A case for the Big Island

I’ve been told by several people that they don’t much like the island of Hawaii, the confusingly named “Big Island” of the island chain and state of Hawaii.

They think it’s boring.

And, it’s true, Hawaii lacks the abundant sand beaches of Maui and Oahu.  (I suppose it’s not old enough to have developed them yet.)  The Kona coast of Hawaii cannot claim anything remotely like the lush tropical vegetation of Kauai, “the Garden Isle.”  Neither Hilo nor Kailua-Kona boasts the nightlife and bustle of Honolulu (for which, frankly, I’m grateful).

The Kona or windward side of the Big Island is distinctly dry, almost (in some places) desert like.  And the vast fields of a’a lava along the Kohala shore north of Kona-Kailua are very inhospitable — except, strangely, to wild donkeys.

But the Big Island turns lush and green starting up at Hawi on its northwestern promontory and remains so all along the windward coast where Hilo sits.  In fact, the island of Hawaii boasts all manner of climates and landscapes, including an almost-English countryside around Waimea, rain forests, and the winter snow atop 13,802-foot Mauna Kea (which is, appropriately enough, Hawaiian for “White Mountain”).

For the life of me, I can’t see how any visitor could find this island boring.  The fascinating geology of the place would be enough for me by itself.  (We spent much of today looking around atop Kilauea, the most active volcano on the planet.)  And then there are the remarkable observatories on top of Mauna Kea, which, unfortunately, we won’t have the time to visit on this go-around.  They’re surrounded by snow at this time of year, visible from down on the coast.  My interests in geology and astronomy — had my life gone just a little differently (e.g., had I not been severely nearsighted as a kid), I could easily have become an astronomer or a geologist — are tantalized when I’m here.

And then there is the endless fascination of Hawaiian myth and lore, and of the Polynesian languages.  (I always bring a book on Hawaiian with me, or, alternatively, buy yet another one here, along with a book on local geology.  Usually, I purchase some sort of dictionary.  I enjoy trying to figure out pan-Polynesian words and comparative sound shifts, based on Hawaiian and, especially, Maori.  Not that I know much.  I just think it’s fun.)

And we went whale-watching out of Kailua-Kona.  It wasn’t our best such expedition — a few years ago, we had some spectacular sightings just off Lahaina, in Maui; a couple of months ago, we did quite well out of Point Loma, California — but, still, we saw a number of spinner dolphins, a few bottlenose dolphins, and a couple of humpback whales.

Boring?

Well, I guess it depends on what you find exciting.

To me, sitting out by the surf and reading is pretty darn pleasant.  (I’ve just about finished Cornelius Ryan’s The Longest Day, about the Normandy invasion in World War Two, and I read a nice mystery novel the other day, as well as working on H.A.L. Fisher’s history of Europe and editing my way through a few academic papers.)  You can keep your nightlife, thank you very much.

Tonight, we had an excellent dinner at Pineapples, a restaurant in downtown Hilo that promises — and delivered — “fresh island cuisine.”  Earlier this afternoon, we revisited Tex Drive In, in Honokaa, where they make a wonderful but lethal Portuguese filled doughnut called a malasada.  My wife’s brother introduced us to these several years ago.

I’m legendarily supposed to have an insatiable hunger for Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  It’s actually a myth; I seldom think about them and I can and do go for years at a time without eating any.  And, anyhow, they can’t hold a candle to the Honokaa malasadas.  (Fortunately, I’m only in a position to get one of those on very rare occasions.)

I’m not sure that I have a favorite Hawaiian island.  They’re all different.  But I certainly do enjoy the Big Island.

Posted from Hilo, Hawaii