Posted on: Friday, February 25, 2005

HAWAIIAN STYLE

By Wade Kilohana Shirkey
Advertiser Staff Writer

KOKE'E, Kaua'i — The worst thing was being the first up each morning to greet the cold toilet seat.

Koke'e Cold, but, you're told, it's all part of the Kaua'i mountaintop cabin experience charm.

The first warning, of course, was the area's climactic descriptions: mountainous and rainy — 50 to 100 inches of annual rainfall.

Or was it the blankets stacked at the bottom of every bed at the cabins, meant to ward off a normal winter's 40-degree night temperatures — plunging to the 30s with wind chill and all things considered. Enough to get your attention.

But the cold fits the silent peacefulness of your mountaintop retreat — perched high above Waimea Canyon.

There's little to do in the rustic state cabins besides build a roaring fire to temper the night's cold clouds and mist.

No television, no telephones, no newspaper delivery — seemingly no connection to slumbering Kaua'i some 3,000 feet below.

And no cell phone reception.

Here, Mother Nature reigns in all her glory outside the door: Waimea Canyon was her playground, Na Pali her artist's canvas, and a myriad of hiking trails her diversion — and ours.

The nearest Wal-Mart was a lifetime away. And, not a Starbucks, L & L Drive-In or ABC store in sight.

Here, the cold, the quiet, the peacefulness were God-given —the other rules for our week-long sojourn in these frigid uplands were self-imposed. For instance, no clocks or watches. Even the crowing of the resident Koke'e roosters lacked timing. They crowed day and night.

Only Hawaiian music, with headphones. You ate, and drank — and slept — to your internal clock. Schedules were gone with the wind — as the night wind slapped the flimsy cabin.

Soon, you learned the ways of the cabin, to find what little warmth Mother Nature allows in Koke'e.

Blankets pulled over the head as you spend those last precious morning moments secure in bed.

It was the call of Mother Nature that would summon the sleeper to that ice-cold toilet seat.

An oven cranked up to make toast would soften the edge of the morning cold a bit. And a percolating pot of morning coffee would infuse a little friendliness.

Adjusting window louvers open on the sun-side of the cabin in morning, and opening the other side at dusk to capture what heat the sun gave, became the norm.

Cooking dinner offered more warmth. Stoking the fireplace. Sitting to eat and enjoy a glass of burgundy.

A little reading before the fire and then it was time to snuggle beneath the blankets for the night.