The house rooster woke us up at 4:23am. It felt like it was fucking crowing inside our heads. It wasn't far. The feral chickens of Kauai roost all over the island. This family roosts in a tree at about the same height as our open bedroom windows about six feet from our eardrums. After a few aborted attempts to try to get back to sleep by covering our heads with pillows, Jo and I gave up. It is past 8am in Texas anyway. Beach time. The kids soon wake up too.
At sunrise the surf was enormous at "our beach" - fifteen foot tunnels of turquoise their tops whipped into white frenzy by a fresh northern breeze. The breakers smashed into the narrow steep sandy beach and everything looked very pretty but uninviting. The kids climbed up on a ledge on this huge tree to get a better view. An old local haole lady walked by and yelled at Jo to make sure the kids didn't get down on the beach. "They will be swept away." And that was all before breakfast.
We returned home and Vivian and Evan took me on a "tour" of the yard, pointing out various flowers (hibiscus, ginger), and trees (ti, banana, coconut palm, towering crotons) and then we had a relaxing breakfast on the front deck while we waited for Jen and Travis to show up.
By mid-morning we were ready to tackle the beach again. The tide had gone out and a small reef was visible a few yards out. The water on this side of the reef was considerably calmer but the kids could still only get into ankle deep water and everyone had to keep an eye out for bigger waves that periodically smashed into the beach and obliterated our sand castles and made Jo and Jen squeal and grab their towels to keep them dry. This was a neighborhood beach, so we didn't expect crowds, but I was still unprepared for how empty it was. In a quarter to half mile stretch that we could see there were three other people sitting, and two couples and an aging dog walked by - during the rest of the day.
Because of the four hour time difference, it felt much later when we left the beach late in the afternoon. Dinner was fresh fish. Travis and I had to make a wine run to the nearest grocery store at Hanalei - only a five mile drive away made particularly slow and interesting due to the many one-way bridges on the historic Kuhio Highway. After dinner, Evan and Vivian provided the entertainment - Vivian made things out of palm leaves for poor Evan to model - which he still does very willingly. And then I think we were all in bed well before 8pm. Ready to kill some roosters if they wake us up before we are ready.
At sunrise the surf was enormous at "our beach" - fifteen foot tunnels of turquoise their tops whipped into white frenzy by a fresh northern breeze. The breakers smashed into the narrow steep sandy beach and everything looked very pretty but uninviting. The kids climbed up on a ledge on this huge tree to get a better view. An old local haole lady walked by and yelled at Jo to make sure the kids didn't get down on the beach. "They will be swept away." And that was all before breakfast.
By mid-morning we were ready to tackle the beach again. The tide had gone out and a small reef was visible a few yards out. The water on this side of the reef was considerably calmer but the kids could still only get into ankle deep water and everyone had to keep an eye out for bigger waves that periodically smashed into the beach and obliterated our sand castles and made Jo and Jen squeal and grab their towels to keep them dry. This was a neighborhood beach, so we didn't expect crowds, but I was still unprepared for how empty it was. In a quarter to half mile stretch that we could see there were three other people sitting, and two couples and an aging dog walked by - during the rest of the day.
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