I fell in love with Keanae the first time I saw it, too many moons ago to even try to remember. This jagged northern peninsula was created from a huge lava spill from Haleakala's crater, but today it is sleepy and peaceful, home to a tiny community surrounded by taro fields, grazing animals and the relentless pounding of the surf.
This little church, called "Ihi'ihio lehowa o na Kaua" was built over 150 years ago and it still stands strong. It was the only surviving building of a tsunami in 1946 (from the Alaskan Aleutian earthquake) and it wiped out the entire town, with 35-100 foot waves. There was no warning; no one saw it coming, and 20 children and 4 teachers were stolen by the wave. The outcome from this tragedy was the formation of the Pacific Tsunami Warning Centre, still in effect and helping to keep the residents safe.
It is an exquisite, windy drive to mile 17 from the Makawao cutoff and the sheer cliffs drop from thick bamboo forests, more lush than I have ever seen. Although the waterfalls had all but dried up after a hot summer's season, there were stands of stunning rainbow eucalyptus trees. The single disappointment was arriving too late at Aunt Sandy's roadside stand for the best banana bread on the island, dammit. Fortunately we remembered to bring a cold beer and a beach chair, great for wave watching.
The return trip back was, if anything, even more stunning as being on the outside of the road afforded some gobsmacking views, although a bit fleeting thanks to the jungle. This lovely spot on earth is one of my mental happy places that transports me through the worst of the grey and sodden BC winter. I'm tanking up my memory banks in earnest.
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