Happy Halloween!

Give me your braaaaaaiiiiinzzzz!

Jumping off America

A few days ago, I completed a rite of passage. A great and powerful rite of passage, which now brings me into the inner fold of big island volunteers and gains me access to secret things never before dreamed of. Things like, um, well... hmm, I'm sure there's something...

Though perhaps my rite of passage earned me little more than a few bruises, an exceptionally awkward sensation and a great deal of fun, it also makes for a decent story. Which I shall now share here.

As most of you know but probably have never considered, Hawaii is the southernmost state in the United States. Being so, it also is home to the southernmost point of the US, officially known as South Point (creative, right?). South Point resides on the Big Island, and since that is my current home, I could not miss visiting the lower tip of the USA.

So on my most recent trip out to the field, my partner- we'll call her Boulder for her hometown- suggested that we take a trip out to South Point. Since our main working hours are between 5 pm and 2 am, we find ourselves with little to do during the daytime, so a visit to South Point sounded like an excellent idea. We invited Yogaboy and Belle, who were camping nearby (and by nearby I mean about 3 miles away) to come with us and they gladly accepted. They hiked out after their morning beach check and then we were off.

On the way over, Boulder, who has been here for quite awhile, reminded us that it is imperative that we jump off of South Point, or else be shamed forever more. Being relatively new in comparison, Yogaboy, Belle and I had not yet completed this rite of passage, and we were bound and determined not to disappoint. I, in fact, had been chomping at the bit for this opportunity; Judo and Roomie had done it a few weeks ago and I'd been wanting my turn ever since.

However, no one had mentioned previously that the jump was approximately 30 feet off a cliff wall. I'd been picturing a ten, maybe fifteen foot drop, not a 30 foot plummet from the edge of the land. Yet I was unmoved by Boulder's words, I would jump that cliff. Belle and Yogaboy similarly did not falter.

We reached South Point around midday and found ourselves accompanied by a number of tourists and a few locals there to show off their jumping prowess. The tourists and locals alike looked on with wonder as Yogaboy, Belle and I stripped down to our bathing suits. Mainlanders were going to jump? Now this was something they had to see.

We scoped out the terrain. Massive sheer cliff face? Check. Rickety ladder for climbing back up?Check. Deep enough water below that we would not die terrible early deaths brought on by youthful stupidity? Check. Time to fly.

Belle is so ready!

Yogaboy went first, followed by me, followed by Belle. Boulder, comfortable in her longtime association with the island, remained cliffside to take pictures.

That first jump was by far the longest. Falling thirty feet takes some time and while midair all I could think was "I am so f***ed when I hit the water". I may have been yelling, I don't really recall. Then I slammed into the water, sending my bathing suit askew and my brains slightly scrambled. I adjusted and popped back to the surface, simultaneously exultant and sore in all sorts of unnameable places. Someone should have reminded me to clench...

Up and out I went, exhilarated despite my extreme discomfort, determined to do it again and better. I was convinced the water was deep enough, this time I was going for a dive.

Something to know about dives when you are doing them from 30 feet above the water- angle out, not down, or else you will turn in midair and land squarely on your back. Which I, of course, did not realize and promptly did. Let me tell you, that left some sore spots. The onlookers were quite concerned when I resurfaced and after assuring everyone that I was quite alright, I drifted for a little while, allowing the cool water to nurse my wounds and pride.

Inspired perhaps by my daring (it couldn't have been my performance), Belle opted for a dive herself. This she performed beautifully, leaving me with the mad desire to try diving again.

See? Beautiful, right? So jealous.

Yet I had one final method to try- the running and jumping option. I convinced myself to do that instead and so I ran off the edge of the cliff, yelling like a maniac.

Ramming speeeeeeeeeeeeeed!!!

It was quite enjoyable, though my poor thrice bruised bottom informed me that another jump was quite out of the question, it was done being abused. Let me tell you, salt water enemas are quite unpleasant. The others were finished too, so we headed back, quite pleased with ourselves, stopping for pastries and a local classic, a loco moco. This monstrosity consists of rice topped with burger patties, fried eggs and gravy, and though it looks totally disgusting and promises to clog arteries faster than even McDonald's could manage, it was delicious and a perfect way to reward ourselves.

The bruises are still healing and releasing the salt water enema was a profoundly traumatizing experience (I feel like I know what it's like to have cholera now!), but all told, I had a fantastic time. And next time, I will perfect that dive...

Ramming speed!!

Man Plans, Turtle Laughs

Oh schedules. What a wonderful and lovely idea. And oh how silly.

When you are dealing with wild animals, it turns out that all expectations go out the window. You were supposed to be camping for six days at one beach? Well, too bad, a turtle is being difficult and now you need to go to a different beach for three nights instead. Don't plan too far ahead, for the turtle is a mischievous creature and enjoys making our lives far more confusing than we would like.

This has been the trend of the season, apparently. Every time our poor leader tries to put together a schedule based on expected turtle activity, nothing goes according to plan. Either it's a green turtle nesting on one of our beaches (which never, ever had happened before this summer- they are supposed to nest in the far northern Hawaiian islands), or a turtle false nesting seven days in a row, or a momma going missing for weeks at a time to appear, quite randomly, at a totally different beach. This week was a perfect example of how we can never know what to expect when it comes to our turtles.

Originally, I was supposed to go on two three day trips in a row, the first to a beach called Kamehame, the second to a beach called Kaloa. I got to Kamehame on an exciting night, a momma turtle was due for her next nest (they lay every 20 days or so). My cohorts were a fun pair of kids, we'll call them Judo and Roomie. Both of them are pretty new too, and we were all very eager to see our turtle lay some eggs. So, same as usual, we spent the night on the sand, walking the full length of the beach every hour, but no such luck, our momma did not appear. To be honest, I didn't blame her, the waves were insane and she would have gotten knocked around like an underwater hockey puck.

We didn't worry though, the high surf was due to settle down and momma still had two nights before we were scheduled to leave. Plenty of time, right?

The next day, sure enough, we found our girl at 8 pm, a time she seemed to like from her other times nesting this summer. We watched, at first excited, then gradually perplexed as the turtle kept moving from rock to rock, rather than climbing up to the foliage where she needed to lay her nest. Then we got worried. If a turtle lays a nest in a place that gets covered by the surf, her eggs will get inundated and probably die. Even worse, the whole nest could get washed away. So we tried to coax her over to the plants but ended up freaking her out. She abandoned us and ran away to the sea, leaving us completely crushed. We swore not to upset her again.

The next night was our last and we were beginning to get nervous. We set up on a big rock near where she'd come up the night before and waited, but not for long. Our momma came up again, early and on a mission. However, that mission, it turned out, was not laying a nest. She made straight for our rock and came up right beside us, mere inches away. We scarcely breathed, trying to turn ourselves into rocks by the power of thought alone, determined not to frighten her. Apparently, it worked, but perhaps a little too well. Instead of heading for the bushes to dig herself a nest, our turtle clambered up over the rock, up above our heads and began to teeter.

Now, when a turtle begins to teeter above you, you have two options. Either you stay there and when she falls get crushed into jelly between the turtle and the lava rock, or you run like hell. Roomie and I chose the latter, and not a moment too soon- the turtle came crashing down the rock a second after I lept away, all 200 pounds of her landing with a hard thump on the very spot I'd just vacated. Then, after catching her breath, she turned towards us and stepped forward to fall the remaining two feet to the sand where she landed face first and very disgruntled. Perhaps a little embarassed, and more than a little upset, she took off for the sea again, leaving behind three rather overwhelmed turtlers who'd just seen their lives flash before their eyes.

Our three days were up and no one was scheduled to come to this beach. What were we to do? Our leader scrambled to come up with a new plan, and ended up putting me right back at the same beach with three new people, Whisper, Princess and Pebbles. This was an interesting choice, given that Princess and Pebbles are none too fond of each other, yet in such a crunch, there was little else she could do.

Again we staked out the beach, this time fairly far from the rock, in case our crazy momma decided to go rock climbing again. Hours passed, we became certain she would never come up. Yet at 11 PM when we scoured the beach for signs of activity, we came across the strangest set of tracks. It appeared that our turtle had dragged herself out of the water on the complete opposite end of the beach where absolutely no vegetation grew, shuffled forward into the cliff face and then skirted it, occasionally headbutting rocks and the cliff side in her agitation. Her tracks arrowed off for the water after running along most of the cliff. We'd missed her and again, she hadn't even tried to nest. This was getting a little ridiculous.

Night five in the field and I was becoming worried I wouldn't actually get to see this turtle nest at all, even though she'd come up the last three nights. Perhaps she'd just gone crazy, or enjoys messing with us. Maybe she didn't even have a clutch of eggs and was just visiting the beach for amusement. Maybe she was drunk or high on hallucinagetic... er... sponges? Nevertheless, we crunched into as small a space as possible, doing our best to keep an eye on the beach but not block her access to the vegetation.

Around her typical time, we saw a turtle emerge from the surf. We got excited, but then the turtle went back into the water. Maybe it was a green turtle? They normally like to lay out on the beach at night and confuse us when we're scouring for Hawksbills. Again, perhaps ten minutes later, a turtle rose from the ocean, paused and then dipped back into the sea. We were beginning to get suspicious that she was playing with us, enjoying making us sweat.

She did this once more before finally emerging from the water and making her way up the beach, right for us. We froze, thought 'rock, rock, rock' and thankfully she veered away before I had to run for it again to avoid another potential turtle injury. And then, glory hallelujah, she finally got to the bushes and began to dig. And dig. And dig.

Our persistence worked, and she laid for us. It was totally thrilling to be there, watching her do this odd dance that has somehow kept the species alive for so long before now. Yet then, after laying beautifully, our turtle still had a surprise in store for us. Maybe she misjudged how many eggs she had, maybe she was tired and didn't dig deep enough, but the nest chamber was too shallow and the eggs came to the top. This meant that when she started to cover the nest, she accidentally dug up the eggs near the surface. As she began crushing her own eggs, Pebbles decided it was time to step in. With a powerful heave, the two of us shoved her off her nest. This perplexed her for a moment, but then she went on burying her 'nest' while we covered the real one with our much less capable hands. Silly girl didn't even notice that we'd pushed her around but, well, if you were a turtle, would you expect something like that to happen?

But in the end, I did get to see a turtle nest, and that was worth everything, even near death by turtle crushing. For the win.

The Curse of the Day Nester

So, as it turns out, staying up till two in the morning and waking up at six every day gets a person a little off in the head. Add to that six days of hiking and and spending all that time exclusively with the same person and you've got some genuinely crazy turtlers. To let off some of that nuttiness, we have field notebooks that we fill with the ramblings of our overtired and strange minds. People fill these with stories, questions, pictures, puzzles, rants... you name it. Of course, I needed to add in my two cents, so this week at 'Apua, I wrote the following story, which I now share with you.

The Curse of the Day Nester

As many of you may know, T108 is a crazy girl. Nests in the day, hides from well meaning turtlers and generally throws us all off. So in a valiant attempt to learn the secrets of T108, our great leader Lauren deployed a force rarely seen on this side of Hilo- seven intrepid turtlers.

The days were hot and the nights were long, but we steadfastly scoured the beach for the elusive turt. Then something happened- and the world may never be the same again...

It all began when Eric wandered off- perchance to do some yoga, or to explore. Four other turtlers sat calmly playing cards, expecting nothing out of the ordinary until Halley the noob glanced up to see Eric slowly stumbling back their way. Alarmed by his shambling gait, she alerted her companions- Greg, Meg and Erika- and the four of them watched his approach with growing concern. He was muttering something as he shuffled forward and as they strained to hear what it was, the began to make out just one word.

"Brains... braaaaiiiinsss... braaaaaiiiinsss"

"My Gawd," said Greg. The card playing turtlers lept from the table, their cards scattered to the winds. Greg, in a less than valiant attempt to save himself, kicked Erika in the knees and ran for it, shouting "Don't eat me! Werewolves don't taste good to zombies!"

Yet the others stood fast (not Erika, she was on the ground for she had been kicked in the knees), and Lauren and Malia joined their ranks. Bravely they faced the zombie formerly known as Eric with hiking poles raised high and when he lurched forward to feed on the unfortunate Erika, the four heroic turtlers beat him back.

"Aim for the head!" cried Meg, who had done some very unexpectedly helpful research on the zombie apocalypse before this trip.

They beat him until he moved no more and then took his purple bandanna to mourn his loss. The erstwhile Greg returned and feigned ignorance about Erika's injury. However, as he had recently saved Halley and Malia's lives, they forgave him his indiscretion.

The following day, Malia left, for she had work to do beyond the field. Their numbers now reduced to five, the remaining turtlers maintained their vigilance, still seeking the elusive T108. At times, they wondered how Eric had been zombified, but since they'd set his body out to naturally mummify on the lava field, they thought less and less about it as the day wore on. Meg noticed a scratch on her arm, but thought little of it. Another day and night went by with no sign of the day nester- perhaps she'd moved to a different beach?

The next day, it was time for Lauren, Erika and Meg to leave. Greg and Halley bid them adieu and slumbered peacefully on their cots for a few more hours. Suddenly, something woke them both- a shuffling noise, the sounds of naupaka breaking and sand being thrown. The turtle? But she was headed right towards their camp! How could this be? Halley and Greg scrambled to get the turtle bag and calipers, then stood, trembling with excitement, behind the nearest naupaka plant.

With a crash, the turtle burst from the cover and heaved its way towards them. Halley, being a noob, had only seen one turtle before and was very excited, but Greg sensed that something was not right.

"Something," he said, "is not right."

And it was true. The turtle smelled vaguely of decay and blood splatters covered its shell and beak. It snapped its bill at them, lunged forward and sighed in a way that sounded alarmingly like "Brainzzzz."

It was a zombie turtle! This was the secret of the day nester, and from the shred of purple bandanna in her mouth, it was clear that this was the turtle who had infected poor Eric. Of course she came out at day- all the better to see her prey, and she did not need to fear the sun or predators.

The terrified turtlers fell back, aghast. The turtle snapped at them and caught Greg's foot as he tried to kick Halley in the knees.

"My Gawd!" he shouted in pain.

Halley dragged him away from the turtle- she did not know the way out, even though she could have escaped while the turtle feasted, as a noob she would soon be lost.

They ran and the turtle followed, but soon she was left behind. On and on they ran, until they reached chain of craters road. There a car awaited them.

"That's odd," said Greg. "I thought the others took the car. Why is this here?"

They didn't have a chance to wonder, for just then, Meg, Lauren and Erika stumbled from behind the truck, covered in blood.

"Braaaaaaaiiiiins, braaaaiiiins," they chanted.

"Oh no!" cried Halley, "the cut on Meg's arm was from Eric zombie!"

The two unzombified turtlers dodged the outstretched arms of their former comrades and sprinted for the truck. They dove in and shut the doors. The zombies lurched back to the truck and began to pound on the doors.

"The keys!" shouted Halley. "Where are the keys?"

Greg was looking out the window and did not answer.

"Oh no," Halley realized, "They're in the gas cap! What do we do Greg?"

Slowly, Greg turned his head back towards Halley. He grinned.

"Brains."

Halley fell back against her door and it swung open. She fell to the ground below and the four zombies descended upon her and ate her whole.

Satisfied with their meal, they returned to 'Apua Point to await the orders of their zombie turtle master and to guard her zombie turtle eggs. And one day soon, that nest will hatch and one hundred zombie turtles will descend upon the world.