I swerved left and right at slow 20 mph. The Jeep Wrangler dipped deeply to the sides, much more like a dingy in waves than a car on steady land. The shocks of my rental were worn out. I wanted to at least get a feel for the jelly pudding of a car on the deserted airport ancillary road before hitting life traffic. It was my first time in Hawaii. What? Was I going to pass up on the chance to ride around on the island in a convertible fun toy? Of course not! I had worked hard and waited long to save up vacation days for this vacation.
The Google maps printout was pinned underneath my thigh. The trip would lead me half way around the island to the vacation resort Center K. The sun had dimmed for a gentle dawn gray. I passed the lava fields of the Kona side on a smooth road. Cars drove in friendly groups down the street. Fun music was playing through the stereo. The air through the open window was playing with my curly hair. I breathed in the fresh air of liberty and island bliss.
My journey turned East to leave the vacation resort area to climb up to Waimea, the cowboy city. Local cowboys are called paniolos. One of the largest ranches is up here in the high land. Past Waimea was a pleasant road lined by tall trees on both sides. Coming to the windward side meant more plants. The trees were very happy and lush.
Shortly, later the rain hit. I curbed up the window as fast as I could to keep the fat rain drops that were exploding on my left arm from coming in. The old windshield wipers left a medley of streaks that reflected the red backlights of the car ahead like a kaleidoscope. A fog bank hit us, the car and me. Amid the rain, bad wipers, and fog, I could barely make out the liners of the road or the car ahead. I made the tense calculation between slowing down and following the car ahead, where I could see the bumpers. If I'd slow down, I might drive off a cliff not being able to see that the road turned. By following the car ahead, where I could barely see the two red dots, I'd at least know that there was something ahead of me.
Everything turned worse. I felt the tense decision to either stop middle in the road, because I could not even see a shoulder next to me or take it on faith. The fog cleared up. I could see again. We hit another fog bank. I made it across to the western coast and turned south to a winding road. There were more fog banks with rain. Only this time, the tension made my brain hurt, because of the curvy cliff roads. A little ahead of Hilo, the big city, the weather became pleasant. The rush hour traffic had given way to the loneliness of night traffic.
A little after Hilo, I turned onto a small road to head into Puna. Puna is the most Westward part of the island. The land is so newly formed from lava that no insurance company will protect buildings. So, there are barely any commercial buildings. There were no street lamps. There was thick jungle forest on both sides, because it is the rainiest part of the island. The road was smooth, pitch black. It went up and down over hills like a gentle roller coaster ride for little kids.
Finally, I hit the open ocean. The road hit a T-intersection. Ahead was the ocean pitch black, calm, and heavy. It spoke of such serenity. And, I had made it through the long journey across the foreign island in this bouncy castle of a truck. Just a few more miles to the entrance of the resort Center K. The road was single lane. An oncoming car meant putting two tires on the dirt aside the road in this thick jungle forest.
The entrance gate was evident in the jungle with no other gates or buildings around. The key code from the welcome e-mail opened the gate. I drove onto the compound. I found the key in an envelope outside the reception house. After disturbing a few people in quiet chats on the compound, I located my building and the room within it. It was a simple room, perhaps a little ramshackle. The bathroom door could not open, because the bed blocked it. I hit the mattress, peace out.
The next morning, I properly checked in. I went for a run up the road. It was a marvelous jungle with thick plants and tree frogs singing. Every once in a while the road curved near enough the ocean to see it. A thick downpour hit me. I knew that it would rain a few times a day. That's why Center K was the only resort in this part of the island. The rain was luxuriously warm. I took off my t-shirt and rolled it into a thick ball to keep it from getting wet. The raid was streaming down my pecs and hot back. I felt like a man.
Lunch was served on the lanai. Lanai is Hawaiian for patio. There were big wooden tables that encouraged hotel guests and workers to sit together. I got my food from the buffet. It was delicious. I politely kept to myself to avoid intruding on other people. Yet, my ears grew into giant Dumbo flaps, when I heard the hottie behind me talk about self-pleasure. She was talking about how she was moving the sexual energy along her spine. A guy opposite to her told her that he would do that as well, yet he'd circle the energy around his kidney as well. Apparently, were taking tantric classes together. I am so in the right spot to be in open minded and sensuality embracing company, where people openly talk about that stuff.
At the end of my table was a guy with white safari shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt. The most notable was his lawyer face and the big circle ear ring, a clear clash of styles. Another guy came from the buffet. He was dressed exactly the same, had the same look on the face, and the same big golden ear ring. They tenderly mouth kissed each other and touched each other. With shock, I realized that they were not some silly musical duo, but married. This was a married couple. It was so strange, like two identical copies that had found each other.
Feeling great from the wonderful food in my belly and being in paradise, I went down to reception. I inquired, if there were any dirt roads, where I could break the rental agreement and let the Jeep go wild. The receptionist only knew of paved roads. C'mon, this is Hawaii! However, she told me that the owner knew about a lot of adventures. She called him down. The owner was a tall and fit guy with trim haircut.
"Sorry, I don't know any off road trails. However, do you want to come with us and play naked volley ball on an abandoned banana plantation? I'm going in a little bit."
Hey, I know an adventure, when it comes knocking. I strolled round the resort to look at the pool, lawn, and amenities. When I returned, there was another resort guest. He was a white, gentle, thin guy. He was my age, mid-twenties. His name was Derik. We got into the owner's big SUV. Rather than a rough Jeep Wrangler, it was a cozy leather upholstered urban truck.
Experiencing the single lane road was a thrill. The owner would not slow down for oncoming cars. He'd steer half of the road on to the dirt on the side, hit rain puddles and foot deep grass. With one hand, he'd give the shaka signal -- a fist with the thumb and index finger pointing in opposite directions, a warm island greeting. Along the jungle road was walking a single tall, muscular man with many tattoos and overabundant piercings on his ears and nipples. His shirt was off. The owner rolled down the window: "Are you going for naked volleyball? Do you want a ride!"
"I guess, it must be pretty obvious with nothing else around," replied the stranger and got in.
A short rough road off the public road, we arrived at a volleyball court on a jungle clearing. There was a roof structure of corroded metal nearby. The volleyball court was full of mostly naked man. Just a couple were wearing shorts. Under the roof structure, where the only two women. They were massively heavy, the size of two people. I bet that none of the straight guys would have paid them any mind. Here among the gay guys, they were welcome, because their attractiveness did not count.
To be honest, I love adventure. I love nudity. Though, I feel a little shy about just stripping naked with a bunch of guys that I don't know. And, I am afraid of people hitting overtly on me or finding out that I am actually straight. It's a bit like an adventurous zoo to me. I mean not that gay people are animals. However, they are a bit foreign to me. And, I like to be able to pretend to be open minded by having gay friends.
Though, all of my hang-ups were quickly gone. A match had finished. I was invited onto the court. My mind was focused on the ball. I did not pay attention to the pistol and balls dangling around. Though, I did cherish that everyone was so much friendlier than at straight volleyball games. Each point scored had such a supportive hooray of high fives. Even though, I barely knew those guys, I already felt appreciated like only good friends do. And, they had such friendly rules. When someone missed the serve, they called it the princess rule and let him try again. I love that kind of humor. I love that kind of being allowed to be close and happy with other guys. I secretly enjoyed not having to be tough around guys. I kind of wished that I would also get a friendly swat on my butt. However, they did not know me to be sure that I would be okay with it. And, I guess, I was pretty quiet around them to not signal that I was a wild guy wanting it.
Two hours quickly passed. The owner had to get back for work. Not really knowing where I was, I preferred to get a ride back with him. I spent the rest of the day exploring the resort and taking a swim. The next day, I would strike out on a day trip.
I got up early. I was all ready and sitting on the stairs, when the conch shell was blown to announce the beginning of breakfast. At the end of the breakfast buffet was a lunch bag with peanut butter jelly sandwiches and my name on it. I was munching on breakfast overlooking the lawn and sitting in a cheap white plastic chair. The smell of citronella was heavy on my skin. I had missed spots yesterday and gotten bitten by the mosquitoes.
Derik recognized me and sat down with me. He was an IT worker from Portland. He seemed to be pretty gay, yet didn't seem very much out of the closet at home. I did not probe into it. He was very excited about being in Hawaii at a resort that was open for gay people. We exchanged facts and expectations about Hawaii.
A chubby black girl joined us. She was very open about being a Lesbian and her hardships of working on a navy boat. She impressed on us that she was a good boss. She would want to let her people leave work early, when they got their work done. However, she had gotten in trouble for that, because the military police had found her people leaving the boat early. She was a good fellow. She had a colorful flower in her hair and casual flip flops on her feet.
Munching down on the last bits of fresh ocean fish, I told them about my Jeep Wrangler and planned adventure out to a remote beach. It supposedly required a 4WD to make it there. The beach was supposed to be with green and on one end and red sand on the other. In between, the sand colors blended. Best of all, during the week, the beach was supposed to be completely empty, because it was so hard to get to it. Derik reacted excited. And, I invited him along.
A few minutes later, the two of us were driving West. We hit the rain forest part of Hawaii. It was raining of course. I kept the roof down. Driving fast enough the windshield created a space of rain protection behind it. We hit one red light. If it hadn't changed any sooner, I'd have almost pulled up the roof.
Derik was sitting next to me. He was neat. He had a backpack fixed with all his stuff. When the rain stopped, he pulled out a compact camera and started snapping photos. The small talk came easy. I don't even remember what it was. He seemed to be another middle class white boy like me. Both of us being in IT, we were kind of timid and polite.
Making it past the center of the island, the trees spread out. At first there were singular trees with giant big crowns. Then, the grass landscape took over with little trees that were leaning to one side. They were really drawn to one side from the constant sea breeze. The houses got quaint. The air was cool. I was glad about having an extra sweater. We passed the turn off to South Point, the most southern place in America. Our turn off was a few miles ahead.
The odometer of the truck told us that the dirt road on the left was ours. I hit it, excited about the tire hitting the hard packed dirt. The grass was arid. There were gentle bumps in the road, not even a passenger car would wheeze at that. A mile down, we got to a cattle gate. We opened and closed it. The road was immediately rutted. If I'd hit the rut, it would swallow the whole tired. There were soccer ball sized smooth round rocks to navigate. I loved it. The car was swinging left and right. After hitting my head once on the rollover bar, I learned to lean into the center to avoid any swings hitting me again. The CD skipped occasionally. I found the skips only a cheer to try to make it skip harder. Derik held onto a handle and smiled in happy silence.
