South Point
Hawai’i
June 2016
Fancy, kitschy, whimsical or inaccurate as the southernmost point of the Republic of Conch (Key West) may be, this is not the farthest south you can go and still be in the United States. Ask Lisa or me where the southernmost point is and we will tell you, “It ain’t in Florida.” Rather, look west, far to the west, all the way to Ka Lae on the Big Island of Hawai’i.
Some folks are skeptical because maps of the U S often depict Hawai’i in a displaced cutout rather than in its true location related to the mainland. Were it drawn to scale showing Hawai’i accurately, the map would just be too large to put in anyone’s living room. Also, depicting the entire ocean would be overwhelming, a featureless blue on a regular map, and kind of boring. So you’ll find Hawai’i crammed down there between Florida and Texas, or off the west coast of Baja California. Woefully inaccurate.
When on the Big Island, there are no signs directing you to the southernmost point. You just drive off the main road, Hawai’i Route 11, onto South Point Road and go south. We drive just under ten miles through ranch land. We see many cows. An owl, possibly a great horned, is perched on a fence post. I yell to Lisa who stops the car on a dime. I jump out with my camera just as the winged son of a bitch takes off. The cows, adorned in earrings, stare at me.
If you don’t turn off South Point Road onto any of the roads which may confuse you, you make a right turn at the fork.
We turn left at the fork which confuses us. Whoops. Now we are on the road to Papakōlea Beach, a green sand beach, one of four green beaches in the world. We park the car in a little lot; no automobile access is allowed beyond this point. If we want to experience this green beach, we must either walk or be shuttled by any number of young men lounging and smoking in their World War II-vintage pickup trucks or other light duty trucks. I wonder how “official” are these shuttle services. I wonder how “closed” this road really is. I do not ask how much we would be charged for a ride.
Retracing our steps, or actually retracing our treads since we are driving, we come back to the confusing junction. This time we take the dirt road, heading south, squeezing between bumper-eating large rocks and soft sand, leaving our vehicle at a place that feels like going any farther would be a bad idea. We walk the rest of the way.
The walking is not easy; the beach is mostly rough lava rock, which is surreptitiously tearing up the soles of our shoes. We continue east and south, the rumbling Pacific Ocean on our right.
We come upon a setup of rocks, like a monument…
PROTECT SOUTH POINT
REPLANTING
STOPPING EROSION
NA HAKU OKAU
I am able to find the meaning of “Na Haku Okau” but the explanation is in the Hawai’ian language which is like Greek to me. Finally I figure it out: “Your Lordships.”
A little further on is another monument…
KINGDOM OF HAWAI’I
IS STILL HERE
WE NEVER LEFT
…with sculpted hands arranged like you are waiting for a volleyball pass.
Fishermen in various sartorial array are on the beach just shy of the surf. Slouching on lounge chairs, fishing out the back of their pickup trucks, smoking, dozing, watching their four or more fishing poles which are leaning on wooden boxes.
But lazy they are not. Under the surface is all manner of fish-catching paraphernalia.
I’ve been noticing… something out there in the water, maybe three hundred feet, something dark colored bouncing around on the surface. Disappointment; It’s trash bags.
To save the hassle of casting, some fishermen blow up a large trash bag full with air, tie a weighted line onto it and let the wind carry it away from shore. They catch sailfish, tuna, mahi-mahi and other breeds. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, and all that. Somebody has to retrieve these bag-o-fish assemblies.
Some fishermen use toy boats to get their lines out into the deep water.
All along our walk on the sand and lava path are patterns of arranged white rocks that look like little bones. Here’s a heart shape, here are initials, here are other messages having to do with preserving the “real Hawai’i.”
Next is a lava rock wall. A sign informs us that the gathering of volunteers to rebuild the wall is postponed. When the work resumes, they want to be sure that “everything is pono.” They also express, “Mahalo nui for being ‘eleu to the kahea.” Yep, I’m hip to that vibe.
Spirit is strong in Hawaii. Evidence is everywhere: in conversation, on signs along the roads, on the lava fields, on bulletin boards in stores, in the language. Here at the beach of Ka Lae.
Not all, but some of the local folks who fish here believe that this land must be respected. They do not use naughty words. Or at least, they try not to swear. Some of the bone stones are arranged in patterns to honor the land…
FREE HAWAI’I
Sometimes they wrap stones in ti leaves and place them by the heiau, the monuments.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Some anglers watch for the Night Marchers, ghosts who walk along the shoreline. Many believe in Pele, the volcano goddess. She’s been reported to have made appearances on this beach her own self, dressed in white, riding a horse.
We’ve been seeing paintings of Pele all over the island. There is a giant picture at the Visitor Center in Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park. There’s another one at the art center of this park. There was one on the wall of a restaurant where we dined a few nights ago. She’s in the gift shops too.
When we hiked in Kaloko-Honokōhau National Historic Park, Kilauea was looking over our shoulder for much of the route. Kilauea is a very active volcano, spewing molten lava almost continuously for more than the past three decades, adding new land to the southeastern seashore area. It has been said that Pele dwells in the craters of Kilauea.
This southern point of the island is identified on maps as the South Point Historical Lighthouse although there is no lighthouse at this location.
What’s here now is less of a lighthouse and more of a lightpole. On top of the pole is a beacon. It was once powered by the wind, which seems to never die down. We see windmills in the distance. These days the light is kept on by solar charged batteries.
Finally, continuing on the rough lava rubble, we come to the end of the United States. It is rock, it is water, it is the bright sunlight, it is the fresh air blowing. It is south baby!
You want to go to land that is farther south than this? Go on ahead. Get in your canoe and head due south for, oh, 7500 miles. You’ll run into land. Antarctica. Bottom of the Earth, half an ocean away, 1/6 the way around the globe, half a hemisphere distant.
This is the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean, larger than some countries. Heck, it’s larger than all the countries put together. And we, as we stand on the lava rock at this point, are haphazardly being splashed by dashing waves from Earth’s largest water source.
This southern point of the United States is on the Big Island of Hawai’i, one of 25 000 islands in the Pacific Ocean. In 1521, Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan called this the mar pacifico, “peaceful sea.”
Peaceful? There are pickup trucks here, clamorous teenagers, loud waves of water crashing into rock, the wind blowing in our ears. Well, it is noisy, but it is also peaceful. The ocean has its rhythm, we have our Highpointers’ high, we are excited and soothed by the waves.
South Point may have been the entry gate for humans who came to this land. Discounting the mythical Pele, it was the Polynesians who first set foot on South Point, and thereby Hawai’i, perhaps as long as 1600 years ago, give or take twenty minutes.
Ka Lae. South Point. A sacred land. Upon arrival, the Polynesians built heiau or “shrines” at this place of refuge. A sacred land, even to the white people who bestowed National Historic Landmark status upon it.
This land is a living being. We’re all made up of the same substance, the same chemicals, just in different amounts: the soil, the sand, the lava, the bacteria on an old carrot, the rings of Saturn, Gummi Bears (well, maybe not Gummi Bears,) the air in your bicycle tire, the telescopes on top of Mauna Kea, you. All living beings, one way or another.
We are kindred all of us, killer and victim, predator and prey, me and the sly coyote, the soaring buzzard, the elegant gopher snake, and trembling cottontail, the foul worms that feed on our entrails; all of them, all of us. Long live diversity, long live the earth!
— Edward Abbey
How did I get from some apparently random point, South Point, to Ed Abbey? It would be easy, and cheap, for me to say, “everything’s connected.” But no, it’s not that. It’s the fact that this place is unique. It is unique the way a high point is unique. For each state, there is only one of them in the world. For each country, there is only one point farther south than any other. Every one of them is unlike any other of them. And they are all connected. Let us celebrate!
