4:45PM 75. Cloudy. Ocean breeze. Languid is the word. Da Fish Shack has a languid atmosphere right now; I feel enervated by the languidness of it all. Or something.
Outta here around 11:30 AM headed for Hanalei. Traffic was good and I got to Hanalei about 20 minutes after I left. I ate lunch at the Hanalei Dolphin on the banks of the Hanalei River. Had opah, but it was not as good as Mama’s Fish House. Guess that’s to be expected.
Drove through Hanalei to locate the farmer’s market again. Found it and drove on to find the Lumahuli gardens and check out the surfing. Found no surfing at Pinetrees or the Pavilion. Went on to Black Pot Bay. No surfers there either, but there was a lifeguard.
He had hand printed a list of questions and answers. Where is Hanalei? 7 miles back down the road. Where is Ke’ee beach. Next beach down the road. Sort of a lifeguard FAQ.
Not on his list was anything about surfing. I asked him why nobody was surfing. “It’s junky.” Oh. “What does that mean?” “It’s not clean.” Oh. Not a chatty sort.
What I took from it was that the waves broke in several different places, there was no clean line for a surfer to catch. He suggested I look at Hanalei (Pinetrees and Pavilion). I said thanks and continued on looking for Lumahuli Gardens. Found it not too much further up the road.
I drove in and went up to the visitor center. I wanted to buy a guide to the self-guided trip. The woman was reluctant to sell it to me. “We think it makes more sense if you see the plants as you read the guide.” “I see. Still, I want to read it before I go on the trail.” Still she hesitated. “I’m a gardner. I think I’ll get something from it.” She reached behind her. Yes. “You know you’ll still be charged $15 for the tour?” Yes, indeed, I did. That was more difficult than necessary.
It was close to time for the Hanalei Farmer’s Market (which I had read about in the New York Times.) so I headed back toward Hanalei. When I arrived, at about 1:55, a line of cars waited to make a turn into the grassy parking lot. I was on the right side, so I parked.
It looked like a county fair. There were several, maybe as many as 11, rows of cars parked 10-12 in a row.
The crowd stood patiently, like good Minnesotans, behind a blue rope. Well, almost all were patient. An older with broad shoulders and a Maryland Football t-shirt walked up to the fence and in a gruff voice said, “Come on.” Nobody paid any attention. Promptly at 2 the rope came down and we went in as a group.
As farmer’s markets in Minnesota go, it was small, but the choice of foods ranged from the ordinary to the exotic. There were wax beans, green beans, lettuce, flowers, rambutan, pineapple, avocado, banana’s, tangerines, oranges, more pineapples, more tangerines. One woman had a whole stand of tropical fruits, most of which I had never encountered: lingons and a fruit I bought that she advertised as having a cinnamon taste. It does. But I didn’t pay attention to the name. Just tried to find it. Couldn’t. It’s good and does have a cinnamony, custard type flavor.
I bought those whatever they were and a pound of rambutans, lychee nuts convered in a red skin with little soft spikes all over. Very cool. Discovered these at Mama’s.
That was the day. After that I drove back to Da Fish Shack. Tried to take a nap, but it didn’t take, so I started this.
Tonight? Who knows.
