It had rained during the night
, one of those warm tropical showers that leaves
the air heavy and sweet. A steady breeze born far out at sea kissed the shore at sunrise, rustling the
coconut palms. The clouds,
like the folks around these parts in no hurry
to move on
, scattered slowly as the sun rose out of the ocean
and washed the sky with bold streaks of ligh
t.
A few ares of rainbow loitered above
, offering promise for the new day.
Hawaii's locals make a clear distinction between
themselves and haoles, the sunburned
tourists from the mainland. It is less a term of contempt
than a bemused pity. On the
scenically spectacular island of Maui, most of these visitors pick up their rental cars at Kahului Airport and drive directly to Kaanapali Beach on the western
coast, where they stay in glitzy resort hotels, down premixed Mai Tais served by waitresses
in synthetic grass skirts, and
tap their toes to the canned
melodies of Don Ho. Haoles just don't know any better.
The real soul of
Maui is manifest on the south shore, with its endless
stretches of blinding white
beaches. The sun bleached dunes roll up to wide verdant fields of pineapple and sugar cane. Herds of cattle
graze contentedly on the grassy slopes of
the West Maui mountains. Majestic
Haleakala, the highest point on the island, is a two mile high peak topped with a massive volcanic crater, a dramatic reminder that this is a land of sudden, violent change.
At Maalaea Bay boat harbor, Charlie, the
winch operator, was
working a squeaky crank that unwound
a cable still wet from
the rain. "Never thought I'd live to see the day this old gal
went back in the water," he offered
to anyone within earshot as he controlled the speed with
which a trailer bearing a thirty foot wooden sailboat rolled down a launching ramp.
Boat launchings were hardly uncommon
hereabouts, but a small crowd
of locals had gathered to watch this particular one. These
folks and a few hundred other kindred souls
lived aboard boats in the
bay. Most
were dreamers who collected
sea charts, atlases, and books about faraway places, yearning to pull
up anchor and sail away, just like the excited young
couple whose boat was now the center of attention. But few would do so.
17
Chapter 1
the night, leaves rustling the clouds, hurry on the ocean of light. loitered above, a clear distinction between sunburned contempt On the most western waitresses and the canned soul of endless blinding white cattle of Majestic violent change.
Charlie, the operator, was a squeaky crank that unwound still wet from this old gal he offered speed with uncommon crowd this particular one. These kindred souls in the Most collected places, yearning to pull young attention. But few would do so.
