Early Morning Rides In The Back Of A Rusty Pickup Truck

Somewhere between R.E.M and reality I'm stirred awake by a voice outside my shack. Softly whispering I hear, "Wyatt... Wyatt... you up?"

To no response, I reply, "yeah, yeah, is it time to go?"

My mind slightly groggy from anxiety caused nightmares from the night before, I lay in bed and hear a gust of wind approach from the bottom of the valley. In a few seconds it will be rustling the waxy leaves of the sixty foot mango tree above my head. As if stirred to my feet by the wind, with renewed inspiration I pop in my contacts, hastily pull on my pants, and grab my wetsuit.

Silent as a mouse, I tread lightly around the house as to not wake any of the tenants while grabbing a few straggling items left behind - towel, surf wax, and my surfboard. Setting my gear in the back of my friend Josh's rusty truck, I sit down on the wet truck lining. While opening his truck door, he comments, "Don't lean on the tail gate, it might fall off at any minute." Shutting the driver door, the ignition turns over and with a slight belt squeal, we take off.

DMV approved bumpers

Just another piece of cargo in the truck bed, I hold my knees in an upright fetal position as I'm wedged between the truck and surfboards like a book stuffed into a librarian's bookshelf. My head swaying back and forth like I'm on a roller coaster ride, the rusty truck weaves up and down, in and out of valleys. From the valley floors to the ridges, my skin switches in and out of goose bumps as the temperature drastically changes.

Holding onto the truck and peering out beyond the cab, my hair lashes out at my face. Smiling, I tell myself, "I'm free as a dog." As if hearing my silent words, the weather retaliates with stinging rain drops. Retreating to the safety of the truck bed I curl back into the fetal position eager to paddle out into the gloomy sunrise.

Surfing is getting expensive

 "Taro fields forever." - The Beatles

 Treasures of another kind

 Cinnamon raisin bread

 Fresh

 Ingredients

 Necessities

 Road kill

 Boar hide hung out for all to see

 Hawaiian legend says that taro represents Hawaiian families because of the way it grows it's children around the mother

 Surinam Cherries

From One Edge Of The Island To The Next

Skipping like a stone across pot holes at twenty miles per hour, we take our seat belts off in celebration of the last five mile leg of our journey. The Tacoma's shocks hardly have time to recover as we chatter across the blood red dirt. Staring at the passenger mirror, I watch as the red dust kicks up and churns behind us giving the sunset a hazy veneer. Focused on our destination in the distance, the raw lava cliffs soar up out of the ocean like old skyscrapers of the past. Cast among the red cliffs, handfuls of green vegetation delineate areas holding water in the arid environment. To the left of us, long sand dunes roll to the ocean's edge signifying the last piece of land between us and Russia. To the right, GMO corn fields stand like minutemen in the soft glow of the evening sun.

"We made pretty good time! A little over three hours." Robo announced from the drivers seat. Looking at a map, our destination Polihale is only a few kilometers away from the North shore. However, separating Polihale and the North Shore is the Na Pali Coast; some of the most extreme coast line in the world. So close, yet so far, the only way to access Polihale from the North shore is by boat or a long drive around the perimeter of the island. It's like driving to a neighbors house down the block, but road construction forces you to take a detour around the city first.

With a sigh of relief and jittery like children during their first road trip, we pull up to our campsite. Stepping out of the truck, we put the first tracks in a long line of sand dunes towards the Pacific. Laying down in the sand, we watch the sun's everlasting light disappear for another day.

Cat naps

Another green flash playing tricks on me...

Sunny side up

 The search

 Experimentation

 Another one bites the dust

 Morning view

There were so many fewer questions when stars were still just holes to heaven

A drastic change from the last Polihale trip

A Different Kind Of Rich

Yelling up to Gio, "dude the garden is blowing up!"

"I know! We have so much food!"

It's late afternoon where the sun is just beginning to set behind the valley we live in. Just the top of the mountains and the cotton candy clouds are kissed by the last rays of light. Perusing the garden with Gio, we stand among all of the veggies that have been planted over the last few months. Tatsoi, romaine, arugula, daikon radish, beets, mustard, kale, chard, tomato, fennel, cilantro, taro, sweet potato, spinach, and broccoli are just a few of the varieties that have been planted in the garden. Encompassing six or so terraces, it's enough greens and veggies to feed four people comfortably plus enough to give away as a small omiyage (a gift) to friends or someone in need of fresh food. We estimate that at least eighty percent of our food comes from the garden.

Picking greens, I start laughing. Gio looks at me in confusion, "what's up?"

"Dude, we are so rich!"

Gio smiles, "I know, we are so rich."

It's an idea that we've been playing around with the last few days. We don't own fancy things, most of our appliances are held together with duct tape, and the chairs we sit in are releasing their stuffing like a well loved teddy bear. To many, we probably look like bridge trolls since we essentially live underneath someones deck.

However, it would be hard to put a price on the veggies and fruits that we grow. What's the price of a thirty pound guacamole of the freshest avocados worth? Especially when you have to finish it because you have to make another thirty pound guacamole before the avocados go bad. What's five gallons of tangelo (a tangerine and orange hybrid) juice worth, and what's a five gallon bucket stuffed with the freshest greens worth for a salad?

Many might disregard it for the latest fashion but I think it would be hard to put a price on it. Maybe being rich should be something more then fancy dinners and hotels, but more of the simple things that make you and others feel good. It's a different kind of rich.

The makings of tangelo juice

Pure tangerine juice

Sacred Hawaiian taro

Tatsoi

Prepping banana hands

The latest fruit plunder

We call ourselves vegan hunters

Sometimes you get lucky with the sunrises

The Price Of Paradise

Bali Hai

Like clock work, the first hint of sun rays light up our side of the valley letting us know that working in the yard will soon end before it gets too hot. Looking South and up the valley, the mountain ridges stand like the head of a hand held lemon juicer. The absence of light casts shadows in the valleys while the dense green jungle along the ridges are exposed by the sun's light. Easily standing a hundred feet tall in the middle of the valley, the invasive Albizia trees to the East take the shape of Bonsai tree silhouettes.

Mountain glow

Up above on the road, a pack of wild boars squeal above the exhaust sound of a rusted, lifted Toyota Tacoma that probably wouldn't pass smog specifications. After a brief silence, once again the roosters begin to orchestrate their calls up and down the valley breaking the serenity of the moment.

It's been about a month since I've been back on Kauai. Adjusting back into island life has been fairly straight forward since I've spent enough time here in the past. However, sometimes I can't help but laugh at the harshness of living in one of the most "local" places in Kauai. Depending on how one looks at it, it can either be seen as comedic, or a sad, dark environment.

Facebook, Apple, and startup millionaires build their massive vacation homes that are built with the finest, most rare hard woods. However, these homes are only used a few weekends out of the year. This is juxtaposed next door with a small island green Hawaiian shack that is in shambles and is more fit for a shanti town. In many cases the Hawaiian family that lives there will have to leave because the property is worth more than the house.

The once sacred taro fields and farm land that the Hawaiians families have cultivated for hundreds of years is worth millions of dollars compared to the thousands of dollars that is being grossed from the produce it provides. Families out of necessity or thirst for money are now selling this land to commercial developers. This is only the beginning for a people who are culturally displaced in a first world country but who's souls are tied to the stories that their Aunties and Uncles tell them of a life that is long gone. These people are now seeking what they have lost and don't even knowing what it is they are searching for.

Theft is prevalent, white haole kids are still harassed in schools, starved hunting dogs howl in small cages waiting for what could be their last boar hunt before being mauled to death, and hard drugs such as ice is common and can be seen by the zombies that roam rural areas. In many ways, status is won by skin tone, amount of time that you have resided on the islands, who you hang out with, and how big your truck is.

Last year, a couple friends and I were a part of a conversation with some Hawaiians at a picnic who were talking story about being local. One Hawaiian in his dark, raspy voice summed it up by saying, "when you've been he-yah long e-nuff, then you'll know." Upon him saying that, the vibe in the air was so heavy that you could almost touch it. I couldn't handle for long and left the guacamole we made at the table for them and came back later for it.

Yet, these things are really only seen with keen observation and having spent enough time living in the area. Many tourists that visit will never see this during their time here. Instead they will be driving through paradise in their red convertible, holding their GoPro out the window, smiling as their hair is blowing in the wind, and completely oblivious to the line of traffic stacking up behind them.

Like the Hawaiian said, "when you've been here long enough, then you'll know."

Fresh Swell

Hanakapiai falls

Free Fallin'

Tranquil mornings

Veggie starts

Tools of the trade

Tangelo

Watermelon radish

Abstract wave motion