Jason and I had a trip booked with Jason’s parents to a Caribbean Island for June of 2020. This was supposed to be a thank you to them for raising that rascal. Because of COVID, our original plans got canceled. A year later, those arrangements were still pointless as the country we had intended on visiting was not accepting travelers due to continued flareups. Last fall, we determined that taking a trip somewhere was better than continuing to wait, and as traveling internationally was unreliable, we settled on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, the only standard Hawaiian island Jason and I had never visited.
One benefit of jet lag is beholding brilliant sunrises.As a photographer, one makes sacrifices.
Part of the appeal of traveling is seeing the world from different perspectives. While it is impossible to understand the heart and guts of any location during a brief stay, a tourist’s observations and experiences should ideally at least shift their viewpoint groove. Therefore, I was thrilled by how many different perspectives we acquired on Kauai, and that’s what, as you might guess, this post and its upcoming continuations are all about.
The lithified sand dunes on Kauai’s southern coast were under the sea some 125,000 years ago.A lava rock covered in sea slime made a worthy opponent for Jason’s calf.
The Wind’s Perspective
Our first morning on Kauai, Jason and I went on a hike down the Maha’ulepa Heritage Trail. The Maha’ulepa Trail roams through lithified sand dunes worn by wind, salt, and sea into strange caverns and figures that line the shore. Just past Shipwreck Beach and Makawehi Point, only 15 minutes down the coast, Jason tore up his leg and foot on some lava rocks near a tide pool we had stopped to investigate. We had to return to our hotel before his savage wounds consumed him.
This spilling ensemble fed by Mount Wai’ale’ale is called the Five Sisters.Each of Waimea Canyon’s many layers represents a different volcanic eruption.It’s rumored that Kauai contains almost 10,000 waterfalls. Hanalei Bay is the biggest bay on Kauai’s north shore.The slender sea cliffs of the Na Pali Coast rise up to 3,000 feet above the ocean.
Later that afternoon, we took a doors-off helicopter tour with Jack Harter Helicopters. In a tiny MD Hughes 500, we zipped 100-120 mph about 1,000 feet above the ground and over 2,000 feet above the water. We traversed the whole island including much terrain wild and inaccessible by foot. Having a lack of machinery between our bodies and the lush landscape far beneath us wasn’t as terrifying as I thought, but, then again, due to my short stature, I was forced to take the Captain Kirk seat. This remarkable ride ended up being everyone’s favorite piece of our whole trip, and I would highly recommend splurging on a helicopter tour if you find yourself on Kauai.
The cathedrals of the Na Pali Coast are more impressive than any of human construction.Mount Wai’ale’ale gets about 430 inches of rain a year making it one of the wettest spots on Earth and a prolific waterfall generator.The Wall of Tears or Weeping Wall constantly flows with Mount Wai’ale’ale’s surplus.We’ve done helicopter tours on three Hawaiian islands, but I think this one was our favorite.
Last fall, our weekly running group, the Run Around Club (R.A.C.), hit its double digits. The task of keeping this group going, literally and metaphorically, has largely fallen to Jason and me for most of its years. Given that and the 1,800-2,000 miles the organization has spanned, a decade seemed something worth celebrating… I think you can sense where this is going.
I have so many memories of smacking asphalt with these folks.
The formation of the R.A.C. back in September of 2011 resulted from a conversation we had with friends and family members at a party about sustaining exercise motivation. The company concluded that weekly runs together might provide enough positive peer pressure and enjoyment for healthy habits to be developed and kept. After that discussion, the R.A.C. came into being with the idea that we’d take turns organizing these weekly runs to spread the responsibility amongst us. However, over time, most in our group became less eager to take on their share of the coordinating. The ball others dropped, I picked up and continued playing with though. At one point, I realized Jason and I were the only ones keeping the R.A.C. operational, and my frustration almost led me to throw in the sweaty towel. Instead, after some internal debate, I consciously accepted the duty and took full ownership of the R.A.C. along with Jason.
The kids exhibited a wide range of race enthusiasm from comatose to pee your pants.
Why was I willing to do that? The makeup of the R.A.C. has shifted over its decade, but the essence of it has remained. The encouragement, the comradery, the giggles, the thoughtful and ridiculous conversations, and the friendships and confidence built over many miles have all endured. Whether it be laps at the rec center during winter’s dreariest months or our annual dash up the mountain to Stewart Falls, the R.A.C. connects, inspires, and strengthens. Over the last ten years, I’ve seen multiple members go from their couches to running their first half marathons and believing in their capabilities. That’s why I decided it was worth utilizing some of my planning mojo to insure the R.A.C. lived on.
And the winners are…
As with the regular undertakings of the R.A.C., arranging its anniversary celebration fell to Jason and me. (Okay, mostly me.) With the help of an illustrator, I created custom t-shirts for attendees made of fabric soft enough for my picky standards. We rented a pavilion at one of our regular running spots and ordered catering from Café Rio. After dinner, we held a one-mile kids race with prizes for first place in both pre-adolescent and teenage categories. I also made a 10-minute video of the R.A.C. throughout its years using pictures and clips taken on our hundreds of runs. Aah… is anything sweeter than a sweaty memory lane?
I’m grateful for my running buddies, the beautiful trails we’ve traversed, the habits we’ve fostered, the conversations we’ve had, and the muscles we’ve earned. May the pavement be ever at your feet and your friends ever alongside you.
Running can’t replace sleep. It’s not an equivalent exchange. Jason and I tested that law again last fall on the Bonneville Salt Flats while partaking in the Dusk to Dawn Relay. Yup, they still can’t be swapped. How was our second experience the same and different from our first Salt Flats all-nighter?
Cots, full coolers, lounge chairs, and snacks galore- what a luxurious encampment!
Jason and I were more ambitious with our team size this time. Signing up for a six-person team rather than an eight-person meant a greater commitment to laps. Others seemed less committed though, and we didn’t have a full crew for our Na Squad until six weeks before the race. We eventually attracted an incongruous but genial assortment of teammates ranging from teenagers to senior citizens and from ramblers to sprinting veterans. Other crews may have come upon their participants easier for the number of total runners appeared to have doubled from the race’s inaugural year.
The Bonneville Salt Flats are 12 miles long and five miles wide.Unnecessary jumping is the perfect way to waste energy before pulling an all-nighter.
The race loop was exactly two miles long this time. Between 8:04 p.m. and 7:06 a.m., the duration of the event, Jason and I both ran six laps. The total miles of our associates varied from eight to fourteen. One of our teenage teammates simultaneously “pulled a muscle” and “got a blister” in the middle of the night making him unable to circle further. Yeah, basically he didn’t want to run anymore. I was certainly not our fastest runner, but I was unfailingly consistent with no “pulled muscles.” I completed all but one of my laps between 19 and 21 minutes.
Thanks Stacey Marble for the cool silhouette shot.
Our team again broke up responsibility for chunks of the night to pairs, so sleep was still technically feasible, at least on a small-scale. For the second time, Jason and I took the slot no one wanted, which was the two-hour block between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m. All our teammates snoozed during these hours. We didn’t mind the quiet until we tried to wake up a replacement at the end of our window. No one was particularly interested, and it took a lot of effort to get our next looper in place.
As its name suggests, Dusk to Dawn starts promptly at sunset.
How did our team do? We placed 3rd amongst the six-person teams, but there were only four of those. Out of the 15 total teams in all three divisions, we came in 7th. Robust averageness? That’s what we are all about baby! We finished five laps behind our division winners. During our first attempt of this relay, our eight-person team completed 59.85 miles. We were hoping to beat that number in 2021. With 64 miles, we did it!
Speeds varied considerably amongst out teammates, but we always had someone at the start line ready to continue our forward momentum.
How was the setting? Besides the company with you, the spaces above you are the best thing about this race. Again, we saw Saturn and Jupiter and a million glimmering jabs. The moon was an enflamed sliver that appeared just an hour or so before sunrise. The sunrise itself was a bit disappointing, far from the vibrant, multicolored marvel we witness on our first Dusk to Dawn. Perhaps this was the doing of the pervasive wildfire smoke, or perhaps we just lucked out last time with a rise above standard.
That’s a smile of success or at least of completion. Thanks Stacey Marble.
Just how flat were the Bonneville Salt Flats? The salt was more compact this time, less like a Slurpee and more like packed dirt. That meant the difference between salt making its way inexplicably into every cranny and it remaining mostly where it should. It was colder on this occasion. At two points in the night, I got so chilled my body decided it was quitting the warmth game. Thanks to blankets, three jackets, and intermittent running I survived anyway.
No sleep and all salt makes Jack a brisk boy.
There is something magical about running by yourself on a curious bleached plain with only the crunch of your tennis shoes against the salt to interrupt your contemplation of the innumerable flickering stars webbing the blackness above you. That stillness is only heightened by its contrast to the lively sounds surrounding the start line. Not everyone in our group immediately praised the enchanting perks of this relay though. One of the teenagers complained that we had misrepresented this race to him. Apparently, he didn’t think it would involve so much running. Hmm… what else might be the primary focus of an 11-hour race? Jason and I expected a lot of laughs, a lot of salt, a lot of steps, and not a whole lot of sleep. Our expectations became reality; that was an equivalent exchange.
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