Secrets and Magic: Kualoa Ranch of Oahu

Text and photos by Jason McKenney.

The fog hangs thick like a droopy blanket. The tops of the trees are shrouded in a gray mist that whispers your name, beckoning you towards the dark forest like a forest nymph. Little devils live in there. Waiting for you. They were waiting for me to ride an ATV across the lush, green valley while high mountain cliffs loomed over my shoulder. I was reminded of the scene from Jurassic Park where Dr. Alan Grant and the two kids are swarmed by a flock of speeding Gallimimuses. Kualoa was the location for several of the beautiful exteriors of Jurassic Park. Zipping through on an ATV, I imagined myself being chased by a T-Rex, chomping for my head. I was now at top speed, which was around 20 mph. No way I would be outrunning any giant meat-asauruses on this day.

My and my new friend.

Riding down the hillside and coming out from the low-hanging trees, I saw a large, brown face resting along the valley floor about fifty yards ahead of me. A replica Easter Island Moai, apparently created for a documentary filmed here, greets those who reach this point. Even wary of Raptor and Pterodactyl attacks, I paused for a moment to have a photo taken with the large face.

There is a hush on the valley floor. The green cliffs are like skyscrapers surrounding me on one side. The glory of the Pacific rolls out on the other. The whisper of a waterfall can be identified, probably coming from around the next bend. Another ATV pops out from the behind the trees. Are they on the tour as well . . . or are they chasing me? Best not wait to find out.

Mr. Ed takes a break.

My wife and I visited the Kualoa Ranch during a trip to the Hawaiian island of Oahu. The Ranch is a 4000-acre private nature reserve and working cattle ranch, as well as a popular tourist attraction and filming spot. The valley was a sacred location to ancient Hawaiians from the 13th to the 18th century. As written in the Kumulipo, an ancient Hawaiian genealogical chant, Kualoa is where Papa and Wakea buried their first still born child, Haloa. It is said that the first taro plant grew up from where Haloa was buried at Kualoa.

We marched through a jungle path that looked like an escape scene from Predator. Rough vines hung down from the trees and roots wove around our feet. We arrived at a small dock near the Moli'i Pond and the so-called Secret Island. We were near a flower farm and the tropical fish aquarium, but our objective was to reach another dock on the other side of the Secret Island. Fog floated lazily just above the water as if it were early morning on the Thames. Sea turtles could be seen relaxing just below the water's surface. Every once in a while one would pop up to say hello.

The Chinaman's Hat

Reaching the Secret Island, we transferred to a larger catamaran and set off for a journey around the Kaneohe Bay. Our eager captain led us out towards Mokoliʻi island, also known as "Chinaman's Hat" due to its curious, tilted shape. The boat ride normally looks over blue, shimmering waters under bright, sunny skies. On this February afternoon, the skies were cloudy and a thick marine layer still hugged the shoreline. A creepy, smoky atmosphere surrounded everything giving a unique view not usually captured in the promotional materials.

We grabbed lunch at the cafe inside the gift shop: barbecue pork, rice, macaroni, sushi, and Asian salad. We sat outside the gift shop at a picnic table that was being closely monitored by a few lazy cats. A skinny chicken walked around our feet in hopes of finding stray scraps.

Delicious Waialua Soda
bought at the cafe,

On the other side of the highway from the ranch entrance were a few men building a horse fence along the edge of a grassy field. They wore long-sleeve shirts, jeans and boots and were probably doing similar labor to what they did every day, whether tourists showed up or not. More than just a tourist spot, the ranch offers a peak into the lives of native Hawaiians who work the land, raise animals, and produce goods to earn a living. They do this in a place most outsiders don't think of as anything more than a vacation spot. In the midst of magical forests, secret islands, Hollywood, and tropical paradise, everyday people still work, struggle and look forward to going home in the evenings to be with their families.

The cliffs are moving.

Vivi prepares for the tour.

Approaching the Secret Island.

A cloudy day on the water.

Moving out into Kaneohe Bay.

A view of the Ranch from our catamaran.

A visitor looking for lunch.

Is that a T-Rex in the distance!

California Gold: Whale Watching from Long Beach to PV

A dolphin approaches the boat.

Text and photos by Jason McKenney

The boat came to a near standstill, slowly drifting with the tide like a giant carcass. The tour guide asked the captain to shut down the motor while we waited for the beast to rise back to the surface. It had been nearly six minutes since it last went down. While they can stay under water for much longer, they were usually below for 5-10 minutes on this day.

"They're just having fun with us," the tour guide said. "They're hiding now, but they'll pop up nearby just to say hi."

Passengers roamed from one side of the boat to the other, scanning the with binoculars. The breeze was cold but the sky was clear. I tightened up my hoodie and readied my camera for the next breach.

We had left the Rainbow Harbor in Long Beach nearly two hours earlier. I was on a whale watching tour north towards San Pedro in hopes of spotting a blue whale or two. It was March. We were a couple miles off the coast and my stomach was turning a little. I rarely get seasick, but the waves were a bit choppy and I was doing my best to stay settled. We had spotted a few dolphins swimming along the side of the boat on our way out. They were moving right along with us. Playful little critters. Acting as if they were dodging the speeding hull, daring one another to move ever closer to its edge.

A whale breaks the surface.

"There she blows!" Someone actually yelled that when the first mist was seen.

Whales don't actually blow water out their blow holes come to found out. The blow hole apparently is their nose. Upon return from their deep dives they expel the air they had sucked in previously. This
warm air (from being inside the whale's body for so long) condenses upon contact with the cooler air above water and forms a mist. Two whales broke the surface just as another whale-watching boat was approaching from the opposite side, maybe a quarter mile away from us.

Leviathan.

"Don't scare them off," an older lady complained. "Go find your own whales."

The whales migrate through this area during the spring, moving south to find cooler waters before summer. During the winter, they will migrate back towards the equater to breed. Along this stretch of coastline people can seen blue whales, gray whales, and humpbacks along with several smaller breeds. They can sometimes be easily seen from the land. A small gray whale nearly came right up on shore once on Redondo Beach, playing for its audience.

Flukes up!

The complete whale watching tour lasted nearly 4 hours. From February to April are the best times to go and see these beautiful animals, so take a camera, your sunscreen, and a maybe some Dramamine.

Whale tail preparing to splash.

Folks watch the performance from the deck.

A pod of dolphins approach the boat.

The lighthouse of Palos Verdes on a beautiful day.

California Gold: Redondo Beach Day Date

Vivi is ready for the Boardwalk.

Text and photos by Jason McKenney (except where noted)

Escape to the Coast

We're married. We have a young child. Date nights are now few and far between. We have no extended family nearby. Going out for dinner at night is out of the question. So my wife and I put together plans for a day date. I took the day off from work. My wife, Vivi, works part time from home and can ditch work for a day easy. We dropped off our daughter Frankie at the daycare and made our way to the Redondo Beach Boardwalk in hopes of experiencing as much as the humble harbor has to offer.

Moving out towards the breakwater.

We live in an apartment right on the beach, and we are very familiar with the Boardwalk. We stop in to get gelato on most Fridays. We have eaten at many of the restaurants. We've played the arcades and we've walked along the pier enjoying the picture-perfect sunsets. I've even cast a few lines at Fisherman's Wharf, pulling in small mackeral and large weeds. What we hoped to accomplish on this day was a few of the water-based excursions and a few of the food joints that we had yet to experience.

Our first stop at ten in the morning was the Fast Kayak dock to rent stand-up paddle-boards (SUP) for an hour. There are days when the water off Redondo Beach can be very calm. Like a giant duck pond. There are spots near some of the breakwaters that generate waves and attract surfers, but for the most part, SUP is very popular here due to the controlled conditions.

"You can only paddle around the harbor," the pretty girl working the station told us. "Please do not go beyond the breakwater."

Stand-up Paddle-boarding.
Image from Surfari SUP and Surf.

The harbor along the International Boardwalk is protected by a man-made breakwater of large boulders that help keep the water calm and provide great toilets for the albatrosses and pelicans. Pushing off into the shimmering bay, it took me a few beats to get up on my feet. SUP boarding is good exercise for the core and for the upper legs. You're constantly balancing yourself. You also feel closer to nature. You're standing on a floating ironing board atop the sea like a Son of Neptune. The fishes look up to you in ah. The fresh ocean air circulates through your nostrils and lungs. The sun is perched right above your shoulder. You're on top of the world.

A SUP teacher paddled by me leading two girls on their own boards. They were scared. Tentative in their paddling. I turned to see how Vivi was doing on her board. She was paddling into the bay, but she was yet to stand up.

View of the harbor from the water.

"Don't be chicken," I told her. "Up on both feet at the same time. Use those thighs."

"I'm too scared!" she said with a self-effacing giggle.

SUP'n can be tricky the first time. It requires strength and balance, and just like climbing a tall building, you should never look down. At least not until you have learned to embrace the challenge. Enjoy it. Laugh at the dark waters below.

I paddled my way out across the harbor, soaking in the gorgeous day. I paddled back, passing the two girls on their first lesson. The world slowed down. I noticed the fish trolleys out near the horizon, being followed by a cloud of hungry birds, probably on its way back home. A weekday before noon

From a pedal boat, looking towards
Palos Verdes.

in the harbor is quiet, drowsy. Lovely.

Moving closer to the dock I noticed Vivi was already there, putting her shoes back on. Tacking in a boat to a dock can be tricky. Moving in a SUP board is similar. Left here, right there, just a touch, and . . . KER-SPLASH! In the water I went. I zigged when I should've zagged maybe. Lost my balance like an amateur.

I have to admit, it felt liberating to fall into that bath. Giving in to gravity. Submerging into the void. The girl helming the rental station tried hard not to laugh. Vivi just bust loose. The only problem was I was wearing my only clothes, including my t-shirt. I would have to find new clothes if this day date was to continue successfully.

A New Set of Clothes

Approaching Polly's Cafe.

I was soaked. We ducked into one of the small clothing shops along the Boardwalk that smells like incense and is full of beach trinkets. I picked up a Redondo Beach t-shirt and a pair of board shorts. I was a new man. I threw my wet clothes in a shopping bag and we were ready for lunch. We walked to the end of the Boardwalk where the R10 Social House stands. They specialize in seasonal, farm-to-table offerings inside a trendy, bistro-like setting. The view of the harbor is gorgeous. The buffalo sliders are amazing. I had a local lager to wash down the saltwater I imbibed when I fell in the drink, not knowing we would soon be experiencing more local beer than I could have expected.

Boat rides along the coast run daily
most of the year.

Whether its a day trip or a week-long vacation, there is a fine balance between scheduling everything out to make sure you don't miss what you want, and just exploring off the seat of your pants in hopes of finding things you never anticipated. On this day, I had a thumbnail sketch of what I hoped to accomplish: SUP, eat, pedal boats, eat, boat ride, eat. I didn't want to plan too much detail. I wanted to remain open to any surprises that might pop up. Falling into the water off the SUP board is an example. I obviously hadn't planned that (at least not consciously), but being forced to buy some RB surfer clothes was a great tangent. It's great to have a plan when you travel, but being open to happy accidents and modifications is a useful skill. These are the moments that we usually remember with the most fondness.

After lunch we returned to the Fast Kayak dock and rented a pedal boat to take out into the bay. It was an over-sized toy. Similar to those you might see in small Midwestern park with a lake. Good exercise. Me legs were sore the next day. We pedaled out towards the breakwater, said hello to the gulls, and slowly approached Polly's Restaurant from beyond the pier. We turned around and glided gently to the middle of the bay, soaking in the beautiful California sun. The air was clean. The breeze gentle. The ocean air made me thirsty.

Wrapping It Up

The Sampler. The Swirly is the foamy
one on the right.

Every time I visit the ocean I get a craving for fish n'chips and beer. I was still full from R10 when we left the pedal boats, but I was now craving something cold and hoppy. When we left Fast Kayak I spotted a recently opened King Harbor Brewery location on the Boardwalk. King Harbor is one of the newest (and finest) additions to the South Bay micro brewery scene and their location in the harbor is a great place to visit.

Vivi and I each ordered a sampler set which included 4 small glasses of some of their best contributions. These included an IPA, a lemony lager, a sweet ale, and what they refer to as a Swirly which is a chocolaty stout with a hint of vanilla. All were delicious.

We capped the date off with a sightseeing boat ride out of the harbor and out along the coast towards Palos Verdes. Redondo Beach is probably the quietest member of the South Bay beach cities. Regal Manhattan Beach is home to several LA sports stars. Hectic Hermosa Beach caters well to the young
party crowd. Redondo is more laid back. More dive bars than night clubs. More family eateries than posh restaurants. Home to more senior citizens than young singles. But it still has a lot to offer both on the water or along the Boardwalk.

View of the harbor from R10. Image from R10's website.

California Gold: Huntington Beach, Surf City USA

Bonfires on the beach.
Image from Surf City USA.

There is something about surfing that has always spoken to me. Something about the crashing waves, the briny water, being drenched in the sun and air one moment and then submerged in a dark void the next. Then climbing out on the sand like a prehistoric beast looking to collapse in blissful exhaustion. Southern California is the capital of surfing in the United States. Hawaii would be a close second, but the California surf culture has a rock beat in its soul as opposed to a ukulele. This puts it over the edge in my humble opinion. Ukuleles are nice, but surfing should be done with high reverb and drums on the soundtrack.

The main drag of Huntington beach.
Image from Beach Cities.

If Southern California is the capital of American surfing, then Huntington Beach is its thumping heart. The Orange County beach community is fully geared for supporting the sport and lifestyle of surfing. The beachfront contains the Surfing Walk of Fame. Surf supply shops line the streets. Fish taco joints are in abundance. ESPN2 shows up a few times a year to record various tour competitions boasting many of the best surfers in the world. The waves are consistent and beautiful. The weather is a dream. The entire vibe is mellow, calm, and smells of rum punch and seared ahi.

During my first few years of living in California, I spent a lot of time in Huntington Beach. I surfed, I hung with friends, I went to bad rock shows, gorged on tacos and beer, and surfed some more. I wasn't good, but it was fun. I loved the culture. It was relaxing, far removed from the problems of the rest of the world. When my parents came out to visit me in my new homeland I couldn't wait to take them on a tour of Surf Mecca.

Mom and I outside the Ruby's on
the pier.

We walked down Main Street past Hurricanes Bar & Grill, Sugar Shack, Fred's, and Perqs. We crossed PCH and continued out to the Huntington Beach Pier. The waves lapped up against the pillars like gentle fish. The sun was high and mighty. Ruby's at the end of the pier looked like an island oasis. We stopped in for lunch, consumed burgers and old-fashioned chocolate malts that arrive at your table in a glass with the excess in a silver mixing cup. The kind of malted that really sticks to your ribs.

Huntington Beach is a great place to let days slip away pleasantly like daffodils floating along a bubbling brook. The beach calls, the waves beckon, the laid-back restaurants sing their siren song. Before you know it, the sun is going down one more time and your shoulders and nose have got a little bit of a burn.

Image of the pier from Surf City USA. 

With my mom across PCH and Main Street.

California Gold: The Crystal Cathedral of Garden Grove, Orange County

Visitors at the gate.

The building is spectacular by any definition. It has changed hands recently as well as its name, but the common descriptor is still used: The Crystal Cathedral. It's a symbol of 1980s mega-church televangelism due to Robert H. Schuller's weekly TV program (Hour of Power) that used to be so popular during the Reagan Era.

On a visit to Southern California to see me, my parents wanted to make a quick visit to the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove. Any excuse to travel south to Orange County is fine by me so we went together to find visions we had only seen on TV when living back east. We walked around the grounds, admiring the shining structures and posing for photos next to the statues and outdoor figures. This was Religious Tourism. Or maybe Tourism as Religion. Either way, the place felt lonely since it was a weekday afternoon and no service was in session.

You might think that's a
film burn from the end
of the roll, but it's actually
spirits descending upon the
building in judgment.

The ghosts of those big television productions, loud choirs, and holiday spectaculars were long gone. It felt more like a gilded monastery at this point. Quiet and regal. The cathedral-like spikes rise up like organ pipes to the sky, or crystals from a wing of Superman's Fortress of Solitude.

The reflective glass building was designed by postmodern American architect Philip Johnson. It was completed in 1980 and seats around 2800 people. It is also the largest glass building in the world and houses one of the largest musical instruments in the world, the Hazel Wright Memorial organ.

Until 2013, the building had been the principal place of worship for Crystal Cathedral Ministries founded by Robert H. Schuller. In 2010, Crystal Cathedral Ministries filed for bankruptcy (the Lord's punishment for some misguided deeds perhaps?) and in 2012 they sold the building and its adjacent campus to the Roman Catholic Diocese of Orange for use as the diocese's new cathedral. The building's interior is now being renovated to make way for the Roman Catholic liturgy and is due to re-open later this year. It will then be consecrated and formally renamed Christ Cathedral and become the seat of the Diocese of Orange.

Me and Mary and a robotic-looking
Christ-child.

My parents enjoyed the visit, but still preferred their more modest evangelical church in Kentucky. They left Orange County learning that California isn't all Godless and wicked. There are some truly honest and devout followers on the West Coast...and the Crystal Cathedral is here as well.

My mother posing with the Good Shepherd.

Beautiful walkways go around and beneath the structures.

Me and dad posing at the entryway towards the main building.

"Dad, the camera's this way!"

California Gold: A Walk to Old Town San Diego

Vivi, myself, and Confucius at the
SDCHM

The Journey Begins: The Chinese Historical Museum

It looked small on the outside. An old brick building in a very non-descript part of town near the Convention Center, but I knew it would be informative and filled with great exhibits on the inside. The San Diego Chinese Historical Museum was established in 1996, and is one of America’s leading institutions dedicated to sharing the Chinese American experience. That has to be worth something. Since its founding, SDCHM has transformed a crumbling, abandoned building in what was once San Diego’s Chinatown into a state-of-the-art multi-site museum that adds its vibrant color to the already bursting cultural life of the San Diego experience.

Displays include home furnishings brought from China that are centuries old, used by Asian-Americans, passed down through the generations. An entire bedroom has been reconstructed as it would have looked in the early 1800s. Beautiful silk tapestries hang from the walls. Elegant paintings fill each room with both life and luxury. The building is a humble one, but the curator has maximized the space given with the artifacts they have attained.

Bedroom exhibit inside
the museum.

There is a courtyard in the back with tinkling water fountains and a large statue of Confucius. My wife and I took a photo with the ancient philosopher before discussing where to go next.

"Let's go to Old Town," I say.

"How far is that?"

"Let me check...four miles."

"Why don't we just walk it," my wife states more than asks.

"Four miles?"

"We've done it before."

Hanging around Chinatown.

She was right. We had walked the seven mile round trip along the shoreline from Redondo to Manhattan Beach a couple of times. We had also made some extended hikes through the hills of both Palos Verdes and Marin County. We could make this hike to Old Town and back. It would be about 8 miles for the trip on top of the walking we had already done that morning plus the walking done at Old Town to actually see the sites there. It would be a fun challenge. It was a hot day in San Diego, but not oppressive. A little water. We could do this. Confucius agreed.

The Chinese Historical Museum sat just southwest of the Gaslamp Quarter where our hotel was located. Using our phones as guides we moved west through the Children's Park, continued a short jaunt near Harbor Drive until we reached Kettner Blvd.

"This should take us all the way there," I said as we began to walk north. "Almost. Just a couple of turns and we're there."


Stopping for Lunch in Little Italy

Image from San Diego Tribune

We crossed a few intersections, inhaled the sweet ocean breeze, and chatted about how nice people were in San Diego. The service personnel at the restaurants and bars around the Gaslamp Quarter is impressive. Hostesses and waiters are mostly college kids. They may not always get your order right the first time, but they'll be damn sure to make it right with a smile on their second attempt.

It was just past 11AM so we decided to go ahead and stop for lunch. Little Italy was close by. We made a small digression on our journey moving east to India Street. Little Italy is lined with sidewalk cafes and coffee shops that run from morning until after dark and are always buzzing with energy. We chose Davanti Enoteca, a place known mostly for their pizza and pastas. I had rigatoni and seafood while Vivi had a salad. Drinking wine may not seem like the best choice for a long walk, but I figured if the Ancient Romans could do it, so could I. I guessed they drank wine and made long walks back in the day. It felt like a reasonable assumption at the time.

I have always been jealous of that fact that San Diego has a lovely Little Italy community and Los Angeles does not. From many of the sidewalk cafes in Little Italy, one can see the sailboats drifting in the blue harbor just a few blocks away. One can enjoy amazing coffee, spaghetti, gelato, or seafood while taking in a Mediterranean-esque view.

After lunch we moved back to Kettner Blvd and continued, like soldiers, our slow march north, hoping to take Old Town by surprise before sunset.


The Journey North

Image from Crack Shack Instagram

We passed airport parking structures, the Crack Shack chicken restaurant, the 98 Bottles Bar, numerous tattoo parlors, and small business districts that were seemingly void of people. We were now walking through a part of San Diego that was a little further away from the hum and buzz of the USS Midway and the Gaslamp Quarter. We walked along Kettner Blvd parallel to Pacific Coast Highway. There was no shortage of vehicle traffic on PCH but the sidewalks were quiet and provided little shade from the midday sun.

Reaching Sassafras Street, we moved east and crossed over the 5 Freeway via a bridge over to India Street. I paused on the bridge and looked at the flowing traffic stretched out below. One side of the freeway was moving south towards Chula Vista and Tijuana, Mexico. The other side was moving north to La Jolla and I imagined all that way back up to LA.

Image from Cooking With Melody

We reached India St and proceeded through a service industry area filled with restaurants and shops. We passed the Regal Beagle and I paused to look for Mr. Roper. We stopped for ice cream at Gelato Vero Cafe and a much needed rest. The air conditioning of the small gelateria and the sweet pralines and cream were invigorating. It was also good to be back around other people. We had been walking
for an hour at this point and had experienced very little pedestrian traffic before reaching this tasty pit stop.


Arrival

We cut back west to San Diego Ave and more signs of life began to pop up. Signs with directions to Old Town, manicured garden displays, and the chipper chatter of nearby children let us know we were close to our final destination.

Inside the La Casa de Estudillo.
Image from Wikipedia.

According to its website, Old Town San Diego is now considered the “birthplace” of California. San Diego is also the site of the first permanent Spanish settlement in California where venerable Father Junipero Serra established the first of 21 missions that were to be the cornerstone of California’s colonization. That was in 1769. A world away from what was happening on the other side of the continent as British control was finally coming to a boiling point in their Atlantic colonies. Who could have imagined then that both coasts, English and Spanish, would one day make the cultural epicenters of one powerful nation. Immigration can do crazy-beautiful things to a place.

Father Serra’s mission and Presidio were built on a hillside overlooking what is currently known as Old Town San Diego. At the base of the hill in the 1820s, a small Mexican community of adobe buildings was formed and soon attained the status of El Pueblo de San Diego. In 1968, the State of California Department of Parks and Recreation established Old Town State Historic Park to preserve the wonderful heritage that characterized San Diego during the 1821 to 1872 period. The park includes a main plaza, several exhibits, museums and living history demonstrations such as reenactments, live music, and performance art.

Promotional still from Old Town SD.

The Cosmopolitan Hotel is a lavish historical throwback to a much more romantic and simpler time. La Casa de Estudillo is a gorgeous ranch house with a garden, courtyards, and indoor exhibits providing insights into the everyday life of Californios in the 18th century (it also allegedly quite haunted).   El Patio de Old Town provides a great ambiance of live Mariachi music, street vendors, delicious Mexican food (authentic or otherwise), and cold Margaritas.

Most "Old Town" sections of modern cities are simply the older parts of town that have grown outdated and are maybe slowly becoming gentrified or upgraded. Old Town San Diego is nothing of the kind. It has been preserved as best as possible to look and feel the same as it did 200 years ago. We walked slowly through the small town feeling completely removed from the likes of the Gaslamp Quarter, Little Italy, and the San Diego Zoo. Those places haven't been created yet. We're living in the 1820s now. These are dusty roads beaten by horses and rough hombres, colored with ancient Mexican festivals reinvented in Roman Catholic clothes. It's a beautiful place to visit tucked nicely inside another beautiful place to visit.

General tourist nonsense.

The day was now long in the tooth. We wanted to be back at our hotel before dark.

"Shall we walk back?" I asked my wife. My feet ached. I believe hers did as well.

"Hmmm. How about the Trolley instead?"

Our walk was an adventure. San Diego is an amazing place and there are fewer ways to really get to know the city than to hit the pavement. That being said, the San Diego public transit system never looked so good as it did that afternoon, acting as a time machine, bringing us back to modern day living.

Our journey, more or less.