Call of the country

By Chris Oliver
Advertiser Travel Writer

Simple fun works best in Punalu'u. Ask Joe Maiava and and Bob Soukhaseum.

Bryson Quijano, 11, of Waikiki, Kathi Hasegawa of Mo'ili'ili and her daughter, Marasia Olang, 7, enjoy a Friday afternoon of playing on a quiet beach in Punalu'u. Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

At least a dozen road bridges straddle Kamehameha highway between Kahana Bay and Hau'ula (yes, signs discourage jumping, but a lot of people ignore them). Some, like Waiona, have a wooden footbridge built alongside for the safety of pedestrians, some have names and dates from the 1920s, carved into the stone. Some are so small that the driver crosses unaware over streams, ditches and sand-filled gullies banked by thickets of mango and flowering hau trees.

Glance upstream and you might spot a derelict fishing boat or a tire swing half-hidden by vegetation. And while summer dries up some of the smaller stream beds, every bridge is a reminder that not too long ago, water from these mountain streams kept Windward communities thriving on harvested taro, rice and sugar cane.

Twenty miles from Honolulu and we're in the country, or as one handmade road sign says, "Kountry now." It's an area between Kualoa and Kahuku known as Ko'olau Loa, or "Long Ko'olau," for the spine of mountains that runs the length of the island.

On the road map, the single route through the area is Kamehameha Highway but its true name is Ke Ala Moa'e, the "trade-wind trail," an area soaked both in Hawaiian history and a weather pattern that brings 300 inches of rain annually, making Kahana Valley and the upper forests of Punalu'u among the wettest spots on O'ahu.

And the most beautiful.

Between Kahana Valley and Hau'ula Beach Park, this drive passes fishponds, empty beaches, archaeological sites, hiking trails, rocky offshore points and cliffs. The Pacific Ocean laps gently at boulders along the edge of the highway. Fishing poles are set up on ribbon-thin stretches of sand.

Standing a few yards out in the ocean, Mahea Camacho casts her line, hoping to catch something. She says she is hoping to snag "a humuhumunuku-nukuapua'a, or just maybe a crab or two."

"I'm fishing for whatever bites," Camacho said with a laugh. "Then I throw 'em back."

On vacation from Wailuku, Maui, Camacho is staying with her brother, who owns a nearby beach house. "I'll be out here all day. It's so absolutely peaceful," she said.

It's the kind of peace that attracted Leo and Henry "Tats" Enos to move from Honolulu 27 years ago. At the entrance to Kahaunani Woods & Krafts, their gallery/woodshop/home on Kamehameha Highway, a milo tree shades the gallery parking space.

The couple planted the tree years ago, and more like it are at the back of the property. Tats Enos, a wood craftsman, makes bowls, frames and Hawaiian artifacts from koa, mango and milo woods. Leo finishes them. "When customers buy from us, we like to show them what the original tree looked like," she said.

On busier days, visitors from as far as Europe, Russia, Israel and Japan have found their gallery. "We don't advertise," Leo says, proudly producing albums of photographs taken with customers, "it's all word of mouth."

But on this hot, slow afternoon, they are content to talk story in the woodshop beneath their home. It looks out across an acre of freshly-mown grass; roosters crow somewhere out back.

Handing out ice water, Leo fans herself and talks about development in the neighborhood: "Here we like to sit quietly in the afternoons, when it's hot. We don't want this to change. Soon all this will go, but tourists don't come to see tract homes, they come to see the real Hawai'i."

A "real Hawai'i" that is reflected in the number of Hawaiian flags flying in the neighborhood. The next day, Leo will set off to attend a two-day vigil at 'Iolani Palace for the return of the Hawaiian kingdom. "We're pro-independence," Tats said, "along with many of our neighbors. We want to reinstate the Hawaiian government that has already been elected."

It's part of what makes the area special, they say. "It's country living, the slow pace of old Hawai'i, Tats said firmly. "When we moved here, it didn't take long to realize we didn't ever want to go back to the city."

Serene simplicity

Paul Groesbeck of Mo'ili'ili and his daughter, Marasia Olang, 7, enjoy their annual summer getaway at Punalu'u, where they rent a beach house and kick back. It's 20 miles from Honolulu, yet a world apart. Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

Getting away from the city is exactly what brings Paul Groesbeck, wife Kathi Hasegawa and 7-year-old daughter Marasia to Punalu'u for their annual summer vacation, to "decompress."

At the shorebreak, Groesbeck — director of Honolulu's Life Foundation — and Marasia chat with a school friend and her mom, who are visiting for the afternoon. Turquoise waves splash at their feet and an offshore breeze offers relief from the mid-afternoon heat as they sit in the shade.

"Unless you're dying to get out, there is no need to leave Hawai'i for a vacation," said Groesbeck, who gave up going to Kaua'i because of the soaring costs of inter-island travel and instead has rented the same beach house each year since 2001.

"The first day we spend convincing ourselves that we don't have to do anything — we just walk up and down the beach," he said. "Kaya's General Store is just a few minutes from here with everything we need from beer to newspapers. Last year, I didn't get in the car the entire week we were here."

The family vacation focuses on simple things: being able to look at an unobstructed view of the ocean; beach crabbing at night; playing board games with Marasia. "We listen to the waves for eons. It's comforting and relaxing," he said.

The family also likes to invite friends to join them during the week. Groesbeck brings a stack of books from Mo'ili'ili Public Library ("If I run out, I can go to Kahuku") and was looking forward to television coverage of the Olympics.

"I can't afford to own a beautiful beach house in Hawai'i, but for the time we're here, this feels like our own place, and Marasia will (I hope) remember coming here and that it was peaceful, relaxing and fun to be with her family," Groesbeck said.

What brings them back? "Punalu'u is simple. It reminds me of where I grew up, in the Adirondacks, in New York, the smallness of the place, where people knew each other and were welcoming and respected privacy and quiet.

"Life is uncomplicated here, whereas my work at the Life Foundation is complicated; it's also invigorating and challenging, but it's nice to vacation in an uncomplicated way. We don't want to have to change planes or be searched."

Artful living

Farther north on Kamehameha Highway, beneath a canopy of hau trees, the Kim Taylor Reece Gallery looks out over the ocean. On the red steps leading to the entrance, Reece chats with visitors as he and his wife, Kanoe, box up an order.

The gallery also is their home, a custom-built airy space that takes in the serene sweep of the ocean across the highway and an unobstructed view of the Ko'olaus at the back. Many of Reece's original framed works hang in the gallery, which opens to the public three days a week.

Reece, known for his fine-art images of hula, grew up in Southern California but has lived in the Islands since the 1970s and in Punalu'u for the last 12 years, tearing down the old house that once stood there and rebuilding it into an art space used by architects and interior designers as well as for his photographs. Many of his photo shoots take place at nearby Kalaipaloa Point.

"This is a wonderful home base where we can not only unwind and relax but share how people live and be a part of the neighborhood," he said. "In winter, we can watch the whales from our windows; we drive along a coast road that feels like driving along the beach itself.

"It's as close to paradise on Earth as its possible to be."

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