In February this mango tree was in full bloom (top). Those blooms have become the bevy of fruit below. When the wind blows the thud of falling mangoes is a constant sound. I tend to duck my head into my shoulders walking under the tree.
It’s a twice a day routine to pick up the fallen fruit, or the wild pigs will make short work of them.
I like seeing how light reflects off wet rocks at the water’s edge.
I was taking one of my regular walks along the coast when, for some reason, I noticed this rock that I must have walked past a hundred times or more. This time, something about the light and shadows suggested the profile of a sitting dog and I immediately dubbed it guard dog rock. Now when I pass it, that’s all I can think of, as if it has always held that significance for me.
A fiery skipper butterfly, Hylephila phyleus, dips its proboscis into a passion flower.
Pololu valley lies at the end of highway 270. It’s a popular destination. Most people find a parking space (not easy), snap a few photos, then climb back in their cars and try to get out without hitting anything (there’s no real turnaround).
A moderate number brave the steep switchback trail to the beach. This is worth it as better views open up, even part way down the trail. It’s 15-20 minutes down, 25-30 back up, depending on your condition and rate of hiking. If it’s rained recently the ground can be super slick.
Once at the beach there are options. (Bear in mind that only the beach is public. Everything else is private land.) There’s the view inland, up the Pololu River valley to the mist-shrouded Kohala Mountains. There’s the area just inland from the beach where people camp among the trees even though that’s not allowed. There’s the beach itself, which is mostly rounded rocks with black sand if the tide is low. And there’s the ocean, which looks inviting after that hot, sweaty hike, but is exceedingly dangerous with fierce rips, and only for those who really know what they’re doing, which excludes me.
Then there’s another option which very few take. This is to walk to the far side of the valley (following the trail just inland from the beach itself is easiest) until it trends upwards into a narrow gulley. This area gets a lot of rain, so this part of the trail is likely be muddy. It’s steep, narrow, and cut off from any breezes that may have been blowing on the beach. From time to time, views back to the beach open up and are worth taking in, if only to catch your breath.
After a while the trail comes out into the open and is less steep. I always think this is the end, but it’s not. It dips again into a shallow valley with low hung branches and much traveled by wild pigs. Then it’s up the other side, far less steep than the first part of this stage, until the trail pokes through some low bushes into an open area. And there, in my humble opinion, is one of the finest sights on the island.
There are views up the Honokane Nui valley towards the mountains. There are views along the coast and out across the ocean. And to make it more enjoyable, there’s a bench where you can sit and take it all in. I have to say that on my most recent visit the bench was in much worse shape than the last time I saw it. The wood supports had rotted out on one side so there was a jaunty lean to it. But with care, it was still possible to enjoy a solid seat with an unparalleled view.
From the parking area to the bench is about an hour walk (your timing may vary). Beyond the bench, the trail descends into the next valley, but an earthquake in 2006 rearranged this, basically taking the trail and dropping it several hundred feet. You can still get down there, but it involves scrambling directly down a steep hillside using ropes that have been strung there. Bear in mind that the ropes are no doubt going through the same decline that the bench has.
From the bench, the hike back to the parking area is about the same as it was on the way out (steep hike down, steep hike up). The last time I did this I saw a ton of vehicles and people around the parking area, 20 or 30 people on the beach, and three on the hike from the beach to the bench and back.
For more information about the Pololu hike, go to bigislandhikes.com/pololu-valley/.
One difference in taking photos as a snorkeler rather than a diver, is that I can’t follow fish when they dive or hug the bottom. Also, when a fish is 30 feet down, the water affects how they look and the sun doesn’t reach them as much.
I mention this because I most often see peacock groupers in 20 to 30 feet of water where they look somewhat dull in color. They also tend to be quite shy, hurrying for cover under ledges or whatever other shelter is at hand.
However, as with many kinds of fish, juveniles can often be found in shallower water. I happened on this young peacock grouper one day and it promptly headed for cover. Before it did though, I got a couple of good images that captured the sun bringing out the spectacular blue patterns that I never see when they run deeper.
In my attempts to identify what I see in the water, I use John P. Hoover’s book The Ultimate Guide to Hawaiian Reef Fishes, Sea Turtles, Dolphins, Whales, and Seals. His website is hawaiisfishes.com.
Usually, beach resorts have warnings about anything and everything that might pose a risk to patrons, that and expose the resort to any kind of liability. But on this day, all bets were off.
Northern cardinals are an easy bird to identify, especially the males, which are a vibrant red. They are also distinctive in their calls, which are loud and varied. I know this because the pair that live near the house are among the first birds to rise and, around five in the morning, their calls cut through the relative quiet like tsunami warning sirens.
Graham's Island 