R Blog

The Drowning Capital of the USA

Now that our visit is nearly over I feel comfortable writing about the biggest Hawaiian hazard. No, it’s not the high price of groceries. And it’s not shark attack. That happens, but rarely.
However, a lot of people drown over here. Hawaii is the undisputed drowning capital of the USA. Every time we are here, someone drowns. Last winter a British tourist was swept off the North Shore rocks by a rogue wave. They never found the body. A few days later six GI’s from Schofield Barracks came out to Waimea Bay at midnight to experience the big surf. Experience it they did. Another big wave pulled all of them from the beach. Five made it back, but a female soldier was never found. We watched the helicopters search. Last December a Deputy Sheriff from California drowned at Sunset Beach. His family is suing. They allege the lifeguards had not posted warnings.
This may explain why almost every winter day there are warning signs everywhere. They even put up yellow police line tape when the surf is extremely high.
Two days ago a very experienced underwater photographer, Jon Mozo,  drowned at the Pipeline. It wasn’t even a day of big surf. You’ll note if you read this article that some big wave surfers (even small wave surfers are wearing helmets to keep their heads from being banged off the reef). There are an average of sixty drownings a year in Hawaii. When you consider the exposure, the millions of times tourists and locals enter the water, it’s probably not that high a figure, except to the sixty who make up the statistic.

A Nicer Subject

Is this some kind of lady fantasy? Covered, that is buried, in bracelets and necklaces, one of a kind pieces. Actually, it’s just Linda being a model again for the first time in many years. I think she’s still got it. Our friends Rick and Inga own and operate the Oogenesis Boutique ( say Oh genesis) in Haleiwa. For the last couple of trips they’ve been talking about taking some photos of her cuz Inga likes the way Linda looks in her clothes. So, yesterday was it. We had gathered from brunch at Rick and Inga’s.

Bart was there leading the chefs, as usual. Scott who also has a nice store in Haleiwa called I Am Paradise, a jewelry store that features Tahitian black pearls was also in the group. It was a good chance to take some photos. Brunch was delicious, by the way. Bart made waffle batter from brown rice and who knows what, Rick made Bombay potatoes and Scott made a tofu scramble and strong black coffee. From what we can tell Oogenesis will have some posters made of ladies of various ages to pique the interest of their clients. Inga seemed happy with the result. Everyone was happy with the food.

The Truth About Toenail Fungus

My brothers and I received a bountiful legacy from our late father. But there was bad news with the good. We each have a raging case of toenail fungus. Our dad had the worst case of toenail fungus the world has ever seen. His nails had the consistency of feta cheese and appeared to be sloughing off in front of your eyes. They didn’t bother his vanity one bit, however, and the wretched nails never stopped him from his daily trip to the YMCA locker room. He was unusual. Most of us fungus sufferers are very self-conscious about our toes. Women can try and hide it with nail polish but, for now, at least in the circles I travel in, polish is not an option for me. I wish it were.
The interesting thing about toenail fungus is that no one, conventional or alternative, can cure it. Those drugs they advertise will ruin your liver. And, the fungus will probably come back. Most of the alternative solutions like tea tree oil don’t work or are so cumbersome (smear a mixture of garlic and onion on your toenails twice a day for several months) that you won’t bother. Many of the ointments that are touted turn the nails a strange color, like orange. Been there; done that. The last thing I tried was a laser. Fungus loves laser.
Fungus is powerful. Fungus is a borderline weapon of mass destruction. Curing toenail fungus, then, becomes the litmus test for a healer. The guy or gal who can offer the cure will be rich, famous and thanked by hundreds of thousands of mostly happy people who become ever so slightly depressed every time they look at their toes. This is particular problem in Hawaii where one does not wear shoes. One wears flip flops.
To be specific, if one cares about one’s feet, one will wear Island Pro Aka Sandals which are as comfortable as any shoe and suitable for long walks, even hikes. Yesterday I walked a couple miles in my Island Pros and most of the time with wet, sandy feet. No discomfort whatever. We buy our Island Pros at Thongs and Things located in Ward’s Warehouse in Honolulu. But most of you are not in Honolulu so you will have to get them on the internet.   (Note to the ladies: a man’s 8 is a woman’s 9, etc.)
What is the truth that I promised to tell? There is no cure for toenail fungus. This is a statement of huge philosophical proportion. Because, let’s face it, if you can’t cure toenail fungus, why should we believe you can cure anything? It’s just a fungus, right?
The fungus won’t kill you, but it won’t go away, either. It’s terminal...for your vanity. (By the way, it is not contagious. My bride has lovely nails after many years of the most intimate exposure).
But once you do get the dreaded fungus and your nails begin to resemble the toenails of an Orc, you will try almost anything to get rid of them. Years of lotions, potions and scams. All to no avail. (And, if you write to me and tell me you were cured, I won’t believe you.) So, what does one do? For several years I have used a Dremel Tool to grind the nails away. This actually makes the little nails appear almost presentable. But it doesn’t work well on the big toenails which thicken, get ridged on top and raise up from the nail bed creating a little cavern full of horrors. Nasty.
So, what’s the point? The point is this: today I gave up. The big toenails are gone. Pulled. In the trash. Bart gave up too.
This afternoon, on the lanai, we had a bit of a surgery party and Aran, who is a Nurse Practitioner in real life, and who was trained by one of the top podiatric surgeons in the country in this procedure, pulled, extracted, fished out, jerked out, pried and yanked the big nails on both of us. Aran did this with ease and efficiency.
In less than an hour and a half four ugly shells were lined up for our photographer.
It sounds awful, doesn’t it? But, surprisingly, it went as easy as he said it would. He numbed us up with procaine, waited about fifteen minutes, then took a little chisel like instrument and loosened the nail from the nail bed.
Then he took a special pair of pliers, stuck them under the nail, gripped it and ripped it. Didn’t hurt a bit. He had placed a little rubber tourniquet around the toe to retard any bleeding. After the nail and fragments were removed, he put vaseline around the edge of the nail bed. He then put carbolic acid on a long Q Tip and swabbed it around the cuticle area to kill the nail completely. (Even though it didn’t hurt, I don’t want to do it again. The acid keeps the nail from growing back). The wound was dressed and he said we could go about our business, even go swimming.Aran has been offering to this for me for several years and I have stalled.
But today while lunching at the Paradise Cafe, a funky little veggie restaurant in the back of Haleiwa’s natural food grocery, I looked down at my gross yellow nails and decided to do it. (You will note that I forgot to wear the mask and snorkel).
It’s hard to express how good it felt when the awful nails came off. The bloody mess looked better than the old nails and when it heals, there will be pink skin and the shape of the old nail bed. Aran had his removed years ago to solve and ingrown nail problem and you can hardly notice he doesn't have nails.

If people ask me what happened to my toenails, I plan to say I lost them climbing Mt. McKinley.

The Hawaiian Facelift

I couldn’t help but notice in rereading yesterday’s blog about whales, and in studying the fourth photo in that entry, that if I wear my snorkel and mask pulled up on my forehead it erases unsightly lines and gives me a sort of uplifted look. Normally when a camera is pointed in my direction all the blood from my head rushes towards my lower body and gives me a Neanderthal appearance. My eyebrows sag, my mouth droops. Even my ears seem to drop.
Here’s an example of what I’m talking about.

In this image we are having a lovely evening with Bart’s neighbor Mig and Terry O’Quinn, the actor from TV's Lost whose name I have dropped repeatedly, relentlessly and unashamedly in this blog. Brother Bart is taking the photo which I had hoped to have printed and autographed. But once again, because of my photo phobia, I am digitized with a dumb, lifeless expression. Not worth printing. I plan to delete it. That is, move it to the Trash.

Looking at it now, I can only think, “What if I had been wearing my mask?”
The tight straps would have pulled my entire face towards the top of my head.
Clearly, I would look more alert and camera ready. Therefore, I have resolved to keep my snorkel and mask handy and to quickly put it on whenever there is a camera about and to certainly avail myself of its facelifting qualities whenever posed or impromptu photography is suggested, threatened or hinted at.
Wearing a snorkel at all times in Hawaii will be thought a bit queer, but understandable. This may be more problematic when I return to Ashland this weekend. It is my hope that friends, acquaintances and innocent bystanders there will soon see this a just an eccentric quirk and look past this oddity in their appreciation of my tighter, more vertically oriented skin.

Whales Everywhere

We had a regular whale rodeo right in front of the house today. Dozens and dozens of humpback whales, blowing, breaching and diving, displaying backs, flukes, pectoral flippers and nearly entire bodies visible to the naked eye but even more dramatic when viewed through binoculars.
This really beats going out on a boat. There's no way I'm getting seasick sitting on the deck. Hawaii is the breeding ground for a certain percentage of the humpback population and the dramatic behavior we witnessed is due, primarily, to male whales showing off. Here’s what a really good whale web site has to say about it: Humpback whales are also easy to see in Hawaiian waters because they exhibit many dramatic behaviors. On their breeding grounds, the males compete for access to receptive females, slamming each other with their powerful tail flukes. The females and young are also active, slapping the surface of the water with their long pectoral fins and tails, and hurling their gargantuan bodies into the air in spectacular breaches. (Read a nice essay on humpback whales)
When the whales get going it is a pretty spectacular show with lots of splashes as big as a yacht. At one point a pair of whales breached in unison three times.
Two strokes of their great tails will cause them to emerge from the ocean in what appears to be slow motion. Then they slam down again causing a great white splash. Through binoculars it looked very much like these two photos from Google Images. It was easy to spot the spouts and when the sun was just right it reflected off their backs which they “hump” when they get ready to dive.
When they dive the flukes are nicely displayed. Another whale did a series of maneuvers where he/she raised a pectoral fin out of the water then slapped the ocean with it repeatedly. The fin is one third of their body length. So with an average sized whale at 45’ the fin itself is 15’ long.
Watching whales was a nice break in the afternoon after a morning spent snorkeling first a Kewala Bay which was cloudy, then at Turtle Bay Resort which was clear and full of fishies.

This is not a whale. Kewala Bay in the background. One of the safe places to swim on the North Shore in winter.

Secret Beach: No Longer a Secret

At the end of the road to Kaena Point a four wheel drive track begins. On your way you pass Dillingham Ranch, a polo field, the second unit of the TV show Lost and a YMCA camp.  We stick to a trail close to the ocean because this is a favorite area for four wheelers who have turned the road into grooved mud holes. On our first visit last year a pickup truck was stuck in mud that was over the top of the fender wells and several other trucks were trying to extract it. The people who use this area generally make a mess. There’s broken glass all over, empty cans and bottles and, today, a pile of shoes. The trick is to keep looking at the ocean view.
If you walk fifteen telephone poles down the road from the parking lot you’ll come to what we call “Secret Beach.” It’s about a mile and a half and you know you are about three quarters of the way there when you drop down in a gully that once was spanned with a bridge. The lava rock footings are still there for what was once a railroad line. “The Kaena Point Natural Area Reserve was created in 1983, after decades of abuse... from the now dismantled Oahu Railway, which hauled sugarcane around the point from the leeward side to Waialua...”
Secret Beach used to be a secret, more or less, until Oahu Revealed described it and put a photo of it in their new edition. Today, while we were there, a couple from Philadelphia, PA wandered in. So, they apparently know about it in Philadelphia now. We like to go there for shells. It’s a narrow little cove with a couple of channels cut through the reef and the waves come in swiftly, churn up the sand and dump lots of shell material.
Today, conditions were ideal. The tide was on the ebb making it a bit safer and allowing us to work farther down toward the water. It’s amazing how fast those waves come in.
This second photo was taken about ten seconds after the previous one. One minute you can be standing on sand and the next be waist deep in water.
We found many puka. Every wave turned over a few more. We also found nicely tumbled beach glass, cowrie shells and other treasures which can be strung into interesting jewelry.
This would make a good model for a bronze to memorialize puka hunting.

North Shore Saturday

Puka picking reinforcements have arrived. Aran and Marie are here on
humanitarian leave from their medical practice in Anacortes. They caught puka fever immediately and our harvest has experienced a manifold increase. Low surf has brought sand back to the denuded beaches. Many surfers are happy with the mellow waves because they can go home and claim to have surfed the Pipeline. Aran has already had his first surfing session and is taking a nap. He hopes to get up on his second try this afternoon.

We began at the North Shore Farmer’s Market held at Sunset Beach School,  not expecting much because of the heavy rains these last few days. Aran and Marie ran into Inga our friend who owns Oogenisis in Haleiwa, a woman’s store where you can find lots of nice things. We got there early because it is popular. I was devastated because the vegan muffin girl was a no show. It may be my last chance for a papaya or a blueberry coconut muffin.

However, there was a good supply of no spray and semi-organic fruits and vegetables. Papaya, lettuce, cilantro, cukes, zukes, ginger, tomatoes, basil, spinach, squash, limes, bananas, dikon. We loaded up.

The armload of flowers the girls are holding (I was told) cost only $15.

The orchid plants are $10-$15 a piece.

On the beach the pukas were prolific, though smallish. Not as much fun to find, but they actually make better jewelry. Lots of people looking for shells, not all collecting the same kind. One slinky gal in an all black ensemble was selecting black stones. Yesterday a guy was sluicing shells from right out of the wave break with a metal net on a pole and had created quite a bone yard that a folks were picking over.

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The occupational hazard of puka picking is puka back. A dull ache from bending a reaching. When you get tired you can take a break and watch the waves and surfers.

Linda bagged puka picking this morning. She is into science and her special book. Did you know that the core temperature of the earth is more than 7000 degrees? I didn’t either.

Geography Game

Drag the state map and try and  drop it in the right place. I got 56%.
Warning: it's difficult except for some coastal states, Hawaii and Alaska.

Andy Dehnart Nails American Idol

Here

Book ‘Em Dano...er...Dog

Lost isn’t the only TV show filmed in Hawaii. For a different slice of Hawaiian life you might want to tune into Dog The Bounty Hunter on A &E. A & E Network stands for Arts and Entertainment. Guess what category Dog The Bounty Hunter falls into? Duane Chapman, aka “Dog,” is an ex-con, born again Christian, married (four times) father of adults and little kids (twelve total. He is a dog, isn’t he?), self-styled on his website as “the greatest bounty hunter in the world.” Dog, age 52, first came to Hawaii in 1989 — at the time content to just spend a few days in paradise before heading home to Colorado. But after befriending a local and becoming fascinated with terms like “aloha,” “aina” and “mana” — he decided this is where he would plant his roots. So he stayed, opened Da Kine Bail Bonds, married 34 year old, magnificently buxom Beth Smith who is his business partner, and had a couple more kids.  His crew is made up of family members including his brother, son and nephew. Dog gets pretty pumped up when he’s on the hunt. The adrenaline rush of capturing a strung out meth addict overcomes him and he routinely drops a few F bombs on the prisoner which then morphs into a kind of sermon on morality. But Hawaii calms his inner dog. How does he maintain his balance? He says, “(It) comes from these Islands. I’ll listen to a lot of Hawaiian music — stuff like Iz (Israel Kamakawiwo'ole) to relax,” he says. “For me, Hawaii is like decompression.”
Dog is one of those dangerous looking biker type guys with a black clothes, craggy face, tattoos, long unkempt hair and missing molars. His crew doesn’t carry guns but are burdened with so much gear that they look like they must be armed. The Dog has a soft spot and often tries to help the characters he catches, tries to rehabilitate them on the spot while Beth stands by stamping her foot, hoping to keep Dog on track. At the end of last night’s show the family headed to the beach with the keiki (kids). Even Dog’s beachwear is black. When his daughter caught the Hawaiian State fish, a humuhumunukunukuapua'a, he convinced her to release it. You see, Dog has been in prison himself and knows how it feels. And the humuhumunukunukuapua'a was just like one of the felons that he captures and wants to toss back in the ocean. Great TV. And, Ozzy Osbourne sings the title song. Plus, filmed in Hawaii.