I keep track of where I’ve lived by checking the dates on my
resume. I’ve kept them all, just for
this reason. According to my records, my first move to Maui was in 1988ish.
Why Maui?
Why not?
I’d tired of living in San Diego and was
waiting for the universe to tell me what was next. I got the message one sunny Sunday afternoon in
a bar down on the boardwalk in Pacific Beach. My roommate and I were doing shots of tequila in the smoky,
dimly lit, mostly empty barroom, when the bartender mentioned she was going to
Maui in a few weeks. As I planted my empty shot glass back onto the bar, I
said, me too.
The next day I found a one-way ticket to Maui for $126.
Woohooo!!! (Super glad I found it so cheap, that left me with about $300 for
when I got there.)
I packed my Datsun 510, drove home to Marin County, gave my
sister the car, put everything I needed into my brand new back pack, and packed
my bike into a box.
I can’t actually remember what my family said at the time, I
was too excited about where I was gonna go. I’d never been to Maui, and as this
was pre-internet, I went to the library and looked it up so I’d have an idea of
where I was going.
What I do remember are the two parting gifts I was given.
Knives. My uncle Sandy gave me one of those mini, green, key-chain Swiss Army
Knives, which at the time, I could even take on the plane with me. My dad gave
me a bigger red one. Where did they think I was going? What did they think I
was going to do?
Turns out, three weeks later when I landed, those knives
came in handy. I had a flat tire on my bike upon arrival, so I pulled out my
handy dandy tools and fixed it. Then I started riding towards Lahaina but it
was really far, so when a truck pulled over and the local guy asked me if I
wanted a ride, I tossed the bike in and off we went.
That night, feet dragging from exhaustion, I found a beach
outside of town called canoe beach. I
figured it was because there were canoes there. I was correct. With the help of
my big red knife I dug a hole and buried my backpack under one of the upside
down canoes, wrapped myself up in my blanket, and went to sleep. I woke up
sometime during the night to see the tide had come in and was a few inches from
my feet…too tired to care, I went back to sleep.
In the morning I woke up to a dog digging my backpack out
for me, and people already sunning on the beach. I shooed him off, grabbed my
stuff, and went in search of…whatever. Luckily, I met another group of savvy
locals who told me about Maui Beach Cruisers, old rental cars that have rusted
out and been sold to whoever was desperate enough. I fit that bill. I picked up
another Datsun 510, this time for $225, almost my entire wad of cash, but at
least I had a car, right?
Sort of. The locals told me about Camp Olowalu, a few miles south
of Lahaina, where I, along with travelers from all around the world, paid $3
per night to sleep on the beach, and shower under the open sky.
Those knives came in handy again when my ancient little Maui
Cruiser, which now doubled as my closet and shelter when it rained, broke down
one day on my way home. They also opened cans of tuna, cut bread, and plucked my
eyebrows.
I still have them both, and have never traveled without them
again. I almost lost one after 9/11 when the rules changed and you could no longer
carry a knife on board. I was late for my flight and they confiscated it. I
thought. I found out later the one I lost was a newer one, so I let it go, but
a friend, hearing of my loss, sent me a newer, bigger, even better one to add
to my collection.
Swiss army knives rock. I still have my two original knives.
They’ve dismantled engines for me, fixed plumbing in my RV, and they still open my cans of tuna.
BTW...I've been back to Camp Olowalu, the last time in 2007, and the cost for a staying had gone up to $10 per night.
