From Kalalau to Anahola

SURF REPORT

12 September 2009

Swell from the north is peaking. We went to Haena and hiked for a few hours on the Kalalau Trail. After observing dozens of muddy survivors returning from their fun-filled ordeal, florid and staring, some bleeding, Olivia suggested that we turn around. We had observed many fabulous views from the daring switchbacks on the Pali. Waves from the northwest bore down on the cliffs, foamed on hidden rocks below the surface and then rumbled ashore. At one point I had a corrugated moment, observing a sea so filled with large waves that there was no use determining where sets began. Twenty to forty big-uns were marching onto Kauai from the 335 at one time, curving this way and that as they felt the volcanic bottom, pitching suddenly to the east in a big horseshoe, or closing mercilessly on the void. You could hear the rumble when the wind stopped.

Going down the trail is harder than going up of course. At a point of subtle danger I lost my footing and fell headfirst into the lava boulders, ripping a good gash on the heel of my hand, a light contuded scrape on the upper left shin and eventually the most worrisome, a good rising bump on the right knee. This presented itself as a potential bummer later that evening when it swelled nicely and was painful to lie upon. The injury put a bit of doubt on the next day’s potential for surf, which already had been a bit delayed because of the thundering size of the swell. I applied a bit of the Neosporin on the angry open places on my skin and fell into reading more of Paul Theroux’s book about the Mediterranean which inspires more detailed reporting on Hawaii.

We are staying at Bea and Manu’s little place in Anahola. The locale of the cottage is truly fabulous, right on the reef, on the north side of Anahola Bay. Bea and Manu are second cousins by marriage. Their front yard has been erased year by year because a neighbor was allowed to construct a private seawall up the coast, and up current. They have lost a depth of one hundred feet or so, which is also known as over a million dollars worth of real estate. The money is one thing, the nuisance and unnecessary intrusion is another. The wall was permitted, surveyed, EIR’d and approved by those in the know-or the almost know, in 1981. That is a rather late date to be undertaking such foolish activity on the seacoast. Twenty years before the permit was written, the risk of altering the littoral, even modestly, by means of concrete, invites the peculiar action of the sea, when the littoral is modestly altered. The futility of such construction has been commonly acknowledged broadly. People have been complaining of the uselessness, and paradox, of jetties for decades, so what this error proves is a mystery.