Pohue Bay

We were camped out at Pohue Bay, one of the remote beaches we monitored for sea turtle nesting activity as interns with the Hawksbill Turtle Project. It was 4 days on, three days off, but Daniel liked to pull a double shift, he’d be out there for a week straight. He just loved nature that much. I’d never met a kid our age with his quiet self confidence, like he was at peace with himself and the world. Jan, on the other hand, was cheerful, talkative, quick to crack a joke. She’s come out from the Mainland with her sister to do this work, but her parents were from Hawaii; the two of them were here to connect with their roots. 

The work was equal parts adventure and boredom. We were on the beach every night 'til 1am, on the lookout for sea turtles, no lights allowed, only the moonlight to aid us. It would be hours of sitting on the sand in the dark trying to keep each other awake by telling stories, cracking jokes, spotting constellations and inventing our own. We hadn’t seen a single turtle on this trip, though we were keeping watch over a nest marked out in the sand above the high tide line.

Despite the late nights, we were up at the crack of dawn every morning to spend most of the day hiking down the coast checking other potential nesting sites. This area was all recent lava flow, a monotonous landscape until it met the ocean, where waves had carved it into dramatic formations. We spotted sea arches just off shore and paused to admire a water spout, waiting for the biggest waves to push through an unseen sea cave and blow a pillar of water high up into the air through a hole in the lava. After four days of this routine we packed up the big white ex-military Suburban and headed down the road.

Well, I say road. Getting to this beach required over an hour and a half drive down the highway that circles the Big Island. After that you turned onto what you might call a lava rock road. Not a dirt road. There’s no dirt. It was a lava field, hardly any vegetation. At some point a rock-breaking machine came through and pummeled out a path through the lava, leaving a trail of fist-sized loose rocks that could be traversed by a 4-wheel drive vehicle if you knew what you were doing and you didn’t mind a very bumpy ride at low speed. This part of the journey took another hour and a half over the barren landscape. At the end you reached Pohue Bay, the most beautiful little half-moon curve of white sand beach with a scattering of coconut trees and scrappy coastal foliage.

But now it was time to head back to our cabins at Volcanoes National Park where we lived on our days off. We rumbled and rattled slowly through the lava field. We were halfway back to the highway when the car crapped out. Engine died and it wouldn’t restart. We pulled out the for-emergencies-only cell phone. It was 2001; it was no smart phone. The reception was practically nonexistent out there so we had this little signal boosting antenna with a magnet in it that you stuck to the roof of the car. We got that all going but it was no good. We couldn’t get a call through to our supervisor back at the Park.

We all looked at each other, trying not to panic. What now? None of us knew a thing about fixing cars. Then someone remembered we had seen a family camping at the little lagoon near the beach. It was noteworthy; usually we were the only people for miles around. Maybe they had a cell phone with better reception. Maybe they could help us fix the car. Maybe they could help. We decided to split up. Daniel and I would walk back to the coast while Jan stayed with the car. By now it was nearly mid day. It felt like a long walk on that hot, dusty road, the loose rocks turning under our feet.

When we got to the lagoon, it was like stumbling upon a little slice of civilization. The lagoon was shaded with pandanus trees. The couple and their two kids were just sitting down to have lunch. They had a folding table spread with food and a camp stove. They saw our sweaty, exhausted faces and insisted we join them. They sat us down in their camp chairs and gave us cold drinks, plates of fruit, potato salad and grilled burgers. Over lunch we told them our predicament.

They lent us a cell phone and Daniel tried to make a call. Miraculously, he got through to Mat back at the Park. He would send someone to come pick us up. Daniel and I thanked our new friends and reluctantly left our shady little oasis for the long, hot walk back to the SUV. When we got there, Jan had set up the camp stove on the rocky road behind the vehicle and was crouched next to it heating up whatever camp food she had fished out of her backpack. Despite the long walk, I felt we had gotten the better part of the deal.

Long hours passed while we waited by the car, sitting on lava rocks, surrounded by more lava rocks in every direction. We amused ourselves seeing who could throw rocks to hit targets composed of more rocks. Eventually we spotted our rescuer: a big white pickup truck rumbling slowly down the rough road. He was a young park ranger, a local guy, strong and handsome and in good spirits considering this was probably not in his plans for the day. 

After we got all our gear loaded in the bed and ourselves loaded into the cab, the guy said, "It’s been ages since I’ve been to Pohue Bay. It’s a beautiful spot, really special.”

 Yes, we all agreed, it is. 

“You wouldn’t mind, would you, if I just had a quick swim before we head back?”

It was late afternoon at this point and we’d spent all day stranded on this dusty road. After four days of camping, I couldn’t wait to get back to my cabin and get a shower. But none of us felt like we could say ‘no’ to this guy, our hero. So we rumbled on down to Pohui Bay once again. At least this time I wasn’t on foot. When we arrived, I was too tired to want to get out of the truck. I just sat there and watched him strip down to his boxer shorts and go for a swim in the unquestionably beautiful bay. I had to admit, it really was a special place.