A Kauaiian Shame: Part 2

Hi All,

I apologize if this is too long.  If there is too much hilarity for one sitting, you have my permission to read it over a couple of days.

We apparently were not the only island visitors to notice the abundant rain and overcast conditions. Like the apocryphal stories of SOS messages written in the sand by boaters stranded on islands to be seen by rescue planes,

we found evidence of similar communication attempts as we walked on the beach.

Tourists were probably trying to get a message to Kāne, the Hawaiian Sun God.

Kāne, the good and benevolent (he certainly looks it) god, who would assuredly bestow the solar rays through the clouds…and if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn that you might be interested in buying

We even saw lei sacrifices (the Kauai Chamber of Commerce was probably responsible) in the hope that it would stop the rain.

It was for both professionals and lei people 

Most disconcerting, however, was when our hotel sent out a dove to see whether the water had receded from the surface of the ground (Genesis 8:8).

Sadly, the bird flew around for a while and then came back to his perch.

What can I say, it looked like a dove to me

I think that means forty more days of rain or seven years of bad luck — not sure which.

And rain it did. But that did not stop us from exploring the island and its environs.

We visited Waimea Canyon, a large canyon in Kauai, which is also known as  the Grand Canyon of the Pacific.

The “Grand Canyon of the Pacific” part is a bit of a misnomer since there are at least 10 other, even grander canyons in the Pacific, but they can only be seen by submarine since they are on the ocean floor. In any case, it also happened to be one of the things to do in Kauai on a rainy day, because it can be explored, or at least seen, from the inside of a car

or a poncho as Jill is illustrating

Hiking the various canyon trails was out of the question because of the dangers of the wet and slippery conditions and 3000 foot sheer cliffs, not to mention the vicious wild Kauaiian pigs.

 

This was as close as I got to one of these murderous creatures

But there are some very pretty sights, some of which can photographed using a camera covered by a poncho with its lens pointing out of a poncho sleeve to protect it from getting wet (something with which I’ve had considerable experience since coming to Kauai).

Some Waimia Canyon sights:

 

And with the assistance of some of KFC’s relatives (see last blog, “Rain in Hawaii: A Kauaiian Shame”) who roam free all over Kauai, I discovered the answer to the age old question: “Why does the chicken cross the road?”

The answer: Because other chickens are crossing the road.

A few of “KFC’s” kin

After watching the chickens going back and for a while, we had lunch.

I had a chicken club…after all, “Everybody needs a little KFC”

Then off to one of the wettest place on earth.

which I thought was the entire island of Kauai

 

Snails apparently thrive in in the euphemistically “damp” weather in Kauai.

I came across this one which was the size of a small dragon

it was almost a half foot long

Really, a half foot

if you tried to step on it,  it would very slowly grab your foot (it is, after all, a snail)  and in slow motion wrestle you to the ground

No picture for this one, I was on the ground struggling for my life.

Warning!  You have reached the end of this section, but not the end of this blog episode.  This might be a good time to take a break.  The next portion may not be suitable for anyone with a weak stomach or for small children.

The next day, after our Waimea Canyon excursion, we went on “a snorkling cruise…”

I confess that I’m not entirely sure how this happened, but somehow we ended up on a boat from which we would snorkel and visit the Na Pali Coast of Kauai.

This is the area of the island only accessible by sea or air. There are no roads on the Na Pali coast.

 

We were going on Capt Andy’s Sailing Adventure.

note the smiling, bikini clad women and clear, sunny skies

This is how it was described on the website:

“An absolutely perfect trip.”

“The early departure…means clamer conditions.”

“After a relaxing and beautiful downwind sail, we’ll pull into one of our favorite remote snorkel spots where we’ll anchor and passengers can get into the water.”

“The leisurely sail” on a sea worthy catamaran (italics were not written in the website, but I was assured by the Captain) “begins with breakfast at sea with stops for snorkeling, lovely views of the western shore of Kauai, before a final snorkeling adventure followed by a BBQ lunch while lazily viewing the rugged, beautiful Na Pali coast of Northern Kauai.”

And website had pictures to prove it

What could be better? What could go wrong?

This is probably a good time to mention what turned out to be two rather significant aspects of my past experiences at sea:

#1  I GET VIOLENTLY SEASICK.

#2  In the long intervals (7-8 years) between going on a small boat in open seas, I tend to forget “Significant Aspect #1.” I can only assume that it’s like the pain of childbirth — if women remembered how much it hurt to be in labor, no woman would ever get pregnant again (unless, of course, she had an epidural during labor or a caesarean section).

You may remember that I mentioned the relentless rain that has been plaguing Kauai made worse by the associated hurricane-like winds.

the palm tree blowing (I was tied to a tree so I wouldn’t blow away while taking this picture)

It turns out that these winds have a rather distressing effect on the oceans over which they blow. The gale force winds that we had been experiencing have a tendency to make the seas quite choppy and turbulent. This, in turn, has an unfortunate effect on those people, like me, who are prone to seasickness.

As previously mentioned, even though I had no conscious memory of my previous episodes of “mal de mer,” somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain there was a primitive survival mechanism that did not want me to go on this adventure at sea.

And prior to leaving for the voyage, I checked the marine weather forecast in the hope that the trip would be cancelled.

The forcast:

15-25 mph winds, waves of 6-14 feet, and small craft warnings.

Pretty bad, but apparently not bad enough to cancel the cruise. Prior to boarding I questioned the captain about the wisdom of “putting to sea” in what most would consider to be “The Perfect Storm” kind of weather.

“This is nothing,” he replied. Then he chuckled and said, “At least you don’t have to worry about this boat hitting an iceberg here in Hawaii.”

Small comfort.

Ahab, the Captain with a sense of humor 

As I boarded the boat, all seemed well. People were eating breakfast (not me), drinking coffee and passion fruit juice (I demurred), and the seas were quite calm. I thought to myself, this could be fun

….and then we left the harbor.

We were on the open sea, the wind blowing, the waters choppy, but so far, I was okay. And then I saw an ominous sign: the dorsal fin of a great white shark circling around our ship.

We were going to be eaten by a great white and I wanted to record the final moments for posterity (apparently, there was at least one Steven Spielberg clone on board taking videos for a Jaws sequel)

I thought

 

 I could practically hear the leitmotif of the shark: Bum Bum!  Bum Bum! 

I looked again and was horrified, not just one shark

but there were a flock

At that moment I began to suspect that going on this trip was a big mistake.

It was also about that time that the Hawaiian music which was incessantly playing over the boat’s speakers stopped as our captain announced that we were in the midst of a pod of dolphins, and everyone might want to take pictures.

they sure looked like sharks to me

As my adrenalin-laced fear subsided, and I was overpowered by a dread sense of nausea. It was then I remembered that I get seasick. I really don’t have any idea how I could have forgotten such a crucial wellness fact about myself. I took immediate action; I instantly asked one of the crew for something for seasickness.

They were quick to respond

Not really what I was hoping for.  

I demanded medication: a pill, some Dramamine or Marezine, an injection, general anesthesia. She chuckled and said, “We’re not allowed to dispense medications on board.”  I said that it was okay because I was a doctor .  She replied, “In that case here’s another bag.”  Everyone’s a comedian.

I was not a “happy camper” and was rapidly approaching “deathly ill camper.”  I only hoped that I would feel better after we stopped to snorkel.

That, unfortunately, was not going to happen. The reason…because the waves were too high and it was too dangerous. Hmmm, wasn’t this exactly what I intimated to the Captain before we left. In my present state, approaching terminal motion sickness, I wasn’t sure if I could last on this ship for the entire 6 hour cruise without any stops (we still had over 5 hours to go). I decided to visit the Captain once more to implore him to turn back and let me off. NO! Or at least let me swim to shore (death by drowning would be a vast improvement over the way I was feeling at that moment). He rejected my appeal. I begged him to call a helicopter to medevac me off the boat. He suggested, ginger ale and crackers and to sit in the stern of the boat where it was calmer…with “the others.”

First problem was figuring out where the stern was (he could have just said back of the boat). It was where the other pitiful, miserably ill, non-seafaring passengers were located. And for the next 5 hours we all sat in our zombie-like state, unmoving, huddled over small white bags or buckets, occasionally taking a sip of ginger ale.  The pictures of the Na Pali coast were taken by Larry Robins, since I could not manage to bring a camera up to my eye since the effort magnified my nausea ten fold.

 

My entire visual experience of the Na Pali coast is from these pictures and Google images — I don’t remember seeing it at all because I could do was stare at the horizon (which, incidentally, does not make you less seasick) and take slow breaths.

 

courtesy of Larry Robins

Thank you, Larry

BTW, we did not stop at the alternative snorkeling area either…too choppy and dangerous.

So six very, very long hours after we began the trip from hell, we pulled back into the port. I was the first one off the boat. I was still as seasick as when we were on the sea. Despite taking medication for motion sickness as soon as I got off the boat, the horrible feeling lasted almost an hour.

Oh yes, everyone else in our group had a terrific time.

 

While sitting in seasick purgatory in the back of the boat with the others, I promised myself that I would NEVER again forget that I get seasick. I would NEVER again get on a small boat.

And shortly after we returned from the port,

I made good on that vow

It was a painful but permanent reminder.  I just hope that the next time someone suggests a boat ride,  I’m not wearing a long sleeve shirt.

That’s it for now.

Richard and Jill

If you thought that the portion of this blog involving the sea voyage was a shade too long, you are in good company.  Jill told me that it was bad enough for her to live through it once in real time; she didn’t really need to read it a second time.  If you thought it would never end, then you have some idea of how I felt while trapped in the “stern” of that boat with “the others.”