Category Archives: Hawaii

When a Screensaver Sends You Back to Hawaii

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A Morning Memory Triggered by the Koʻolau Mountains

A Morning Spark

It’s amazing where inspiration comes from. I opened my computer this morning to a breathtaking image — an aerial view I recognized instantly. Those dramatic ridges could only belong to the Koʻolau Mountain Range on Oʻahu.

Yes, I know. You already know I love Hawaii. But here’s the twist: I’ve only been to Oʻahu once. My heart belongs first to the Big Island, then to Maui. Kauaʻi is still waiting for me.

Before I get to the mountains, here are my quick impressions of the four most‑visited islands.

My Take on the Four Big Islands

  • The Big Island — Kīlauea, volcanic energy, and Parker Ranch. My favorite.
  • Maui (The Valley Isle) — My nickname: #1 Tourist Stop. Lots to do, lots to see, and plenty of upscale accommodations.
  • Oʻahu (The Gathering Place) — Chaotic, urban, crowded. Great attractions, but one visit was enough for me. Pearl Harbor is a must.
  • Kauaʻi (The Garden Isle) — Said to be the most traditional and the most natural. I haven’t been yet, but everyone insists I’ll love it.

The Mountains That Look Carved by a Giant Hand

Back to that screensaver photo.
The Koʻolau Mountains run along the eastern edge of Oʻahu — the eroded remains of a single shield volcano. Thirty‑four miles of ridges and deep green troughs.

To me, it looks like a giant hand dragged its fingers down the mountainside, leaving those dramatic grooves behind. Once you see it, you never forget it.

The Wind, the Cliffs, and a Battle in the Clouds

My sister and I explored this area on our trip in 2007. We started at Nuʻuanu Pali, on the recommendation of our Pearl Harbor guide. I think he hoped we’d hire him to take us, but we couldn’t coordinate schedules, so off we went on our own.

“Pali” means cliff, and Nuʻuanu is the site of a brutal turning point in Hawaiian history. During his campaign to unite the islands, King Kamehameha I drove the opposing warriors up the cliffs until many fell — or were forced — over the edge. Storyboards at the lookout help visitors understand the gravity of what happened there.

From the windy heights of Nuʻuanu Pali, the view opens to a deep green valley and the rugged Koʻolau Mountains, with Honolulu and the shimmering coastline far beyond.

And the trade winds? They’re no joke. The same winds that keep Hawaii comfortable on hot days become fierce at the Pali. We laughed ourselves silly trying to walk without being blown sideways. Crawling back up the path didn’t seem like a bad idea.

Ghost Crabs, Teasing Birds, and Chinaman’s Hat

After leaving the lookout, we drove down to the base of the mountain and stopped at a small beach park. We watched ghost crabs — tiny, transparent little things — scuttle across the sand and vanish into holes like magic.

The park was full of those silly white birds (cattle egrets), and they were the ultimate tease. Every time I tried to get a close‑up photo, they stepped just out of reach. They’ve clearly been tormenting tourists for years.

A more cooperative subject was Chinaman’s Hat (Mokoliʻi), the little cone‑shaped island sitting just offshore in Kāneʻohe Bay. But the real star of the park was the mountain itself, those unforgettable “finger marks” rising behind us.

If You Go to Oʻahu…

Step away from Waikīkī and the North Shore waves for a bit.
Go feel the force of the trade winds at the Pali.
Stand before the Koʻolau cliffs and let your imagination run wild.

Close your eyes and you might even hear echoes of that long‑ago battle — a true turning point in Hawaii’s history.

 

World Ocean Day: The Night I Met the Mantas

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🌊A Morning Prompt That Sparked a MemoryManta Ray Adventure. Snorkle with the giants in Hawaii

A little morning card on my screen recently told me to “Celebrate World Oceanic Day.” Not a real holiday, not even close to June, but it nudged loose one of my favorite memories from the Big Island — the night I went snorkeling with manta rays. And if there’s ever a story worthy of World Ocean Day, it’s this one.

Waiting Out the Rain

It had started to rain while we waited to head out, the kind of soft Hawaiian drizzle that feels more like a suggestion than weather. One of the other snorkelers asked the dive master if we’d still be going out “if it rained.” I remember blinking at her. We were about to jump into the Pacific Ocean — getting wet was sort of the point.

Dusk on the Big Island

The boat drifted near shore as dusk settled in. We could see the lights from the Marriott stretching across the water, long gold streaks shimmering toward us as the sky deepened from blue to indigo. The air was warm, the kind of tropical warmth that wraps around you like a shawl. The crew moved with practiced ease, lowering a huge square frame of lights into the water. The glow sank beneath the surface like a stage being lit from below. The lights attract the plankton, and the plankton attract the mantas — a whole food chain choreographed for our front‑row seats.

Into the Water

With the light frame in place, we splashed in — one by one — each snorkeler taking hold of the frame and settling into an easy dead man’s float. The ocean was warm against my skin, and I listened to the subtle lapping of the waves as I drifted, face down, breathing slow and steady through my snorkel. The night felt soft as velvet, the kind of darkness that holds you rather than hides you.

When the Mantas Appeared

And then… there they were.

They came in silently, emerging from the darkness like ghosts with wings. Enormous, graceful, otherworldly. They moved with a kind of slow, deliberate elegance, sweeping in wide arcs beneath us. They were huge — impossibly huge — and apparently just as curious about us as we were about them. I had to remind myself to breathe. It felt like watching an underwater ballet, choreographed by creatures who had been dancing long before humans ever arrived on the islands.

A Moment I’ll Never Forget

Then came the moment we were all hoping for. One of those beautiful creatures rose from below and swam right up the length of my body, its wings brushing the water inches from my skin. As it reached my collarbone, it rolled into a perfect backflip, white belly glowing in the light, before drifting away again into the dark. For a heartbeat, it felt like we were sharing the same pulse.

A Glimpse of the Magic

Since I didn’t have an underwater camera, here’s a video that captures the magic better than I ever could.

Why World Ocean Day Matters

If you’ve never floated in the dark while a manta ray the size of a dining room table glides past your face, trust me — the ocean has a way of making you feel small in the best possible way.

If You Ever Find Yourself on the Big Island

If you ever find yourself on the Big Island of Hawaii, take the plunge. The manta experience is one you’ll remember for a lifetime.

 

From My Screen to the Sea: A Green Turtle Moment

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I love logging in each morning to see what gorgeous picture Bing has dropped onto my desktop. They never disappoint. But today’s image stopped me in my tracks — a green sea turtle gliding through clear blue water.

Why so special? Because I actually swam with them in Hawaii. Their eyes are beautiful, and I know it sounds silly, but I think their little beaked faces are just adorable. Just saying.

snuba at Turtletown 2020

Funny how a desktop picture can bring back a whole wave of happiness.

Chasing Giants: A Lifetime of Whale Watching From New England to Alaska and Hawaii

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The Early Years: Cape Ann and the Thrill of Discovery

For years I chased humpback whales up and down the New England coast. This was no small feat for someone with a tendency toward seasickness, but the call of the ocean—and the promise of seeing those magnificent creatures—was stronger than my stomach. One of my earliest and most unforgettable trips was out of Gloucester, heading toward Stellwagen Bank. I was new to Massachusetts then, freshly transplanted from New York and convinced I wouldn’t be here long. So I crammed every adventure I could into those first months.

Now, nearly fifty years later, I’m still here. And that Cape Ann whale watch remains one of the highlights of my early Massachusetts life.

That day, we found ourselves surrounded by humpbacks bubble‑net feeding—so close to the boat you felt like you could reach out and touch them. (We didn’t, of course.) For years afterward, people insisted that New England humpbacks don’t bubble‑net feed. I always love when nature proves the experts wrong. It’s a reminder of how much we’ve learned—and how much we’re still learning.

Boston and Plymouth: Rituals on the Water

I tried a few whale watches out of Boston next. Bigger boats, higher decks, great views—fun, but nothing quite matched the raw magic of that Cape Ann trip.

Eventually I migrated south to Plymouth and became a regular on Captain John’s Boats. Those summer trips became a ritual. It was on one of those outings that I photographed my first breaching whale—a moment that still ranks among my favorite memories.

Hawaii: The Heart’s Home

My whale watching didn’t stop at New England. I found the home of my heart in Hawaii and made annual February trips for years. February is peak migration season, and I often watched whales right from the breakfast table.

I joined the Pacific Whale Foundation and went on their photography expeditions. That’s where I captured my first baby‑whale breach and listened to whale songs through hydrophones dropped over the side of the boat. Pure magic.

Breaching Humpback Calf

It’s just a baby

Alaska: Cold, Raw, and Unforgettable

Then there was Alaska—nothing warm or tropical about that trip. It was cold, wet, raw, and absolutely worth it. The boat was smaller, the whales cruised close to the surface, and we always knew where to look when we heard the whoosh of their breath.

Alaska offers something New England and Hawaii don’t: variety. Humpbacks, orcas, gray whales, belugas—and if luck is really on your side, maybe even a narwhal or a sperm whale. Spring can be beautiful there, but in 2013 we went in May, which turned out to be too early for sunshine. My advice? Aim for June or later.

Why It Matters

No matter where you go—New England, Hawaii, Alaska—whales are magnificent creatures deserving of every conservation effort we can muster. Their importance is so universal that even the Star Trek universe built a whole movie around saving them. (Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, for fellow fans.)

If the Federation thinks whales are worth saving, who am I to argue?
Live long and prosper.

 

Travel Smart, Be Safe

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When Travel Stories Skip the “Not‑So‑Great” Parts

When we talk about travel—or read the glossy blogs and glowing travelogues—we mostly hear how wonderful a place is. Sure, someone might mention bad weather or a disappointing meal, but the overall tone is usually sunshine and rainbows. I’m guilty of it myself. Except for my Road to Hana misadventure, I sing Hawaii’s praises every chance I get.

But every now and then, a little reality check is healthy.

The Comfort of a Timeshare… and the Trade‑Offs

For nearly twenty years, I traveled through my timeshare. It was one of the hardest things to give up when I retired, but the maintenance fees just didn’t fit my fixed income. While I had it, though? I traveled in style. Beautiful accommodations, attentive staff, and a sense of security—especially important because I often traveled alone.

Timeshares get a bad rap, and yes, getting out of one is neither painless nor easy. But if I ever hit the lottery, I’d consider it again. And here’s a tip: you can sometimes get the same perks without ownership by checking Redweek.com, where owners rent out their weeks to offset costs.

When a Destination Doesn’t Match the Hype

Even with all that comfort, not every trip felt safe. New Orleans is the one that stands out. Friends raved about the energy, the food, the parades—even outside Mardi Gras season. What they didn’t mention was the grime, the chaos, and the aggressive hustlers who thought nothing of following you down the street. I never felt unsafe anywhere else quite like I did there.

Other cities come with their own cautions. Detroit requires you to be mindful of the neighborhood you wander into. St. Louis consistently ranks among the most violent cities in the country. Oakland has seen a rise in break‑ins and street crime.

Nature Has Its Own Hazards

It’s not just cities. Even the most iconic outdoor destinations can be dangerous if you’re unprepared. Death Valley, for example, is one of the deadliest national parks due to extreme heat and dehydration risks.

Yellowstone has dangers from  geysers to wildlife. If you have any doubt read about my encounter with the Bison of Yellowstone . I was sure I was going to be flattened to roadkill before I was through.

Getting ready to pass by

On the South Rim, Grand Canyon 2008

A Little Research Goes a Long Way

I’m not saying you should stay home. Travel is still one of the most exciting, enriching things you can do. But a bit of research before you go—and a few simple precautions—can make the difference between a great adventure and a stressful one. Know the risks, plan accordingly, and you’ll come home with memories worth keeping.

Quick, No‑Nonsense Travel Tips That Actually Help

  • Know the vibe before you go — Not just the “Top 10 Things to Do” list. Look up neighborhood safety, recent news, and what locals say. Every city has great areas and “maybe not after dark” areas.
  • Trust your spidey sense — If something feels off, it probably is. Change direction, duck into a store, or call it a night.
  • Stay where the people are — Wandering is fun until it isn’t. Stick to well‑lit, busy areas, especially if you’re solo.
  • Keep your stuff simple — Crossbody bag, zipper closed, nothing dangling. Leave the “I’m a tourist!” clues at home.
  • Have a “just in case” plan — Screenshot directions, save the hotel address, and keep a backup way to get back.
  • Hydrate like it’s your job — Especially in places with heat, altitude, or long trails.
  • Don’t overshare in real time — Post the photos after you leave the location.
  • Ask locals the right question — Not “Is it safe?” but “Where would you go or avoid after dark?”
  • Give yourself permission to bail — If a situation feels sketchy, you don’t owe anyone an explanation.

So go forth, intrepid adventurer, and make memories worth keeping… safely, of course.

Alaska 2013