
A breaking wave cascades down a colorful rock face on the coast.

A breaking wave cascades down a colorful rock face on the coast.

Actually, it would take more than a vowel for me to figure out what was writ upon this old blockhouse wall.

The main attraction of Wailuku River State Park, in Hilo, is Rainbow Falls. But at the top of the hill are these huge banyan trees.
Banyans are not just a huge sprawl of branches, but a sprawl of roots, too. As epiphytes they begin life growing on other trees, from seeds dispersed there by birds. Over time, they send roots down to the ground, known as prop roots, which help support the mass of branches.
Banyan trees are also known as strangler figs because their roots and branches will ultimately overwhelm the host tree and kill it. Eventually, the dead host will decay and leave a hollow center to the banyan tree that’s left.
By continuing to send down prop roots, banyans grow out as well as up. Very old trees can cover a huge area. For example, the Great Banyan Tree in Kolkata, India is more than 250 years old. Its covers around four acres and has more than 3,500 prop roots. Here in Hawaii, the largest banyan grows in Lahaina on Maui. Planted in 1873, it now has 16 main trunks and covers two thirds of an acre.
The Rainbow Falls trees aren’t that large, but they’re coming along nicely.

Mo’okini Heiau is located just off one of my regular walks. The old signs for the heiau and the Kamehameha birth site fell from their original spot, tacked on a fence, some years ago. Since then, the signs have been wedged into a barbed wire fence, from which they regularly fell into the grass.
When I noticed this, I’d root the signs out and wedge them back in the fence. I believe other people also did this. At some point, one of the signs split in two, so there were three pieces to try and arrange in some way that they wouldn’t immediately fall down again.
I kept thinking I should bring some wire and a drill and try and put the signs back together again, maybe attach them to a fence post, but I only remembered this good intention when I was picking the signs out of the grass.
The grounds of the heiau are maintained by staff presumably contracted by the county or state. However, the area in the vicinity of the signs never got much attention except when, a couple of years ago, a sign prohibiting animals (on the left of the photo) suddenly appeared. I have a fondness for that sign because the chance of anyone enforcing that regulation is right up there with me winning three different lotteries on the same day (and Hawaii doesn’t have lotteries).
So imagine my surprise the other day when I reached this point in my walk and saw this spiffy new sign. Two new boards attached to a brightly painted pole securely set in a rock. I was giddy with shock and excitement (yes, I don’t get out much). If an alien spaceship had landed I wouldn’t have been more surprised. Note too the red and yellow paint on the chain across the trail to the heiau, and the well-supported post that fell down about a year ago.
Folks, forget the volcano. You want to see something truly amazing on the Big Island, come up to North Kohala and check out these signs while they’re still standing.

I was quite taken with these giant concrete shapes that form part of the breakwater at Lapahoehoe Point on the east side of the island. The breakwater was constructed by the Army Corps of Engineers and is needed to protect the boat launch ramp from trade-wind-driven seas.


The Hamakua coast of the Big Island is the site of extensive eucalyptus forests. These tall, fast-growing trees are grown for export to Asia. Harvested trees are trucked to the west side port of Kawaihae and stored there until the next ship comes in.
However, last year, the company running the operation decided not to renew its lease. Since then, the landowners have been casting around for a new business to carry on the work, so far without success. So the trees continue to grow, making a pleasing sight with their dappled trunks catching dappled sunlight.

One of the Big Island’s scenic attractions is its sprinkling of abandoned vehicles. One doesn’t have to drive too far to spot a car being swallowed by weeds or a wreck languishing just off the highway. Usually the person dumping the vehicle has stripped it of all the identifying information or never registered it and so can’t be traced.
I did a double take when I saw this car on one of my regular walks. Was this something new or something I’d simply failed to register for days/weeks/months? The latter is entirely possible, but I think this was a recent arrival that someone was not content to just abandon, but also felt it necessary to push it into the ocean. Perhaps it was stolen, perhaps used in a crime. Either way, it didn’t make it to its planned watery grave, at least not yet. Next winter’s storms might yet snatch it away. I doubt it will be retrieved before then.
These cliffs, all layers and curves, enclose one side of Green Sand Beach near South Point.