Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Haleiwa


If a monk seal falls alseep on a deserted beach, does his snoring disturb the gulls?

From far off there is only silence. Encased in a tempered glass fishbowl Imagination hitches a burning comet to the end of the galaxy and back. there is only silence. and through eyes searching from an undocumented precise point in space, it seems the world goes on spinning. without our immediate attention. this is both encouraging and a source of despair. Our looking glass is a wonderful fountain of contradiction.

November 4th, 2008. I left the house early and headed northwest up the coast. just before the sun stepped hot and bright over those mountains, i peddled and looked back. the lonely cars wafting pot smoke and the pickups loaded with surfboards grow less frequent as the pavement stretches out. by 8:30 it is only me, the fishermen, and the retirees staring into the blue abyss down at yoks beach. I stand for a moment at the end of the paved road and sip water i've carried in a gatorade bottle. time to move. rocks, mud, abandoned 4x4s, and washed out shadows of highway. Then a boat speeding along with me toward kaena point drops a line between swells. Sitting on the weathered coral, white and fragmented below the lighthouse, i read the small yellow sign tilted in the wind. Then scan the fingers of volcanic rock reaching out towards the reef. There, in a shallow bed of salt water humped up on the stones, my monk seal snores away. his snout spouts air across the surface of the water spraying his visibly fury back. an endangered species! less than 1500 monk seals, endemic to hawaii, are still about. a solitary creature without the instinct to flee. in translation, the 'dog that runs in rough waters'.

Across the sand and around the point weaving up and down all terrain. back on the paved road i spot two cyclists like myself. but cresting the small hill, i hear their engines kick on, and i try to pass them. flying downhill my knees pumping towards my chest. a simple jest. I swerve to the center of the road. i pass them! a defiant smile intact. and then they lazily swim by spouting exhaust in my visibly fury beard. I keep on.

At dillingham airfield helicopters cut up and down through the sky and i'm jeanclaudevandam. planes to my left are taking flight and i'm barreling down the highway catching quick glances over my shoulder. semiautomatic snorkel at the ready. Then pastel houses and horses and i swear a group playing polo. waialua red dirt and a small library with the dust of coffee grounds caught in spokes on my tires. sharks at the beach park. on the corner is 'wiki wiki java' where i sit for an iced coffee and listen to some middle aged guy sound tough and business like on his cell. then he introduces the brazillian women serving drinks to his teenage daughter and asks the waitress for a date. he's turned down. maybe I should have asked her out too. He seems to take rejection in stride and lays out a string of sad loves lost. The touristy looking elderly couple with white hair and tacky hawaiian dress flip through surfing magazines on the table as i get up to leave.
I catch the bus to waimea bay. I listen to bus stop lies and children bickering between fresh fruit stands. i have reached my elusively absolute destination. sit swim and decide to catch the bus home. text messages alert me to obama's win in pa. spinning in transit. reading 'kafka on the shore', bumping shoulders and balancing bags on knees with a sharp eye on my final ride. the phone rings. jubilation on the line. President of the United States of America! i was in haleiwa. my monk seal snores off kaena point.