A rainy, windy night. Woke up before Mike and settled into the front passenger seat, with the blackout curtains between me and the sleeping body behind. The view out the front was of the early morning sun on the waves. I had my book and my phone, on which I pecked out a report of yesterday. And I read a bit of P.D. James, which has engaged me.
I have to confess that some time in the last couple of days, I put our laptop and all our important papers in the van’s safe, apparently typed in the wrong sequence of numbers, hit the #, and closed the door, thus locking it with an unknown passcode. This is why I am typing on my phone.
The chickens are growing on us. I think lots of the campers must feed them, because they come running when we come out. The chicks are a hoot. One of them took a tiny experimental peck at my leg when I wasn’t forthcoming with something tastier.
Later in the morning, we left to explore the North Shore big surf. Still not sure how to get out of this maze-like campground.
Somewhere, we picked up a freebie promo magazine for something called “The Van’s Triple Crown of Surfing.” It is a series of three events where surfers can win money, but also points toward being a sponsored pro surfer. It is a little over the top in talking about the “relationship with the wave,” and the like. But maybe I Just Don’t Understand because I haven’t done it. I liked having a peek into that world, however.
The three wave breaks for the TC of S are: Ali’i at Haleiwa, near where we first camped, the Banzai Pipeline, and Sunset Beach. All within about a 15-mile stretch along the north shore of the island. The mag had profiles of various surfers and lists of who had won what. The vast majority of them are Hawaiian, USA, or Australian. Which tells me that to be good at surfing, you have to grow up with it.
(Interesting also that they differentiate between Hawaiian and USA. More evidence that at least some Hawaiians don’t consider themselves to be Americans.)
We found a parking spot alongside the road and walked until we came to the access to Sunset Beach.
The. Most. Beautiful. Waves! A wide, steep, sandy expanse of white sand and then huge, roaring blue and turquoise waves crowned with foamy white. The biggest break quite far out, but even in close, it was kind of a maelstrom of waves going every which way. Must be complex underwater topography. Swimming prohibited because of rip tides and steep shore breaks.
It is impossible to capture it in a photo. (Unless you are out in the water with the surfers. There are photographers who do that, and it’s their photos that make it into the magazines.)
An event was happening down the beach, so we went back to the bike path and down to Pipeline Beach where a surfing competition was happening on the Banzai Pipeline, a big, powerful but more regular wave than what was happening at Sunset Beach. It curls over beautifully.
On the way we passed several makeshift memorials to surfers who have died in these waves. One was to an Australian who had been “living the life he wanted, filming and surfing. Forever 18.” Later we read that the Banzai Pipeline kills an average of 1 person per year.
We sat with the other spectators on the sand and watched for a while. Lots of surfers out in the lineup. There weren’t that many great long rides, but maybe that’s par for the course?
When we got too hot and sunburny, we drove the few miles back down to the big shady parking lot at Waimea Valley and had fried egg sandwiches. The jungle fowl did not know we were eating their relatives.
By then it was mid-afternoon, so we went back east to the camp. Stopped at a roadside tourist mecca to see what was on offer. It was mostly made-in-China stuff, except for some carved turtles and whales, etc. made by the family of the statuesque Polynesian-looking woman behind the counter, and an art gallery with some interesting but pricey encaustic paintings and sea glass jewelry. https://www.fullfathomfivehawaii.com/
The old white guy in that shop told us the resin petroglyphs they sell (impressions of rock carvings cast in positive relief, if I’ve said that correctly) are very old and have only been seen a couple of times in recent history because normally they are buried under 30 or 40 feet of sand. It takes a monster storm to uncover them, and then they get reburied after the storm passes. Last time they were visible was 45 years ago, and the waves that uncovered them were 70 feet high.
That was the story, anyway!
Ordered shrimp from a food truck and got Styrofoam container with 2 scoops of rice, a scoop of canned corn kernels, and 8 shrimp in garlic and butter sauce. Not butter, though, some kind of oil. $14
Back at camp, we vegged, watched the livestock, and read. While I made supper, Mike went to look at the water and saw two turtles.
Beautiful dark night sky with so many brilliant stars and Venus with a perceptible diameter.
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