Island fever is like any weird trip, you just ride it out...

Captain James Cook was murdered 235 years ago today on 2/14/1779.

Skill Village 2/14/14
I’m hunkered down in the bungalow again watching the storm clouds move in. It has been a week of beautiful weather and relaxing on the beach. I’ve worked through the withdrawals of city life and my island fever has also passed. I can now welcome the rain. I am happy to be here. As I watch the clouds cover up the full moon I think about Captain James Cook. He was killed today by natives in 1779 on the Big Island. Cook arrived to Kealakekua Bay, the sacred harbor of Lono at the beginning of the Makahiki festival. The general belief of historians is that because of the timing of Cook's arrival, the direction he circled the island before landing, and the look of his two ships, the native Hawaiian’s thought he was Lono arriving for the Makahiki. When Cook left it was the end of the festival in February, but he didn’t get far before his foremast broke, and he was forced to return to the Big Island. The natives were not happy to see Lono return, he shouldn’t have been back until the next Makahiki season. It was not long after his return that Cook was struck in the head by a chief wielding a club and stabbed by one of his assistants, and taken away and prepared for the death rituals reserved for chiefs and high ranking elders. They brought a hunk of Cook’s thigh and one of his hands to his crew and they performed a formal burial at sea.

It is 235 years later and I am fascinated by what it must have been like for Cook to be the first known white man to see Hawaii. I had never seen Hawaii in person before I found myself gathering everything I owned at the Maui airport baggage claim. As I dumped it all into a rental car, I already knew what Maui looked like. I had studied Google Earth for months and I had seen Hawaii in countless pictures and movies over the years. In this time of smart phone cameras, and Instagram, nearly every part of the world no matter how remote has been photographed tagged and uploaded to the internet. You can explore the world from the comfort of your own home these days. Of course experiencing these places in person is much different, but you’ve still looked at all the pictures and read Wikipedia before hand. You can prepare and know what to expect. You are never that surprised. I can only imagine what it must have been like to take the risk and come ashore for the first time and have no idea what you would find. Cook lived for it, and eventually his obsession caught up to him. On this fine Maui night on the day of his death...I pay my respects.

I have travelled to many islands over the years. I’ve been to islands in the Caribbean and to Rarotonga, Tahiti, and Bora Bora in the South Pacific. Maui surprised me by how beautiful it really is. No pictures or travel guides do it justice. It is one of the most stunning islands I have been to. My second day on the island I made the 68 mile trek around the eastern tip, called the road to Hana. The road was built for sugar plantation workers to get back and forth from Paia to Hana. This is probably the most breathtaking road I have ever been on or driven in my life. Only Highway 41 into Yosemite Valley in California comes close. 59 bridges and 46 of them are all one lane and most of them were built in 1910. Only one bridge has been replaced in over a hundred years. 620 curves wind through lush rainforest, ocean cliffs, and past countless waterfalls. Bill Clinton designated it in 2000 as the “Hana Millennium Legacy Trail”. From the minute I started driving down the road to Hana I knew I should be here. I had made the right choice to move here, but I didn’t feel at home yet.

Now two months later I’m sitting in the bungalow writing, and drinking Steinlager with a calm I haven’t felt before. I now feel at home here. Island fever is real and most people can’t work through it. They end up leaving back to the mainland. I was never away from San Francisco for more than two weeks in ten years of living there. So a month and a half in and it really started hitting me hard. Island fever is like any weird trip, you just ride it out, and eventually you straighten out your head and get your bearings. When you come from the big city where distractions are on every street, you get used to avoiding reality. On the island I have no choice but to really deal with myself and the path I am on. For years I had been running from myself and what I was doing. I am coming to terms with who I am at 32 years old, and it’s not as bad as I thought. I am on the right road. The time is now. In the honor of Cook my travels will continue, and as long as I don’t get murdered by natives I’ll be fine.