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Horseback Ride

HAWAII, Sep 8 - One of the things I seem compelled to do everywhere I go is horseback riding.  My appetite for that was whetted two days ago when I drove through beautiful horse ranch country in Kohala Mountain highlands.  While passing through Waimea on Thursday, I noticed a racetrack and signs for a Parker Ranch.  I called and made a reservation for today at noon for a two-hour ride through the countryside.

When I got there, I was met by a young woman, probably in her twenties, waving cheerfully to me from the cowboy shed.  She was all of about 5'3", cute as a button, her eyes signaling she was full of beans (see above photo taken later on).  All a man needs to do to press the right buttons.

"What's your name?" I asked her after she introduced me to Nick, her "pardner in crime," another cowboy at the Parker Ranch who was actually going to take us out for a ride today.

"It's very unusual," she said.  "Are you ready?" she added, mischievously raising her arms and taking a pose like a dancer frozen in place, awaiting the "ta-da" from the orchestra before starting her number. 

"Ready," I said, crouching into a similar pose.

"It's Mystery."

"Mystery?"

She nodded, her eye beaming out the "I've told you" message.

"I once rode a horse by that name," I said.

Her face sagged.  But she recovered quickly.  "Hope she was a good horse," she said.

"The best.  She was the best mount I've ever had."

 Now everybody was giggling in the shed at the flirtatious double entendre.

"It was in New Mexico," I added, as if it made any difference.

"It figures," Mystery said. 

I didn't ask her why she thought so.  Maybe she didn't like New Mexico. Or maybe she did.

Anyway, after Nick had me sign some paperwork that absolved them of all responsibilities if I fell on my head, we headed out toward the paddock where the horses were tied up.

There were two other men besides myself riding today.  Mystery gave us some perfunctory instructions...

...and then we mounted the horses.  Mine was a very unusual color, mostly white with brown freckles all over. 

"What kind of a horse is that?" I wondered.

"It's an Appaloosa," Mystery cleared up the breed mystery.

"A what?"

"An Appaloosa.  We have three of them here, but this one is the real deal."

"What's his name?"  "Or is it she?", I added quickly, having already mounted the horse without checking first.

"It's a he.  And his name is Appy."

"His name is what?  Happy?"

"Sort of... Happy without an "H" in front.  Appy."

"Strange name," I thought.  "But then, so was Mystery.  So I was going to spend the next two hours aboard an Appaloosa Appy.  Hm..."

"I am sure there is a story behind your name," I said out loud.

"Do you want to clear up that Mystery for me?"

She laughed.  "I was a boy before I was born," she said.

"And you've been a Tom Boy ever since?" I joked.

"Absolutely.  I've used to do everything boys do.  I've even done demolition derby."

"Have you also done rodeo?" I tested her "boyhood."

"No.  No rodeo."

Guess even Tom Boys have their limits.

And then we rode out, the four musketeers without the muskets, led by Nick (left photo), a young cowboy who was born and raised here on Big Island.  The heavyset guy, riding on the right and wearing a white Stetson in the middle-left photo, is a radio personality from Indianapolis.  "We broadcast the Indy 500," he boasted proudly at one point during the ride.  The other, smaller fellow (Scott) works as a tour guide here, taking the tourists up to the top of the volcano that was enveloped in clouds ahead of us.  The two of them seem to be friends.  They came and left together and shared the same camera.

We trotted and galloped occasionally, but mostly just let the horses walk at their own pace.  Appy seemed grateful.  He hated trotting or galloping.  "He is a lazy bugger," Nick explained.

The Indy guy was very chatty as was Nick, our cowboy.  Scott and I pitched in with some comments once in a while, but mostly just enjoyed the ride and the scenery.  Mystery had stayed behind.  She said she might join us later on.

"What are these bones from?" I asked during one break in the Nick-Indy conversation (right photo).

"Oh, that's cattle," Nick replied matter-of-factly... as if it's perfectly normal to leave the dead cattle to rot around the ranch.  I kept thinking of all those westerns I had seen as a kid in which similar piles of bones suggested how deadly a particular western desert was.

At about a half-way point, Nick offered to take some more pictures of us.  Right after he took the above one, his horse bucked and he dropped my camera on the ground.  Luckily, the ground was soft, so no harm done.  Meanwhile, the whole time we were riding, a strong 25-30 mile/hour wind was blowing from the northeast.  By the time we got back from the ride, I felt as if I had had a haircut. :-)

Eventually, Mystery did catch up to us.  She was trying out a new horse, and was going through some interesting maneuvers with him, carefully watched at times by Sweets, the ranch dog that was with us all the way (middle).  Nick said he grew up on the ranch, and goes out with every group of horses and riders.  "No wonder he looks so fit," I thought.

Well, eventually we were back at the ranch paddock, where I took the right photo of my horse Appy.  I don't know how he felt after a two-hour ride, but I said to Nick while dismounting, "wonder if I will still know how to walk."  It took me a while to shake out the stiffness out of my legs, especially the knees, but walk eventually I did.

As Mystery and Nick offered us some soft drinks back in the cowboy shed, they also talked about some pretty sights nearby that are worth visiting.  Waipio Valley was one of them (click on the map to see its location).

"It's the prettiest part of the island," said Nick.  Being a native, I took his comment more seriously than that of the hotel concierge who had also recommended to me a visit there a couple of days ago.

"It's about 17 miles north, and about 9 miles west," Mystery added.

And so off I went... on my next "Mystery tour"... :-)

Waipio Valley

The drive toward Waipio Valley was a treat by itself.  At times, I thought I was back in Australia.  I have never seen so many native Australian eucalyptus trees growing in a native bush environment anywhere else in the world, as in this northern part of the Big Island.  Take a look...

... big trees lined the road much of the way.  Some looked like red gum trees, others like young karri forests.  Eventually, these eucalyptus giants can grow to be several hundred feet in height.

At one stage, I stopped the car and walked into the forest.  I was even able to identify some jarrah trees by their bark.  Jarrah is the beautiful hard wood, the color of mahogany or red rose that was used in construction of our former home in Western Australia.

And then I got to the lookout over Waipio Valley...

The views were indeed spectacular, both of the rugged shoreline and of the lush green valley below.

Using a zoom lens, I spotted some people actually swimming on the black sand beach below (left photo).  The middle right photo is a shot of the ocean looking straight north.  As far as I know, there is no land mass of any significance between the spot I was standing on and the North Pole (except perhaps Alaska's Aleutian Islands?).  But you can double-check that on the globe, if you like.  I don't have one here.

Finally, the rightmost shot was taken from a helicopter the following day.  It shows the exact spot of the Waipio Valley lookout (yellow arrow) from which I took the other shots.

Also, some you may find it surprising, as I did, that there is a long cowboy tradition here on the island. The right poster shows the history of ranching here from the late 19th century.  I found it on the beach in front of the Mauna Lani Bay Resort.

To be continued... CLICK HERE to go to CHAPTER 5...

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