Hanalei Bay

There is a surprising amount of traffic in some places on Kauai. When I saw how long it would take to transfer from Kapa'a to Poipu, on a whim I turned north instead. I was intrigued to get a closer look at some jagged peaks, and then ... I just kept driving, to the end of the road at Hanalei Bay.

Had I noticed the path along the coast sooner, I would have rented a bike. [Next time.] I had scoped out a park where I thought I'd enjoy my picnic lunch, only to find the local denizens passed out drunk under all the shade trees. The picnic tables had all been claimed, but I perched on a log and took some trash [a discarded AA battery, go figure] with me when I left.

I passed through Princeville, busy with tourists, and found a parking spot in a residential neighborhood. Living a block from Hanalei Bay has its downside.

The color of the sea was mesmerizing, the waters confused and unpredictable.

A red-crested cardinal teased me, darting in and out of the branches above my head. The beach was sunny, the hills were rainy—it is ever so.

An overlook offered an expansive view of the Hanalei National Wildlife Refuge wetlands.

I stopped along the way to stroll along the path near Kapaʻa; most people, it seemed, venture no farther than the vista's parking lot.

I arrived at the hotel with just enough time to get cleaned up before joining my colleagues for a celebratory dinner.

I stepped into that open-air lobby with its view to the sea, and ... yes, I remembered. Twenty-three years since that first visit, I still feel like I'm crashing the party; but that's okay. I'm here. For three glorious nights.