When we finally emerged from the mess of Mamane we found ourselves on upper Waipoli Road, the asphalt seemed out of place high on the green shoulders of the volcano. Aa’Ron said we would have to transverse a ways before descending again. Riding the tank-of-a-bike, even with a gentle grade, at 6000-7000 feet was a challenge for this rider, but the views were spectacular.
These pictures were "lifted" from here. During this part of the ride Aa’Ron got a call from one of his buds. They discussed catching some waves later but ultimately decided the water was “too sharky” from all the storms. I explained to him that where I come from we don’t put a "y" on the end of “shark” to form an adjective, we just don’t do that. I asked if he ever had a close call and he said, “a few times, when spearfishing.”
I was all-like “Yeah, its like this one time when I caught a Bullhead; when I went to take the hook out of his mouth he got me in the finger with one of his spines. Yeah, it hurt pretty bad so I said @#$ it and jetted to Indo.”
Lower Wapoli was great; serpentine blacktop slithering its way down the volcano’s approaches. We hairpined our way around several turns until dirt cut-throughs started to appear. These paths would leave the road above and dive down the steep bank to the road below. Many of them were severely rutted from the afore mentioned torrents. Aa’Ron took full advantage of them sailing off the road, Mountain Dew Extreme style, and smoothly emerging back on the pavement below.
This is not Aa'Ron (sadly I have no pictures of him), but it did look a little like this:
His XGames were building my confidence; gradually I tried a few of the mini downhill runs. After a couple I hit one that was suddenly deeply rutted. I navigated it successfully and got a nice jolt of adrenaline as my reward. A couple runs later the path sank sharply right at the road. “I’m dead” I thought as my front tire hit the unseen rut. I thought for sure I was going over the handlebars, face first unto the pavement. Instead the long, doublecrown suspension fork just soaked up the whole ditch and I popped out on the road just like I knew what I was doing. It probably looked ok, but I felt like I had just pulled off something closer to this:
The road gradually uncoiled and began meandering through hills of deep nearly-neon green prairie grass.
Here we passed some people paragliding - running and launching themselves off the hill to float down strapped under what is essentially a paper airplane. Some people are nuts (irony intentional).
Aa’Ron stopped at this spot that overlooked an open stretch of field. The whole trip down he had goggles strapped around his helmet, but had them flipped around facing behind him (as if he were watching me). At this point he spun the goggles around secured them around his eyes and said, “Right Dude, this field is a blast super fast. You’ll probably get a lot of splatter so don’t follow me too close. Oh, and watch out for big chunks of lava hidden in the tall grass – Ok? Let’s GO!”
SWOOSH, Frisbee again.
I thought, “I’m almost all the way down this mutha and I now I going to die.” I frisbeed off after him. Immediately muddy water started to splatter my face, the grass was coated in a dirty dew. We gained speed quickly, surfing the grassy waves. I was concentrating intently, but I didn’t see any lava chunks. Suddenly a two foot high craggy mass of red passed on the left. Next I came straight up on a smaller, flatter patch of red death. I did what Bodie said and let the bike do the work. It was like riding an overstuffed pillah (that's a "pillow" only better), smooth, soft, nice.
We regrouped back on the road. Aa’Ron looked at me and said “You’re not too slow for being an XC guy.” That might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten on the bike. He said, “Straight up Bro, this is the last bit. There’s free range cows that roam this part of the road and the fields, so watch out for them.” Cows, on a volcano in Hawaii……why not? Sure enough, we rolled through a couple more fields and there were the ole’ Bessies all over the place.
.JPG)
Aa’Ron rolled straight through them like he was negotiating a holiday shopping crowd at the mall. I think he communes with nature or something. A cow mooed, Aa’Ron did a kickout trick.
We arrived at the park where the Ladies were meeting me. I think Jackie has never been so happy to see me alive. Aa’Ron said, “You didn’t really even need me I guess.” Oh stop – you, with the compliments, just stop. Wait, could you say that again, when my wife is closer and can hear you?
We piled into our rental cars, my adventure si fini. I was feeling an odd concoction of satisfaction, pride, physical and mental fatigue, but some disappointment (because Mamane was toast). Mostly I was appreciative that I had the opportunity to do something pretty unique, especially for a Midwestern mountain biker. I was especially grateful that the Ladies had patience (if not understanding) with my quest. I was a lucky dog, and I had finally earned that shirt.
I was going to leave you with a helmet cam vid from webernet legend Pete Fagerlin, but it wouldn't load. Instead you will have to go here and watch it from his site. Its the second picture on the page with the 67mb by it. I also embedded this youtube vid which isn't as good quality as Pete's, but you get the basic idea.
