At 7 p.m. on a moonless night, I’m standing on the dive platform of
the Hula Kai, anchored 50 yards off Hawai’i’s Kona Coast. In front of us, the well-lit Sheraton Keauhou Bay illuminates the shoreline, but out here, the sea is as dark as the sky above. The black water at my feet doesn’t bother me as much as the thought of the enormous creatures I’m about to join down there. Zipping my wetsuit and strapping on mask and snorkel, I jump in
and paddle to a large fl oating ring where a dozen other snorkelers hang face down in the water. Floodlights on the ring illuminate the water below us, creating a brightly lit undersea stage. After fi ve minutes of grasping the ring while gazing down into
an otherwise empty patch of sea, I spot a huge form with 14-foot wingspan gliding out of the murk and swimming directly under our fl oat. The fi rst giant manta ray of the evening has arrived. Soon three more join to feed on microscopic plankton attracted to
the light, and for the next hour we witness a timeless underwater ballet at close range as they arc and somersault while funneling food into their gaping mouths. Manta rays were plying these waters when the fi rst Polynesian
seafarers arrived centuries ago and today they still follow the ageless rhythms of their ancestors.
Island royalty
The morning after my manta ray encounter, a 20-minute drive up the road takes me to Pu’uhonua o Honaunau National Historic Park, the largest of these coastal sites. Built around A.D. 1550, this complex of heiaus and fi shponds was an important residence for royal chiefs. Today it’s a peaceful place where honu (green sea turtles) come to sun on the sand and some of the island’s best snorkeling awaits along the rocky shoreline. From the Kona Coast, I
drive to Hilo and the wet side of the island for a more recent slice of old Hawai’i. The walkable downtown district is a hodgepodge of building styles from the sugar plantation era of the early 1900s. Today it’s home to restaurants, hip boutiques, and surf shops. But the prize for most atmospheric shopping experience goes to Hilo Farmer’s Market. Every Wednesday and Friday
An offering to Pele, Goddess of Fire and Volcanoes, lies along the rim of Kilauea Caldera in Volcanoes National Park.
East meets West island-style as Hawai’ian aunties, sun- bronzed surfers, Laotian ladies, dreadlocked hippies, and pale tourists mingle among the lilikoi (passion fruit) jelly, strawberry papayas, and macadamia nut goat’s cheese. The market has a clear link to the past in the many Japanese and Filipino vendors who can trace their island roots back more than a century to when their ancestors arrived to labor in the sugar cane fi elds. I wander, taste samples, and
leave with a couple of apple bananas and some smoked ahi (tuna) for the drive north.
GI Spam and
other newcomers I continue my search for local food with a connection to
28 EnCompass January/February 2012
www.AAA.com
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