Today, February 20th, 2013, Dylan shares his thoughts and tells his story of our Sunday afternoon hike down to the Captain Cook Monument on the far side of Kealakekua Bay. It was a beautiful, but grueling hike. On Sunday evening, as we neared the end of our upward journey home, I was cursing the hill, the island, and just about everything else through the wheezing and whining. This hike was intense! But Dylan really wanted to make the trek and though I loathed the adventure as we narrowed the gap between us and our truck, looking back I am grateful for the experience and for Dylan convincing me to go when I just wanted to go home and read after the Sunday farmer's market. But enough from me, here is what Dylan has to say about the experience:
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| We were all smiles and good spirits on the hike down, there are no pictures of our exhaustion on the way back up... |
There is a long, rocky ridge that comprises the north side
of Kealakekua Bay. It slopes down through pastures into lava fields to the
shore, losing 1400 feet in only 2 miles. As you emerge from the scrub grass
into the rockscape you can see the entirety of the bay, its vertical rock face
on your left that slowly fades into a palm lined beach on the south side. It’s
an almost perfect horseshoe, and when you see the whole thing you come to
understand why it is the kind of refuge a tired Englishman might seek.
A hike in reverse is the cruelest form of treachery. You
begin, refreshed and ready, and are treated to a leisurely stroll downhill.
During this jaunt you can’t help but think about your egress later in the day,
but the sun is shining and the beach is approaching so your mind does what it
always does with future discomforts, exiles them. The hottest part of the
descent comes as you escape the trees and enter the lava fields, which are
simply rocks and dust in ample proportion. At midday they radiate heat and I
thought about white towels and small cedar rooms. Shortly you feel the relief
of wooded flats by the shore, and you take a left when the trail forks. About
100 feet on there is a clearing and in the middle of it sits a white stone
monument. In any other circumstance had I stumbled upon a 20 foot white stone
obelisk in the middle of the woods I would have assumed it to be part of some
occult ritual and fled in terror. However, in this case, it was our intended
destination.
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| The beautiful bay was steps behind me as I took this photo |
This is the monument to Captain James Cook “discoverer of
these islands,” a title which instantly begs a semantic question. One can
discover things that are genuinely novel, say a species of insect or a new
prime number, but it’s hard to see how sailing until you see something constitutes
discovery. Then again, colonialists are known for their ability to turn
ignorance into triumphalism. Discovery aside, why put a monument like this in
such a hard to reach place, what’s so special about this small plot that the
area directly adjacent to it is actually part of the British Empire? As it
turns out, this is precisely where the good captain died, or rather, was
killed.
James Cook was born on the 7th of November 1728
in Middlesbrough, Yorkshire the second of eight siblings. His parents were
farmers, but he escaped his lot in life, went to school, and eventually joined
the British navy. He cut his teeth during the Seven Year’s War, harassing the
French up and down the St. Lawrence. He became known as a distinguished
cartographer, mapping the coast of Newfoundland for the crown, and hopefully
suggesting a more creative name. At the age of 39 he was made lieutenant of a
ship, the HMS Endeavour, and charged with sailing to the pacific to record the
transit of venus across the sun. To make a long story short, he spent the rest
of his life sailing all around the globe, looking for continents that didn’t
exist, mapping, measuring, naming places that already had names, and so on.
Until 1779, when he first made landfall in Kealakekua Bay.
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| In front of the rope blocking the monument |
Cook had been to the archipelago before. He had landed in
Kauai about a year earlier and upon witnessing the beauty of the islands
started the trend of corporate sponsorship, naming them the Sandwich Islands,
after his benefactor, the Earl of Sandwich. Sounds so much better than Hawai’i.
The next year, while mapping the coast of this big island, he stopped in
Kealakekua Bay. His arrival coincided with the festival of Makahiki, a harvest
celebration in honor of the god Lono. Some contend that the natives deified Cook
and his crew because his boat and its sails and rigging resembled some of the
trapping associated with the worship of Lono. I’m more inclined to believe that
everyone was simply in a good mood due to the festivities and Cook and his crew
reaped the benefits of that cheer. Either way, there was rejoicing and mingling
of gene pools and the crew of the HMS Endeavour left feeling refreshed.
Soon after they left they ran the boat aground and were
forced to return to the bay for repairs. By then the Makahiki was over and the
Hawai’ians saw Cook’s return as a bad omen, either because Lono should not be
there at that time of year or simply because they thought themselves rid of the
limeys. Fights broke out and the natives stole one of the captain’s small
boats. Like any reasonable explorer, Cook responded by trying to kidnap the
King of Hawai’I, but was routed in his attempt. His men were forced to retreat,
and while running for their lives Cook was struck on the head and killed. The
monument stands on the spot where Captain Cook fell. While we were there,
hiking through the trails by the beach, I could imagine being chased, and being
at a supreme disadvantage. The rocks and beaches were these people’s home, and
the Europeans were just tourists trying to make their escape.
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| The monument is about 30 feet to my left on a small patch of grass amidst the rocky shore of the bay |
These days it seems to be quite the opposite. Visitors to
these islands are swept into the culture immediately. Tourism is a huge
industry here, and murdering Europeans is frowned upon. When I first arrived I
was struck by how exotic it all seemed. I was quickly disabused of this notion
after the first MacDonald’s and strip malls started to dot the landscape. This
is certainly the United States, but at the same it retains so much of the
idyllic paradise that Cook stumbled upon. It is easy to imagine how the native
myths and stories came to be; a cursory glance would suggest divine
intervention almost instantly. Knowing only this place would foster a worldview
to which I can hardly relate, and I think that is the draw for a lot of people.
Escapism is part of the American experience and this island paradise, with its
clear blue waters, tropical flora, and unpronounceable words seems so far away
from Minnesota and Texas and England.
It’s
hard for me to reflect on this story and to not think of it as a prime example
of colonialism, of westward expansion and its numerous sins. A bunch of overdressed,
smelly, white guys showing up in our beautiful island home to pick a fight, how
typical. The impulse to explore, however, isn’t necessarily one born out of
malice or greed, but maybe just boredom. England can be dull and dreary and if
you spend your life there you might be inclined to go out and see if there are
any better options. Hawai’i, on the other hand, is almost always stunningly
beautiful, and trading it for some other place is probably a losing proposition
99% of the time. Tourism is no different. We escape our daily lives to remind
ourselves that there are more beautiful places, that life can be slower and
different. We just have to remember that some people don’t feel the need to
leave, and for good reason. We might not have the civilization we have today if
the whole earth was a tropical paradise. The merits of such a hypothetical
world are open to discussion.
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