New shenanigans in New York

Do you remember those Wile E Coyote cartoons where every best laid plan to capture that roadrunner just blew up in that unfortunate dog's face? That was my summer.

It just keeps going and going and going. Because torture is funny. I felt very much a caricature tumbling through a black tunnel of unspeakable evil and hilarious sound effects, only to end up on the other side with my clothing shorn, one shoe missing, two black eyes, several missing teeth and dancing squiggly lines over my head with a dazed expression of "What just happened?" on my face.

And yes, every explosive outcome was a ruination of my own design. Tomatoes plucked while they were still green. I learn from the best, Wile E.

But if there's one thing about this desert denizen, it's that he never gave up chasing his bird. So when it came to my string of Acme-level fails on the school front, I treated myself to a cactus dinner in the form of New York City.

Times Square. I was in sensory overload.

Disappointed with my Road Runner chase to New Jersey in hopes of setting up shop for work and school in the farthest run east I've ever done, I decided I'd finally get a taste of New York, New York. This place has been on my bucket list since I experienced Parasite Eve in all its gruesome glory.




Gruesome. Glory.

Fans of this cult classic may notice the particular lean of my New York City tour hits several places highlighted in the game.

William Paterson University did do one thing right, they had a bus that, for $9 one way, carts students straight to Port Authority, the major bus terminal of Manhattan. The full service NJ Transit line took my money and I sat for an hour as the city skyline appeared on the horizon and we ducked under the Hudson River via the Lincoln Tunnel. I usually try not to look like a tourist when I go to new places, but New York City had me twisting every which way in my seat to take in every angle, every street, every light and sound from the emergence into Midtown to my final departure.

Port Authority was like an airport. Buses zooming in and out of narrow lanes, pedestrian traffic going in all directions, floors and floors of gates. I followed the other bus patrons to the lower levels and then followed signs to the street. Research the night prior told me to head north on 7th, but once I hit the street level it was a whole new ballgame.

I was utterly assaulted. Billboards touting Chanel, running neon, sparkling LEDs, shoulder to shoulder buildings sweeping up dizzying heights, the perpetual motion of vehicles on the road and passersby on the sidewalk. Taxis honked a never-ending street serenade, jackhammers droned a tireless tune, there echoed the ubiquitous march of a thousand thousand footsteps. The acrid smell of smoking sewer gas and sharp coffee wafted on the air amid tang of asphalt and greasy street vendor fare mixing hot dogs and salty fries. Businessmen walked with tourists by homeless alongside NYPD officers.

Everyone was here. All of mankind was present.

I was overcome. But I somehow managed to keep walking.

I got turned around easily, was swindled out of a couple bucks from a persistent Buddhist, and ended up at a scenic Bryant Park.

A happy accident, stumbling into beautiful Bryant Park. The free Wi-Fi also helped me find my way back to 7th.

Suffice it to say, I hardened quickly even if I was positively bubbling on the inside. I no longer made eye contact with others, stone-faced, I walked like I owned the place. And it worked. I went unhindered for the remainder of my walking tour of the city.

I continued up along 7th watching for the treeline of Central Park. I also kept at eye out for Carnegie Hall which I thought would be on the left side of the street but it was on the right. I missed it. I would have wandered into the subfloors if I had had my way, so maybe that's for the best.

I did stop into what I imagine is the world's largest M&M store; three floors of chocolate goodness and every M&M imaginable. I headed up to the second floor and snapped off a photo of a view of the city from height.

This is 7th Avenue from the second story of the M&M building. Bustling place.

I was tempted to purchase some candies if not for the snack, then to sample some of the wild color and creatively coated centers. I didn't have $13 to spare for a pound of chocolate. I did, however, take their M&M personality test and came up with Light Blue. Agreed. The store was fun and a pretty diversion.

I had to settle for the green M&M Statue of Liberty, the closest I'll get this time.

   Finally, I came up to 59th Street where Central Park began. Then I became a little bee and buzzed dizzily all over the park in every loop and cutback available to see sights. I purchased a $2 map of Central Park which came in very handy, Central Park is huge, and helped structure my walk.

I went everywhere in lower Central Park. I swung past The Carousel, jotted down the Literary Walk toward The Mall and ended on Bethesda Terrace and Fountain where a chorus fulled the courtyard with resonant song.

For whom forsaketh me not? Shakespeare stands along the Literary Walk in Central Park. 

The Literary Walk was lovely as I looked on mentors and teachers of the craft. A lot of photographers and artists lined the avenue which I found amusing.

I swung right from the terrace, passed the Loeb Boathouse to the north and swung right toward the Conservatory Water pond where I found a statue of Hans Christian Anderson and Alice in Wonderland.

Alice and I tend to chase each other through life it seems. I actually climbed the structure and sat on Alice's left side where I might have had a right decent conversation if Alice had obliged.

I was especially pleased to find Alice. I wish I was half as creative as she is in world creation--or do I give that credit to Carroll?

After Alice, I headed south to find Balto and with my thoughts still turned to Parasite Eve, to the Central Park Zoo. I didn't actually enter the zoo portion of the zoo, but I did walk through the gift shop and stop for a lunch of chicken tenders and fries. Finding no place to dine within the zoo, it was quite busy, I parked myself in Sheep Meadow and enjoyed the view.

Central Park and the city juxtaposed from Sheep Meadow.

It was about this time I was getting tired, but it was only 2 p.m. I started to head back south toward Port Authority when I got a second wind. When would I be here again? I had no idea. I had to at least take in ONE museum. Armed with this reasoning, I began my long trek up nearly 20 streets to attend the American Museum of Natural History. [Because Parasite Eve T-Rex. Just sayin'.]

My original plan was to just sit on the steps of the museum and absorb the serenity of this bastion of knowledge.

Really, I was just going to sit here.

But then I went inside and saw the dinosaur skeletons. And then I made the mistake of talking to the nice lady at information what I should see. The Star of India. Which happened to be the largest sapphire in the world. SOLD!

I dropped $17 on a ticket and toured the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life, Hall of Biodiversity, North American Forests, Warburg Hall of New York State Environment, Grand Gallery, Spitzer Hall of Human Origins, Ross Hall of Meteorites, Guggenheim Hall of Minerals, Bernard Family Hall of North American Animals, Birds of the World, Primates, and the Sanford Hall of North American Birds. I took dozens of pictures and read a multitude of information. I was in seventh heaven.

This impressive specimen of redwood displayed a linear history of man through tree rings. Beautiful tree in the North American Forests exhibit.

This stately raven beckoned to have his picture taken in the Birds of the World exhibit. It was an interesting setup--every country had its native birds in one window and a picture highlighted and labeled the birds. I had a lot of fun picking out terns and finches in the displays. The raven is my favorite though.

The writing is on the wall. What can I say, history takes form in the earliest writing practices, hieroglyphic or cuneiform.

I stayed in the museum until they closed at 4:45 p.m., not nearly enough time to explore and learn but by the same turn, my body was on its way out. I whipped through the gift shop again on the hunt for some item to take with me, but ultimately convinced myself to keep the museum map and ticket stub for souvenirs.

I plodded back onto the street and hung close to Central Park as I walked along Central Park Avenue south back to Port Authority. I would miss the 6 p.m. bus, but I would have to make the 7 or wait until 9. My rule of thumb is to not stray out after dark in places I'm unfamiliar with. New York was no exception.

I had to stop twice along Central Park to rest my pounding heels and the city was kind enough to provide benches all along the sidewalk. People were still out and about walking their dogs or biking as sirens wailed street side.

The last item on my agenda was to dine on a New York pizza. Coming down 8th Avenue, I spied a decent looking eatery and ducked in.

Mariella's pizza was great!

 I ordered a single slice of pepperoni pizza, the cook heated it up for me in the oven drawers you see there and tucked my slice away for me so I could run to Port Authority.

I only encountered one rude woman shoving her way through the sidewalk hoards, she nearly struck the dinner out of my hands. Had I dropped my food on my empty stomach, it would have been war, but I held on, agreed with my neighbors that that was rude, and carried on to the bus-airport.

I purchased my return ticket, as requested by the terminal for efficiency, and scarfed down my pizza slice hidden behind a pole. I didn't want to eat so quickly, I wanted to enjoy a real NYC pizza, but it couldn't be helped. There was a surging tide of people going home trying to sweep me away, so I ate fast and dove into the river.

I'm amazed I not only located my gate and bus but that I made it back to the school and dorm in one piece. No hitches, no problems.

When all was said and done, I think I dropped nearly $100 for New York, spent a solid 8 hours in the city, walked at least 8 or 9 miles, and took in a good deal of sights on foot. I thoroughly enjoyed my time in NYC. So much so, I tried to find affordable housing to just stick it out in the city making friends with agents and publishers and the like. If my money had not been tied up in two academic institutions, I would have found a way to stay. No luck this time, but I had an awesome time in New York--and I hardly saw the skirts of this iceberg. I'd go again. Preferably sooner than later and THIS time to see the ball drop for New Year's.

What a city. What a place! It made my adventure senses tingle and I felt happier than I had in weeks. Thank you New York for reminding me there's always more to see and do and always something to aspire to. This cactus was delicious.

Happy Weekend.

Eighty on I-80, Part 2

Hello all, it's the next leg of the trip!

Yesterday consumed a heady 432 miles into my sprint, today I ticked in at 898 total miles. Detours and all.

I got off to a bad start immediately when I set my alarm for 7:15 a.m. and hit the snooze. Ten minutes, I thought. When I jerked awake again it was 8:30! GAH! I dressed and ran upstairs to eat breakfast, a bagel and some fruit. I packed some ice with my leftover dinner and waters and hauled everything back up to the car. It was an awful wet and humid morning already, this early?

I was back on I-80 in short order and tearing up asphalt until I hit the 200 mile mark and I deemed the goal worthy of eating lunch. I stopped off near Adel, scarfed down my cold chicken tenders, invested in a Coke, and chatted up my father to let someone in the family know I was still all right and heading east.

I got caught in a nasty downpour with extremely limited visibility for a teeth-grinding 20-minute run. Any flash of red ahead prompted me to tap my own breaks to maintain the distance, but I could hardly see a thing. I fretted on abrupt stops ahead and others following too closely behind. I made it out in one piece, but it was tense.

It struck me then I would be passing by the University of Iowa and their Writer's Workshop--the holy grail of creative writing programs. I had applied to their program this year and been denied. It stings because the reason for this entire road trip is to get me to school. Any of the other of the schools I've been accepted to. Writing has been a passion of mine since I first entered essay contests in New Mexico and scored not only a fire truck parade (essay about the importance of firemen), but a 2-week summer course at Shuttle Camp at the acclaimed Museum of Space History (why is space travel important?). Hmm? I'm good at something?

So it was with some difficulty I passed through Des Moines and the Iowa countryside. Struggling with all kinds of feelings. It was an uncomfortable passage and a hard one to make by myself. Right around the 300 mile mark, I figured I would take a rest stop break.

And of course this is where I stop.

Huh? Is that writing in the picnic structure? How unusual. What's it say? ...All the picnic structures have quotes! [Williams was not my first encounter, but he was my last. And favorite.]

*Pressing on to rest stop building* That post looks weird. Oh ho, wait! It's a pencil! ...Wait a minute.

*Walking* The heck is the big black--it's a PEN NIB! AWESOME! *GASP* It's the freakin' Writer's Workshop. The freakin'. Writer's. Workshop. 

Iowa. Iowa everywhere! Written all over the building. 

"COOL!" I startled the women coming out of the rest room. 

Map affinity. Iowa City contained the golden pen nib.

There was a waistband of bricks highlighting famous writers-- fiction, poetry, playwright. A ticker sign running famous quotes from famous writers. My joy...

...and my bane.

I. Loved. This rest stop. Even though it stirred up some unreasonable excitement and very poisonous self-doubt, I absorbed every last ornate homage to the enthrallment of the written word. I walked the paths and read every picnic hallmark; guidance from the masters. I lingered here twice the time I normally would for a rest stop break. I was back on my way, steeled to pass the University of Iowa, but still pining.

Having encountered a very tangible taste of the pure creativity the Workshop is capable of, I was in a very much starved "Please, sir," twist. Oh, to be a part of the phenomenon that set the national gold standard in writing. So hungry.

The university came and went and I did not find much contentment until I passed into Davenport and it's network of bridges. I swung south on the 280 for a change of pace. The Mississippi River awed me out of the stupor. (Thank God Michigan has great bodies of water.) I filled up the tank again a little off the beaten path of Milan and returned to 280 before it turned in to 80 again.

It was along this stretch I waffled on where to stop off for the night. I could have easily stopped in Davenport and had more time to explore, but the distance to drive tomorrow would be greater. Do I stop in Genesco a little ways out of Davenport and pony up the cost of hotels? Do I press on to Annawan or do I reach my original goal of Princeton? Would all the rooms be taken when I arrived in Princeton after 5 p.m.?

I ultimately made it to Princeton, Illinois, where I am now at the Econo-Lodge just south of I-80. I checked the fluids on the car again, still good, and called my folks to check in, rested a bit, snagged Wendy's for dinner because I'm so done driving today. I settled in to do some writing. See above.

Today was a lot harder than yesterday, mentally and physically. Since I have all these long hours to myself it invites a lot of thinking, exacerbated by failures near and dear to my heart and the continuous uncertainty of what lies in the months ahead. There's a giant junction looming that's very different from I-80 to I-94 East.

One more leg.

Eighty on I-80, Part 1

Hello all, it's not quite the weekend, but I don't think I'll be posting over the weekend. So here we go!

With school around the corner, I haven't been able to delay on a decision any longer. Except I still kind of am. Graduate school is a heck of an investment, but the jobs that I'm interested in pursuing would not be attainable without a professional degree. Even so, I'm doing what I can to drive the costs down. I'm still waiting on a few things, but I'm running out the days as I sprint across the country.

So to all my friends in Hawaii, I miss you all already!

To all my friends in Colorado, I'm sorry to have missed you these last couple of days as I've been plotting out trip stops and shopping for yet another 1200 mile road trip. Because what kind of summer would it be if I didn't travel 10,000+ miles? This time I'm ripping eastward from Denver.

Packing up this morning, I said good-bye to my father and brother at our old house in Colorado (which is a freaky story in and of itself) and ran down to I-70 before boarding I-76 for the long haul out of Colorado. Once you get out of the Denver cityscape, the plains get, well, plain. There's not a whole lot to see out east.

I've driven to California from Colorado/New Mexico multiple times and the corridors through the American Southwest are breathtaking--every rest stop is an overlook into a dramatic canyon or sprawling desert brush. Painted Desert, Sonoran Desert, Monument Valley. I mean, stunning. Middle America is very much about farmland--be them corn or cows; which I have no problem with, but I predict another 400 miles of plain plains.

Denver to York, Nebraska is about 430 miles on an I-76 to I-80 route. The interstate dances with the Platte River in crossings north to south and back again several times. You'll mostly share the road with semis and other wanderlust-ridden adventurers. I got caught in five or six construction areas which slowed the 75 mph hurtle to 55. Nothing too awful, but it does take a bite out of time when you're running a 400-mile (6-7 hr) day.

Lunch in Colorado at Julesburg.

Since I'm rolling on my own, I have to entertain myself--either by belting out to my favorite songs or counting how many semis I pass. Today, I ate on the Coloradoan border of Julesburg and passed into Nebraska in some surprise I was already out of the first state in line.

I stopped off at a rest stop in mid-Nebraska (Cozad) and chatted with the tourist guide there who told me a little about Nebraska's history. Carol pointed out the pioneers' trail to the south of the Platte and the Mormon trail north of it. The Cheyenne Indians weren't too happy about the pioneer expansion and a tribe of them attacked a caravan near Cozad as well as the trains that were coming through. Lots of death and fighting over Nebraska.

The Cozad rest stop off I-80 E, Nebraska.

I have a deep love of maps and I'll pore over them every chance I get. Especially in transit. This map positioned outside of the rest stop building indicates where we are along I-80.

When I mentioned I was surprised at all the lakes I'd been passing since crossing the stateline, Carol also told me Nebraska sits on the Ogallala aquifer--the high water table is perfect for irrigation and farming. Makes a lot of sense. Armed with this knowledge, Nebraska became a little more than a flat stretch of cornhusk.

The Great Platte River Road Archway near Kearney, Nebraska, I loved the metal-worked wings.

I hurtled quickly through the thick waist of Nebraska until I reached York and its blessed hot air balloon signaling I was done for the day.

The Yorkshire Motel had rooms available and I booked a $57 'basement' room that included free wifi and a continental breakfast. My staples for most of my travels. The motel clerks, whom I assumed were a husband and wife (owners), told me if I skipped over to The Kitchen and flashed my room key, I would get 15% off my meal. Sweet! They handed me a menu and I settled on the chicken tenders.

Unloading and checking the vehicle fluid levels (since it hasn't been driven in awhile and my family and I had had problems the day just prior to leaving), I lugged my things down to the room and rested about an hour before surfacing to eat.

The colorful mural outside my basement bedroom window of the Yorkshire Motel in York, NE.

The Kitchen had a contemplative menu with plenty of bang for your buck delights. I did order the chicken tenders and ate one of the four, intending to save the remainder for a cold lunch tomorrow. I had a lovely salad, vegetables and mashed potatoes with a great biscuit gravy. All very good!

A storm rolled in during the evening and shut off the power briefly, I worried my car would suffer hail damage, but it got a shower instead which sluiced a number of bug casualties from the front. Works for me.

Tomorrow, Iowa and Illinois.

Made in Hawaii and afternoon tea

Hello all, it's the weekend!

I've actually done quite a bit this weekend, trying to pack in a lot of old favorite activities before school starts up for the fall. But I will go with the Made in Hawaii 20th Anniversary event and tea service my sister indulged both my mother and I in this afternoon.

Late morning found us heading downtown and severely lacking in parking. The Neal S. Blaisdell Center lot was full and I believe the overflow lot at McKinley High School was as well. (I'm not sure, I was reading "William Shakespeare's Star Wars" by Ian Doescher lent to me by my cousin. Star Wars in iambic pentameter. Very interesting indeed.)

We stopped off at a Ward complex lot and walked roughly half a mile back to the center. Tickets were $5 which we easily ate back in food samples! 

The Made in Hawaii event was held in the exhibition hall and arena of the Blaisdell and featured a host of local business ranging from Hawaiian food staples to shell earring trinkets and wood crafts to fine art. More than 500 vendors pitched their various goods to crowds over this weekend, Aug. 15-17.

Major local food staple.

We swung through the arena to start which held most of the foodstuffs. Lunch comprised a sweeping tray of exotic chocolate brownie butter, chocolate and potato chip cookies, taro bread, teriyaki jerky, macadamia nut-flavored tack, macadamia nut shortbread cookies, a wide assortment of chocolates, wasabi-infused brownie crisps, cool ginger tea and hot 100% Kona coffee. The arena also had live cooking demonstrations for each day of the event.

You wouldn't think to smoke meat with guava, but it's actually quite good!

Sill in the arena, these ocean-themed fabrics caught my eye.

Hawaiian Paradise candies had THE CUTEST Oreo cookie concoctions laid out on their table. My sister and I squealed over the little characters decorating the desserts. And their chocolate samples were to die for.

The Sugar Lips Cookie Company had the wasabi-infused brownie crisps which blew my mind. They start off sweet and then this burn kicks in shortly after you finish the sample. Absolutely delicious.

It wouldn't be a local kine event without a 'crack seed' vendor. This vendor was selling spiky red dragon fruit.

The Kona coffee vendor boasts that their 100% Kona coffee is grown on a single estate. I can't argue with the results.

After filling up in the arena, we all skipped over to the exhibition hall for a large selection of crafts. There were glass fusion pieces, gemstone jewelry, geode jewelry (I was particularly fond of these pieces, but not the prices), wood crafts, metal crafts, fine paintings, Hawaiian Christmas ornaments, silkscreen vestments, tropical plants, quilts, and a whole lot more. I was tickled by some of the more cleverly named businesses: Sew Sassy, Dressed'n case, and Bad Ash Pottery to name a few. The nice thing about attending the last day is a number of businesses will drop their prices to move their product. We scored big.

There were fewer food vendors on the exhibition side though Love's Bakery had a slot. I found myself perusing a lot of the quilting tables. I've been interested in making my own quilts for some time now but have lacked instruction. I DID make a Hawaiian quilt pillowcase with my mom in a 3-week class, but that's the extent of my knowledge.

I chatted up one vendor, Barbara Vasold of Quilted Images, who gave me a lovely piece of advice when I lamented the difficulties of applique: "You can make plenty of mistakes in applique, or as I like to call them, 'creative opportunities.'" I loved that! I can't wait to be a wizened quilting lady.

These colorful koi would go swimmingly with several of these garden decorations! 

I was fascinated by this metal piece of a metal figurine surfing a copper wave. 

My family and I were there a good four hours spying, spending, sampling...

All the way until 2:30 p.m. or so when my sister said it was time for us to go. She had a surprise for us and the reservation was at 3.

We walked back to the car with our purchases, yes we did buy the wasabi-brownie crisps, and drove farther east to Kahala. Our last hoorah as a family as it were. I had no idea what was in store and I was surprised when we hurtled out of Waikiki and its sprawl of hotels to an isolated hotel near Aina Hina.

Darcie pulled right up to the hotel agreeing that yes, we would have valet service, and we stepped onto the veranda of the Kahala Hotel & Resort. I had no idea this place existed until today.

She had booked us a 3 p.m. tea reservation where we were promptly seated and ordered two classic tea services for us and the royal tea service for mom. I chose a 'Blue and Yellow' tea which had chamomile, lavender and cornflower floral flavors; Darcie asked for a Dragon Pearl oriental fusion, and mom got a lilikoi-flavored tea. We all rotated flavors after draining our first cup. They were all delicious but I liked mine best.

The services came with scones topped with mango and clotted cream spread, four types of meat and spices sandwiches, and four types of decadent desserts. We all chatted over our hot tea and finger foods just enjoying the afternoon. The afternoon tea bridged my memory back to the Australia trip which was a delightful pang of nostalgia. I felt super spoiled. Thank you Darcie!

Afternoon tea. Something I wish America would participate in with as much vigor as Britain and Australia.

We also explored the hotel after that, which reminded me how people visiting Hawaii experience Hawaii. It was luxurious.

Whew, this seriously ended up being a very full weekend. Thank you to everyone who has been a part of it!

Happy Sunday!

Trouble in Paradise

Hello all, this happened last weekend!

Surfing is a wonderful maritime sport. There's a magical combination of sun, salt, and surf that grants a wave-rider the ability to harness one of the ultimate forces of nature. And it's an experience I treasure enough to endure bruises, lacerations, sunburn, and sand burn for just one more wave. Last one, I swear.

Surfing has been a longtime staple in my family, but also a sport that seems to peak and settle through the generations as time marches on. Nearly all of my mother's immediate family found a haven among the waves off Diamond Head. My own immediate family have all hung ten at some pinnacle of Hawaiian living. (Whenever we're actually on the islands to enjoy it.) Mom and brother in their youth, dad during his military training.

The sport was something I had always had an interest in but did not pick up until my 25th birthday--chiefly because surfboards cost roughly $100/ft of board. Most beginners start on tankers, the 10'+ variety, which will set you back a dizzying $1000+. I nabbed my fiery longboard on sale for less than half of what it should have cost.

Now the trouble with surfing, beyond clueless newbies and self-inflicted injury, are sustaining dings in your board courtesy of reef or other surfers on the water. I've had my share of both but have not recorded how to repair the damages until now.

This time, I took my sister out to White Plains to get her a decent session since all of her other surfing experiences ended badly. I helped her pick out a board from the MWR and coached her on basics. We put in and away we went. It was a beautiful day, decent sets, gentle wind. My sister did extremely well, taking my observations in stride and picking up on the subtle nuances quickly. She caught several waves without my having to call out worthy faces. Toward the end of our session (or because of the incident), she came up close behind me just as a larger wave broke and shoved me back into her. Her nose hit my tail and this deep ding was the result of that collision.

Nothing huge, but deep enough to invite a waterlogged mess. No thank you.

We promptly got out of the water only to realize we had also cut up our feet on the reef as well.

Nothing huge, but deep enough to invite staph infections. No thank you.

So while both of us literally limped home, I realized I would not be able to hit the surf again until I repaired my board. Luckily for me, I still had leftover material from earlier surfboard repairs. This would be my third.

My repair kit components!

I had purchased a surfboard repair kit for $12 from the Navy Exchange a year or so ago in lieu of sending my board to professional shop. I often get beat up badly when I secure dings, so I end up with more than one. The one which prompted me to invest in my own repair was a surfer T-bone strike which ripped open more than 3 feet of my rail. (The jerk never apologized either.) A huge repair.

[I don't have a workbench to set my board on, so I laid it out over two sturdy chairs. I also wear sunglasses and a bandana over my nose and mouth while working with the mixing compound and the fiberglass. You really don't want to breathe that stuff in.]

The kit was a complete one! UV-curing resin, with a mixing chemical compound to fill dings, a sheet of fiberglass, razor, a spreader, and 4 grits of sandpaper. (200, 100, 150, 60.)

The UV-curing resin and powder compound drying in the sun after application.

The first thing I did, much like preparing a flesh wound, was cleaning the surrounding area of the ding. I sanded the area down and wiped it clean again. Then I got a spare plastic cup and mixed the UV-curing resin and the powder compound until it reached a peanut butter thickness. I had to fill a big portion because the ding itself was deep and the area around it had been compacted by the hit. This was my attempt to fill out the spot. I waited 10 minutes for the resin to set (no longer tacky to the touch) and brought it back in to my 'workbench.'

I used the 60 grit to sand down the cured resin.

I sanded down the cured resin with the 60 grit included in my kit until the repair was level with the rest of the surfboard.

Adding fiberglass over the repair.

 Next, I cut out a rectangle of fiberglass large enough to cover the affected area. I cleared the spot of resin dust with a wet wipe and applied the fiberglass. I saturated the fiberglass with just the resin and used the spreader to get an even coat.

At this angle you can see the resin-saturated fiberglass over the ding spot.

The resin by itself dries quickly so I had to work fast. You also want to be careful not to drip resin or build it up into ridges because it's harder to sand back down. After this coat of resin was applied, I set the board back out in the sun for another 10 minutes to cure.

More sanding. Sanding down fiberglass is hard work!

Now for the hard part. Resin sets like a rock. Resin-saturated fiberglass is rough rock. I used a stiff sponge to help stave off the heat from the friction during sanding. I started again with the 60 grit until I got most of the roughest edges smoothed. I bumped up to 100 for more buffing and refining. Once I was satisfied I could have applied another layer of resin to strengthen the repair even more, but I opted for a wet finish.

Prep for the wet finish.

I borrowed a bowl we rarely use and still operating with the stiff sponge, I used the 150 grit to smooth down the resin and finally the 200 for a fine finish. I was sweating something fierce by the time I was done.

Repair complete.

And there she is, fixed and sealed and ready to tear up the surf again. Now a professional shop would paint over the white patch. I probably could have spray painted the thing myself, but I chose to do something a little more my style.

I popped a Google search for tattoos and came up with several images and I felt torn between a shark and a manta ray. I ended up going with a shark curling its body around the white patch. I wish I could have gotten the waves to 'crest' into the white a little more, but I didn't want to crowd the shark either. 

Overall, I'm pretty pleased with the design.

 Happy weekend.

Ka'ena Point, North entrance (again)

 Hello all, it was the weekend!

I realize I've already hiked this trail from this side before with my sister in an earlier post, found here.

This time, however, I hiked with my mother since she had yet to do the trail herself. She also wrote about this particular hike in her blog "The Walking Hawaiian."

I'm of the opinion that even something done several times before always holds something new each visit if you look. Aiea Loop Trail, for example, surprises me with a fallen tree strewn over the path every venture along up its heights. Ka'ena had some treasures in store too.

Some things of note this time around,we left much earlier and arrived at 8:30 a.m. The route was already hot to start--maybe not as hot as midday when my sister and I went last (10:30 a.m. or so)--but the sun wasted no time beating on our backs and baking the ground. Thrice over and thrice over I agree this place is aptly named "The Heat."

The start of the trail abruptly begins in dirt road.

Mom and I went a bit more prepared for this hike; ice water, sun tan lotion, snacks, everything required for an afternoon dip, but she forgot her phone. So I lent her mine. All the images you see here today are hers!

There weren't too many folks passing us this early to start, but the numbers grew as time went on. Mom and I stuck to the main trail rather than sweeping left and right, dipping up and over the pockmarked 'beachside' road. Mom snapped plenty of pictures along the way, but I felt the real meat of the hike happened at the point.

Here we are at the point again!

It was a beautiful (if hot) day on the western point and we poked around a bit for any Hawaiian monk seals perusing the area. I kept an eye out for what seems to be these animals' favorite spot at a sheltered outcrop of rock and I didn't see any loungers. I indicated the spot to mom and she went to check it out.

Successfully.

"You're in my spot!"

I turned from my vantage point just in time to see this monk seal bark at mom. She said she thought it was a log until it dipped under the surface and came back up again. I trotted over to get a closer look but tried to stay a respectable distance so I wouldn't upset the seal. Mom got a few pictures and I warned that we were supposed to be 150 feet back, so we didn't stray long. Still, I can't argue with the great pictures she got.

I had quite a bit more energy this time around, possibly because we began early enough that I didn't feel so sun-bleached and I climbed all over. I was severely tempted to jump into the crystal cool water, clothes and all.

Yours truly overlooking ocean force meeting stubborn lava rock.

Look at that deep spot at center, it had to be 20' of plunge-worthy diving.

Scrambling over the rock, I shocked a coconut-sized crab from its chilling spot and it kamikazed into the water ten feet below, which surprised a modest school of electric blue fish. I want to say they were uhu fish. The most beautiful blue I've ever seen.

Still scrambling, mom eventually joined me and I called attention to some naturally drying Hawaiian sea salt. Also a number of shed crab exoskeletons. It's so neat exploring inter-tidal zones.

Hawaiian sea salt au naturel. 

On the way back, we pulled off at a spot more welcoming than most of the rocky 'beaches' and took a dip in the water. A school of fishes didn't waste too much time taking shelter beneath us and nibbling at my toes. "Is this dead? Can I eat it?" A couple of the more aggressive fish gave more than an experimental nibble and I felt bad for how hungry the fish must be. I wouldn't have ventured out into deeper waters if I was their size either.

I yanked a plastic bag out of the water, afraid some turtle might eat it thinking its a jellyfish, and I also found a rusty knife!

Acquired one rusty pirate knife.

I thought it was interesting because half of the handle had rusted off and the sand-blasted salt layer abruptly ended in a neat line which suggests the knife was stuck in the water up to the blade. For goodness knows how long. I carried out knife and bag to toss into a garbage can later. Between landfill and ocean, I would pick the landfill. Even if the waste still runs into the water at some point. Huah.

It was a lovely morning/afternoon and a great trail to re-experience! Thanks for the hike, mom.

Happy Monday.