Check one off the Bucket List

I know that I am too young to have a list of things to do before I die, but for all of my life I have been making lists of things to do in the future. Most are obtainable and only a matter of time before they are accomplished. Others are spectacular and only a few people get the chance to complete. I believe that this is one of those experiences.

Yesterday, I woke up early with wild and fantastic dreams in my memories. Nakoa was pounding on my door. "Surfs UP!" The bags were already packed as I pulled on  my surf shorts. We were out the door only after checking the surf forecast, 5'-6' northshore; some ono grinds, pumpkin and shiitake quinoa; and a peek at the Mauna kea forecast,  Road Closed. Fine by me, the swell was dying. Nakoa drove down the mud road to the lighthouse as a braddah threw a shakka way over his head while driving his quad up.  "Overhead" Nakoa said.  Neither of us had surfed lighthouse before two weeks ago, when we had a lame day at Kapania and had to redeem ourselves after meeting up with a few friends and eating breakfast. We got trounced but it was just about paying our dues and figuring out the wave from the water rather than just looking at it from shore and talking like we knew what we were doing. The same anxious feeling welled up inside me when I looked out over the coast and saw one surfer a hundred yards off shore and lines off to the horizon. We waited, watching, counting, until I couldn't take it. The white noise of the waves and the uneasy feeling we had talked about earlier, when Nakoa provided us with blessed protection bracelets, were all too real. He was comfortable in the water, I in the snow. He said "Someone is going to get hurt," and for me it would be here in the six foot waves. At the shore I jumped in as the clean up waves were coming in. After the first three feet of white wash hit me I couldn't hear Nakoa yell, I just paddled. Soon he was next to me, we were just going to ride the inside, but quickly found ourselves in the line up next to the guys catching the waves. I knew how to get out of there. I started paddling and as I looked down the twelve foot face something made me stop. Only a glance was needed to share the feeling. After five months of surfing it is still about the excuse to get in the water, not about catching waves. Its about the rush and excitement of looking a giant in the face and quietly backing down without a fight. We paddled in catching some whitewash back to shore and ran up the cliffs feeling victorious and stoked to continue the adventure.
Back at the pad we unpacked and repacked, trading wet shorts for wool and rash guards for underarmor. We were nearly dancing waiting for a call from Greg or Aaron signaling the next move. The webcams were refreshing every 40 seconds as we watched snowplows scrape a path of black out of the clean white background. Still closed. When he answers the phone Aaron sounds iffy, "The doctor says its just sprained. He did all these tests, its not a torn rotator cuff". I know he is the only option to get us to the mountain and even his fiance knows he will regret it if he doesn't show up. His words don't even register. "We will be there in a minute," I say.
     The night before it became obvious to Nakoa his car would be incapable of making it. Oily smoke sneaks out under the hood as we pull in to Aaron's driveway. Nakoa and I enter the house like frogs in a microwave,"What can I do? Can I make food for you? Can I pack your bag? Wheres your Socks, Pants, Long johns." I already have my helmet on. "Were packing your car." It still takes an hour, but it feels like no time.Greg lets me know they are leaving Kona just as we leave Kohala. I drive so Aaron can eat. 
     The GPS reads 7500' as we get out of the car for the first picture on the Saddle Road. Fully automatic tank fire echoes in the background as we pose in front of the white mountain. Still wearing surf shorts and slippers, the air is crisp but not cold. Aaron is now fully experiencing the same excitement that has been brewing in me since the sun rose.
    We stop again at the pu'u before the access road, to gear up and let out some primal yells. Someone told me this is where they filmed part of Planet of the Apes and I know why judging by that animal feeling in my chest. As we are suiting up a couple dudes give us good luck, they said they sat for hours waiting for the mountain to open and now that all their beer is gone its too late to even try. I already know the gate is open but I let them go without argument.  By the time we get to the visitor center Greg and J.C. are nearly ready so we load up and are on the way. The Mad rush of partiers that had been waiting since morning were already gone, so we cruised up without traffic.
   The weather on the summit was amazing. Crystal clear, looking down on the tops of clouds, sheets of white spread out in every direction. Without warning the clouds came in and everything became the same blank canvas.  I strapped into the mini board I had found in the jungle and ridden only once before as a snurfer, a year ago, my first ride down the snow of Hawaii. The snow was perfect spring conditions: not "corn snow" but finer; wet but not slush; and deep, so unbelievably deep.  The mini was short of a real board, with a nose only a few inches off my front foot. I had to have done five somersaults before reaching the truck. People piled in as we drove up to the top of the largest mountain on earth,  making laps on the best lift in Hawaii.
    Aaron got a ride in next, but got lost somewhere in the mix and we had to make another lap before we located him. The snow was real, heavy, and deep. The little board just wouldn't cut it so the bindings had to get switched to the Slayblade. I took two runs and the sky opened back up. J.C. was stripping down to his board shorts as I unstrapped my boots to trade back to Aaron. There wasn't an option, I just had to get naked. Thanks to Greg I got a photo. In memory of Patrick Orton I got a picture of my white butt in front of a telescope, bare foot and shin deep in tropical snow. Aaron got a ride on the board, Nakoa rode down the mountain tandem with a beautiful girl on her boogie board, and even J.C. took the chance to careen out of control head first down a mountain. We finished the day as the snow came in, but we couldn't pass the chance to take a picture with a beautiful snow wahine, coconut bra and all.
     The hypoxia and euphoria faded just as the snow faded into rain, and the day to night. We drove into Waimea soaking wet with sore muscles setting in. There was a snowman to greet us at the Brewhaus, and the first beer of the month couldn't have tasted better. The Red Sea of Cacao and a burger were the perfect way to end the night even if it did take two hours to get our food. All the sudden I was back in a rocky mountain pub, surrounded by bros wearing beanies, t-shirts, and saggy snow pants. There were even ski bunnies with their tight ski pants and pom pom hats. I guess the rumor of an inter-dimensional portal on top of the mountain is true.  God I love Hawaii.

  
Thanks to all the people that made this goal a reality: Aaron for driving up to the visitor center, Lauren for convincing him he would regret it if he didn't go, Greg for the truck, and J.C. the best liftie in Hawaii.