The Pololu Valley

The Pololu Valley is in the northernmost region of the Big Island and begins a series of dramatic cliffy-mountains that lead to beachy valleys. The view from the trailhead was spectacular.


After hiking down into the valley, we decided we would continue on the trail, over the next ridge, and to the valley on the other side. This one was pretty touristic, and we figured we needed a good butt-walk. The trail along the beach was shaded by Hawaiian pines.

After making it up the steep, muddy pathway, we rounded a bend and saw the next beach and even more dramatic mountains. Triumph was ours.

















The next task was getting down to the coast. The last trail had been hard, but this trail was barely more than dust and scree and probably a 75 degree angle. The picture doesn't do it justice, but perhaps the fact that we had to hold onto ropes to get down the slope says something.

But I wasn't as good with the ropes as Michael...

The descent was treacherous, and once we reached 'sea level' again we passed through a dense, wild bamboo grove.


The coast was great. Michael was attacked by a wave, but was still happy - at least for the photo.


Once we got to the main beach again (after pulling ourselves up the ropes on the slope, much to our hands' discontent), Michael was elated.

We also found this cool hammock up in the pines. Talk about a hammock to nowhere.

It was a great hike. Exhausting, but great. And it took us straight to the Mexican joint, Tres Hombres, for greasy nachos and a pitcher of margaritas.

The Southernmost Tip of the US

Yeah, you guessed it: it was windy. In the words of our guidebook, don't forget your extra-strength hairspray. I say, don't forget your lead shoes. Michael got lucky, he was wearing his.



Here, you can see the coastline. People were jumping off the cliffs when we visited, though I imagine the trade winds make the waves too great when they're blowing.  Unfortunately, we cannot claim to have jumped off the southernmost edge of the US.  But of course there is still time.  



Right where South Point is, there were two wind farms too. The first one we passed was decrepit...it looked like either the winds were too strong or the turbines were facing the wrong direction. There must have been four rows of twenty turbines or so, rusting and shifting ever so slightly.   We can see here the realized results of slack foresight and planning.  A few hundred yards away was what seemed to be a fully operational wind farm with larger, and most likely, more durable windmills.



Just before you hit the southern tip, we encountered black sand. You can see it's coarse, and there's a good reason: evidently true black sand is created when hot lava hits the ocean and explodes on contact, shattering into the minuscule pieces in my hand. The other cool thing about black sand is sea turtles...they nest and feed here. And they don't seem to mind humans too much...though it's not encouraged to get too close.