Aside from the requisite wine and cheese (and OK, also coffee and Donkey Balls), the one thing that Rachel was intent on having during this trip was banana pancakes. I cannot hear the words “banana” and “pancakes” in close proximity without recalling the time during my childhood when my ever-frugal father acquired a 40-lb box (maybe it wasn’t actually that big, but it was quite large) of bananas for some ridiculous bargain price. The thing about bananas is they don’t last long, especially when they are bordering on overripe at the time of purchase. My mother baked and froze copious loaves of banana bread, and we ate bananas in almost every conceivable fashion. Banana pancakes sound like something I normally would have liked, but by the time we got around to those, I was suffering from serious banana fatigue and did not enjoy them at all.
But anyway, that was a long time ago, and all of that was simply a prelude to telling you that we went out to breakfast on Sunday morning. Rachel got her pancakes. I had a coconut-blueberry-banana waffle, and we both gladly upgraded to double pineapple mimosas for just two dollars more.
Afterward, we had our sights set on snorkeling and headed to Kīholo Bay. Of course, now everything I read about this place offers advice about appropriate footwear, but at the time I just thought beach=flip flops. This is why doing research before going places is wise. Oh well. I and my feet survived.
The first attraction in Kīholo Bay was the Keanalele Waterhole, a lava tube filled with a mixture of fresh and sea water. The preceding link suggests there was once a ladder for entering and exiting the waterhole, which would have been rather convenient, but it was not present when I was there. Only one of our party (Matthew) had the combination of bravery and appropriate footwear to enter the waterhole. Myself, I was pretty confident that I could get into it. Getting out was what concerned me. Nevertheless, it was cool to see.
As we walked northward along the secluded beach, I alternated between flip-flops and bare feet, unable to decide which was worse, but even foot discomfort could not overshadow the beauty of the place.
Although the shoreline is public, the beach is flanked by several private homes, and Rachel pointed out a sprawling yellowish house as that of Earl Bakken, developer of the first artificial pacemaker. Not far from there, we spotted our first turtle. He (or she) spotted us too and even waved!
“I can’t believe we met the turtle that invented the pacemaker!” Rachel exclaimed as we continued along the beach. Perhaps it wasn’t an entirely accurate statement, but surely, it was the stuff that memories are made of. We never did find a good place to snorkel (I think our timing was simply off), but we saw a few more turtles and lots of crabs.
Next, we headed to Hapuna Beach with hopes of snorkeling there. Alas, it was not meant to be. There were large waves and rip tides, but it was a lovely day to alternate between wading in the water and relaxing on the beach. By the end of our time there, I’m pretty sure I was composed of at least 93% sand.
Once we returned to the condo, we went down to the pool area, which offered a lovely view of the sunset. Meanwhile, to our amusement, an exuberant little girl in want of her cylindrical foam pool accessory repeatedly proclaimed, “I neeeeed my nooooodle!” Indeed, we all need our noodles, and if we use them, perhaps we’ll do something truly remarkable, such as invent a lifesaving medical device, just like that friendly turtle.