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They say the hardest thing that you do in sailing is leaving the dock. Long passages are in the preparation; planning and the worrying that you do ahead of time. This departure was no different that any other on that account. We have stocked the boat until the bottom paint waterline was just barely visible. There are can goods, packaged dry goods, frozen food, 110 gallons of diesel, 190 gallons of water, and on the list goes, as well as the personal possession of the crew, Lowry Chamberlain and Kim Franz and myself.

We released the lines from the fuel dock at 9:45 after hugs and farewells from our Seattle friends Mathew Thomas and Julie ?. The boat sluggishly motored off the dock. We stowed fenders, and lines and raised the mainsail in preparation for leaving the harbor. The wind was blowing around 20 knots, but as usual around the islands, the swells are steep and we were in for a very wet ride. We weren’t let down in this account. In order to make Tahiti we have to sail east as we also sail south, and with easterly trade winds that means are heading up wind to Tahiti. Did I mention that the trades were “unusually” strong? As we pounded along into the wind, or as into the wind as the wind and wave would allow, I had visions of 2300 miles of beating to Tahiti. In a moment of weakness I considered other less demanding destinations. Like Fiji or the American Samoa. And then a couple of hours later as I was watching my breakfast in the wake of the boat I wondered why I did this.

More hours pass and we slide past Maui and into the darkness. The autopilot has been doing almost all the steering which lets focus on our collective misery; hot, salty and sea-uneasy – ok, I was down right sick, losing anything that I put in my stomach. We take up 3 hour watches with the coming of night which gives each of us 6 hours of sleep or what could be considered sleep if you were trying to nap inside of a Westinghouse dryer full of hot salty clothes. But fatigue is a great sleeping pill and with minutes of laying your head down, you are surprised to be woken up for your next shift six hours later.

Morning brings us in the leeward side of the “Big Island” Hawaii. The water is not as rough and winds are in the mid teens. Life is looking better. The autopilot has taken its toll on the battery bank and we need to recharge. After charging for a couple hours we notice a burning smell and I diagnose that the cooling water pump for the generator is not working. After replacing it with a spare, I discover that the muffler for the generator is cracked from the exhaust heat (the exhaust is water cooled). It is blowing water and fumes into the engine room. So with thought of finding a spare water pump on the “Big” Islands, repairing the muffler, giving the autopilot some TLC, and possibly avoiding the building trades we turn due east and motor into Honokohou harbor of the western or the Kona side of the islands. Caution and “Fear” being the better traits of a good sailor, given the next service station is 2300 miles away.

At Honokohou we tie up amongst many tens of sport fishing boats and a few sailboats. This is the place to go if you want the big game fish but not if you want to buy a common water pump used on thousand of boat around the world. We could have one expressed out from the main land, but it would not arrive till Monday.  Time’s awaisting and after a beer and plate of fries from the harbor’s bar we head back to the boat and evaluate the situation.  I overhaul the pump, and there seems to be no reason why it was not pumping. In my head I can hear the dialog to 2001 going though my head. “Dave, the antenna relay module is predicted to fail in 23 hours.” “I am sorry Hal, but we have run a full set of diagnostics and we can not detect any problems” “Dave, I feel as if you are losing confidence in me, Dave – can you hear me?” So we put the “Failed” pump back in, take out the muffler and use a magic epoxy like stuff called “MarineTex” to patch it’s wound.

Next morning we rent a car, not any car but a “SUV, to climb the tallest mountain in these parts, which is non other then Mona Kea at 13,400 feet high with nearly a dozen astronomical observatories on it’s top. In other words how many rental car agreements can we break in one day – be sure to keep count. Heading out toward Saddle road we are aiming toward the north slope of Mona Kea. Saddle road is a one, maybe one and half lane road built during WW2 and the western half, the part we are on has not seem much improvement since then. It cuts up between the immense shield of the twin volcanoes Mona Kea and Mona Loa. 30 miles later you arrive at the turn off road to top of Mona Kea. 15 miles of climbing switch backs through many climate zones gets you to the part the road that goes to dirt and signs that have “4x4 vehicles only” warnings.

Stopping briefly at the visitor center at the end of the hard top, we are hailed by two (other) tourists and ask if they can have a ride to the top. They look harmless, so we take they on and it turns out that they are “astrophysics” from Boulder, Co. Nice now we have tour guides too! We drop in to 4x4 high and begin the 10-mile grind to over 13,000. We have all ready by passed the clouds on the first half of the trek and we as ascend we are treated with broad sweeping views of the rust red upper slopes of Mona Kea and Loa sliding to the fluffily white clouds against impossibly blue skies.

At the top there are a dozen white and silver Paul Bunyon size golf ball housing most of the world’s significant telescopes. We take a stroll or that is that a puff around and the cool clean air is so dry that you can feel it draw the moisture from your lungs. We are able to tour one of the two largest telescopes on the world, a 10-meter reflector. Its twin is just 100 meters away. Here are two of the largest telescopes in the world on the same mountain. After freezing a bit we head back to the SUV to do some 13,400 ft 4x4ing. Actually we just drive a dirt road that overlooks the observatories and several thousand square miles of ocean. If you squint, Tahiti is just over then to the south.

Back down the mountain, after dropping our friends off at the visitor center we head out for more attempts at violating our rental care agreement. We head into Hilo and visit some rather lame waterfall sights. Even in Hawaii these would hardly rate a mention, but they are within the city limits so we stop by them and gaze into the frothily plumes. Heading north on the east coast of Hawaii, we follow the “old” road, which twists and winds it’s way up and down the numerous and steep gullies. Each one is a botanical exhibit in it’s own right which is why we bypass the “Hawaiian Botanical Gardens” for $15 each. Have the tee shirt, video and mosquitoes bites from a prior visits. Besides there is the next rental car agreement violation just waiting a few miles down the road – which will not wait for the failing light.

Back out on the “main” high way, I bypass the standard tourist scenic waterfall, and detect that I am in thin ground for having driven by such an opportunity. But I know something that the guidebook does not say; it is only viewable if you have a 4x4 and the guts to drive to into Wiapoi valley. After some meandering around the old road imagining what a Hawaii 40 years ago would be like we are headed in earnest to the location of where the “dry land” shots were taken for “Water World”. From the overlook which warn of 25% grades and that ONLY 4x4 vehicles should descend the road all you can see is a few taro fields a little black sand beaches and the opposite cliff side.  The sun had dropped behind the island creating an artificial sunset, but it still very light but with muted colors and tones.

We head back to the red blazer, back out of the parking space, engage 4x4 low and head down the steep roughly paved road the drops into the valley. As we pass by the outlook the Japanese tourist that was beside us at the outlook exclaim as we descend the road. The road corkscrews down the side of the cliff, on the left is a shear rock wall that in most places is less then one lane width from the rust stained and mangled corrugated guardrail on the right. We are headed down such a steep angle that you have to look up to see level. The top of the windshield blocks the upward view of the valley. In intervals the road widens to one and half width where the descending vehicle is required to stop and wait for up vehicles on the way up. Normal SUV’s barely squeeze through. In my mind I measure the width and guess if the Hummer would have it fit on the narrow bits.

Less then a mile later we are in the valley, rich with tropical forest and a meandering river. You feel like you just dropped in to a movie set for a Vietnam film. The road tees, one branch goes to the right, probably to the beach and the other to the left, the inner valley. We branch left and the road is cut into a bench on the cliff side avoiding the swamp like meander of the river. A shack on the right side of the road perches on four posts above the water. As we follow the road back into the valley in the background a 900-foot cliff dead ends the view and we are treated to twin waterfalls, free falling for most the length of the cliff. We stop and admire the view, but a power pole sits in the foreground as we realize that in this most isolated human habitat that civilization is human a condition. Continuing on to the right, we pass a few homes, one behind a tall block wall, and another on the left that looks abandoned. The paint has long faded from yellow to a muddy off white. The only way you could tell of prior color is from the un-faded spots behind some recently fallen window shutters. We pass an assortment of 4x4’s and their owner hanging around a beer cooler when we come to an open ford. The road drops into the river through a concrete paved section. The river is pretty high and I am no mode for calling the rental car agency to extract their flooded 4x4 from a place that it should not be. So we turn around and pass by the local’s party, the abandoned and not abandoned house, the view of the water fall, the house on stilts and we arrive back at the tee in the road. Right goes back up the hill, and left goes someplace that we are about to find out.

A tree tunnel covers the rutted and potholed road. It has rained recently as the potholes are full to the brim. The red dirt colors the water a dark cinnamon. We pass through half a mile of tree-covered road and as we come over a small rise the ocean comes into view. A black sand beach stretches for a quarter-mile to the left from where finally stop. We get out and feel the cool onshore breeze in the fading daylight. There are a dozen or more board and boogie surfers still riding the 3 to 4 foot waves that come rolling on to the beach. Along the dirt path there are campsites. As we follow this onward we come to the river and people are camped out along its length. The fading daylight signals that we need to start back up the hill and we turn around and back track to the tee in the road.

Signs on the road tell the driver to check the brakes and to use 4x4 low for the accent. I check mine, shift to low and head up the slope. We sink back into our seats of the vehicle climbs the grade. On my left I see the black sand beach and on the right is the vertical rock wall that the road was carved from. I wonder out loud how the “ancients” got into this valley. As in the old days this was a place for the royalty, and then I realized that these people rarely moved inland and probably came from the sea. We easily made to the top just as the last rays of daylight filter trough the clouds.