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site by supak

High surf advisories in every direction...
...leaving their food for these warmer waters where they have sex and kids.


Winter came on Halloween
by Scott Supak

Winter came to the islands in the form of a convergence of storms on Halloween. Even in LA, where I lived ten years before moving here, winter creeps in like Carl Sandburg's fog on little cats feet, as a series of storms mixed with balmy, southern days and nights, eventually becoming bearable after the still, smoggy sauna of summer. But here it just changed yesterday, on Halloween, with no notice other than the clouds that rushed in just before the temperature dropped.

Almost everyday since we moved here Labor Day has been 90-92 degrees here in Kihei. Today the high might have been 78. Winter just showed up, without so much as knocking first, on cool soft winds from the north, where the Humpback whales are leaving their food for these warmer waters where they have sex and kids.

Tonight as I looked up into the billion more stars than I could ever see in the LA sky, the clouds having moved on to the open water and eventually California or Mexico via the Pineapple Express, the cleanest breeze on earth pushed through the banana trees in the backyard and up my shirt sleeves to actually give me goose bumps. I realized this place we're renting doesn't even have a heater.

So winter in Hawaii seems to be a change in the prevailing winds, a few more storms, slightly cooler days, nights that make you happy you have long pants in the closet somewhere, and a chance to close your windows at night. Morning drives to work in the Maui cruiser means using 1 X 50 air conditioning (four windows rolled down a quarter of the way) instead of 4 X 50. I still don't know if the car heater works, and unless I get stupid and try to drive that hunk up Haleakala, I won't be trying it. At least at sea level on this archipelago, there's no need for heaters.

And if we ever miss snow, we'll just hop over to the big island and go to Mauna Kea, where it's a short trip to warm up by the lava flow.

Mark Twain spent the rest of his life trying to get back to these islands, regretting having never returned so much that he broke into poetry about it during a speech to a baseball team that had just returned to the mainland by way of the Sandwich Islands. Having heard what Twain had to say, having seen this wondrous place with my own eyes, and having felt the wind through my mustache, I wonder if anything could ever make me want to leave this land of no heaters.


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