The Way It Used To Be

Back in 2008, when I first arrived on Oahu, everything took my breath away. Every beach, mountain, jungle, and waterfall was spectacular. Every sunny day was the greatest gift I could ever receive. Each sunset was a moment to be cherished.

By the time Year 4 of the Hawaii Adventure rolled around, all of these things had become commonplace. They were still pretty awesome, but they didn't give off that same striking vibrance that used to knock me off my feet. Plus, almost all of the people with whom I had originally come into the experience had moved on. Life was still good, but different. More and more Saturdays I would trade an outdoor excursion or a trip to a quiet beach for staying in and watching college football. The honeymoon was clearly over.

Until this past Sunday.

Back on Friday, I took a visiting Zag friend out to Pupukea for a little hike up into the mountains. Fighting a splitting headache from the night before, it took everything I had just to navigate the muddy trail without slipping. We finally got to an opening that looked out over a lush, untouched ravine leading down to the ocean.

"This was the way it used to be," he observed.

I joked that the only thing missing was a dinosaur or two, and then we made our way through the rest of the trail. We hiked back along a rarely used Army road that was narrow yet smoothly paved, complete with lines and guardrails.

I knew there was plenty of adventure to be had out there in those tropical hills, and two days later I found myself jogging back down that paved Army road into the unknown. I ran up and down steep hills, dropped in through the jungle, and climbed up bluffs with views that made the island look microscopic compared to the vast ocean in the distance. I couldn't stop running. I lost it out there in the best way possible.

I finally turned around after over an hour of running. My knees were sore and I felt weak, but I couldn't get over the remote beauty that I had gotten myself stuck in. Finally, with only a mile or two to go until I was back at my car, I stole a glance at a giant valley to my left. How I missed it on the way out I don't know. But as I trotted up the road, I looked over my left shoulder in awe at this magical world below me. The blue sky was the perfect backdrop for this vast, impenetrable rainforest of infinite colors. It took a minute to set in, and I didn't even stop to fully admire it, but I knew that this valley was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. I finally turned my head and focused on the road, but this snapshot stayed with me.

Back in my car, driving away from the trail, I looked over the snapshot of that valley in my mind. It brought along with it other images- like the first time I jumped off the rock at Waimea, diving through the blue room at Shark's Cove, watching whales breach in the distance during the boldest sunset, seeing 30 foot waves pound the North Shore, and sitting on Kalalau Beach in Kauai with my roommates after a full day of hiking.

This was way it used to be, I thought.

Just then I reached the steep hill leading back down to Kam Highway. I peered down at the miraculous seven miles of white sand and waves and a bright blue sky.

Then I realized something.

It still is.