Party Like You’re Hawaiian

Punaluu Beach Park

On Saturday the clouds moved, and it rained. In the afternoon, when
the rains let up, a Hawaiian family camped about fifteen yards from my
tent. They invited me over for dinner. The wild pig was good, but next
time I'll pass on the poi. It tasted like spoiled yogurt. After dinner
I was treated to a Primo beer, the homegrown beer of the Islands. The
beer had an interesting flavor too, kind of like vinegar. After three
or four, though, I had no problem drinking it.

By nightfall, the Hawaiian campsite had grown considerably. There were
aunts and uncles, cousins and neighbors, all partying on the beach. I
stuck around for a few more beers and just when the party really got
going, I went to bed. Based on what I saw, partying Hawaiian style
left no room for party-poopers. I bet the word wasn't even in their
language. In the morning when I went back for breakfast, some of the
hefty men (the Hawaiians were very large) were drinking beer with
their bacon and eggs.

After I left Bellows beach, I peddled to Punaluu. By the time I
arrived, I had three broken spokes. The weather wasn't good either,
but it didn't start storming until after dark. Forty-mile an hour
winds battered my tent, a tent not large enough to lie down in and not
rain-tight either. In the morning I found myself completely alone in a
very large beach park. I spent the rest of the day sitting under the
bathroom overhangs. They blocked most the wind and rain, but again the
atmosphere was lacking. By evening the storm softened a bit, ten mile
an hour winds and the rains turned to a constant drizzle.