Chapter 37 – Lover’s Paradise

In June of 1991, we were getting ready to celebrate our first wedding anniversary and we wanted to do it in style. My good friend Chas just happened to have a house in Kauai, Hawaii in the quaint little village of Princeville. Good old Chas offered to let us stay in this wonderful little cottage while he was out in gallivanting around either in L.A. or New York. He would be there, he said, for the first day or so, and then he would leave us to our own marital devices. It was the nicest thing anyone ever had done for me in the thirty seven years of my life. I knew there had to be a catch.

We flew into Honolulu International Airport on the seventh of June and then boarded a small aircraft to the Lihue Airport in Kauai. I was scared out of my wits. I hate small planes and honestly I am not a fan of large aircraft either. The worst parts for me were the take-offs and landings; other than that I’m okay. Before we boarded our jet in Los Angeles, I realized I was wearing the Buddy Holly t-shirt I bought in New York when we went to the play of the same name. I panicked; I had to change my shirt and was even sorry I brought the damn thing with me. After all, Holly went down in a small plane over Clear Lake, Iowa forty plus years earlier. I know, I’m a superstitious person but I didn’t want to tempt fate—the t-shirt was coming off. I went into the men’s room and changed. I almost threw the shirt into the trash, but I figured as long as I wasn’t wearing it I would be safe.

I guess the costume change did the trick since we landed safely in Honolulu and even though the small plane was bumpy, the ride was short and we made it safely. Upon exiting out the jet, I thought it was probably the most beautiful place I had ever seen, and I hadn’t even checked out the ocean and beaches yet. Donna was so pleased when we entered the house and saw the modern white kitchen with brown and tan tiles. It had walnut cabinets, microwave oven, and side by side refrigerator—the place was immaculate. We put our things away in the bedroom then took a long walk on the beach.

We rented a yellow Jeep Wrangler with black pin stripes and were able to tour the island at out leisure. Gas was less than a buck fifty then so we could go as far as the island would take us. We thought we’d so a little adventuring and went down to the craggy Na Pali Coast which I was told was a very special place. The pali, or cliffs, provide a rugged grandeur of deep, narrow valleys ending abruptly at the sea. Waterfalls and swift flowing streams continue to cut these narrow valleys while the sea carves cliffs at their mouths. Extensive stone walled terraces can still be found on the valley bottoms where Hawaiians once lived and cultivated taro. It was all it was cracked up to be and more. I was entranced by seeing the mountain peak where the movie Bali High was filmed—too beautiful for words to describe. As we continued our long hike,  I remembered feeling like Daniel Boone in Pitlochry, but now I was more like Captain Cook as I leaned over the extremely high precipices that dropped more than five hundred feet into rugged and sharp crevices and ravines.  I then remembered that Cook was he was killed in Hawaii and I didn’t wish to share his fate. He was attacked by and angry group of King Kalaniopuu’s men and I reminded myself not to piss off any of the natives. “Like beef or what Haole boy?” I promised Donna I would be good and I later took her to the nicest restaurants in Hanalei, the closest town. A great start to a great anniversary.

The next day we booked a tee time for two at the Prince Course in Hanalei near Princeville. It was designed by Robert Trent Jones Jr. who integrated the wild beauty of the north shore taking advantage of wilderness areas, the dramatic coastline and natural waterfalls on three or more of the holes. I’m glad we not only had clubs but a camera as well. Even at ninety dollars a pop, it was well worth it.

That night we met Chas and his friend Alan, who was a singer and guitar player in the lounge of the restaurant in Hanalei. Chas got up and did a few songs and I went over some of my lyrics in my head in case I was asked to sit it. I wasn’t asked. Not enough hit records I guess.

We did the usual tourist thing and visited Fern Grotto or as I liked to call it, “The Grotty Fern” since it wasn’t quite as beautiful as we had hoped it would be and it kind of looked and smelled of swamp water. We boarded a small boat and the tour guide pointed out all these upside-down ferns growing right out of the lava rocks while he sang Hawaiian songs. It was very romantic in a Disneyland sort of way. We also toured the Spreckles Sugar Plantation and picked wildflowers along the palm and coconut tree lined dirt trails with songs of the Kauai Amakihi and the warbling Puaiohi serenading us overhead. I took a picture of Donna with a bouquet of gardenias and she never looked more beautiful. I was in total and complete love with her. I still am, by the way.

After that, we decided to explore the inner parts of the island and found the wettest place on the planet earth—Waialeale. The mountain, at an elevation of 5,148 feet (1,569 m), averages more than 452 inches of rain a year. I’m glad we didn’t decide to get the Jeep washed before we ventured out. On our way off the mountain we decided to see if we could find a back way home to Hanalei instead of turning around and going the way we came. Big mistake! We almost got lost while jeeping on the back roads. I figured, Kauai being an island, there was no way we could ever really get lost—but I almost managed to do it since we drove around for almost six hours before crawling along on some of the roughest terrain I had ever seen in my life. I felt like I was Michael Douglas and Donna was Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone. We were literally going less than five miles per hour having to avoid pot holes and boulders the size of grizzly bears not knowing how far we had left to go until we hit civilization again. Our gas tank was on empty for the last twenty-five miles before we found the main road again and a mile later, mercifully, there was a gas station. I didn’t know such a small island could be so big.

On June 9^th, our official anniversary we decided to revisit the Na Pali trail. It was an extraordinarily hot day so by the time we made it down to the beach we raced each other int0 the ocean. Oh, I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to immerse my body in that cool water then ride the six foot swells back to the shore. Donna stayed close to the shallow water, even though she is a gifted swimmer; she is not one for daredevil bodysurfing antics. Me, on the other hand, grew up on the rip tides of Santa Monica Beach and was a fairly good bodysurfer, if I do say so myself. The sun was going down and we knew it was time to leave the paradise behind and continue our celebration.

Back at the house, we made some margaritas and watched the last of the orange and purple rays of afterglow recede into darkness. We went upstairs, showered, and then made love beneath the cool, blue satin sheets. It was the best ever, not only because it was passionate, but it was spiritual too. I looked in her eyes below mine and I felt like crying—this had never happened to me before. Afterwards while we were lying in post coital bliss with my arms gently caressing her soon to be bronzed skin, I told her that we just made a baby. She said, “How can you be so sure?”

“I just felt it. You know me with my feelings, I’m very seldom wrong when I feel things as strongly as that.”

 Two days later we left the lover’s paradise and headed back to Los Angeles to get back to normal life again. Donna says that life with me could never be normal. I tend to agree. But now things were going to be even more abnormal because in nine months a new member of the family would appear. Would it be a boy or a girl? Yes it would.