Day 279 — The View From Diamond Head
[for Saturday, Oct. 6]
Roughly every thirty seconds during our stay in Oahu, we'd notice a hill and turn to Mel, asking with great seriousness, "Is that Diamond Head?"
"Um, no, I don't think so," she'd reply as we gazed ever skyward.
There are a lot of big, jagged hills on the island, many of them with houses nestled precariously in the ridges. When the sun goes down and the street lights come on, it's sheer chaos. There's no order in the hills; there are merely points of light, like low-lying stars.
Saturday, after watching Mel's sister's soccer game, we drove up to the base of Diamond Head and prepared for the hike. The tourist placards said the hike was a mere 0.8 miles, but that much of it was on rocky, uneven surfaces and up steep stairs. They weren't lying. On my way up the steepest set of stairs, I was met with a mother and a toddler on their way down. The kid was screaming absolute bloody murder and the mother was trying to coax her down, one step at a time. As I passed them, the kid took a tumble (for a split second I assumed it was my fault for distracting the kid, but I quickly disposed of that notion when I realized WHO THE CRAP TAKES A TODDLER MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING?! Again, unsolicited advice from a child-free know-it-all, but, well, I'm a giver).
We finally reached the summit, so to speak, and surveyed the coast. It was quite triumphant being up there. The endorphins were pumping, the wind was blowing our hair in silly directions, we were jostling for space with the rest of the tourists, and people were exchanging cameras with strangers so that everyone could be on film to prove to all their lazy-ass friends that they'd made it to the top.
It's amazing traipsing through the old military tunnels and bunkers on the way to the top. The Halloween-crazed part of me wants to hear ghost stories about those creepy walkways. Surely some crazy stuff happened in and around that crater.
Project 365
Roughly every thirty seconds during our stay in Oahu, we'd notice a hill and turn to Mel, asking with great seriousness, "Is that Diamond Head?"
"Um, no, I don't think so," she'd reply as we gazed ever skyward.
There are a lot of big, jagged hills on the island, many of them with houses nestled precariously in the ridges. When the sun goes down and the street lights come on, it's sheer chaos. There's no order in the hills; there are merely points of light, like low-lying stars.
Saturday, after watching Mel's sister's soccer game, we drove up to the base of Diamond Head and prepared for the hike. The tourist placards said the hike was a mere 0.8 miles, but that much of it was on rocky, uneven surfaces and up steep stairs. They weren't lying. On my way up the steepest set of stairs, I was met with a mother and a toddler on their way down. The kid was screaming absolute bloody murder and the mother was trying to coax her down, one step at a time. As I passed them, the kid took a tumble (for a split second I assumed it was my fault for distracting the kid, but I quickly disposed of that notion when I realized WHO THE CRAP TAKES A TODDLER MOUNTAIN-CLIMBING?! Again, unsolicited advice from a child-free know-it-all, but, well, I'm a giver).
We finally reached the summit, so to speak, and surveyed the coast. It was quite triumphant being up there. The endorphins were pumping, the wind was blowing our hair in silly directions, we were jostling for space with the rest of the tourists, and people were exchanging cameras with strangers so that everyone could be on film to prove to all their lazy-ass friends that they'd made it to the top.
It's amazing traipsing through the old military tunnels and bunkers on the way to the top. The Halloween-crazed part of me wants to hear ghost stories about those creepy walkways. Surely some crazy stuff happened in and around that crater.
Project 365
Labels: Diamond Head, Hawaii, Oahu, vacation
posted by theogeo | 10/13/2007 01:13:00 AM
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