Day 15 Kauai - Spouting Horn

Days 15

Another smashing day in paradise. CAVU (Ceiling and Visability Unlimited).

This morning we took Poipu Road to the traffic circle and then along the Lawai coastal road toward the Spouting Horn and the Botanical Gardens. We drove past multi-million dollar homes—not huge mansions, just nice homes, fairly close together. The multi part is the location on the Pacific beach.

We came to the entrance marked Botanical Gardens, gleefully finding a shady parking spot and walking down a landscaped entrance past poster billboards explaining the five different gardens and the length of various tours, from one and one-half hours and up.

Self-guided walking tours were available. “Pick up a self-guided tour map at the visitor’s center,” the sign proclaimed. This sounded perfect for an elderly couple. And so, we walked past the gift shop and up the leafy walkway to the visitor’s center, manned by two ladies speaking in some sort of tongue, making no sense. A tour bus was parked next to the building. I searched the counters for the self-guided tour brochure while Dave tried to make sense of the woman’s speech.

Turns out this lovely few acres of garden walkway was merely a tourist trap, designed to sell tours to the real garden which was three miles away. Older, but wiser, Dave and I returned to the car, abandoning our special parking spot and drove on to the viewing end of the road. Here we encountered a securely locked gate which, presumably, prohibited non-paying patrons from entering the gardens.

 

 

 

 

No matter, who needs a tour, anyway? The entire island is a garden—free to all. Just open your eyes. Flexibility.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little rise lead us to many pull-outs that overlooked picture-postcard views of the coast and the “Spouting Horn” which is nothing more than a hole in the black lava rocks through which the surf can spout up. Pretty, and free to see.

 

Speaking of black lava rocks, this is a volcanic island, of course, created from lava, some of which litters the sea bottom. Later in the day, when Dave and I took our snorkeling tour of the Poipu beach area in front of our hotel, we did our best to avoid them as we fell through the churning surf. Getting in and out of the breakers is the biggest challenge. After that one must swim through the swells at great effort as they move you here and there, relentlessly. I suppose that more seasoned swimmers have it figured out, but it was an effort for the two of us. We were equipped with life belts and swim fins, as well as the snorkeling mask and breathing tube. I am the better swimmer and so I always hold Dave’s hand. He has never entirely overcome his fear of water, plus he has this built-in “on-guard” attitude, always in protective mode around his wife.

Soon I realized that we needed to paddle out to where the bulk of the snorkelers were gathered, uncomfortably close to the outer breakers which defined the safe swimming area. We were able to skirt close enough to the edges of this area to see swarms of colorful fish which lived in this rock-strewn area. Aha! Just as we were told, the fish lived among the rocks. How deep was it here? Maybe ten feet, I don’t know. The water was perfectly clear and we could see everything without submerging. Once we saw a sea snake, wiggling along the bottom. Later someone told me this was an eel. Who knows? Who cares? This was fun. We floated along, constantly working our swim fins to avoid being washed ashore by the swells. I soon forgot how much my big toe hurt, as I’m sure Dave forgot his knee pain.

After what seemed like twenty minutes, but was more like an hour, I was ready to quit from the exertion. Getting back through the surf was easier for me than for Dave—still it was challenging. I managed to avoid the sharp rocks by floating in on a wave. Dave struggled, but made it, refusing to admit he was cut up, again.

A brief rest, washing off the sand with a hose, and a dip in the pool was plenty of activity for the day. We returned to our rooms to shower and dress. Dave collapsed in front of the TV and I left for my appointment for the ukulele lesson. The teacher was excellent. She was prepared with a dozen or so instruments all tuned and ready. In no time she had her class singing and strumming along. She didn’t even ask for tips. Amazing. Still I insisted on leaving a five dollar tip. No much, considering. She kindly pushed her personal instrument into my hands, telling me to practice and bring it back in three days when we checked out.

Amazing. She didn’t even know my name.