Kona Overnight & the Big Aloha

A friendly welcome by the host was my introduction to the Surf Hideaway, a basic room with bed, bath and a galley kitchen. I loved that the door and floors had been painted with tropical leaves, and the place was spic and span. No AC, but a fan that made the humidity bearable. Definitely a place for people who are good at entertaining themselves: heavy readers, sleepers, late-night partiers (no TV! – a blessing, not a curse!) who can’t be bothered by cooking (considering the limited but carefully chosen kitchen goods) and TV tray table. A very cool place.

Kona was shockingly deserted, and the shops seemed to be hurting pretty badly.

Fortunately, the parrots weren't the least bit upset about this, as long as the seeds kept a'comin.

I made one more stab at a beach, and found the old airport park beach, which had a lot going for it. It’s big, with both lawn and sand (all facilities shut down, of course), and the requisite lava path to the sea. But the sunset was spectacular…

My flight was the next day at one, so I gassed up the Chevy (prices here 10 cents more a gallon than in Hilo). 

Made a stop at the local L&L (they MUST have one around here) for Katsu chicken (basically, three meals in a box for $9), which I had to leave in the Hideaway fridge. Cruised to the airport, got through all the rigamarole in no time at all, and enjoyed an uneventful flight back to SF, the airporter, and a pick-up by T. Thanks again T!

Is this, my 14^th trip to Hawaii, my last? Could be. I left my fins and snorkel gear for other guests at the Surf Hideaway. It feels like it’s time for the big Aloha…

The Road to Kona

I made the recommended stop at the Punaluu Bakery in Naalehu, famed for their Hawaiian Bread. I bought a couple of Malasadas (think dough bombs liberally coated with sugar) and coffee for breakfast. 

I should have listened to the counter girl when she told me they make all their baked goods with whole milk (“It’s what makes them soft”). Not a happy tummy down the road.

south coast parking solution

Determined to find one beach where I could access the water without shredding my sandals and feet (beaches here have a lava rock barrier of several feet out into the water), I turned down a few roads to the coast, only to find no parking at the smaller beaches.

Frustrated, I decided to go to church.

St. Benedict Roman Catholic Church in Honaounau is on the National Register of Historic Places. Known as “The Painted Church”, it was built between 1899 and 1904 by the Belgian Priest John Veighe. Since he spoke no Hawaiian, he built a miniature Gothic cathedral, painting the interior walls and ceiling himself as a teaching tool until he could learn the language to preach. 

The congregation, made up of families in economic transition, could relate to St. Benedict, a sort of “all-purpose” saint, patron to poison victims, agricultural workers, civil engineers, the dying, those afflicted with fever, those with gall stones, those with inflammatory diseases, those with kidney disease, members of religious orders, monks, schoolchildren, and spelunkers (cave explorers).

It's a pretty little church, easily explored in a few minutes. 

Joe's farm manager and tour guide

 

 

A little way down Painted Church Road is Joe’s Macadamia Farm, big macadamias at better-than-store prices and a free tour on request.

While your arteries harden at Punalu'u bakery, you can enjoy the gorgeous garden

I got a text that my stay in Kona was ready, so I made my way to the aptly named Surf Hideaway

We’re in the Country Now! Oh Yes.

 

Wait, how can the sun be setting already? It's only 5:30 and I'm miles from my next stop!

Whoops.

Na’alehu, a charming village surrounded by garden-like growth everywhere, is close to the southernmost point in the US. On the map, my next stay looked like a nice little subdivision, easy to navigate. Maybe because it was dark, a little harder. I put my faith in Google, and followed the single lane asphalt road out into the jungle for a mile, but my faith was shaken when I was instructed to turn off onto what looked like a dirt driveway. “This can’t be right,” I told Ms. Direction, the Google voice, and proceeded to drive up the road looking for a real street. With street signs. Finally, I turned around and allowed Ms. D to guide me back to the dirt driveway. “Continue for one-half mile.” Okaaaay.

Better in Sunlight

The road was rutted, weed-filled and occasionally patched with concrete that was around 3 inches higher than the dirt part. But in a half mile, there it was - a brand new three-story home out in the bush. I parked, and was hauling my suitcase up the dozen steps when I was met by the local inspector, a deaf, blind, ancient Cocker spaniel. He was far more interested in my car, and appeared to be surprised there was a human to go with it. Anyway, the stay (Lava Java Inn) was new, comfortable, with a bed complete with bedposts as big as your head.

My only difficulty was a type of shower I’d seen exactly once in my life. I was so tired I failed to notice the instructions on how to work it, and spent 15 minutes reinventing the wheel. Finally, showered, fed and happy, I crawled into the massive bed.

View from the back deck - miles of dense forest and lava

 

The next day, I went to church.