Today was the day for the big cycling venture. Again it started with another early morning. I pounded some Hawaiian acai energy drink and felt jittery enough to stay awake for days. Breakfast consisted of musubi, a traditional Hawaiian sandwich of sorts consisting of a greasy slab of meat (either fried chicken or spam, I chose the former while Steven chose the later (how do his bowels let him get away with this stuff?!)) and a sushi rice patty secured together with a wrap of seaweed. With the required fuel in the tanks, we headed to Maui cyclery to pick up our steeds.
The bike shop seemed to function on island time and hitting the road before it became blazing hot didn’t seem of much concern to these folks. After adding a few of our own parts to our bikes and making some minor adjustments we hit the road with the goal of summiting the great volcano. I made the cardinal sin of travel cycling in not brining my saddle (enquire for reasons), this proved one of many crucial mistakes. Not long after hitting the pavement, the sun decided to join in full force.
The road out of Paia to Halekala was a steady incline. Steven quickly broke off with a tour guide who was in no shape to join him. Lib and I rode a slow, steady pace with Kurt, a tour guide with leg muscles so enormous they looked like they would burst at any minute. At around 2,000 feet the sun was roasting and we switched guides- Lib and I got the dopey guy who headed out with Steven and Steven got Mr. Beefcakes. Further along the road it became evident that no matter how many energy goo packets I consumed my legs were like our poor Hundai Elantre from yesterday- a few cylinders short. Lib graciously peeled off with me and the guide and we headed, after more endless climbing, to a side road and off to Grandmother’s coffee. In total we made it 5,000 feet.
Espresso and banana bread never tasted so good. Lib and I remounted the bikes ready to head onward only to discover Rob, our trusty guide, poking around the coffee shop, saying hello to the dog n
ext door, then venturing to a nearby shop. It was evident that Rob’s legs were worse off than ours and he was employing endless stall tactics to avoid getting back on the bike. Finally we forged onward. We took a single lane road that winded around Oprah’s estate. The land is bordered by lava stone fences that were placed when the Chinese first came over (note: this bit of history was supplied by Rob, who couldn’t even name the other Volcano on the island, so take it for what you will). We descended for miles on switchback roads overlooking the island and the ocean. From the vantage point you could see the inversion layer, the houses below, the beaches, and the ocean. The view was worth the climb.
Steven was plagued by a mechanical problem with his bike seat which was changed out around the 7,000 foot mark and climbed further onward while Lib and I tracked his progress via a GPS unit while we parked ourselves at a nearby pizza joint. On the recommendation of our waiter, a hipster with a curved handlebar mustache, we chose the Hawaiian pizza. An excellent choice- it had barbecue sauce, pulled pork, caram
elized onions, and goat cheese. I enjoyed a cold, Kona brewsky. We headed over for coffee and picked up gelato just in time for Steven’s return.
I would love to say Steven was beaming, but he looked more like death warmed over. Salt had precipitated down his face and he consumed his two scoop waffle cone gelato in about 10 seconds. We piled him in the car where he finished the rest of the pizza in about as much time as it took him to eat the gelato. He pulled his shiny medallion he picked up at the top of the volcano and stated emphatically, “I’m never doing that again.” A short drive back to the condo meant showers, walking on the beach and, of course, napping.
Better get rested up, I signed us up for 6:30 am surfing lessons in the morning. Aloha and goodnight, em.