Around the Big Island

Snorkelin' time

Tane and Maureen have gone out of their way to show us the island. They knew any trip to Hawai'i wouldn't be complete without a day at the beach, so we all went down to Two Step, their favorite nearby snorkeling spot. Contrary to our preconceptions, the Big Island of Hawai'i is not surrounded by tranquil sandy beaches. There are a few, but most of the shoreline is rough, jagged lava rocks with assertive waves.

Typical Hawaiian beach

A sea cucumber and sea urchins in a tidal pool

While Two Step isn't a sandy beach, there are two convenient platforms descending into the surf, hence the name. The snorkeling was incredible, the second you were in the water it was like swimming in an aquarium, flying over a coral reef surrounded by parrot fish, angel fish, trumpet fish, and other colorful denizens. It was Holly's first time snorkeling, and as breathing through a tube got a bit tiresome, she went and relaxed on the beach while Randy continued exploring to his heart's content. One potential danger when swimming is sea urchins, which inhabit most crevices and stick their barbed spines into your unsuspecting appendages. We both got stuck at different times, and although it hurts for the first ten minutes, after a while you can't really feel it and the spines dissolve in a few days.

Randy

A few days later Tane had heard that two feet of snow had fallen on nearby Mauna Kea, and he wanted to take a look from afar. On the way there he explained that it is not uncommon for people here to drive to higher elevations and see the frozen phenomenon. Some would even pack snow into their pickups and haul it down to the 85 degree coastal towns, where they quickly build out-of-place snowmen and pelt unsuspecting passersby with snowballs. Unfortunately, the cloud cover obscured our view of the snow-capped peak from our roadside lookout. Luckily, by simply turning around and facing the ocean, we were able to see several whales frolicking in the bay.

A zipper spider, named after the
telltale white zigzag in its web

Edible flowers (dianthes, nasturtium
fuschia, marigolds, pansies)

We also spotted a small herd of goats grazing on the sparse grass in a nearby lava field. Since Hawai'i is an island and relatively young (only 400,000 years), there are no indigenous wild mammals. However, rats, goats, boars, donkeys, and cows have jumped ship or fence over the years, and have fully embraced island life. Rats were stowaways in the days of wooden ships, and having no natural predators, have taken over the local ecosystem. In an attempt to control this outbreak, mongooses were introduced to the island in 1883. However, mongooses, being diurnal, rarely crossed paths with the nocturnal rats (two ships passing in the night, or day, as it were), and now the mongooses have developed into a similar scourge. A more recent example of invasive species to the fragile Hawaiian ecosystem is the coqui frogs (stowaways on potted plants), who now dominate the evening cacophony. Hawai'i's native fauna consists mostly of birds and insects, 90 percent of which are endemic (existing nowhere else in the world). Although they are not native, we have especially enjoyed observing the ever-present geckos as they scamper around (possibly on you if you sit still long enough).

Dragonfruit resembles a cactus-kudzu cross

Tree tomato

Jackfruit

Rambutan

While Hawaii's island climate can be conducive to invasive species, it's also perfect for cultivating a plethora of tropical fruits. One of our main goals for this world-wide journey is to try as many crazy fruits and vegetables as possible, and Hawaii has risen to the challenge deliciously. So far we have tried rambutan, a spikier version of the unfortunately-out-of-season lychee; jackfruit, a 18" long latexey fruit filled with pockets of juicy-fruit flavored nuggets;

Harvesting every last loquat

 passionfruit, as delicious as it is sloppy to eat; loquats, which you peel with your teeth and taste like dried pear; dragonfruit, which grows on a rambling cactus vine; tree tomatoes, a delicously sweet perennial member of the nightshade family; and longan, a nut-looking fruit that tasted like a less-sweet rambutan; and while we've tasted them before, nothing compares to papaya and mango fresh off the tree. We also collected one other fruit when we were in town.

A noni fruit and a fan

When we described the potato-sized yellow-green spotted fruit, Tane and Maureen were unsure of what it was. But, when we mentioned its odor, they both emphatically exclaimed "noni!"
Randy was brave enough to try this rancid cheesy-vomit-smelling fruit, and was able to report back to Holly that it tasted like rancid cheese and vomit.

Avocado aura

Noni is the newest "superfood," being bottled and sold as a panacea at exorbitant prices, but after one whiff, we agreed we would have to be pretty darn ill to swig the vile juices.
On a more delicious note, the farm has no less than three different varieties of avocado, and we have access to as many "avos" as we can stuff into our faces. We have not yet found the limit, despite having avocados every meal and snack except breakfast (we tried them on oatmeal and in pancakes, but they weren't that great). We have also collected an avocado-based mousse recipe we are looking forward to trying.

Mac nut cracker

The farm was also home to a smattering of macadamia nut trees. "Mac" nuts are sold at the local health food store for $17/lb, and Tane wanted to explore the possibilities for this delicious nut.
Prior to our arrival, someone had collected the fallen mac nuts from under a few of the trees, totaling about 6 cubic feet. Dehusking and cracking mac nuts is a labor intensive process, but a nearby farm owned industrial machines for these processes, and let us take a crack at it. After a crash course in operating these machines, we got started. The machines were a bit of a mystery, shrouded in blue metal and hiding their mechanical secrets. Handfuls of the whole nut were tossed unceremoniously into the dehusker, which shot the husks out the front, and the shell-covered nut out the side into a tray. The whole process is about as loud as rototilling a rock garden.

 The racket summoned the farm's two Muscovy ducks, who came running, eager to feast on any mac nut detritus that fell within their reach.

Oh mac nut-stuffed Muscovies, what sweet livers you must have!

 From the dehusking station, the nuts were then dropped into the cracker hopper. A little conveyor chain shuffled them to the top, where they fell into the cracker. After much zinging and pinging, the machine disgorged naked nuts and shell fragments out its chute, like a generous Las Vegas slot machine. Our 6 cubic feet of freshly gathered nuts turned into about one cubic foot of processed mac nuts. For the next few weeks we enjoyed mac nuts in our oatmeal, our stir fries, and our favorite fare, handfuls and handfuls of the roasted nuts with a little salt.

The dehusker

Feeling like an elf in a mystical forest up the road

Constructing a hydro table

the bok choi cycle