I awoke to a tropical morning a day less than two weeks before the Big One. When I say the big one, of course, I am describing none other than the legendary Hawaii Ironman Triathlon. To describe this race in any mortal terms would be unjust. Thus, I go along with its lingual nickname--the ONE that is BIG--a simple two word reference that can only be filled in by a live experience in Kona on the Saturday closest to the full moon of October. I mention the Big One as a reference in time, for it acted as my personal reference during my journey to the Big Island.
On this particular morning, after a night of sleeping under the waxing moon, I found myself near Kealakekua Bay on Kona side. Lush vegetation surrounded the hills above the bay, which stretched for a mile across. I made my way down in elevation on narrow, winding roads to Napo'opo'o Beach for an informal gathering of the tribes. The occasion was a low-key, two-mile open water swim.
Kealakekua Bay was the sight of Captain James Cook's first, and last, landing on the island of Hawaii. He actually died there in 1779 after relations with the natives soured. What remains today is a memorial for the sea captain and a peaceful marine sanctuary. Napo'opo'o Beach was once there as well, one of Hawaii's black sand beaches. I say it was once there because the black sand is now covered by black lava rocks, a'a and pahoehoe. The beauty of volcanic islands is ever changing, sculpting, and remodeling.
Kamehameha the Great was even helped out by one of the active volcanoes, Kilauea, in his rise to power. When a rival's party of soldiers retreated past the crater, many were consumed by a sudden eruption which quickly remodeled the trail they were on. But, it was the beautiful Kealakekua Bay where the young Kamehameha, born in 1758, spent his formative years in the high chief's royal court. The island's high chief was none other than his uncle, Kalaniopuu. Kamehameha's fierceness made him one of Kalaniopuu's greatest generals. After his uncle's death in 1782, Kamehameha set out to concur all of the islands. Upon consummating his rule several years later, he called the entire kingdom (except for Kauai, which remained outside of it) Hawaii, after the name of his home island.
Kealakekua, which means 'Path of the Gods', seemed a spiritual place that Sunday morning, as would any secluded beach in paradise surrounded by lush vegetation and the smell of sea salt sprayed by crashing waves against a rock wall. Religious structures stood amongst the Banyan trees and orchids, recording the turn from the old religion to Christianity after Kamehameha's death in 1819.
One by one, a small group of swimmers formed. Some were local islanders; others were pilgrimaging triathletes from the other side of the world. Germans, Brits, Aussies; Californians, Coloradoans, and Hawaiians--all were there to swim on a glorious morning, some to take a dip in the ocean before biking back to Kailua-Kona. The organizers walked over to the middle of the "beach" and perched the official timing clock between two of the lava rocks that covered the shoreline. A man with a megaphone called everyone to shore and shouted the instructions, "Okay, when I say go, swim across the bay, touch the Cook Memorial--that white structure you can just make out over there--and come back. The distance is two miles. Ready...GO!"
We were off. I went out easy, eager to enjoy my first swim in the tropics--and it was fabulous! The tepid water felt comfortable on my skin and I could see to the bottom of the clear, blue bay. I tried to keep a decent pace, but was pleasantly distracted several times. I watched a school of fish, exhibiting more colors than a rainbow, swim beneath me. I was tempted to dive down and follow them on their journey. But, I stuck to my course on the surface. Halfway across I had the pleasure of observing a school of much larger fish when numbers of decent sized spinner dolphins revealed their beauty and strength. Underneath me and in close proximity, I watched with awe as the long, narrow billed swimmers flexed their strong fins and flew through the water.
For an entire mile my swim continued like this, free from pool walls and lane ropes, with the view of fish and dolphins, coral and rocks. When I reached the wall of the Cook Memorial, where jokes about doing a flip turn were exchanged, I turned around and headed back. My tongue became parched from the salt water and my armpits worn dry (never underestimate the utility of petroleum jelly). Nevertheless, I enjoyed every minute of it.
I returned to the rocky shore from where we started and found that the surf had picked up. A group of finished swimmers congregated off shore and, with the help of the organizers on shore, a few at a time precariously stepped across the jagged lava rocks between waves. The harmony and gracefulness felt in the water was temporarily put on hold during the first steps back on land. Caution was exercised since nobody wanted to end a refreshing morning dip by being slammed into the sharp and blunt edges of hard shoreline rocks. Once safely ashore, a woman recorded names and times for the official (unofficial) tally of results.
By then, the morning was in full bloom and an exciting day laid ahead. Good workout, I thought, and what a way to see the bay--Kealakekua Bay.