Misc Last Pics from Kaua'i

Misty morning in Waimea canyon

At the end of Honopu ridge trail in Koke'e, overlooking part of the western coast of the island. The Kalalau trail ends about 3,000 feet below here and goes 11 miles north along the Na Pali coast.

Brah Jim and I at the end of Honopu ridge trail


Taro root pie from McDonald's

Aaron dumping a bucket of water on Izzi on a hot day

Keesha watching

Anahola beach at the end of the bike ride from Kealea

Spring rolls from Blossoming Lotus

Izzi and Annekin on a hike up Sleeping Giant

Hike to Wai'ale'ale Crater 7/7/07

Wai'ale'ale crater. The scale here is hard to capture, but that cliff face ahead is about 2-3 thousand feet tall

Nice swimming pool at the end of the tough hike

Apple bananas! Got this bunch at the farmers' market in Kapa'a

The green curry from the Blossoming Lotus

Cruising in the island cruiser, my purple shirt matching the windows' tinting

Biking south of Kalaheo

The hike to Makeleha Falls 7/4

This was a tough hike on an unofficial trail and for a mile or so through a stream. It had sweet waterfall views though.

An old stone wall reclaimed by the jungle

The end of the hike

Tour of Hindu Monestary in Wailua 7/3/07

The temple being built from rocks carved entirely by hand

Sanskrit meditation prayer

The waterfall where the monks wash themselves

Pics from the Hills to the West of Wailua

a sensitive plant (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimosa_pudica)

some wild pigs down the street from the apt

One of the rudraksha seeds from which sacred Hindu beads are made

In the sacred forest, the only rudraksha grove in the US (more info)

The Moroccan tofu at the Blossoming Lotus

Geckos in Obscure Light

Here's a poem from the New Yorker I cut out and put on the fridge. It's pretty fitting for the place I'm staying where the geckos run all over the place, inside and out, and you can hear them chirping loudly at night.

Geckos in Obscure Light
by William Logan
April 23, 2007

Tentative, greedy, by night they came,
drawn to the insects drawn to the light.

Their shadow organs pulsed
beneath bellies distended as Falstaff’s,

backs a tarnished armor studded
with the rosettes of some obscure disease.

What of their victims, the cannon fodder,
Welsh soldiery thrown each night

against the muzzle flare? Ragged, high-strung moths,
green lacewings streamlined like F-16s—

the geckos, like great officers and kings,
took them into their mouths, more or less

at leisure, with a gratifying snap.
Silently, of course, through the pane of glass,

where death comes only on a smaller scale.

(copied from http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2007/04/23/070423po_poem_logan)

The best rope swing ever, and a sea turtle

Sea turtle at Ke'e beach

Pete and I swinging off the best rope swing ever, at Kipu Falls