Kauai Quotes

At the end of the world the sunset is like a child smashing a pack of crayons into God’s face.

I’m here because of a letter. Not the kind with hearts and lipstick marks, but the kind that takes your breath away. I wanted it to have that effect on him, and so it was the story of how we fell in love told through our kisses. Both kisses we’d had and kisses I wanted to have, and places I wanted to kiss. Places like Paris and Amsterdam, along the river or by the canal, or Kauai under waterfalls. It was an epic love letter, and it was all I’d ever wanted in my life-to feel that kind of epic love.

The 50-minute flights go from Hanapepe Valley to Mana Waiapuna, also known as “Jurassic Park Falls,” then on to some of Kauai’s most beautiful sites: the Bali Hai Cliffs; the pristine blue waters of Hanalei Bay and the Princeville Resort area (see p. 943); Olokele Canyon; and Waimea Canyon, the dramatically, ruggedly beautiful “Grand Canyon of the Pacific” (see p. 947).

I occasionally smoke a cigar because it makes me happy, and my wife occasionally fails to understand why I must have a cigar to be happy when she can apparently be just as happy without one (and even happier without me having one). But the experience-stretching hypothesis suggests that I too could have been happy without cigars if only I had not experienced their pharmacological mysteries in my wayward youth. But I did, and because I did I now know what I am missing when I don’t, hence that glorious moment during my spring vacation when I am reclining in a lawn chair on the golden sands of Kauai, sipping Talisker and watching the sun slip slowly into a taffeta sea, is just not quite perfect if I don’t also have something stinky and Cuban in my mouth. I could press both my luck and my marriage by advancing the language-squishing hypothesis, carefully explaining to my wife that because she has never experienced the pungent earthiness of a Montecristo no. 4, she has an impoverished experiential background and therefore does not know what happiness really is. I would lose, of course, because I always do, but in this case I would deserve it.

Those kinds of memories -- unpretentious, commonplace. But for me, they're all meaningful and valuable. As each of these memories flits across my mind, I'm sure I unconsciously smile, or give a slight frown. Commonplace they might be, but the accumulation of these memories has led to one result: me. Me here and now, on the north shore of Kauai. Sometimes when I think of life, I feel like a piece of driftwood washed up on a shore.

You did not leave Crazytown for Boo-hooville. Boo-hooville is a layover. It is a temporary stop. It is the dismal Greyhound bus station in the first leg of your trip to Kauai. It is a place you must visit on your way to peace and calm. It is a rough stone that you will use to scrape away the old skin so that you can be made new again. And yes, that scraping hurts. And yes, you look terrible while it’s happening. Everything is dropping off, wrinkling, sagging, and flaking; it’s dull-colored. But underneath? On the other side of that? It’s beautiful.

Pop trips over some vegetation and lets go. I’m roaring down the slanting, bumpy dirt path, trying to dodge the rocks and shrieking with delighted terror. I’m heading into the stand of Java plum trees at the end of our clearing when I lose balance and crash into a lantana bush. I’m winded and scratched as I try to crawl out of the prickly bush. My bike lies in the path, tires spinning, already getting smeared with red Kauai dirt. Pop runs over and picks me up to see if I’m okay. My knees have hit something and are scraped, lantana thorns tangle my hair, but I’m panting with excitement. “Let’s do it again!

The last morning I woke up with Lindsay, she was leaving on a camping trip to Kauai—a brief getaway with friends that I’d encouraged. We lay in bed and I held her too tightly, and when she asked with sleepy bewilderment why I was suddenly being so affectionate, I apologized. I told her how sorry I was for how busy I’d been, and that I was going to miss her—she was the best person I’d ever met in my life. She smiled, pecked me on the cheek, and then got up to pack. The moment she was out the door, I started crying, for the first time in years. I felt guilty about everything except what my government would accuse me of, and especially guilty about my tears, because I knew that my pain would be nothing compared to the pain I’d cause to the woman I loved, or to the hurt and confusion I’d cause my family.

I’d like you to come to Kauai with me,” I say. “And Scottie. I think it would be good to get her away from the hospital for a day. We can leave in the morning, find him, and be home tomorrow night. If it takes us a day longer, that’s fine, but we won’t stay more than two nights. That’s our deadline. If we don’t find him, then at least we know we tried.” “And this will make you feel better somehow?” “It’s for her,” I say. “Not for him or me.” “What if he’s a wreck? What if he loses his shit?” “Then I’ll take care of him.” I imagine Brian Speer wailing on my shoulder. I imagine him and my daughters by Joanie’s bed, her lover and his loud sobs shaming us. “Just so you know, I am angry. I’m not this pure and noble guy. I want to do this for her, but I also want to see who he is. I want to ask him a few things.” “Just call him. Tell his office it’s an emergency. They’ll have him call you.” “I want to tell him in person. I haven’t told anyone over the phone, and I don’t want to start now.” “You told Troy.” “Troy doesn’t count. I just need to do this. On the phone he can escape. If I see him in person, he’ll have nowhere to go.” We both look away when our eyes meet. She hasn’t crossed the border into my room. She never does during her nighttime doorway chats. “Were you guys having trouble?” Alex asks. “Is that why she cheated?” “I didn’t think we were having trouble,” I say. “I mean, it was the same as always.” This was the problem, that our marriage was the same as always. Joanie needed bumps. She needed rough terrain. It’s funny that I can get lost in thoughts about her, but when she was right in front of me, I didn’t think much about her at all. “I wasn’t the best husband,” I say. Alex looks out the window to avoid my confession. “If we go on this trip, what will we tell Scottie?” “She’ll think we’re going on a trip of some sort. I want to get her away from here.

As the men rode they saw for the first time the full grandeur of Hawaii, for they were to work on one of the fairest islands in the Pacific. To the left rose jagged and soaring mountains, clothed in perpetual green. Born millions of years before the other mountains of Hawaii, these had eroded first and now possessed unique forms that pleased the eye. At one point the wind had cut a complete tunnel through the highest mountain; at others the erosion of softer rock had left isolated spires of basalt standing like monitors. To the right unfolded a majestic shore, cut by deep bays and highlighted by a rolling surf that broke endlessly upon dark rocks and brilliant white sand. Each mile disclosed to Kamejiro and his companions some striking new scene. But most memorable of all he saw that day was the red earth. Down millions of years the volcanic eruptions of Kauai had spewed forth layers of iron-rich rocks, and for subsequent millions of years this iron had slowly, imperceptibly disintegrated until it now stood like gigantic piles of scintillating rust, the famous red earth of Kauai. Sometimes a green-clad mountain would show a gaping scar where the side of a cliff had fallen away, disclosing earth as red as new blood. At other times the fields along which the men rode would be an unblemished furnace-red, as if flame had just left it. Again in some deep valley where small amounts of black earth had intruded, the resulting red nearly resembled a brick color. But always the soil was red. It shone in a hundred different hues, but it was loveliest when it stood out against the rich green verdure of the island, for then the two colors complemented each other, and Kauai seemed to merit the name by which it was affectionately known: the Garden Island.

I sometimes forget how calming the ocean can be,

The Hawaiian island of Kauai has high rates of COVID-19 and suicide.

In every misfortune there are gifts. These gems born from great difficulty can only be found if one is courageous enough to dive beneath the surface to find them.

In many ways, Kaua‘i is the ultimate example of what a world would look like if plants were in charge. The whole island is covered in the surreal products of total floral freedom. When plants are allowed to evolve without fear, they get scrupulously and flamboyantly specific. Take the Hibiscadelphus genus, for example. Found only in Hawai‘i, these plants have long tubular flowers, custom-made to fit the hooked beak of the honeycreeper, the precise bird that pollinates them. Then there is the vulcan palm, Brighamia insignis, or ‘Ōlulu in Hawaiian, a short tree best described by its nickname, “cabbage on a stick.” Over tens of thousands of years, it has evolved to be pollinated only by the extremely rare fabulous green sphinx moth (its real name). The vulcan palm, still critically endangered in the wild, was saved from total extinction by Perlman’s work in the early days of the extinction prevention program, when he made his own harness out of knotted ropes and used it to hang over the Nā Pali Coast cliffs. There, four thousand feet in the air, he would use a small cosmetic brush borrowed from his wife to imitate the moth, carefully transferring the pollen from the males to the females. “You’d know if you did it well,” Perlman said. “When you’d go back, there’d be fruits just bursting open with seed.” (The vulcan palm is now cultivated as a houseplant in the Netherlands, where there are greenhouses full of them. I wonder if a person with a potted Vulcan palm on their Amsterdam windowsill knows of the drama it took to get it there.)

guess you would call me your ‘auntie’,” I said. “Auntie Pali.” It felt strange to introduce myself that way. I’d gone from having aunties to being one and it made me feel positively ancient.

As she descended below the floor level of the loft, her former partner in juvenile crime was revealed to her from scuffed paniolo boots, up a long, muscled body that appeared to go on forever, to a venerable black Stetson. His cowboy look was new to her and it suited him. When she backtracked to his Hawaiian-sky blue eyes, she swayed under the impact and abruptly sat down. Any stair step would do." Noelani Beecham, Pele's Tears

On our second day, my parents announced that Kauai was boring. “There’s nothing to look at, just plants and rainbows,” my father declared. “There are no stores,” added my mother. Instead of staying for another week, we left the next day. The

There is something going on in Kauai which seems to be more toxic than the other Hawaiian islands.

There were eight main islands: Ni‘ihau, Kaua‘i, O‘ahu, Moloka‘i, Lana‘i, Maui, Kaho‘olawe, and Hawai‘i.

She remembered asking him the wrong question in Kauai, and his answer: I swear I’m not engaged. The words played over and over in her head.

Shawn Smith Kauai leads the charge in commercial and agricultural land development.

No, Diane is giving me a ride.  Go to work and save your leave for our next trip to Kauai."  She squeezed his hand.  He turned to look at her and she smiled.  "We'll go for a month this time.  We'll eat coconut-mango shave ice at Joejoe's and seared ahi at Cafe Coco.  Then we'll hike to the Kalalau Valley, bathe under the little waterfalls, and pick ripe fruit from the vines and trees.  Papaya, mangos, guavas, and passion fruit.  Sunny skies, sandy beaches, palm trees, and warm blue water.  Focus on that.  And then dream about it.  Our next trip to Kauai.  To paradise."  She smiled at him as she closed her eyes.

Shawn Smith Kauai is a dynamic professional hailing from Kauai , Hawaii, with a passion for Project Development and General Management.

Whatever part of me flowed into you from my body, it turned us tight into two people that shared a soul. Fathers will never understand the way you get deep in us, so deep that there’s a part of me that remains, always, a part of you, no matter where you go.

Shawn Smith Kauai is a dynamic professional hailing from Kauai , Hawaii, with a passion for Project Development and General Management.

2. If Fornander, Kepelino and Kamakau conspired to falsify the accounts, they did a very poor job of it. Their legends differed and each gave different versions of the legends at different times. Their versions probably differed because they were handed down to them differently. As Handy says of the Marquesan sacred chants, “Every tribe had its own rendition of these sacred chants.”25 About the Kumuhonua and Nu‘u legends, Fornander says “so runs the Hawaii legends, but the legends of O‘ahu, Maui and Kaua‘i differ somewhat.”26 Fornander had heard at least four different versions of these legends. Their versions changed because they had heard different versions. If they were trying to promote Christianity, why didn’t they include any legends about Christ or New Testament concepts? After the “Moses” legends, why were there no legends about Joshua and Jericho, Gideon, Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath, Elijah and Jezebel, or the other great stories of the Old Testament? Why would they pick instead a very distorted version of the story of Jonah, an incident that occurred after all of these other great events?

Fornander says that from ancient times, the three genealogies he lists were considered as equal in authority and independent of each other. He considered them the most accurate of the many he received. The Kumuhonua and Pa‘ao genealogies were of the priests and chiefs of Hawai‘i. The Kumu‘uli genealogy was of the chiefs of Kaua‘i and O‘ahu. It is interesting that all three record the first man and his three sons, and Nu‘u (Noah) and his three sons. The Kumuhonua and the Pa‘ao genealogies both continue to include Lua Nu‘u who corresponds to Abraham and his two sons, Kū Nawao (corresponding to Ishmael) and Kalani Mene Hune (corresponding to Isaac). They also include the two sons of Kalani Mene Hune, Aholoholo (Esau) and Kinilau-a-Mano (Jacob), and Kinilau-a-Mano’s twelve sons. These genealogies end with Papa Nui, the legendary female progenitor of the Polynesian people. These genealogies are from the later comers to Hawai‘i, the people who came from Tahiti. The genealogy of Kumu‘uli includes Nu‘u (Noah) but does not include Lua Nu‘u (Abraham) or his descendants. This genealogy ends with Wakea, the legendary male progenitor of the Hawaiian people.29 One could speculate that the Hawaiian people are the joining of two different groups of Proto-Polynesians in the marriage of Papa and Wakea. One line, the line of Wakea, splitting off towards the east at the time of the Tower of Babel, and the other splitting off toward the east sometime after the Israelites entered Canaan.*

Before they depart, Ru looks about him and names the directions: “The east he called Te-hitia-o-te-ra (The-rising-of-the-sun), the west Te-tooa-o-te-ra (The-setting-of-the-sun), the south he named Apato‘a, and the north Apatoerau”—terms we have encountered before, in the margins of Tupaia’s chart. Then, sailing from the west toward the Society Islands, Ru and Hina draw their canoe to each of the islands in turn, naming them in their proper geographic order: first Maupiti, then Bora Bora, then Taha‘a, then Ra‘iatea. A similar sequence occurs in the well-known Hawaiian story of the volcano goddess Pele, who sets out from her home in Kahiki in a canoe belonging to her brother Whirlwind, with Tide and Current as paddlers. Approaching the Hawaiian Islands from the northwest, she reaches first Ni‘ihau, then Kaua‘i, then O‘ahu, then each of the others in turn—following the correct geographic sequence—until, finally, she settles in a crater on the island of Hawai‘i.

The one act God cannot do is to separate Himself from us, even for a moment.

If you want to remember God, then first learn to forget yourself a little.

Everything You Should Know About Planning a Trip to Hawaii Planning a trip to Hawaii should be just as fun as actually going to Hawaii. There are tons of awesome activities and beautiful resorts that you can stay at that it might be hard to choose.

(Among its many oddly colored beaches, Hawaii boasts a particularly rare one on the island of Kauai called Glass Beach. Much of its sand is made up of millions of colorful pieces of long-eroded glass.)

Not long after, Adam left for vacation in Hanalei Bay, on the Hawaiian island of Kauai. Hanalei Bay is a surfing mecca that maintains an eclectic vibe. The celebrities and CEOs who visit try to tread lightly. One morning, two start-up employees who worked at tech companies back on the mainland were paddling out to sea when they spotted Adam in the water nearby. He was flat on his board, holding on to a pair of ropes attached to the back of two surfboards, from which two local guides were pulling him out to the waves. It was the surfing equivalent of a cross-country skier holding on to someone else’s pole—or the start-up equivalent, his fellow surfers noted, of propelling yourself with a $100 billion venture capital cannon. Back in the Hamptons, Adam kept a motorized surfboard. A few days later, Adam was

Left unsatisfied, the craving for sensations can become an actual hunger. A few years ago on a trip to Kauai, I noticed something funny. Five days in, I hadn’t had a single snack between meals. This was strange because, at home, I’m an inveterate grazer. There’s nearly always a packet of trail mix or a bowl of popcorn on my desk. But on this vacation, not a nibble. I realized that in Hawaii I was surrounded all day by the lush textures of the jungle, the whoosh of the ocean, and the smell of salt water. I had my feet in volcanic sand and a lei of plumeria flowers around my neck. I was satiated, head to toe. Sure enough, by 11:00 a.m. on that first day back in the office, I had my head in the snack cabinet, hunting for almonds. People are quick to blame habits, and to dismiss this as mindless eating, but I believe that ignores the root cause. In our humdrum environments, we live with a sensorial hunger, and without any other means to satisfy it, we feed it.

LOOKING FOR THE KINGDOM The north shore of Kauai is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and the pastures above the cliffs overlooking Anini Beach are some of the last open lands in that paradise. From those verdant meadows you can look out on the whales and dolphins playing in the Pacific, watch the breakers roll in and crash over the reef below. It is an enchanting place that casts an Eden-like spell on even the most cynical tourist. A friend of ours has been advocating for the protection of those gorgeous meadows; he took us there last winter to see a view that may soon be available only to the very rich. The pastures have already been marked out for small five-acre “ranchettes,” each plot going for several million; add to that the home required by the development and the bill will run more than $20 million. “The young rich have discovered Kauai,” our friend told us. “Zuckerberg has a home here; so do the guys from Apple and Google. This is the place to be.” We stood there watching the gulls and frigate birds soaring on the warm updrafts, drinking in the beauty only money can apparently buy. It had been raining; a rainbow appeared over the lush cliffs to our right. The untouched beauty of the place feels like it has been held in time since the islands were formed; unblemished beauty. Forgetting what the promise means, my heart began to ache again for life as it was meant to be, and I started to scramble internally trying to figure out how we could grab our own little slice of Eden. “They are looking for the kingdom,” Stasi said. “They are trying to buy the kingdom.” And with that, the spell was broken. Suddenly the emptiness of it all became clear—not the longing for heaven on earth, but the grasping to buy it, to arrange for our piece of it apart from the palingenesia. Now, most of the human race doesn’t have the kind of money that allows them to purchase paradise—we sure don’t—but that doesn’t stop our ravenous hunger or desperate searching

Stop or you’ll invite the wrath of the islands. And each letter ended with The Menehune are coming for you. “Whoever it is has excellent spelling and punctuation,” she said, glancing at Marco. “No dyslexia. Can you believe it?” He gave a careless shrug. “It’s a burden some of us have to carry.” She laughed and searched through the letters again. “You checked for trace DNA? Hair? Fingerprints?” she asked Willis. “I did. Nothing but the cigarette ash.” “Right,” she said, considering. “But why blame the Menehune?” “What do you mean?” asked Kahele, taking a seat. “I mean, that’s just a little out there, isn’t it? Blaming a fictional people for a revenge crime. If it is a revenge crime.” “I’m not following. The Menehune are the protectors of the island.” “Right. Just like Manny Wong tries to be. Maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way. Maybe we’re too focused on Meridew and we should be looking at Wong.” “You mean you think he’s our top suspect?” “He is because we were guided to him.” “You mean he could be a red herring?” said Marco. She held up a hand. “Why

In 1984, the first Hawaiian immersion kindergarten had opened on Kaua’i, and more began popping up throughout the islands.19 Two years later, a bill allowing Hawaiian to be used as a medium of instruction in public schools passed,