We woke up this morning to find that the faucet in the garage – the freshly repaired faucet with the nice cozy insulation and foam jacked tucked around it – had frozen again. Fortunately, no breaks or leaks. We decided to leave the heat on “normal” all day, leave the hall bath faucet dripping, and hope for the best. David got some tips on adding venting to the inside wall so the faucet gets warm air from the bathroom heat (and yes, I’m thinking the hall bath is going to be hella cold all winter, too. Aren’t you?).
Was it any coincidence that Steve emailed a demand today that we initiate Plan Hawaii2005 Gamma and start the momentous task of planning The Return To The Mothership?
I think not.
The only serious problem I have with implementing Plan Hawaii2005 Gamma is that it is NOT Plan Hawaii2004 Gamma.
See that pretty picture of the beach? See the nice snorkeling area off to the left? Warm, golden sand? Nice warm buildings named after the Hawaiian phrase for “Quittin’ Time House?” See the top floor of the lowrise building? That is the mothership. We all long to return home to her.
Well, way back in 2000, we lost our minds and decided that it would be fun to travel with 5 of our friends and stay in one, big lavish 4 bedroom condo in Maui in February 2001 And stay for two whole weeks. And not kill each other.
Now, the logistics were daunting – at first I was freaking out trying to find several one bedroom condos in an area that met all of our criteria, for a reasonable price. And in the planning stages I didn’t know exactly how many of our friends, their friends, and their friends’ friends would be willing to shell out the ducats to spend one or two weeks in Maui.
And then I found out that there is… a penthouse unit at this place in Kihei called Hale Pau Hana that would sleep 8.
The price per night was a bit daunting, but then even split between 3 couples and a single, it was a steal. So we booked it and whiled away the intervening months squabbling (well, Steve and David carried on a series of pitched battles) about burglary rates and whether we needed to buy extra security gadgets and bring a padlock for the gate on the penthouse stairway or even change the locks… ay-yi-yi.
Anyway, we didn’t know what to expect. We walked in (6 of us traveled together, the 7th joined a few days later) and our jaws dropped to the floor harder and faster than our luggage did.
It was huge. The lanai (there are no balconies in Hawaii, but there are lanais) went the entire length of the building and wrapped around the “view corner” that looked toward Haleakala. On the corner side was an extra-wide area with a big bar and patio table, and a fully tiled outdoor shower that turned out to be perfect for rinsing sand off of snorkel gear and wet suits. But the real jaw-dropper was inside.
The living room was very large (about 2/3 the length of the place) and it was all picture windows. We sort of wondered at the seating – nice sofas, and then two matching modern leather reclining chairs facing the picture windows. Oh, those chairs. They looked so like your Uncle Bob’s Barcalounger, but Aunt Marge made him shell out the big bucks for leather instead of that horrid plaid. But then we kept taking it all in… and that view. That view.
There were a couple more bathrooms and bedrooms off the living room. A huge fully equipped kitchen, a very large dining table, even a fireplace that looked like it got very little use. The decor was a bit dated, but elegant by island standards. The bedrooms were nice as far as they went (the “4th bedroom” was more of a study with a big TV, a private entry door, a private bath.. and a sofa bed). The master bedroom (it’s in the picture) featured a waterbed and a biggish Jacuzzi (David and I had the master bedroom the first week, then another couple had it the second). It was the quietest sleeping room, and oh, the heavenly surf was soothing.
Heh – the waterbed wasn’t actually that great – I’m a restless sleeper and David set sail for the high seas every night. Ahoy, matey!
So we just stood there the first few moments taking it all in, then rushed around looking at everything. And then we’d stop, and look out the picture windows, and our jaws would drop again, because we weren’t in a li’l poky condo with a tiny slice of ocean view, we were in a friggin penthouse and the 7 of us had all the room we needed and more.
And then we all took off in a chattering crowd for Costco Maui to spend $300-400 on food for two weeks. And you know what? Only a little went to waste (honestly, Steve, 25 lbs. of rice is not a better value than 5 if you’re going to just throw the extra away). We made dinner several times – cooking communally in that huge kitchen was no problem – and one night we had a feast out on the lanai with 3 kinds of grilled fish, salmon poke (pronounced “pokey,” a kind of teriyaki salmon ceviche), and mango cheesecake. And eating out on Maui doesn’t suck, because David’s favorite restaurant in the universe is there. And we got to eat there twice.
The recliners we sneered at when we first arrived? Every single one of us took naps in those chairs during the 2 week stay, and there are pictures to prove it. They were in hot demand – I thought about starting a reservation schedule for the chairs.
We did a lot of fun things and went places and ate well and had fun, but the main thing was that we all were in the water every single day snorkeling or just bobbing like corks and talking. Every morning we were up at 5am (jetlag) and someone would make coffee and go out on the lanai and sit in the pre-dawn darkness watching for the canoe club to paddle by on its morning training route. A few more people would trickle out, yawning and clutching mugs of macadamia nut coffee, and we’d wander over to the bakery that opened at 530am and get hot cinnamon rolls. And then back to the lanai to watch the light creep over the calm purple sea, and keep a lookout for the monk seals that would swim along in the early morning. About 9 am or so The Whale Show would start – one day there was this big tailslapping display with two young males that went on for an hour, and we’d just sit and watch.
Some days we didn’t do anything or plan an activity – we’d just eat, shop, walk along the beach, snorkel, clean off, and hang out on the lanai until it was time for lunch, and then again until it was time for dinner.
It was great.
We did do a couple of organized group activities – the weather was a bit cold (ooooh! 65 is cold in Maui) for snorkeling, but we went on a snorkel-sail trip anyway. But mostly, we’d arrange things so everyone had a lot of free time, and we didn’t schedule “big” activities two days in a row.
We all had plenty of time for naps. Like I said, it was great. It was 10 whole days before I even expressed mild interest in the laptop we had with us. Aaah.
And when it came time to leave, it was like leaving home. We were ready to sleep in our own beds and all of that – but it was a wrench.
The next year, we planned a return trip, but didn’t stay at the same place, and didn’t travel with exactly the same crew. David and Steve and I went to Kauai first, and they got sick. The best thing about that trip were the “a-MOO-ha!” T-shirts we bought in Hanalei. But it was chilly and the water was too rough for snorkeling in Poipu. So we longed for Maui, and finally we took the interisland flight over and met our friends on their incoming flight from the island, and we went to the 2 condos we’d booked in a different area of Maui, not on a snorkeling beach, but on a good walking beach. That we used to love, before The Mothership.
And it just wasn’t as much fun. Then David and I went back to Maui on our own a few months later, and stayed in a nice place that had very nice facilities, but wasn’t right on a snorkeling beach – it was up a long hill and across the road and down. So we had to load all the gear in the car. However, it did have an awesome outdoor jacuzzi with a heavy sand bottom – felt great on the feet after a long flight. But again, it wasn’t The Mothership.
Also, if you’re packing up snorkeling gear and transporting it and rinsing it off after use and hauling it back in the car every time you want to go snorkeling? It’s a pain. Much nicer to traipse down the beach, and have snacks, beverages and clean bathrooms a short stroll from the surf.
So not this year, but next year for sure, we’re headed back. And we’re serious about it. So we’d better get cracking.
It’s only a little more than a year before we depart, there’s so much to do.
