Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I managed to spear a number of red “squirrel” fish with big, black, limpid eyes. The reef
was dead and boring, nothing like the gorgeous, phantasmagorical garden reefs of some
other age protected in the Caribbean. There was no colorful seaweed, no anemones, or any
interesting coral heads which might have a grouper lurking in the shadowy caves below.
How was I ever to know that my poor brother Gavin would, many years from that day,
wreck his lovely, old wooden boat Salt Flower on this very reef? That one of these years,
I was to return and spend the most wonderful fourteen years of my life here on this little
island in the sun in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? That I would become a disc jockey
on a local FM radio station in this very town of Hanalei, or that I would be the guitarist
of my own rock band and play throughout the island far into many nights? Life, with its
unpredictable turns and paths, is surely an amazing adventure.
I rowed back to the boat where I clambered aboard and cleaned and gutted the catch in
a bucket. Susanne, in true female form, castigated me for killing such sweet, innocent,
little fishies, though she would later tuck into the delicious fish soup I prepared for dinner.
Murphy snagged one of them and, hunkering down, devoured it, growling fiercely all the
while.
Susan had to be back at work on the mainland in Colorado in a few days, and we could
feel our time was running out. We walked and hiked about the town of Hanalei and had
some wonderful meals together at various restaurants. All too soon, Susanne was packing
her few bags and I was rowing her sadly ashore. I would accompany her to the airport, in
Lihue, on the other side of Kauai. We would have to hitch a ride as there were no taxis or
buses here.
We had felt we had plenty of time, but as the cars rolled by and no one seemed likely to
give us a lift, Susanne became quiet and worried. Eventually a rather scruffy hippie in an
old VW van stopped and picked us up. “Yeah sure I'll take you to the airport, man, but I
gotta show you my tree house at Secret Beach first, man.”
“We are in a big hurry! I've got to catch a flight in ninety minutes!” said Susanne, a twinge
of hysteria creeping into her normally calm voice.
“Hey, don't worry darlin'; this won't take long,” he said as he eventually swung the van
off the main road and down a dusty, little track towards the sea. We bumped and lurched
our way down to a beach forest with a grove of dense leafy trees. Stopping suddenly, he
jumped out yelling, “Follow me!”
He dashed off through a little clearing, and we raced after him, Susanne muttering angrily
about leaving all her possessions in an unlocked car and how late we were already. I felt
really bad for her, and yelled at the hippie to stop. He was right up ahead, staring up at the
