Escaping Time
USA | Monday, 28 April 2014 | Views [150] | Scholarship Entry
Half a mile and I was already out of breath. The red mud path seemed to climb for ages through the dense rainforest dripping with water from the morning rain. Eleven miles, eleven miles of steep inclines and treacherous slopes lay between me and Kalalau Valley. Lacking a permit, my original plan had been a day hike, four miles round-trip. A chance meeting with a couple of hitchhikers changed all that. They had been waiting outside an empty schoolyard. I was the second car to pass.
After getting my feet drenched in the foamy river marking mile two there was no turning back. The path narrowed and the forest dissipated leaving a naked cliff face in its stead. Wind tugged at our shirts threatening to blow us over the edge to the jagged lava rocks five hundred feet below. When my lungs felt as though they would burst into flame the trail turned downward to a crook in the knuckles of the mountains. Before long it curved skyward once again.
Dusk had slipped over the land when we finally reached Kalalau Valley. Clouds concealed the peaks of the jewel green cliffs, leaving the air sticky and cool. Two clear cascades hugged the edges of the valley, their music drowned out by the constant hush of the waves.
Under a sky spotted by clouds and stars we built a bonfire with forest wood, swapped stories, and passed around a bag of bitter red wine. I told one of the locals I intended to leave at sunrise. He shook his head, his brows furrowed with disapproval. “You have to stay at least a day and I can guarantee that that won’t be enough.”
There was tranquility to the valley, an undiscovered innocence. I was transported to an age of trade and barter. Using two cast iron pans to make a stove, we cooked pizza over a campfire with wild herbs, tomato sauce, and hard cheese. The smells of fresh bread and garlic clung to the humid air. Before dinner there was prawn hunting in the clear streams. Sunset was spent atop a grassy knoll dotted with idle stones. One of them had been pierced with a sword like the legends of King Arthur. The summer breezes shivered as the sun passed below the horizon. A dull insect hum joined the orchestra of crashing waves on the rocky beach.
My time was all but spent and the man had not been mistaken. I wished to remain, in that haven where time seemed to stop and the problems of the world vanished. The next morning I departed with an empty pack and countless memories. Had I not followed my instincts, it would never have happened.
Tags: 2014 Travel Writing Scholarship - Euro Roadtrip
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