In 1980 the Royal Hawaiian Airlines counter at Honolulu Airport was not in the central hub of the main terminal.  It was to a side and in a more quiet area where there was very little activity.  In fact, there were no other customers.

A nice lady dressed in a muumuu smiled and asked if she could help me.  I confidently asked for information on their flights to Maui and she responded with a question.  “Where do you want to fly to on Maui?”  This threw me off a bit as I had expected only one airport.  “Well, I’m not sure”, was my response.  She pulled out a small map and placing it in front of me said, “We fly to Kahalui, Kaanapali and Hana.”  One seemed as good as the other and not wanting to seem to unknowledgeable, I nonchalantly pointed to the first star that caught my attention on the map.  The attendant informed me the next flight to Hana would embark in about 30 minutes and that a ticket would cost $35.00.  “Great!” I thought to myself.  “This is better than I expected!”   I paid for the ticket and she pointed to a door behind her.  “Just go through that door and wait outside.  It won’t be long before the pilot boards you on the plane.”

I lifted my baggage and wondered about what she had said as I followed her instructions and walked out the door to an outside area.  I was mildly surprised because the closest plane was a small Cessna.  There were metal stairs leading up to a side door and a gentleman stood beside it.  He gestured to me and I approached him.  “You going to Hana?” he asked.  “Yes” I responded.  After looking at my ticket he took my baggage and deposited everything in a side hatch door of the plane.  He then turned and looked me up and down for a moment.  I wondered what was going on and then he explained.

“I’ve got five children already on board.  You’re the only other adult besides me so I’m going to have to put you in the co-pilot seat.  That way the plane will keep a good balance.”  I’m an adventurous sort and my excitement grew as I realized my first time on a Cessna would include a front row seat.  My only response was, “OK”.

We boarded the small plane and the pilot escorted me to the cockpit area where he had me settle into the seat next to his.  He then checked on the younger passengers, got everything squared away and came up front to join me.  I can’t remember all the details but it wasn’t long before we were in the air.  The children in back had no adult with them and he explained to me that they were from a foster home on Hana side, Maui.  They had come to Oahu for their annual medical examinations and were now going back home.  Someone would be waiting to pick them up at Hana Airport.

I explained how I hadn’t been in Hawaii for more than a week and that it was my first trip to Maui.  I could tell the pilot enjoyed his work as he began to give me the tour guide routine.  A Cessna flies at a lower altitude and slower speed than most other passenger flights and, with his help, this gave me the opportunity to see Maui in a way that made it seem like a video documentary.  We passed Molokai and approaching Maui, he pointed out the island of Lanai to the right and a little further beyond.  From our position Maui’s, Eke Crater is to the right and the closer of two craters belonging to what is referred to as the “Valley Isle”, but because of its enormous size, Haleakala becomes overwhelming in the background.  It is about 10,000 feet in elevation and inside the actual rim is a landmass of approximately 27 square miles.  With no activity for over 150 years it is considered the largest dormant crater in the world.

Lush assortments of green hues overwhelm the landmass that is covered with natural tropical growth, sugar cane, taro and pineapple.  Far below I could clearly see a few buildings and a small church steeple at what I believe was Kahakuloa, home to some 100 residents.  Further on were the more populated areas of Kahului and Wailuku.  We continued along the coast and flew over Paia.  A little further on was the famous windsurfing area called, Ho’okipa Beach.   Beyond Ho’okipa was a carpet of thick tropical forest, steep cliffs that lead to rocky isolated shorelines and the white of occasional waterfalls.  Time had stopped for me and I was clearly mesmerized by the beauty.  The pilot continued with his explanation of the geographical areas but his voice became a distant background as I became hypnotized by everything I saw below me. 

*              *              *

Maui

“Well, here we are.” he said and soon our elevation dropped as we seemed to be headed for nothing but tree tops.  I was a bit apprehensive as I looked below me and wondered where all the buildings and people were.  There were none in sight and it seemed I had just dropped out of civilization.  I finally realized we were approaching a small runway.  “No wonder I’m in a Cessna”, I thought to myself as I was sure no plane much bigger could have land here.  “Touchdown” and we were finally landing as I could feel the impact of the wheels hitting solid grown.

“Oh-oh”, had I made a mistake?  There was nothing in the area but a very small building.  There wasn’t even a tower.  The pilot lets us all out and directed me to the building.  I think there were a couple of vehicles parked nearby.  The children boarded one and they were soon gone.  The pilot had disappeared.  I was alone.

I walked into the building and was greeted by a friendly local couple who ran the airport and I think there was a two way radio behind the counter.   My duffle bag and sleeping bag were just inside the door.  “Is someone picking you up?”  The woman asked.  “No”, I answered and then added more to myself, “There’s nothing here!”  I didn’t know what to do.  They apparently had a passenger list and saw my name on it.  “You are Gilbert Belmudez?” she asked me.  I answered affirmatively.  “We know a Filipino family from Oahu with a name close to that spelling but it is ‘Bermudez’.  Are you related?”  “No.” I quietly answered and then began to tell them the whole story of my arrival to Hawaii and how I really didn’t have a clue where I would be once I arrived on Maui.  “I don’t know what to do?” I said.

The two of them spoke with each other low enough where I couldn’t hear what they were saying.  Then the woman turned to me and said, “Well, we have some avocado sandwiches and coffee.  I’m sure you’re hungry so please eat first and then we will talk.”

They were good to me and the food calmed me down.  It was getting late in the day and I had to do something.  The woman then explained that about one mile up the road was Hana Highway.  If I walked up there and then turned left, I could travel along the road for about a half a mile until I reached Honokalani, a road that turned off to the left.  From there it would be about another half mile to Wai’a’napanapa State Park.  She told me the park had a campground but staying there required a permit from the other side of the island.  It was obvious I didn’t have one.  There was another local couple who were there friends and the caretakers of the park.  The woman called them and after a short conversation she instructed me to introduce myself once I got to the park.  They would already know who I was and for the night, forgo the permit.

The duffle bag was a bit heavy and I asked if I could leave it until the next day.  My one goal was to just settle in for a good night’s rest.  “Just make sure and come back” they said.  I then thanked them for their hospitality and stepped out to begin my long walk up to the highway.

It was April, 1980 and late in the day.  I don’t know if that had anything to do with it but when I found Hana Highway what I expected to be a road busy with traffic was instead very quiet with no traffic whatsoever.  I really should have been miserable but how could I be?  The large trees shaded many parts of the road and the wet foliage was clean from a recent rain.  Blooming flowers were abundant and the air was pungent with the sweet smell of blossoms and over ripe tropical fruit.

I reached Wai’a’napanapa and found a cabin with the word “Office” on the door and knocked.  A Hawaiian woman answered and I introduced myself letting her know I was the one her friend had called about from the airport.  She pointed out a fairly large grassy area and told me I could lay out my camp sight anywhere there.  I was grateful to spot a public bathroom facility in the direction she had pointed.  “Do you have a tent?” she asked as she looked at my rolled up sleeping bag.  “No” I answered and she informed me I for sure would be wet by morning time.  “I guess I’ll take my chances” I answered and then thanked her as I walked away.  There were two tents pitched apart from each other in the designated area.  I stopped by the nearest one and introduced myself.  They were a local couple from the big island who had just decided to come to Hana for a camping excursion.  It grew dark fairly fast and after visiting with them for a while I decided to walk away for a distance before I spread out my sleeping bag for a good night’s sleep.

I was exhausted.  The grass was thick and it felt so good to lie in my sleeping bag as I gazed up at the stars.  It was now pitch black and without any light to distort my view, I found myself looking up at more stars than ever in my lifetime.  Bright and diamond like, they blanketed the sky from horizon to horizon.  I had never seen the Milky Way so clearly and the view can gives someone from the city an entirely different perspective on what the universe is really about.  I truly felt as if I had gone to heaven.  Stress and the aches of walking seemed to just melt away from my body.  If ever I were to tell anyone what cleansing means to me, this first night on Maui would be included in my description.

Something happened between the points in time when I was fully awake and the moment when I began to drift into a blissful sleep.  Something that to this day no one can convince me was just imagined.  There were the distant sounds of ocean surf and the rustling of leaves as a decent wind made its way through the area but there was something else I will never forget.  It was the sound of human voices chanting and there was a rhythmic beat as if someone were hitting the skin of a drum.  Although I knew nothing of the Hawaiian language, I was sure that was what I was listening to.  It was both mysterious and beautiful.  Healing and spiritual.  Embracing and penetrating.  I soon was fast asleep.

*              *              *

Sometime in the middle of the night I awakened startled as I experienced what sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding through the nearby trees and coming in my direction!  I panicked and fumbled for the zipper of my sleeping bag when suddenly, from overhead, came a torrent of rain pouring down on me as if bucket after bucket of water were being released!  “O my gaud!” I screamed to myself as I realized my first tropical cloud burst.  It took me but a second to get my bearings and scooping up my possessions I made a mad dash for the roof covered public bathroom.  No pun intended but once inside I instantly felt relieved.  Although the rain seemed to pass as fast as it had appeared, the remainder of the night was spent on the dry and welcomed concrete floor.

Morning came and I obviously awoke a bit stiff but otherwise in decent shape.  Once again the sun was out and I spread what I could on the grass to dry.  I walked over to the campers I had met the evening before and they bid me with a “good morning.”  “How was your night?” one of them asked.  “A bit wet” I answered and then proceeded to tell them about the chanting I had heard.  “Did you hear also?” I asked.  “We didn’t hear a thing.” One of them then pointed to an area close to where I had slept.  “Do you know what that is?” he asked me.  I looked and it was obvious he was pointed at a burial area scattered with weather worn headstones and other assorted markers.  He explained this was an ancient burial site of Hawaiian ancestors.  I looked at the marker that said, “Honokalani Cemetery”.  Then he added, “Maybe the chanting was for you.”

*              *              *

There is a simpler explanation but one which I will not go into depth out of respect and because I am in no way an expert.  Let me just say I believe in freedom of worship.  Perhaps what I actually heard were “locals” practicing their cultural beliefs with Hula as the form of expression.  With few devices of modern civilization as an obstruction, the sound of such a ceremony could have reached me from some distance.  Regardless, the experience was truly a blessing.   Comments