Our Last Day on Maui

Wednesday was our last day on Maui. We packed up everything from the condo and headed to the beach, where the kids immediately started looking for crabs. Without their boogie boards and sand toys, they got bored after an hour or so. But after an early lunch, they headed back out into the water and happily played for several more hours.

We then headed to the other side of the island to show them Hookipa where they watched a couple of dozen young people, some no older than the kids, surfing.

None of the Quads had been able to find a souvenir that they liked until we went over to the other side of the parking lot and examined the carvings this guy was making. Three of them found something they liked with their remaining allowance, each carving inscribed with their name and "Maui 2015." They couldn't have found better souvenirs.

Of course, they had to have Hawaiian shave ice in Paia before we headed back towards the airport.

We more or less survived the overnight flight to San Francisco.

By the time we arrived in Salt Lake, they were ready to collect our checked bag and go home.

A Tribute to the Kids

The kids had another great day at the beach yesterday. There were the inevitable moments when they terrorized each other of course, but those moments were few compared to how long they played together or separately for four hours.

I've written in the past few days of trials with the kids, but I owe it to them to say that, overall, they've been real troopers. They took their first flights on an airplane - including a 5-1/2 hour one - in stride and were very well behaved. We received compliments from three different flight attendants over the course of the two flights on how well-mannered our children are.

Then, as I've written, they embraced the ocean as if they'd grown up around it, playing in the waves for hours, day after day. The day we went snorkeling, they again showed no fear of riding on a boat for the first time or of getting in the ocean to snorkel, also for the first time. They were also well-mannered and respectful of the crew.

I'm proud of them. Considering all they have been through in the past five years, it's remarkable that they're turning out as well as they are. True, they can be mean to each other at times, but what kids aren't? I love them, and Mark does, too. He is to them as much a dad as I am, and he is a lot more funner (as Annie would say) than I am. I am grateful beyond words that they have him in their lives.

Snorkeling and The Great Crab Hunt

We had our big adventure of the trip yesterday when we went snorkeling at Molokini crater and at an area where sea turtles gather for "washing." I was a bit apprehensive as we set out across the water, not knowing how the kids would react to a boat ride. I shouldn't have been, however. If any of them were the least bit fearful, they didn't show it.

Then I was apprehensive about how they'd handle snorkeling. Again, I shouldn't have been. We had a crew member assigned to our family, and she was great with the kids - getting them fitted, going over safety issues and showing them pictures of fish they might see. 

We first went inside the crater, where I took the lead photo looking down into the water. There weren't, however, as many fish this year as there were two years ago when I made the same trip with the same snorkeling company (Seafire - I recommend them).

"There's too many," the captain, Don, said at one point as he surveyed the scene of a half-dozen or more snorkeling boats moored in the crater. "Too many people. They scared away all the fish. It used to be ten times better than this: flowering coral, amazing fish. But all the sunscreen, all the oil, all the engine fuel ... it's killing it ..." Don's boat accommodates about 20 people. Several of the other boats can accommodate three to four times that amount, if not more. Nevertheless, we all had a good time, and Mark and Aaron got to see an octopus.

From inside the crater, we went around to the back of it for more snorkeling then returned to a spot just offshore that had been my highlight of the trip two years ago and was again yesterday: the sea-turtle "washing station." It was a spot 50-60 yards offshore where turtles come to rest and fish come to eat the stuff that has adhered to the turtle's shell. We saw a couple of examples of that and at least a dozen different turtles of various sizes. The kids loved it. They also enjoyed feeding finches as we made our way back to the boat dock.

After a breather and some sandwiches back at the condo, we headed to Po'olenalena Beach. The kids had spent five hours in the water there on Saturday, playing in the waves and with their boogie boards. The water is much safer here than on Big Beach, which means that Mark and I can read a bit instead of having our eyes constantly glued on the kids.

I knew the day had been going too well. It was bound to happen, and it did: the boys started fighting over a boogie board. We had to allot times to each, but that system quickly broke down. I was approaching wrist-slashing territory (again), when Mark came up with a brilliant idea. 

"Ok, kids," he announced. "Tell you what. We will pay $20 to anyone who catches a sand crab." Eyes widened, and they were off. Each of the boys grabbed a weapon (a large sand shovel) and headed off toward mid-beach, while Esther and Annie staked out a territory near the end of the beach. 

Now, I should perhaps explain that we felt we had made a very safe bet. Sand crabs are notoriously fast. They pop out of the sand and scurry across the beach, immediately retreating if they sense they are threatened. But the kids were tenacious: for the next 90 minutes, they were hard at it. Mark and I, meanwhile, gloated a little over our successful diversion as we enjoyed virtually uniterrupted reading time. We knew we were tempting fate but couldn't help ourselves.

The boys, who were much closer to us than the girls, employed a variety of stratagems. These included the following: trying to set a trap with a pail; waiting for a crab to surface, then pouncing on it, scooping up the sand where the crab had dived; pounding on the sand with a shovel; jumping up and down on a spot where a crab had surfaced; and throwing a shovel full of a sand at a spot. We had not, after all, specified whether the crab had to be alive.

Above: Levi pounces. Below, Aaron waits, ready to spring

Finally, the boys headed down to where the girls were. Suddenly, there was a commotion, then all four came hurdling down the beach towards us, each grinning from ear to ear. Esther triumphantly opened her hand to reveal a teeny-tiny sand crab, only a fraction of the size of the crabs we had challenged them to find. But we couldn't very well back out of the deal then.

Of course, the boys immediately expressed disappointment and resentment. Both, but especially Levi, can be very competitive and aren't always (like, never) good sports when someone else wins a competition. We would now pay for gloating over our 90-minute repose. Things got ugly quickly. It was time to head back to the condo, where we would lock (we wish) the kids in their respective rooms.

The end of an afternoon on the beach

Or so I thought. We stopped at Safeway on the way back, where I went in to pick up a few things. I didn't feel the least bit guilty for leaving Mark in the van to deal with four sullen children.

When I came back out and got into the van, I thought I had stepped into a twilight zone. The children were talking happily with each other. I didn't say anything thing at the time, but later asked Mark, "What the hell happened?" 

"Well," he replied, "I had a talk with them. I told them that we're just a couple of old guys who are trying to provide them with a good time; but it's really hard on us when they start fighting with each other."

"And they bought that?" I asked.

"Sort of. Esther responded by saying, 'We know. But we're kids after all, and we're all different from each other.'"

Point taken. And so we face another day - our last full day here. We fly out tomorrow night.

"He's My Wife"

"He's my wife," I replied.

We had stopped at "Big Mama's" roadside stand a couple of days ago on the way out to Big Beach with the kids. I had first met her three years ago (pictured above), a very large older Hawaiian woman who makes and sells jewelry at her stand along with fruit and wood carvings made by her son. I bought some things from her that year, and we subsequently passed her stand dozens of times over the ensuing years. I wanted the children to meet her.

The woman's granddaughter was there to help. Grandma isn't mobile: once installed on her chair, she is there for the day. Both extended their aloha as we walked up to their tables laden with hand-made jewelry, wood carvings and tropical fruit. My eye was immediately drawn to some small woven fans. "A perfect Christmas ornament," I said to myself."

"Can you tell me about the fans?" I inquired.

"Sure," Big Mama replied. "Me and my sister make those." She then went into a lengthy explanation of how they are made, most of which I didn't absorb, except that they're hand-woven. I asked to look at them.

"Is this for yourself or your wife?" the granddaughter asked. I couldn't imagine why in the world it would make any difference - I mean, it's not like they had masculine-looking fans vs. feminine looking fans. I couldn't resist a reply.

"Actually," I said, pointing to Mark, "he's my wife." I immediately regretted saying it. That often happens to me. There followed what is usually termed an awkward silence. But granddaughter, if she even caught on, rebounded immediately. 

"Are you guys twins?" she asked, apparently unfazed or perhaps untouched by my quip.

Mark and I smiled. It never ceased to amaze us how many people over the course of our time together had asked if he and I are brothers or even twins. We didn't think we even remotely looked like each other.

"Several people have told us that," I replied. 

"Really?" she said. "Well, you do look alike, except that you," she added, pointing at me, "have braces and he doesn't."

Hmmm. I bought the fan.

Meanwhile, I thought it would be appropriate, given the theme of this post, to relate a conversation that Annie, age eight, had yesterday with Mark and me.

"Were you ever married before, Mark?"

"No, Annie, I've only been married once - to your dad."

"Didn't you ever have a wife?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm gay, Annie."

"Do you know what 'gay' means, Annie?" I asked.

"No."

"It means that Mark and I fall in love with men instead of women."

"Oh. What's for dinner?"

Of Haleakala and Hobbits

We thought it would be a good idea to take the kids yesterday up to the crater on top of Haleakala, Maui's volcano. It wasn't. We thought they'd be interested in seeing it and the surrounding views. They weren't. It wasn't fun. The kids moped, as the above picture captures. Mark kept reminding me: "Some day, the kids will look back on this and be glad they'd seen it." Hmmm. We learned: no more road trips of any kind while we're here.

We ate sandwiches when we got back to the condo. Mark and I thought it'd be a good idea to then take the kids to a beach in central Kihei where the waves are fairly gentle. We thought they'd like to boogie board there. They did - for about ten minutes. Then the complaints started. The waves weren't big enough. Levi and Annie bickered. Though the beach stretched for three hundred yards, they clumped together. I finally suggested that Levi stay on one side of Esther and Annie on the other. Then the bickering started about Annie not staying on her side. I momentarily considered slitting my wrists. We left the beach.

The rest of the day went in a better direction. Mark took Aaron and Esther to Big Beach and I stayed in the condo with Levi and Annie. It was quiet and relaxing (because they were in separate rooms). When the others got back, we had a nice dinner provided by Mother Kirkland (Costco). Then, mercifully, it was time to go to bed.

I realized yesterday that the kids are growing up. They have different interests. I had looked forward to one-on-one time with the kids on the beach during this trip. I had, for example, fantasized about sitting with Levi on the beach, building sand castles and talking. I've realized, however, that Levi would much rather spend time in the waves. The time for building sand castles has passed. 

A parent's fantasies about spending time with their children, I realized yesterday, are often just that - fantasies that have more to do with the parent than the child. I hadn't fantasized about sitting with Levi on the couch in the condo on a sunny afternoon watching The Hobbit. However, that's exactly what we did yesterday afternoon, and it was nice.

What Kids Say ... And Don't Say

The kids made some new friends on the beach yesterday, a brother and sister who shared a couple of hours of pure bliss on Big Beach. They didn't even know their names by the time we left, but that didn't stop them from instant bonding. Amazing what kids can do.

And what they can say.

On our way to the beach yesterday morning, I explained that the uninhabited island across from Big Beach was at one time used as a firing range by the military. Aaron's response: "Do you think a nuke could destroy the whole island of Maui?"

Then there was Esther. A Lays potato chip truck passed us on the highway. "Do you think someone would rob a potato chip truck just to get to the potato chips?" I don't think there's an answer to that question.

Silent Sentinel

I continued to be amazed yesterday at how the kids had no fear of the waves. I have seen something in the children that I haven't seen before. They have steadily been becoming less fearful in general as Mark and I have worked to help them realize that the world is not out to get them. But this was something different. They embraced adventure and danger. I think I see much more outdoor adventure in our future together - which means that I'm going to have to do something about my own fear.

Esther and her new friend, with Annie sitting on the beach

They're under there somewhere

Aaron, 12, is growing like a weed

After spending the morning on the beach, we drove up to Lahaina for lunch and some souvenir shopping. This picture pretty much expresses the joy of souvenir shopping.

I wrote above about what kids can say. It can also be amazing about they don't say. When we were in Lahaina, we twice saw an older man - probably about 65 - walking around who was, um, unconventionally dressed - at least by Salt Lake standards. He wore faded purple pants and an equally colorful shirt with peace signs and other jewelry hanging from around his neck, arms, wrists and ankles, with several plastic leis around his neck added for good measure. A glazed look in his eyes, along with unkempt hair and a dirty grey beard stained brown from smoking unfiltered cigarettes - one of which was hanging from his mouth - completed the picture. 

None of the kids said a thing.

Pure Happiness

Yesterday was our first full day of family vacation. We splurged and brought the kids to Maui, completely surprising them. It was and is so worth it. It was their first time on a plane and the first time they've seen open ocean.

Mark, the "wave doctor" took each one of the kids individually into the surf to give them a basic lesson on how to handle waves.

I was amazed at how fearless the children were. I had expected at least some level of fear and anxiety, but we couldn't get them out of the water, not that we tried. My youngest son was being repeatedly tossed about as the waves rolled in. His response: "That's what I'm all about - being tossed around." I had initially expressed a degree of anxiety of my own on their behalf and suggested they simply play at the water's edge. This same son's response: "I didn't come here to play in the sand. I came here to play in the water."

First game of paddleball

A budding movie star

Speaking of movie star ...

I had to end with this picture. Pure happiness.

Falling Over

I fell over yesterday.

In a McDonalds parking lot.

It was embarrassing.

We had stopped in Lahaina to use their restroom. Upon exiting the parking lot, I made a sharp turn at a slow speed, lost my balance, and couldn't get my left shoe out of the pedal in time. Down I went. It was the drive-thru exit, for crying out loud. Right in front of a woman who had just picked up her cheeseburger and fries. She didn't ask if I was ok, but I avoided making eye contact with her.

Fortunately, I landed - hard - on the left side, sparing my bike any injuries. When it came down to it, except for a couple of scrapes, the main injury to myself was my bruised pride. Waaaaa. I thought about taking a selfie, but, no not really, I never thought of that.

We had intended to do another tour all the way around West Maui, but the head and cross winds were so strong that we turned around at 25 miles and headed back to our car.

I can't recall when I last fell over. It's so embarrassing. I did it a few times in my first season cycling - once at a stop light on Wasatch Boulevard, once at the end of my own street.

And then there was that time in Corsica a few years ago. It was the first day of my first cycling tour. The support van had set up on the side of the road mid-morning to provide us all snacks.

Our support van. (This picture was taken on a different morning.)

After a bite, Mark and I got back on our bikes. I, unfortunately, made the decision to lock myself into my pedals before confronting a 6-8" height difference between the dirt shoulder and the asphalt road. Down I went. 

The very first morning! My knee suffered the brunt of the fall and I had some very noticeable scrapes. Fortunately, everyone was still on the other side of the van and didn't see my little accident. When people asked about it later in the day, we told them a wild pig had run out on the road in front of me. They believed me. 

Corsica is known for its wild pigs.