Hawaii no ka oi. There's really no better way to say it. Hawaii truly is "the best." My relationship with this place began as a joke in early 2002, when a friend asked me when — and if — I was ever going to visit my last state. I'd been to the other 49 with my family by the time I was 21. Hawaii was all that remained.
I jokingly shot back, "We should go together." I can remember that conversation like it was yesterday, mostly because of what came after it. Hawaii has become one of the pinnacles of my life. A pillar of love I can't fully describe. Aloha is the closest word — it's a word a lot of people throw around loosely, but to know what it actually means is something else entirely.
Sitting in that room joking with my friend in February or March of 2002, I had no idea what was ahead of me. Over the seven days that followed in May — and the twenty-four years since — you'll hear how my story (and eventually my wife's) unfolded. How we came to love this place. Why a kid from central South Carolina built his whole life around an archipelago in the middle of the Pacific.
It's a love story. With what's albeit a place, and yet so much more.
From a joke to a ticket
After my friend heard me say "let's go together," she had a weird look on her face. "Are you serious?" she replied. "Yeah, why not," I shot back, "you suggested it." Hawaii was a long way from central South Carolina. It still is. But it was the start of something I didn't have a word for yet. A few days later I picked Maui. That was where we'd go.
Then life had some twists. Sometime in late April or early May, my original travel partner couldn't go after all. I cancelled the tickets and rebooked with a different friend. By that point something was calling me to Hawaii — gut instinct, deep within me — and come hell or high water, I was going to take that trip. I knew it. Something was waiting for me there.
I planned and planned. I gathered every scrap of information I could find — mostly from the internet, but from a few friends and a few books too. I was particularly drawn to a place called Waikamoi Forest Ridge Trail on the Hana Highway. I couldn't tell you why. I just was.
Saturday, May 11, 2002 — flight day
The morning of, it was hailing. There were severe thunderstorms all around us. I thought someone was trying to tell me something.
We made it safely to the airport in Columbia, SC. I boarded the plane bound for Atlanta. It was the first time I'd ever flown, and I was nervous. I still remember my friend asking me on the way to the airport, "Are you going to do this the whole way?" — at which point I let go of the seat I'd been gripping a little harder than was probably normal. The flight from Columbia to Atlanta had some of the worst turbulence I've ever flown in. To this day. But I got back on the plane in Atlanta and continued to Los Angeles. That had to be the longest three-plus hours of my life. I'd always thought long car rides were bad. Ahead of me was another four hours of flying — this time over open water. I got on the plane anyway and made it safely to Maui.
My journey was over. My experience had begun.
Kihei, that night
I remember stepping off the plane and thinking, "This is an interesting airport — there are birds flying through it." After gathering my luggage (which was three or four bags — for one week — yeah, don't do that), I finally got to the rental car counter, where I think I had the worst heartburn of my life. I was starting to question if all this was worth it. It had been a very long day and I just wanted to sleep, then focus on seeing the island the next morning.
I remember finally getting out of the airport and heading for Kihei. The sugar cane fields and the factory with its giant billow of steam had me questioning my choice of destination all over again. This is Hawaii? I thought. The scenery improved a little as we got closer to Kihei, on the southwest side of the island.
After we got our luggage into the condo, we headed out to the beach — Kamaole Beach III, to be exact. As we walked out I snapped my first Hawaii photo: a hibiscus, in the parking lot.
Twenty-four years later, I still have it. May 11, 2002.
We got down to the beach, where the sun had set a while earlier. I looked out in front of me and saw the west side of Maui and the islands of Lanai and Kahoolawe in the distance. My body felt a sensation I had never felt before. As odd as it was at the time, I felt at peace. Like I had come back home.
Over the following days, I'd start to understand why that feeling was pretty much spot on.
I hope you'll join me as my journey continues.
Aloha,
John
