The Maui & Big Island
Expedition

Beep beep beep. The alarm goes off. Even with how excited I am for my journey, it's difficult to wake up. After some scrambling and packing, I stop at Jackson's for some cheesy pepper jack tornados — the breakfast of champions — then we arrive at the airport. After checking in I have a burst of tears saying goodbye to Ella. I drop my bucket hat on her head and say she has to take care of it because I'm going to be back for it. A kiss and a long hug goodbye to Alaina reminded me of how much she helped me make this trip happen.

A beer to calm my nerves. I board a little plane to Seattle — cramped, about an hour, but they still brought the cart around. Three and a half hour layover in Seattle. The airport has a wonderful selection of art and plenty of stores to browse overly priced wares. Halfway through my hummus it dawns on me that when I get there, I have no clue where to go. I book a hostel for the night.

A six-hour flight to Maui. I accidentally request something from a first class flight attendant. She is quick to remind me that I am a peasant in economy seating. I smile and wait patiently for someone with the proper skill set to tend to my peasant needs. Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3, then Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Amongst Thieves. Both wonderful. We land at 6:30pm Maui time — 10:30pm MST. I figure out a cab to the Northshore Hostel in Wailuku. First hostel I've stayed at. Shared rooms, shared kitchens, thankfully separate bathrooms. I'm exhausted, so I walk to get a snack and hunker down.

The hostel starts at 7am. Doable due to the time difference. I meet a few cool dudes — one from Germany I exchange bad German with, one who works on a super yacht, 6 months on, 2 months off. Good ideas for a sustainable traveling life. I donate my luggage at the hostel, put together my hiking pack, and I'm off.

The wind near the first cove I rest in is like getting sandblasted across my entire body. As I get up to leave, something tells me to look at a nearby tree. I look down into a part of the cove I couldn't see before. There he was. An ever so regal looking sea turtle. I get way too excited, scamper down the rocks to get his pictures. We share a moment, then he splashes back into the waves. I'm stoked.

I aim for VOR Beach — a secluded beach by the airport. More highway, beautiful beach parks, some interesting vagrant dens along the way. After upsetting a few rich people trying to BBQ and traversing some grey-area private property, I find my way. VOR Beach. Many mean looks from local fishermen — can't really blame them. I find a cove to set up my tent for the first time. A little play time in the ocean and some food. A great day.

"Hey I don't think this guy is going to wake up." A group of not so kind people outside my tent at 6am, heckling me. I lay silent. They eventually move on — only after kicking some things and pissing in my campsite. I lay there on guard for the next hour, unable to sleep.

I wake up and touch my face. Devastated. The sandblasting from the day before has settled overnight. I'm sunburnt, my face is blistering, oozing pus. I choose to have a relaxing day on the beach. I calm down and center my thoughts. This is what adventures do. I play in the ocean, scamper about the beach, and explore. Granola and wasabi peas while doing a meditation to intentionalize this trip in a positive way. I put on the movie "Get Him to the Greek." It lifts my mood. I smile watching my beach side movie. Then I go to bed.

I'm woken at 2:30am by a wandering guy asking if I had a lantern. I hand him one and ask him to leave it outside the tent when done. He agrees, then just takes off. Another rough night. I wake up and start packing. I clean my blistering face and start walking. Almost out of water. I find a Thai food truck off the highway — absolutely amazing papaya salad. My next destination: Ho'okipa beach park.

Passing through the touristy town of Paia, I spend a little money on a hat to protect my face — they were surprised I bought something, as at this point I look like a sickly bum. The beach park is gorgeous. A surfing cove with amazing views and sea turtles everywhere. I find a camping spot by the highway, get my tent up just at sundown. Nestle in and go to sleep.

Cars on the highway wake me early. No one heckled me or stole anything. Smiley face. A great morning until I looked in the mirror. My eye is half swollen. I don't know why — maybe sand. But damn, this adventure is kicking my ass. I power through and break down camp.

Recording an episode of Riff On It remotely went well — a bit apprehensive doing remote call-ins but a smooth enough process. I spent the rest of the day calling people and tracking my calories and miles walked so far. A small day but still fulfilling. I watched the sunset and set up camp. A few episodes of Space Force. I lay down and close my eyes.

A relax and recover day. 15 miles by foot so far — fueled on just over 2,300 calories in 5 days. Writing this while listening to families on the beach, an extraordinarily talented Hispanic man play the harmonica. This is peaceful. This is beautiful. My sunglasses were stolen. Just keep getting punched on this trip.

A great lady named Rhonda starts to talk to me — the first person to genuinely engage. I start up a cliff after and find a wild chicken egg at the top with a beautiful view over the coast. A 70-year-old couple are nomadic people that travel with nothing but backpacks in their retirement. Total badasses. I frolic the cliffscape — all old lava that poured down and created the island. I become an amateur photographer of the landscape. The best Clif bar I have ever had for dinner. Every bite was like heaven.

A wonderful morning — more fresh than I've felt since the beginning. Snails had come to say hello, all over my campsite. After making snail friends and finding a cool tropical spider friend, I pack up and head to the beach park for recording Riff On It. Beautiful spot on a different cliff. Halfway through the recording it starts to rain. I'm trying to multi-task getting my rain fly on my bag and responding into my earbuds with a towel draped over my head. I realized how goofy I must look. By the end it's downpouring.

A walk along the beach in the rain was fantastic. As it starts raining harder, I'm bounding across the sand to get back to my tent. I turn on a movie and open a can of ravioli. I don't know if it was just how hungry I was, but it's by far the best damn ravioli I've ever had.

I wake up with my goal in mind. That cliff needs to be jumped. Weather is good. There's a break in the rocks into a gorgeous blue pool. I jump — and it's as refreshing as I had imagined. I do it a couple times to let it sink in.

The harmonica man from a few days back was playing again at the beach park. His name was Johnny — 83 years old, born on Maui, joined the Navy at 18 and traveled the world. The guy had stories. It was a pleasure, Johnny.

A fruit stand on the highway — a bushel of bananas and some mango bread. A hippie dippie vegan food truck park playing Stick Figure. The best mac and cheese I've had, with a chocolate date snicker desert. A care package from Alaina arrives. I stock up at a grocery store, find a camping spot just as it gets dark, set up just as the rain starts.

I had camped right outside the Door of Faith. Great night's sleep. Hana Highway is gorgeous but I'm absolutely tired of it. A mango paradise smoothie truck is a good pit stop. A random staircase on the side of the highway is tempting. A little path off to the left leads to a beautiful cove/lagoon. A man named Eric arrives with his son's birthday party — cliff jumping, everyone having a blast. Tips for the waterfall I'm looking for.

I find the bamboo forest waterfall. Wrestling with paths as my bag gets caught on almost everything. I wade up a river and my foot slips — knee slams hard on a rock. I find my way out — I'm in the wrong area. Mad. Throwing a fit. I calm down, walk further, get to the correct trailhead. A sign reads something like: you gonna die. I chuckle.

The bamboo forest moves much easier this time. I see a stunning young woman — completely naked — and then a heavy set old man with a white trimmed beard and rainbow unicorn shorts holding an expensive camera. Photo shoot. I chuckle, apologize for getting in the way, and keep walking. The waterfall. Gorgeous. I start cleaning clothes in the river. Little nibbles on my skin — straight panic — then I see them. Baby fish, hundreds of them, eating my cracking and peeling skin. I let these little fish creatures nibble at me and get their fill. I felt weird, disgusting, and special.

I fall backwards into the river on the way out with my pack on. All the clothes I just washed — sopping wet. My mango bread: crushed and crumbled. Dinner is crumbled mango bread with some peanuts. I lay down looking forward to what comes next.

I wake up in the bamboo forest. Heavy rain overnight — the entire ground is bamboo leaves and mud. Three fellow travelers nearby, all gear as soaked as mine. They gift me a little nug and it makes my whole morning. Up the highway to beautiful rainbow eucalyptus trees — reds, greens, and yellows in the bark. Unreal.

A bridge, a waterfall, a rope swing. The height is a little intimidating, but as soon as I jumped it was worth it. The Garden of Eden Arboretum. A gorgeous young woman named Rain helps me fill my water bottle. A peacock comes up to me — not this close before, but he liked the attention. He trots away to the next table to do more poses. What a peacock.

A woman named Kat — she works for the EPA on the Lahina fire cleanup — offers me a ride to Hana. We share life stories. Thirty minutes later we pull into the Hana beach park. I find a secluded cliffside beach — black and red sand, a jagged rock barrier. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to sleep on a cliff overlooking such a place. I set up my chair and enjoy my dinner looking out onto the ocean. Pure bliss.

Waking up on that cliffside was on a whole different level of amazing. Then all my zen is abruptly disturbed — my phone is dead. Repair and maintenance day. At the swanky hotel down the street I feel out of place but spot an art gallery. I meet the curator Joanne — an older but well put together lady. About the Lahina fire, the state of America. A genuine badass truthseeker. Her story of the fire is very different from what we hear on the news. She's kind enough to let me sit outside and charge my devices.

During one of my calls at the beach park, I see a homeless lady with a buzzed head come near my table. She keeps walking, but I look where she was. She had left a piece of fruit and a sea shell for me. I say thank you, and she smiles. I try to offer her something back but she was just wanting to do something kind.

No entry today. Today was just for me.

Waking up on the beautiful cliffside again was a treat. I walk to the beach park to brush my teeth and shave — trying not to look too homeless. I find Fagan's Cross on the map — off I go on this uphill trail. On my way up I ran into a woman named Kathleen. We share a great conversation and she tells me about WWOOF — Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms — trading labor for lodging and food on farms around the world.

As we get to the cross, a cardinal flies by. I chuckle and say "how fitting, we come to see a cross and we meet a cardinal." Without skipping a beat, Kathleen says "that's even more funny because my last name is Pope." We both laugh at the synchronicity. The cross was constructed of lava stones and erected in 1960 in memory of Paul Fagan, the man who established cattle ranching in Hana.

Back at the local hotel to charge my devices, I wander into the art gallery. Joanne's co-worker Alisha — a gorgeous native Hawaiian and remarkably kind — chats with me for a bit. I find a cheap snorkel kit and lash it to my bag. I also find fuel for my camp stove — $14 here vs $4 in Idaho. But I get it so I can finally have a hot meal.

Walking back to my secret spot, some fellow adventurers ask about my tent. We talk. They were just in Costa Rica and travel like this frequently. I set up, put my stove to use, and while on the phone I look down the cliff into the ocean. A seal is playing and swimming in the cove. A magical moment. Baked beans with Vienna sausages, cooked to perfection. Damn that was good.

I wake up early and can't get back to sleep. I've also officially put the first hole in my tent trying to weight it down with a rock. Stupid. I grab my snorkel and head down to Kaihalulu beach. I meet a lovely couple named Jess and Alex. Jess is in the fermentation industry making wine — and he just swam between two of the islands. Maui and Lanai. Makes my kayak idea seem not too crazy.

Bloop, I go into the water. Beautiful rocks, coral, and tons of little fishes. All kinds just swimming to and fro. After I'm done I collect some shells from the beach. I say goodbye to Jess and Alex and return to camp. One of the things I wanted to do was catch a fish in the ocean, cook it, and eat it. So I decide today is a good day to try. I have no equipment besides my snorkel and mask. I go primal.

I build a fire pit with a flat stone top to cook with. I find a suitable branch, shave the bark off, sharpen the tip, carve a hole through the handle and attach a hair tie with a toggle to create a hand spear. It's time to record for the podcast. I set my crafted tool aside and get in the right headspace. Great episode. Then I grab my spear and mask and went for the water. After about an hour and a half of trying to get close enough to a fish to spear it, I tapped out. This was a difficult task. Head down, I return to my tent and have some sirloin steak soup. I'm not deterred. I will catch a fish.

I decide a walk to the store and another box of Mike & Ikes would help. At Hasegawa General Store I ask if they have any spears for spearfishing. Sadly no. At the Ranch store I get some things. On my walk back I remember a bit of fishing line on the cliff. I'm going to turn my spear into a rod.

I hurry back and find the line in the bushes — it even has a weight on it. I need a hook. So I scour the cliffside. Vagrant den with more line but no hook. Two rusted old motors, a ripped tarp and hammock. Everything but a fishing hook. Then I remember — I have a sewing kit and some safety pins. I fashion a hook from a safety pin and attach it to the line. For bait: skin flakes, dead crabs from the cliff, hermit crabs from shallow pools. I'm so excited.

People were in the cove so I waited. I dangled my legs over the cliff and drew a sexy bikini lady in my turtle book. Then a huge rainstorm came bursting through. It was bad. People were clearing out and even if I did go down in the storm, it's raining and I couldn't cook anything I caught. So I head to my tent and wait out the storm — which lasted all night.

Two pressing issues: 1. I want to catch a fish. 2. I still have that nug my traveling brethren bestowed upon me but nothing to smoke out of. I decide to take care of my second plight first. I start delicately carving a hole into some tubed coral. I chip at a shell and make an opening. I source a plastic bottle someone left on the beach. I melt and combine my parts into a Hawaiian smoking device. It works wonderfully.

Elevated and trying to fish — the fish were taunting me and taking my bait off the hook with ease. I get frustrated but keep trying. I know when I'm beat. I scamper atop a cliff where I like to sit and let my feet dangle. The weather goes back and forth between sunshine and rain. I draw a not so pleasant looking character — inspired by a rock near my campsite that had a face in it. I'm happy that I've started drawing again. Before I came to Maui it was hard to sit and relax enough to do so. But every day here brings my mind more ease.

After smoking out of my seashell pipe and failing to catch anything, I had the most peculiar dream. While smoking, I inhaled a flurry of micro sea critters into my lungs — lobster looking characters and fish and crabs and things hard to describe, kind of looked like a tardigrade. Then with the help of my bodily defenders, I had to vanquish these critters from seeping into my body and making me sick. I wake up laughing about what I experienced.

I break camp and get things ready. I clean up and shave so I don't look too homeless — over two weeks out here and I've managed to maintain some level of presentability. I stop at the hotel to charge my devices. Joanne shows me local city hall meetings about the Lahina fire, water distribution on the island, other topics related to Maui life. Eye opening. I help her clean the windows of the art gallery before I go. I receive a care package from my brother David and his father Dan. It has been historically difficult for me to receive help or assistance, but everyone has told me to relax about that stuff. So I did. My family is pretty awesome.

When I get to my site, there are a few people hanging in the area. Turns out, there was a huge monk seal on the beach just basking in all of his glory. I scurry down and get super close. I get a few pictures before his eye opens and looks at me. He waves his flipper at me as if to say that's good enough. I thank him for being there. I climb back up and open a beer. I sit on my favorite place on the cliff with my feet dangling, looking out to the ocean and at the monk seal on the beach. I go through the six-pack and get nice and buzzed. Today was an amazing day.

Three beautiful days at the cliffside. Day 18 was a recovery day after the beer — my tummy was not amazing. The monk seal was still there, rolling around in the sun. Snorkeling, drawing, devil sticks on the cliff, some pretty alright chicken top ramen. Day 19 woke up to the most beautiful sight of the sun shining through the clouds making a radiant light pool on the ocean. A car pulls over and a gentleman named Joel — a writer with a lot of jokes, a secret wise man — gives me a ride to the Venus Pool trail. We discuss thoughts, intuition, and the difference between them. We get to the bridge that is the gateway to my destination. He offers his place if I need to pitch my tent.

I record a Riff on It episode from a bridge on the highway. Then down the overgrown path to the Venus Pool. Breathtaking. A pool of fresh and salt water mixing behind a natural sandbar that separates it from the ocean. I ask a kind lady to video me whilst I attempt to jump the highest cliff. It is high. Probably the highest I've jumped from. I crouch down and leap. Exhilarating. I do it a few more times. I tried to climb a coconut tree Mulan style with my belt — made it three-quarters of the way before slipping. New skill to learn: climbing smooth trees with no branches.

Getting back at dusk I decided to hitchhike rather than walk an hour and a half. A white truck pulling a big trailer stops. His name was Mikey — looked like he had done some shit in life. Super kind, from Indianapolis, moved here a while back. He brings me to Hana and gives me a sprite. He offers me a place tonight and even a shower. Still I'm uncomfortable taking the opportunity for an actual place to sleep. Mikey gives me his number. It's something I need to figure out in my head. I trudge down the dark roads of Hana until I get to the trail that leads to my site. It's pitch black traversing the trail. I make it and set up quickly. Delicious spaghettios and a sprite.

My whole body hurts after how much walking I did yesterday. But today is a travel day — I purchased my ticket to the Big Island last night. I rearrange my bag for flying — knives and whatnot into the checked dry bag. I shower at the beach park, wash my clothes, make some beef Ramen with coconut water and peanut butter. I charge my devices and record another episode of Riff On It.

Say goodbye to Hana town. Definitely a place I could see being stable at sometime in the future. My favorite town I've been to on Maui. As I'm walking down the highway in the heat, a great lady named Jax — like from Mortal Kombat she said — picks me up and gets me to the airport in about 10 minutes. The manifest is on printed paper. I load onto a tiny propeller plane you need to crouch to get into. The views from this single propeller, low flying aircraft were amazing. Seeing the edge of the island from this vantage point was beautiful. The flight was less than 15 minutes.

An hour and a half wait for the plane to the Big Island. At 6:45pm it was time to board. Already dark when we land in Kailua-Kona. I reassemble my bag, walk to Walmart to stock up, then start down the Queen Ka'ahumanu highway at almost 11pm. I walk until about 1:30am. A 24-hour Texaco with tables. A man named Rick shows up on a pink spray-painted bike. Rick liked to smoke meth — he told me quickly, to see if I'd like to participate. I politely declined. About 30 minutes later, a whole gaggle of meth people showed up. I felt it was time to leave. I walk almost 6 hours. I arrive at Wawaloli beach park at 5:45am. I watch the sun rise.

Day 22: I slept for 12 and a half hours on a table bench at the beach park. A lazy day exploring lava rocks. Set up my tent down the beach. Day 23: Off down the highway. Athletes training for the Ironman competition go by alongside me — waving and putting the Shaka sign up made me feel a sense of respect. I make it to Makalawena beach — beautiful white sand. A group of helicopter school students — Clay and Adain — give me a beer and a bottle of water. I pitch my tent behind the gate and enjoy the night.

Day 24: Right by my spot were two perfect trees for a hammock. I get excited — the first time I'll use the hammock I brought. I set it up. I lay and relax, sinking into the swing. It was worth every ounce I carried it. I drew a guy laying in a hammock. I walked the distance of Makalawena Beach — several different terrains including forest, beach, foliage, ponds, and a lava rock field. I found a small pond with a school of fish I was able to communicate with rather well.

Days 25–26: A bus driver who looked me up and down bowed me off a public bus because of how I looked. Okay. So I accept this and walk back to the marketplace. A tomato tray with mozzarella, basil, oil and vinegar with a Twisted Tea put me in better spirits. A secluded beach near the King's highway foot trail became my home for several nights. A woman singing "I Will Always Love You" from the ocean. I complimented her voice. Kito — a Japanese woman who had lived on the big island for 10 years — sat by my tent as the sun went down. She sang for me, we talked about more than interesting topics, and we settled on a nickname for her: "little Hawaii."

Day 27: A bar tender named Isabell with sleeves and great music taste. An $11.22 pineapple wheat beer. Completely worth it. Day 29: Friday the 13th — a lovely day. Crossing the ancient Hawaiian shrine on the King's highway foot trail, I stop. I leave my hat, a penny, and an aglet from my Hey Dude shoes that had gotten me so far. I bow my head and pray over the offering for the lands of Hawaii. I continue to the petroglyph field. Sacred ground. Walking the footsteps of ancient Hawaiians — artisans, builders, warriors, commoners, and kings alike. The circles, spirals, and dots reminded me of the ancient star maps found in other parts of the world.

Days 30–34: Breakfast blizzard from Dairy Queen. A Buddhist monk on a bus — we didn't speak, but with eye contact, we knew. A bow and a smile. A beer and singing by the ocean with Kito. Spencer beach park and the Pu'ukoholā Heiau — the ancient temple where King Kamehameha fulfilled a prophecy and began uniting all 8 main islands after 500 years of war. I carved a honu (sea turtle) from wood and left it on the ancient offering tower as a gift for Ku, the war god who assisted Kamehameha. I got fantastic news about a documentary project. And I got jumped by an aggressive dog who was NOT a good puppo.

Day 37: Volcanoes National Park. A park ranger presentation, a hula display, steam vents, the rim of a 400-foot caldera. A man named Tod approached me — John 3:16 written on his bag buckle. Something told him to come talk to me. We talked for about an hour and a half about religion and our lives. He said a prayer for me at the end and left me with some reading material and some gummi bears. We said farewell and I continued down my path. I stood at the overlook of the caldera — steam and gases spewing from the floor of the volcano. No lava, but you could feel the intense raw power bubbling underneath the surface.

Day 38: I discovered a trail from my campsite that led to the end of the trail I was on yesterday. I leave my tent and my bag and hurry down. This time the walk to the visitor center only took 40 minutes without the weight of my gear. Into the caldera bottom — a guided ranger tour about the flora and fauna. Lava berries that I got to try — a unique but surprisingly refreshing tart taste. Then I walked across the second crater. My first step into the different terrain was felt by an immediate change in energy. I am about to walk across a volcano. It took 30 minutes at a slow walk to cross the caldera. I felt like walking across a volcano is a good one to check off the list.

Days 39–40: Rain, a Buddhist monk on a bus again, a black sand beach — beautiful. Turtles basking in their designated spot. The cultural tale of Kauila, the mystical turtle who can transform between human and honu, the protector of the bay. When I walked up to get a picture, one of the honu sleeping on the beach gave me a good head nod. I felt special.

Day 41: Maintenance day. I spread my wet clothes out on the bushes — the branches have enough give to let the wind get in and it is an extremely effective clothesline. A garlic ahi poke bowl and fries from the food truck. I devour all of it. I am stuffed and don't want to move. I finish Graham Hancock's podcast. I find a cool black and silver star ring on the ground by the beach — like the ones you'd get on a cupcake. I put it in my pocket as a nifty souvenir.

Day 42: A friend had sent a care package that helped in ways I cannot express. They said their spirit had guided them to do so, and if I want to give credit, it should go to the big man with a capital G. So thank you God. And to whoever reads this, whatever higher power you believe in — love, appreciation, and kindness are concepts everyone can understand.

Day 44: The ride share that changed everything. A woman named Jennifer — a massage therapist who maintains her entire 2-acre self-sustaining property by herself, complete with rain water collection, compost toilets, an on-demand propane outdoor shower. A genuine badass. She took me in for the night. Quesadillas, avocado toast, Sasquatch theory videos, and a massage from a true professional. My first bed since the first night in Maui. I passed out hard. Day 45–46: Captain Cook. 1.3 miles of lava gravel to the coast where Captain James Cook first met the Hawaiian kingdom in 1779. Ruins of the settlement, crumbling lava rock walls, a decommissioned lighthouse. I threw a penny in the ocean and a huge wave surged and splashed the cliffside. I laughed. Thank you.

This is the night I left out for a while. At 10:04pm, I see a light around my tent. I unzip to see a man sitting at the table right next to me. He goes off. "Will you shut up!" he yells. I apologize if my call was bothering him. The guy is walking away as I instinctively say something back. He comes charging back and stands over me, grabs my phone and chucks it into the gravel field. "Get the fuck out of my face!" I try to stand up. He swings quick and catches me right in the bridge of the nose and eye socket. I fall onto my tent, bending one of my tent poles in the process. The whole tent goes over. I quickly grab my knife.

"Back the fuck up or you're gonna get stabbed!" He reaches into his pocket, unfolds his knife and yells "Oh yeah, come on!" At this point my brain comes back into play. I lower my knife and say sternly, "we are done." He walks away. I walk to get my phone — thankfully not damaged. I head to the bathroom to see what damage has been done. My nose cartilage is moving and crunchy. I call the cops. They get there and make a case. The EMTs look me over. They couldn't tell if it was broken or just swollen either. They leave with advice to visit a doctor soon.

A young man helps me battle the wind setting up my tent on the other side of the park. I lay down. Anger, sadness, humility, discouragement, emasculation — all the standard ones that happen when getting your ass kicked. But I try to look at all of this as a learning experience. And then the wind got worse. So my negative mood turns into crazy laughing as I'm trying to sprawl in my tent to keep it from collapsing due to the bent pole. It's almost 3am. I write all of this down and try to get some sleep.

Day 51: The wind was battering my tent all night. As I'm getting out of the already damaged tent — SNAP. A gust blew and the one unbent pole snapped in half and tore through the rain cover. I almost lose my collected mind. The universe has incredibly interesting timing. I had already purchased my return ticket, I had just expressed my gratitude for my adventure and my gear, and then the worst 12 hours of the past 2 months happen all at once. I breathe in deep. My hammock — stolen, probably by that guy.

Heading up toward the NPS visitor center, I see a woman sitting on a bench. Something tells me to talk to her. She was there to see a group channeling at the Hawaiian temple nearby. Lee Carroll was going to channel Kryon. Kryon is an interdimensional intelligence that has even been invited to speak at the U.N. Amazing news to me given some of my interests and the location. The channeling team checking out the temple catches eyes with me. We don't exchange words, but it was a great exchange of energy.

Day 52: The tent held up well given the condition. My flight leaves tonight at 10:40pm. I promised I won't rush today. I slowly break camp. A magnificent poke bowl with a coconut water for my last lunch. I walk down to the beach and walk shin deep into the ocean to say goodbye. After a moment of calm, I head back to my bag. I sprawl out all of my gear to repack for the flight. I leave useful items for other campers. I order an Uber — first time I've ever used Uber. James — who had moved to the big island 5 months ago after a rough change in his life — takes me to the airport. We talk about stoicism, tiny houses, van dwelling, minimalist living. He said he was glad we crossed paths. So was I.

Past the gate, a rasta looking TSA agent makes a spiritual warrior joke at me. Funny either way. I order a Loco Moco Bento and a Big Wave beer. An Angus patty smothered in gravy and an egg over rice. It was great. They call boarding early for an extra agriculture check. As I get ready for take off, I rest my head back. I think about this past 52 days. It was an absolutely amazing time. A magical experience I will remember forever. I'm flying home.