raceways" where they keep the broodstock and most of the fish waiting for release into area lakes, and several outbuildings.

Looking north across the pond. The Quonset-hut-looking things are tents that cover the exterior fish runs for summer shade.

Ken, in his official tour guide attire. We also wear a branded windbreaker, which comes in handy when the winds gust through at 30+ mph, adding extra dimension to the outside portion of our tours.

The only fish this hatchery breeds: Snake River cutthroat trout, a specialized subspecies of the Yellowstone cutthroat. (It's called a cutthroat because of that little red slash of color along its jawline.) The hatchery releases more than 400,000 fish a year. About 80% of them go to the Palisades Dam Reservoir to the south, and the rest are distributed to about 15 local lakes in WY and ID many miles north of the hatchery. (The federal Palisades Dam is the reason why this hatchery exists: the hatchery was required and built as part of mitigation against habitat damage when the dam was constructed in the 1950s. It has since become important in alleviating fishing pressures and in keeping the subspecies from becoming endangered.)

Inside the hatchery building. Each long tank holds from 7,000 6-8" fish (from last season's spawn) to 24,000 fry (from this season's spawn). The place stinks of fish food (ground-up fish) that drops regularly from automatic feeders. The feeder mechanisms clack very loudly, making many visitors jump. Amazingly, we lost all sense of smell for the food after two days. Our younger visitors remind us of it by holding their noses when coming through.

These are just a few from last year's spawn, in a tank of 7,000. Like their 393,000 other friends, they will hang out at the hatchery for the rest of summer, awaiting their truck trip to lakes in the fall.

Tens of thousands of one-year-olds are in the outside raceways, along with about 2,000 three- and four-year-olds that they have for broodstock this year. This hatchery covers its raceways with tents. Other hatcheries have them enclosed in a building, semi-open under a pavilion roof, or completely uncovered and open to the elements.

Some of the four-year-old males enjoying the sunshine at the front of their raceway. They're about 3-4 pounds at this age.

A peek inside one of the broodstock raceways, where they hand-spawn the fish. Ken and I had the good fortune to help with the spawning one week. Picture five adults dressed in hip waders, over-sized oil slickers, and semi-waterproof gloves standing hip deep in steadily moving, 48-degree water, jostling among 700+ good-sized fish on each side of the concrete barrier, squirting eggs and sperm from slimy, semi-sedated trout into Walmart-stock oil pans lined up on the barrier wall...for two hours. It actually was quite interesting and enjoyable, but my hands got so numb with cold that I couldn't push all the eggs out of my last two fish and had to hand them off to the veteran full-timers to finish off.

The pond is man-made and crystal clear because of native algae that consume all the bad stuff from the water so fish can thrive there. The hatchery stocks the pond with their broodstock. This year, they put in two hundred three-year-olds in preparation for the season. Anyone with a Wyoming fishing license can fish, take home one per license, and catch/release the rest. These trout are very smart though, and not easily enticed to a hook. Once dumped into the pond, the fish are "wild"--no food from the hatchery, so they suck down a lot of the bugs and gnats that swarm the place.

Three older cutthroat who have managed to survive pond-living for a year or more. They actually live in the ditch that feeds the pond from the raceway drainage system. Unlike many hatcheries with a limited or poor water supply that requires recirculation and/or filtration, this hatchery enjoys a constant flow of nearly pure water from a natural spring two miles away. The water makes a one-way trip through the hatchery tanks and raceways, drains into--then out of--the pond, and feeds into Flat Creek on the Elk Refuge. From there it heads through Jackson and south to join the Snake River system. Pretty slick.

Opening day for the pond was a mob scene--June 7, Free Fishing Day for Wyoming. The Game and Fish Dept (separate from the hatchery's Fish and Wildlife Dept) hosted their annual half-day education/fishing program at the hatchery. Nearly 250 children, plus accompanying adults, attended, and more than half of them stayed to fish. Pity the poor quiet-loving trout! However, only three were caught for take-home, and only four or five for catch/release that day.

This boy had two catch/releases before nabbing this one. He intended to keep it, but the fish wriggled off the barbless hook once Dad placed it on the grass, and it flopped back into the water to be fished another day.

The hatchery is home to many other temporary or permanent residents, including osprey, herons, and bald eagles that perch on fence posts or do flyovers. This is one of many tree swallows during a rare pause from its bug-eating acrobatics over the water.

Cliff swallows, in the midst of building their mud nests

A goldfinch pauses for a sip.

This solitary goldeneye duck was busy eating at 6 in the morning.

He made a quite show of shaking off water after each dive for goodies on the bottom of the pond.

A camera-shy mountain bluebird took over the nesting box...

...and had a favorite but short-lived post.

Hyperactive ground squirrels, called chislers by the locals, make honeycomb of the soils.

Our other duties include occasional mowing and weeding, which Ken does to keep busy. While he weed-whacks, I give tours to groups of 1 to 10 people at a time. On non-maintenance days, he also helps with the tours.

A day off and good weather gets us out on a hike to Taggart Lake, with the Tetons in view. Bits of the trail were still thick with snow on this early June visit.

Around the bend to Taggart Lake.

Taggart Lake. As of this blog post, most of the foothills snow is gone.

View of the Tetons from a former homestead at Menor's Ferry along the Snake River.

Same location, closer view.

Teton sweep, as seen from the east side of the Elk Refuge.