High there, Final notice on the party because I forgot to mention things like the address and the day, so spacey was my week. 2233 olinda road, Sunday the 23rd, 5pm, pot luck.

After watching Tiger beat himself to death at Hazeltine we all bounced into the truck and headed up to the crater. Jeremiah the transformer (as in transforming the farm with his might and bright) and nurse Cassie (the high priestess of compassioneat), drove us up the mountain on a splendid Sunday afternoon. Ty and I were accompanied by Noemie, our darling French wwoof, who had never taken a hike before, as well as James and Emily, a young couple from the Midwest who had just robbed several banks on Oahu and were on the lam looking for a place to lay low.

After checking into the ranger station and watching a seven minute buzz kill of a slide show advising us not to flick our cigarette butts, defecate in the wood stove or cook up any nene geese, we piled back into Beauregard and blazed up to the summit where we were greeted by brilliantly clear skies and air that when taken in deeply felt like ethereal spun honey mixed with ecstasy. A kind of instant giddiness ensued. Could have been partly due to the shrooms we ate during the slide show.

We pulled the truck over on the summit road to unload the packs and pick up the trail a ways up from the visitor center. As we were doing so, a ranger cop pulled up behind us, lit up his bubble gum machine and explained in his condescendingly superior voice that there is a parking lot provided at the visitor center for this sort of thing. It was almost like he wanted us to throw the packs back into the truck and park down there, you know, so that we did it by the book. Jeremiah just walked over to the guy and clocked him so hard that his teeth turned up on the Hamakua coast. We left him toothless and bloodied laying on the road and booked it down the trail. Dontcha just wish you could do that?

No matter how many times I hit that part of Sliding Sands that affords a full view of the caldera, I am left totally speechless. There's just joy bubbling to the surface and inspiring giddyup. You can be packing in thirty pounds but you feel like you're walking on air. For Tyler and I, it carved out the tenth anniversary of hiking the crater together and a lot of memories that get packed away like your favorite christmas tree ornaments stashed in a box in the attic, or in our case that stack of vintage Mad magazines. I think we can safely say that our mutual love for this ritual is no flash in the pan.

We were all a bit concerned for Noemie, being the novice and weighing in at about a hundred pounds (including a pair of Jane Mansfields which fortunately helped to balance the backpack), but she seemed very at ease and kept pace with no problems while flashing her signature smile at each and every eye contact. I'd see her growing more and more enchanted by everything she was taking in. We all hiked at our own pace and took rest stops together where energy bars and apples were munched and water guzzled. The afternoon sun was just right and we figured to get to Kapalaoa cabin somewhat before dusk. We passed from rock scape to sparse flax plants into silversword groves, fern patches and earth tone cinder cone outcroppings, all along being embraced by the silence and purity of the place.

Not sure what got into me, but I was really feeling the trail and made it down to the bottom of Sliding Sands well ahead of the youngsters. Kicked back in the shade and had me a long pull on the water bottle and a handful of the mix i'd put together made out of pecans, almonds, dried blueberries, tamari sunflower seeds and raw cacao nibs. My heartbeat slowed and my skin cooled in the shade. I heard the call of the nene reflecting off the ridges as the others arrived. We all sat half mesmerized and burned a bone. Silence punctuated by the occasional curious buzzing fly followed. Its a raw, stark, beautiful, peaceful place that gobbles up all but that which is of the Essence.

Ty took the lead for the last leg of the hike. He's in good shape due to the his membership in the Howler monkey fight club. I watched him move along the trail occasionally stopping to do a three sixty or crouch down to check out a flowering plant or roving insect. I caught him up a little ways before the cabin and we flashed on the time that we were hiking through on a July fourth weekend a few years back. It was one of those simultaneous memory bubbles. Turns out that around the beginning of July, the afternoon sun plays off the foothills on the opposite side of the crater to produce a sprawling shadow that looks exactly like a t-rex poised to pounce on some unsuspecting prey. No, really. Given the declination of the planet and the rapidly changing solar angle we figured that the shadow probably only lasts a week or two and that we wouldn't see it this time. We were right.

No t-rex but only three tenths of a mile to the cabin, which after a five and a half mile slog is a welcome site given that a normal days excercise consists of bossing people around, hitting a few seven irons into a net, hefting a bottle of scotch and reaching for the remote. The typical gang of nene's was hanging out in front of the cabin making their nene sounds, browsing the stubbly grass and hoping for the appearance of an insect or two. They have a complex, sonorous and interesting language. We figured they were saying, "quick, look cute and they'll break out the grub". We sloughed off our packs, kicked off our shoes, unlocked the cabin and sat our asses down. Doobage and food were first to be unpacked. Its about then that the whole immersion into the crater experience really settles in. Total disconnect. No more nothin'. Only-eye.

Sitting out in front of the cabin, without the focus of the hike, the movement of the environment takes over. A passing trio of flying nene's. The quick moving red masked partridge like birds that scamper around the flax. The yellow jackets checking out the apples and the ever present fly by. There are wasp traps hung in the brush and small spiders clinging to webs that strain in the wind. Ty found some small psychoactive mushrooms in the nene poop as well as in the area close to where the horses get tied off. He's got a good eye for that shit. I can't for the life of me figure where he got that.

We'd packed in some farm pesto and a couple of pounds of pasta so we got to boiling some water. Emily and James were huddled together cooking up their next heist and Noemie was out front gathering it all in. Ty and I were cutting off a hunk of Fontinella to go with our Pink Lady apples (i kid you not) as dusk began its descent and the eastern horizon boasted a few stars. We took it all in, looked at each other, shared a high five smile and in the vernacular of corporate america, had a kodak moment.

That's right, we've got food too. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp