I’ve been
out of the loop for a long time, fallen to the wayside of not writing, but here
I am, trying to get back into the swing. It’s not about writing about every
session anymore, but more about writing for significance, and I’d be missing
out if I didn’t at least document part of my honeymoon to Maui and Oahu.
The last
time I was home was in August of 2009, right before I went to Iraq. I told Bri
before the trip, “Don’t be surprised when I constantly bump into people I
know.” I remembered the old Lahaina, when I couldn’t walk down Front Street,
let alone buy something at Longs Drugs without running into friends or family.
I’ll have to say that it was a bit saddening to see how much times have
changed. Where did everyone go? Moved interisland, Mainland, or just stay home
with the keikis?
So the trip
turned out legitimately for just me and my wife, which was fine. As much as I
wanted to rent some foamboards just for good fun, the weather didn’t quite
cooperate. There was rain and a lot of wind. I showed my wife all of my old
West Maui haunts, even my Grandpa’s pastures, not covered in overgrowth lying
in ruin. Only old timers will know whose hands worked that land.
I didn’t
learn to surf in Maui back in my high school days, so I paid more attention to
the surf. We cruised Honolua Bay, Windmills, and the smaller breaks coming off
the Pali, entering Lahaina. The water was tantalizing with small longboard
peaks, but without a rental spot around the corner, we just watched and
justified that “it was too small.”
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| Small Honolua Bay |
My teenage
years as a Wharf Rat on Front Street, I never even stopped to look at the surf
at Lahaina Harbor, and I was most impressed when my wife and I walked over for
a peek during our bar crawl. A small A-frame peak was working. Maybe five
people out, local groms and tourists. The groms were so gangly and light that
they were busting incomplete airs and milking each ride for distance. Even as
we were leaving with the sun going down, the standard local pickup trucks were
just arriving with boards in the back.
If I was a
local before, I definitely wasn’t one anymore. Suddenly, I could see myself
living here again. How awesome would that be to live in Lahaina within walking
distance to the harbor, to just grab a boards and walk on over, catch a few
waves, and come back home?
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| Lahaina Harbor |
During that
bar crawl, I got to enjoy the things that I used to scoff at when watching
tourists. Looking up from the street, I’d hear all the noise coming from the
second-story bars, and now I was the one looking down on the street, waiting
for something familiar. A squad of high-school punks who would remind me of me
and my crew from back in the day, but the closest thing I witnessed was a car
cruising past with its music blasting.
On Oahu, we
attended my good friend Francis’ wedding, and he actually found the time to
take us out for our first surfing experience in Hawaii at an isolated spot on
the North Shore. It was a playful 2-4FT day with scattered peaks over reef.
Having to use different equipment, I surfed like shit, but I still had fun. A
few local longboarders were stoked to hear about my first time paddling out in
Hawaii.
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| Francis, the man the myth... |
The day
after the wedding, Francis took everyone out to the legendary Makaha, where we
paddled out in big, unruly surf. I caught two waves that fizzled out on the
shoulder. The locals knew better to sit on the inside and catch those that
connected. Bri got one, too. Now we can actually say that we surfed that spot,
us tourists from El Segundo.
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| Makaha |
I could
easily turn this trip into a novel, but I’m just going to focus on the
important things. One, I realized how much I’ve missed Maui. I missed the
slowness of the westside, and if I was better positioned in life, I would even
think about moving back. Second, I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made in
Hawaii, who have shown that my wife and I are always welcomed back. Aloha.
