My first visit to Hawai’i was magical, like out of a traveler’s daydream. Kaua’i is a pristine paradise of surf, sand, cliffs and waterfalls. I was determined to try everything I’d never done, to push myself out of my comfort zone and into the fabric of Kaua’i. From surfing to waterfall cliff jumping and hiking, it was only after I got home that I realized I had learned much more from each activity than just the obvious. Somehow, I’d learned how to live just a bit more.
Local life is just different there. People seem to be working hard at being alive, not at earning money, fame or prestige. There’s an engagement and enjoyment of the land, water and air that I don’t see where I’m from. Aloha, anyone?
Not a thing per se, but an idea, an intention, I learned that Aloha signifies much more than hi and bye. It also stands for love, compassion, peace, affection and even for mercy. What a word. So short but so full of meaning.
If you allow yourself to embrace its full meaning, you start to spot Aloha all around you, in everything and everyone. Check out the 5 amazing Aloha-infused life lessons I took home while I thought I was just having fun. What better souvenir than that?
Surf: Think Less, Go More Poipu Beach
Two hours. 10 seconds. The first is the total amount of time I was out in the waters of Poipu Bay clinging to a surf board. The second is the total amount of time I was on my feet. No one will ever convince me I wasn’t flying toward the sandy, pebbled beach at 60 mph. It was more like 5 mph.
Surfing is terrifying. And thrilling. And difficult. My instructor, a 20-something blonde boy so tan he looked organically brown. A 100-watt smile, he and I immediately hit it off when I called him ‘bro’ and then quickly confirmed that I use the word all the time, not just in Hawai’i with surfers. He laughed and we would have easy conversation ever after.
He coached me to stand up three times for that total of 10 seconds, which he said should be considered victory – anything over 5 seconds is gold. There were the tips that we all received on land and then again in water: look forward, put your back foot up first, keep a wide and side-facing stance. But he noticed something about me and offered me a simple tip: don’t think so much.
“Don’t think so much,” he said more than once. Had we met before? How did he know? It was written all over me: my words, my posture and body language. “Don’t think so much, just jump up, just go.” It doesn’t take Freud, Oprah or Dr. Phil to know that’s a global recommendation.
I over think everything: relationships, work projects, new ideas, even this article. Sometimes thinking too much helps, but often it hurts. Or maybe it doesn’t hurt, it just prevents: prevents acceleration, momentum, spontaneity. Tell him you love him, sell your art, commit to that deadline – none of these things happen with a good dose of over thinking.
When I was able to force my brain into foggy clarity, slat wiped clean, it worked. He treaded water to my left waiting for the right wave. I couldn’t see behind me, but he could and knew that a good one was coming. He stopped giving me forewarning, knowing it would cause worry.
This time he just pushed me and said, “Go, now. Paddle, now. Just go,” and I did. The water ahead crashed into me while I tried to outrun the water behind. I heard him scream, “Stand up, stand up now. Just go!” And I did. I don’t remember anything but water and shore coming toward me at what felt like 90 mph. And yet, everything inside slowed. My thoughts didn’t race, but my heart did.
It was over so quickly. What a triumph, woman over water. It takes an awful lot of work not to think.
Stand Up Paddle Board: Be decisive Hanalei Bay
OG. This guy would definitely be described as a surf and SUP OG. He was in his mid-forties at least with a zinc-covered nose and a lulling Cali-Hawaiian accent so mellow it could rock a baby to sleep. He taught surf, SUP and kayaking and rode a bike around town shirtless. Normal.
As an overachiever, my goal is always to impress or beat anyone in athletics. Not the skinniest of chicks, I think I always want to prove that fitness and size aren’t the same thing. So we got along, because he hated lazy tourists. Right off the bat he applauded my stance and strength and resolve to get back on whenever I fell off.
We paddled down the Hanalei River and into the Bay which collided with the Pacific Ocean rather aggressively. I don’t recall falling until the ocean currents started sweeping in from the right as we maneuvered around the coast. All of a sudden, I was falling every two minutes. I decided to take a knee to paddle for a while, having trouble staying on foot.
I’ll never forget what he said. “You’re not really trying,”.
Excuse me? I thought. I’m paying this guy to guide me, not insult me. I responded that I definitely was trying. He disagreed and said very explicitly: “are you this indecisive all the time?”
“You cannot hesitate, you cannot waver, you have to paddle hard and decisively into the current. Otherwise, you will go down every time. I know you can do this, you are so strong, your form is so good. Decide.”
Wow. To this day I remember his challenge and how weak and shaky my legs felt after 90 minutes on the ocean, battling waves and self-doubt. This rugged surf dude right out of Point Break (non criminal version I’m sure) just broke it down and he wasn’t wrong.
So, I wobbled to my feet and literally stabbed that water with an intention and fury I haven’t witnessed in myself since. And it worked. When we finally finished, I told him not to freak out but that I appreciated his words, that they meant something to me spiritually, mentally. We hugged and he wondered if I was Brazilian. Nope. But I felt pretty damn Amazonian after that.
Kayak: Trust Your Partner Wailua River
Trust is not my thing, never has been. Whether in the most intimate of romantic relationships or the most platonic of new acquaintances, I always assume the worst. Surprised? For all the new age, feel good mumbo jumbo that I hope for and observe in life, I’m a skeptic at heart always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Partner kayaking probably not the right sport for me, then.
I paired with a friend of a friend who had been kayaking since his youth in New York and New England. He took the rear spot, reserved for the more experienced person who will need to do most of the steering, stopping and turning. That left me in front.
I’ve never been on a kayak in my life. Maybe when I went to Girl Scout Camp in middle school I canoed? Surely. But never this. It was cozy and more secure than it looked. Gliding up the river, coasting with gentle waves rocking us ever so slightly side-to-side, it would have been an incredible silent ride. But we both talked way too much so that was never going to happen.
We paddled two miles toward a trail head where we would leave the boats, hike 1.5 very muddy miles and then picnic at the famous and not so secret Secret Falls. Then we would hike and kayak back for a round trip. It was incredible scenery and evidence of everything amazing about Kaua’i. Our guide hiked barefoot and we took photos under the falls, a little dangerous since at any time rocks could come crashing down on our heads. The water crushed down anyway, at a force that felt like dozens of pounds on my head and neck. It was freezing but worth it.
Every now and then I would vocalize concern about our speed or our location or getting turned around and my partner would tell me not to worry. By the end, i had learned to kayak and he had kept us from getting lost in the wilderness. Sometimes we have no choice but to trust those around us. The trick now is trusting even when I don’t have to.
Waterfall Jump: Courage Over Fear Ho’opi’i Falls
There are many thoughts that go through one’s mind when considering jumping from a 25-foot waterfall. After hiking in two miles to get to the locals-popular falls, there was no way I was going to chicken out, but wow it looked a little shorter from afar.
Like the stages of grief, the mental processing of this act runs the spectrum from extreme confidence to extreme little bitch, after which you essentially say “Fuck it,” close your eyes and jump.
That’s basically how it happened for me, anyway.
I remember my heart pounding so hard that I thought it was going to come out of my chest. I remember worrying that I might actually die if I didn’t jump forward enough to avoid the flat rocks just below. I remember knowing that I would eventually jump but hoping I could postpone it as long as possible.
After I landed in the water and adjusted my swim bottoms due to extreme altitude water wedgie, I remember feeling like the baddest MF on the planet, having conquered nature and shit. It was an incredible sense and I remember screaming and squealing like a child. The local kids who were there doing backflips and dives rolled their eyes but I didn’t care. I felt accomplished.
I don’t know that I ever feel that feeling in regular life. What chances have I taken that so scare me, that so compel me that I squeal afterwards? Perhaps those chances don’t always have to be life-endangering or exotic, but shouldn’t I be taking more of them?
Hike: Find Without Seeking Kalepa Ridge Trail, Koke’e State Park
The Na’Pali Coast of Kaua’i is the stuff of legends and Hollywood backdrop. Impossible to explain and ridiculous to try and capture via even film, it’s a mash up of greens, blues, browns and golds that will have your eyes playing catch up to take it all in.
My first day in Kaua’i I took a boat trip along the coast, flying through the rough waters at top speed (which left some day-trippers using the barf bag, sadly). And mid-week I hiked the Kalepa Ridge Trail in a state park with incredible views overlooking that same Na’Pali wilderness.
My approaches to round trip hikes is simple: way-in, take my time, take photos, take in the scenery; way-out, hoof it and make a workout of it. On the way in I intentionally slowed to get to the back of the pack, searching hungrily for some solitude with the surrounds.
Walking along a cliff’s edge, it seemed at any moment like I could sail over the edge and be deep in the once volcanic terrain. Around every sharp corner, some new vista would appear, or a different vantage point for something I’d already peeped before. One particular bend opened up into the most awesome view of the rocky coastal landscape. It was a postcard view before my very own eyes.
I sat down as close to the edge as I dared and just thought. Actually, I talked to myself for a while, about my goals and hopes and worries. I talked to the ridge, I guess, with all my inner phrases spilling out into the air. The sun was shining down on me and a breeze caressed my face slowing moving the errant strands of hair that any good hike will dislodge.
That’s a moment I’ll never forget. And it came from nowhere, when I wasn’t expecting to be surprised, amazed and embraced. It was just there, whether I was looking for it or not. Such is life.
