Last weekend I hiked with my dad up a muddy, windy trail to a peak on the Ko'o'lau Range, one of the highest points on Oahu. A downpour drenched us within minutes of entering the trail and we chuckled to ourselves when hikers around us slipped into swan dives and back slides on the slick path. Then I got to enjoy a laugh all to myself when my dad tripped onto his belly and did his best mud angel impression. At the summit we could see miles of beaches and bright turquoise waters and the dark purple ocean beyond the reefs. We were up high enough that the clouds raced by above our heads like giant tumbleweeds made of grey, bushy pubic hair.
My family used to be quite familiar with nature. I've seen photographs of me and my brother enjoying the Yosemite camping grounds from inside our strollers while my mother hulked over our little bodies like a 4'11" mama bear. I remember going on regular hikes with my brother, my dad, and our uncles and cousins. My brother frequently displayed a divining rod-like ability to locate any body of water on a trail, be it a puddle or a lake, and then fall into it. I can also recall at least two occasions I thought I poisoned myself when I tried to sample a plant and instead tasted a flavor that belongs on a spice rack under the label "Nature's Ass."
I have a lot of fond memories of the Great Outdoors, but, like a friend who drifted apart after high school, we haven't seen too much of each other lately. It's been years, actually. When my family left California, we felt like we'd left all the best hiking trails behind. Then we hooked up our internet connection and later came our plasma screen television, and by then nature had become one more channel amongst hundreds of others featuring better car chases and more gratuitous head explosions.
My dad rediscovered his love for photography a few years ago and -- who'd of thought? -- Hawaii has been a great place to find breathtaking vistas. He began taking trips to outer islands like Maui, Kauai, and the Big Island. Then I started joining him to see what he'd been seeing.
A couple months ago I hiked with the family up into a bamboo forest on Maui. The trail is dry and dusty for a couple of miles before a bridge delivers you smack dab into a peaceful green forest that belongs in one of those inspiration posters. A path takes people deep inside the bamboo until the sun is almost blocked out overhead, even at noon on a clear, bright day. The wind is constant up there and everything sways back and forth with a soft "whooshing" sound. It's very peaceful and hearing and feeling that place is worth a couple of days without my computer.
My family used to be quite familiar with nature. I've seen photographs of me and my brother enjoying the Yosemite camping grounds from inside our strollers while my mother hulked over our little bodies like a 4'11" mama bear. I remember going on regular hikes with my brother, my dad, and our uncles and cousins. My brother frequently displayed a divining rod-like ability to locate any body of water on a trail, be it a puddle or a lake, and then fall into it. I can also recall at least two occasions I thought I poisoned myself when I tried to sample a plant and instead tasted a flavor that belongs on a spice rack under the label "Nature's Ass."
I have a lot of fond memories of the Great Outdoors, but, like a friend who drifted apart after high school, we haven't seen too much of each other lately. It's been years, actually. When my family left California, we felt like we'd left all the best hiking trails behind. Then we hooked up our internet connection and later came our plasma screen television, and by then nature had become one more channel amongst hundreds of others featuring better car chases and more gratuitous head explosions.
My dad rediscovered his love for photography a few years ago and -- who'd of thought? -- Hawaii has been a great place to find breathtaking vistas. He began taking trips to outer islands like Maui, Kauai, and the Big Island. Then I started joining him to see what he'd been seeing.
A couple months ago I hiked with the family up into a bamboo forest on Maui. The trail is dry and dusty for a couple of miles before a bridge delivers you smack dab into a peaceful green forest that belongs in one of those inspiration posters. A path takes people deep inside the bamboo until the sun is almost blocked out overhead, even at noon on a clear, bright day. The wind is constant up there and everything sways back and forth with a soft "whooshing" sound. It's very peaceful and hearing and feeling that place is worth a couple of days without my computer.
