Oceania: Day 8: 7-10-94: Kauai: Power Rafting Along The Ne Pali Coast

Wow! I've finally caught up in my journal (thank God, too, for I've had to overly strain my memory the past few days, and my brain is quite taxed). Anyway, I arose at the crack of dawn this morning and packed everything up for my flight to Kauai. I had the good fortune to be traveling with the Shaw family to the airport. I exchanged addresses with them during the taxi ride.

We parted at the airport, and I boarded my plane to Kauai. Unlike my longish stay on the Big Island, my schedule only allowed for a single day on Kauai. But thanks to Scott and Shawna (see day #1), I already knew the activity I most wanted to do on the island. According to S & S, the Ne Pali Coast is incredibly breathtaking (a site not to be missed!) -- they recommended that I take a tour on a power raft (a raft equipped with two powerful outboard motors) operated by an outfit called Captain Zodiac. I had already called the previous day to make arrangements: I reserved a spot on the 3:15 tour, as well as lodging at The Sleeping Giant, a local hostel. My plane was due to land at 10:45, which would give me plenty of time to drop my bags at the hostel and get to the raft launch.

Or so I thought . . .

I landed at the Kauai Airport on time, but that is the only thing that went smoothly. The trouble began when I attempted to contact the hostel to ask them to come pick me up. No one answered on their end, although someone certainly had to be there. I kept redialing several times, and it took a full 15 minutes until the manager finally picked up the phone -- when he did, he didn't give me the news I wanted to hear. The manager told me that the hostel wasn't going to come get me, but rather, I'd have to use the Aniki Express shuttle bus for transportation. The shuttle bus would take me from the airport to the hostel for free, but there was a catch: they didn't allow backpacks (can you imagine?!). I was told that I would have to lock my backpack in the airport locker until 6:00 p.m., when one of the hostel workers would go to the airport to retrieve it.

What a pain in the ass!

So I trudged back through the airport, locked up my pack and waited . . . and waited . . . etc. I stood outside for over an hour, but the shuttle bus never appeared. Now I know it was a Sunday, and the bus might be running on a truncated schedule, but this was ridiculous! I was starting to get worried that I'd miss out on my big tour, so I called the hostel back. The same manager answered the phone, made a transparently insincere apology about giving me some "bad information" (the shuttle bus, in fact, no longer ran on Sundays), and told me that he'd have someone over in 20 minutes to pick me up. I grunted my thanks, hiked back to the other end of the airport, took my backpack out of storage, and returned outside to wait once more.

Within 40 minutes or so, a beat-up car arrived and I got my first glimpse of Dave, a stereotypical California Surfing Dude (he even said "Bitchin'!"), who, by his own (proud) admission, was currently collecting a year's worth of unemployment as he enjoyed Hawaii's surf, sun and sand. I disliked him immediately. As we rode to the hostel, Dave gave me more bad news: it wasn't just the shuttle bus that was off duty -- no buses ran on Sundays. Moreover, the Captain Zodiac office was a half-hour drive away, and a local cab would cost me a budget-breaking $30 each way (!).

By the time we arrived at the hostel it was 1:00 (could I really have landed over 2 hours ago?), and I was as frustrated as Hell. I only had a couple of hours before my tour began, and I was either going to have to shell out the exorbitant cab fee, or start walking, if I wanted to make the 3:15 raft. Then that scheming slacker Dave came in for the kill: "Well there IS one other option," he confided -- "I could drive you . . ." (my eyes lit up) . . . "for the right price" (they clouded over again). Now I hate haggling, and I despised him for charging me, but I was desperate, so I offered $10. He laughed, and he said that he "really couldn't do it for any less than $30." I winced and told him to forget it.

I spent the next hour trying every way I could to reschedule my rafting trip and/or my plane ride to Honolulu the next day. But I couldn't work it out. The only positive thing to come of my efforts was that Dave -- seeing that a quick & easy payday might be slipping away, as I was clearly pursuing other options -- dropped his asking price to $20. I loathed every red cent I gave him, but pay him I did. We chatted on the ride over, and I got to know Dave a little better -- almost to the point where I didn't hate him.

Dave dropped me off at Captain Zodiac, and I registered for the tour. It was here that I had the pleasure of meeting the very voluptuous Sonjia, one of the rafting guides. I quickly found out as much as I could about her. Originally from Oregon, Sonjia had now lived in Hawaii for 11 years. She was currently in university, studying to be, of all things, a kindergarten teacher (bless my stars, a commonality!). In the midst of our conversation, Sonjia asked me how I planned to get down to the launch site at the beach (geez . . . I hadn't thought of that -- I had assumed it was included in the tour). I told her I didn't know, and before I knew it, she offered to drive me. My day was suddenly getting better.

We continued to converse easily on our ride down to the beach. When we arrived, Sonjia stripped down to her bathing suit . . . and my jaw dropped. There before me, busting out of a blessedly skimpy bikini top, in all their generous, well-rounded glory, were the nicest pair of (censored/edit) -- well, let's just say that Sonjia had an ample bosom. After my heart was resuscitated, Sonjia and I walked down to the beach where the rafts were sitting.

While waiting for the other tourists to arrive, Sonjia jumped in the ocean for a swim. I watched. Then, I took a turn in the water to cool off -- it was a gorgeous, clear day (Sonjia remarked that it was the best weather day of the year, to date) and the heat was intense. Climbing back on shore, I took my first real look at my surroundings. Nice! Now, this was a beach! Unlike the commercial, overcrowded beaches of Waikiki, this place looked like a scene out of South Pacific (in fact, it was). Sparsely populated and beautifully decorated with swaying palm trees, sugar sand and sparkling blue water (with towering green cliffs providing a majestic backdrop), Kauai's beachfront made me feel for the first time that I was truly in paradise.

--------------------------A Picture Perfect Postcard Day------------------

-------------------------------------My Raft----------------------------------------

Soon my fellow rafters came, and we all made our way on board the Zodiac. I headed to the front, where Sonjia said the best and roughest ride could be had. Though truthfully, sandwiched as I was between Sonjia and a drop-dead gorgeous Polynesian girl in a thong, I didn't care if we ever left the beach.

But leave the beach we did, and oh, what sights we saw! First we scoped out some native ocean life: we watched a family of sea turtles swim under our raft and we saw hundreds of creepy looking crabs (what our uproarious captain, Mike, jokingly [but convincingly] labeled "poisonous sea tarantulas") skittering on some rocky outcroppings. Then Mike gave us some information about the thousand-foot cliffs with deeply cut vertical valleys that dominated the Ne Pali coastline. Most people see the cliffs via raft/boat or helicopter, as their is no coastal road for vehicles and the foot path is under water 6 months out of every year. Interestingly, the cliffs have provided a stunning backdrop for a variety of television and film projects, including scenes from Fantasy Island (the title sequence waterfall shot), South Pacific, The Thorn Birds, Jurassic Park and Raiders of The Lost Ark.

-----------------------------Welcome to Fantasy Island!--------------------

Finally, we came to the part of the tour I had been anticipating most -- the main reason I had slapped down $55: we went under the cliffs into the dark sea caves, giant lava tubes cut far into the mountainside. The captain surely gave me my money's worth, as he obligingly went through each sea cave twice -- once as quick as lightning for the sheer thrill of it, and once nice and slow, so that photo enthusiasts (like myself) could snap pictures. One of the sea caves had an opening on top, through which a glorious sunlit waterfall poured. Mike gave us time for a short, refreshing cave swim before we headed back. [Point of interest: legend has it that one of these sea caves (near the true life area of Hanalei) was the inspiration for "Puff, The Magic Dragon" -- though the substance that Peter, Paul and Mary were puffing at the time undoubtedly contributed.]

-------------------------------Entering A Sea Cave---------------------------

-------------------------------Inside The Sea Cave---------------------------

If our outbound trip had been designed to titillate our senses with the sights and sounds of Kauai, the return trip was meant to get our adrenaline pumping. We cruised over the choppy waves at tremendous speed, and I white-knuckled it all the way home. The raft slapped my bottom and the water slapped my face the entire ride (Just to make sure I was thoroughly soaked, Mike purposely manipulated my section of the craft under one of the rushing waterfalls!). Long before we arrived back at the beach, I knew my money, and my one day on Kauai, had been well spent.

The only disappointment of the afternoon was discovering that Sonjia had a boyfriend (just as I was about to exchange addresses, too!). Oh, well. At least she gave me some mammaries (err . . . memories) I'll never forget.

As promised, Dave picked me up and drove me back to The Sleeping Giant hostel.

Speaking of The Sleeping Giant, I have to admit that I really didn't like the place (it wasn't just Dave, though he was undeniably part of the reason). The whole atmosphere was wrong. No one was very helpful (unless you paid for it!), and there weren't any organized hikes or dinners. Moreover, the hostel was not set up in such a way as to be conducive to meeting people. Ah -- maybe Arnott's just spoiled me. I guess any place would be a let down after that.

In any case, I did manage to eke out a little enjoyment by playing a couple hours of free pool (the warped table and tipless cue sticks were the only amenities the hostel offered). First I played against an American (his name eludes me), and then I played a German man named Warner (pronounced Verner). I hope Warner doesn't give up his day job, as I won every single game (at least two dozen) we played. But he was a nice enough guy. Ultimately, we tired of the sport and called it a night.