Oceania Travel

Hawaii: The Quest For Kona Coffee

by Troy Herrick

Tropical Hawaii conjures up images of warm temperatures, sandy beaches, palm trees, hula dancers and … freshly-brewed Kona coffee. The latter is certainly one of my fondest memories of the islands. I reserve this treat for weekend and holiday consumption only as I can relax and appreciate the rich, smooth, satisfying flavor that it provides.

Coffee is not native to Hawaii. The British brought the first seeds to the islands in the 19th century and sparked a whole new industry. Now some of the finest gourmet coffee in the world is produced on the South Kona Coast of the Big Island. These 66 square miles of coast constitute an appellation – only coffee grown within these bounds may be legally designated as Kona coffee.

The leeward side of the Mauna Loa volcano creates a special microclimate suitable for coffee production. The sunny mornings and rainy afternoons generate a “coffee cloud” that shades this mountain slope during the late afternoon. Both the coffee cloud and the rich volcanic soil impart a unique taste and aroma to the Arabica coffee beans grown here.

Many Kona coffee brands are sold in Hawaii. Most of these are blends however. Those wishing to enjoy 100% Kona coffee should read the labels carefully to eliminate the blends. Compare the taste of 100% Kona coffee to the blend just once and you’ll understand why there is simply no comparison between the two.

Approximately 800 coffee plantations operate on the Big Island. Most are no larger than three acres in size. Of these, only four are open to the public: Greenwell Farms, Bayview Coffee Farm, the Ueshima Coffee Company and the Royal Kona Museum and Coffee Mill. Each provides you with an opportunity to taste 100% Kona coffee.

Greenwell Farms provides the best free tour of any commercial coffee farm. Visitors should find that this tour is sufficient for learning all about coffee cultivation and processing. Tour guide George Wakefield-Rae, outlines the processing and equipment used for processing the coffee beans. Steps include: harvesting the ripe coffee cherries, removing the beans from inside the coffee cherries, washing the beans, removing the mucilage coating from the beans, drying the beans on a drying deck or in a tumble dryer, removing a membranous coating from the dried beans, grading the beans and roasting the beans.

After the tour, visitors are invited to sample light and dark roasted versions of both premium grades known as Extra Fancy and Peaberry. Peaberry beans are an anomaly in that they are plump, single oval beans. Regular coffee beans have two halves with matching flat sides. While this difference seems insignificant, the impact on taste is profound. Peaberry beans have a milder, fruitier taste combined with lower caffeine and higher oil content than regular coffee. I enjoyed the Peaberry so much that I purchased a one pound bag of the lightly roasted beans. The taste was fruity and full-bodied.

Bayview Farm produces my long-time favourite Kona coffee. I have been purchasing the dark roasted Extra Fancy coffee beans by mail order since 1999. This day I bought a 5 pound bag. This coffee is tangy with just a hint of spice and great depth of flavor. Savor a cup as you take a moment to admire the view of the bay below. In the distance you see the Captain Cook Monument on the water.

The Ueshima Coffee Company offers a personalized hands-on roasting tour. Visitors can process their own half-pound bag of coffee beans and then apply a customized label to the product. Those not touring may sample the different Ueshima coffees in the company store.

The Royal Kona Museum and Coffee Mill offers a free self-guided tour and coffee tasting. The museum displays some older coffee processing equipment and details the history of the Kona coffee industry. Visitors can also see operational coffee processing equipment down the hill behind the museum store. While you are there, take the opportunity to walk through the 500 year old lava tube near the drying docks.

Before returning to your car, climb the steps up to the turquoise “tree house” near at the parking lot for a beautiful view of the area. The lush vegetation below the coffee museum slopes gently to the sea over a mile away.

The nearby Kona Historical Society’s Kona Coffee Living History Farm provides an unusual tour through an early 20th century coffee farm, owned and operated by a traditional Japanese family. A male guide outlines the early farming methods and equipment employed to cultivate and harvest coffee beans. Later, visitors are taken through the farm house by a kimono-clad female tour guide. Here they gain insight into how this family made use of its limited resources. Coffee farming was not a lucrative endeavor so the family was forced to make clothing from used coffee bean sacks. After touring the farm house, take some time to taste some different coffee types.

Getting the Most Out of Your Kona Coffee Purchase

Those wishing to explore the finer points of coffee tasting would benefit by reviewing the steps in detail at www.wholelattelove.com. Remember the three “S”es: slurp, swirl and swallow.

If you do purchase some Kona coffee, George Wakefield-Rae provides the following advice for proper storage. Freshly roasted coffee should be consumed within the first 3 weeks of purchase so as to enjoy the freshest taste. Coffee beans are best stored in airtight containers with no exposure to light, moisture or freezing temperatures. Freezing the beans breaks down the oils but preserves the caffeine.

What was my first thought upon hearing George’s comment about coffee storage? Just this. With six pounds of coffee beans, I will be drinking as much Kona coffee as I possibly can in the next few weeks – and enjoying every minute of it. Finally, no coffee beans were harmed in preparing this article. However after completion, that is a different story.

Kona Tour: Coffee Plantation, Kealakekua Bay, Kaloko-Honokohau Park and Bee Farm

If You Go:

Kailua-Kona is the best base for your Kona coffee. With careful planning and coordination, all four coffee farms may be visited in a single day as part of a scenic drive south from Kailua-Kona. A rental car is the most practical mode of transportation.

Greenwell Farms
81-6581 Mamalahua Hwy
Kealakekua Hawaii
96750
wwww.greenwellfarms.com

Bayview Coffee Farm
Painted Church Road, approximately 0.4 miles north of the Painted Church
www.bayviewfarmcoffees.com

Ueshima Coffee Company (UCC)
82-5810 Napo’opo’oo Rd in Captain Cook
www.ucc-hawaii.com

Royal Kona Museum and Coffee Mill
83-5427, Mamalahoa Hwy, Captain Cook

Kona Historical Society’s Kona Coffee Living History Farm
82-6199 Mamalahoa Hwy, Kealakekua
Tour: $20 per person
www.konahistorical.org

About the author:
Troy Herrick, a freelance travel writer, has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America. His articles have appeared in Live Life Travel, International Living, Offbeat Travel and Travel Thru History Magazines. He also penned the travel planning e-book entitled ”Turn Your Dream Vacation into Reality: A Game Plan for Seeing the World the Way You Want to See It” – www.thebudgettravelstore.com/page/76972202 based on his own travel experiences over the years. Plan your vacation at his www.thebudgettravelstore.com and www.plan-a-dream-trip.com sites.

Photo Credits:
All photos by Diane Gagnon. A freelance photographer, Diane has traveled extensively in North America, the Caribbean, Europe and parts of South America. Her photographs have accompanied Troy Herrick’s articles in Live Life Travel, Offbeat Travel and Travel Thru History Magazines.

Sailing the Sepik River

Papua New Guinea

by Jessica Carter

It was as if we were floating among the stars. They sparkled above me in the sky, and gleamed alongside me in the deep black water. All we could hear was the ringing siren of cicadas, and the only hint of earthliness was the occasional campfire light flickering through the jungle. It was 4am, and we were traveling by dug-out canoe down the mighty Sepik River of Papua New Guinea. I had to pinch myself to be sure that it was real.

The journey had started four days earlier, in the Middle Sepik village of Pagwi, one of just two points on the river that can be reached by road. The Sepik River snakes its way through the northwest of PNG across 1126 kilometers. Like its formidable brethren the Amazon and the Congo, it is shrouded in myth, and holds incredible spiritual and artistic significance to its inhabitants. One local legend says that the river’s age and strength are so great that no stone can be found within 50 kilometers of its banks.

My mother and her father, who both lived in PNG for many years, had also told me tales of the Sepik that seemed to rival even the greatest adventure stories – their descriptions of crocodile and piranha infested waters, floating villages and haunted spirit houses all sounded like they belonged in a Rudyard Kipling book. Today, there are less crocodiles, but not much else has changed.

I began my introduction to life on the Sepik in the tiny village of Palembei, home to 200 people and one of the river’s best-preserved ‘Haus Tambaran’. In Tok Pisin, a form of Pidgin English spoken in all but the most remote areas of PNG, Haus Tambaran means spirit house. Traditionally reserved for men, the large wooden structure serves a social and spiritual role for the tribe. Foreign women are allowed to enter as tourists, but local women cannot.

The Haus Tambaran we visited was an impressive hut, built on stilts, but enclosed almost to the ground. Taking off our hats and leaving our bags, we entered to find groups of men seated around smoldering fires. Choking in the smoke as we climbed the wooden ladder to the next level, we were greeted by more men and high ceilings decorated with hundreds of carefully carved artifacts.

The totem animal of Palembei is the crocodile, and men still practice some of their traditional customs to show respect towards the creature. As we moved into the dimly lit areas of the Haus Tambaran, I could see that the upper-half of the men’s bodies were covered in perfectly formed crocodile scales. In the heady air of the hut, surrounded by the gazing masks of their ancestors, it was an eerie and intense moment that still feels more like a dream than a memory.

At the age of 15, the boys of the tribe spend a month living in the Haus Tambaran while they are initiated through scarification of the skin to form the scales. The scars are made with razor blades and packed with mud to prevent bleeding and infection. As missionaries move further up the river, less tribes continue to participate in initiations such as these, but in Palembei the young men are proud to show off their affinity with the crocodile through their body art.

That night we stayed in a neighbouring village, about 30 minutes by canoe from Palembei. Sticky from the day’s heat, we jumped into the cloudy brown water of the Sepik and did our best to avoid thinking about what might be lurking in the water with us. Toes and fingers still intact, we shared a meal of rice and barramundi with the Chief of the village. Once the sun disappeared, so did the villagers, and within hours the songs of the river and rain forest had engulfed us and the flimsy bark floorboards we slept on.

I traveled with four members of my family and two local guides, Johannes and Jeffrey, who met us in Wewak, the regional centre of the East Sepik. Having guides meant that we could stay in villages like Palembei because PNG is governed by ‘wantok’, a social system that dictates that people of the same tribe must help each other. As long as we slept in villages where Johannes or Jeffrey had family or tribal connections, we were welcome.

Of course, PNG is not known as the land of the unexpected for nothing, and it wasn’t long before our careful plans drifted downstream. On our second day, we entered the Wasui Lagoon, a spectacular section of the Upper Sepik. As we traveled across the water, a group of black clouds grew across the sky. We were moving slowly and it was still several hours until dusk, when we would reach our hosts for the night. Nervous about the coming storm, our guides began tightening the ropes on the tarps while we prepared our ponchos. But once the rain started it was clear we didn’t stand a chance – each raindrop was a fistful splash of water. It seemed we had no choice but to stop at the nearest village.

We were also nervous about stopping, because neither Johannes or Jeffrey knew any people in the closest village. We took a chance and disembarked from the canoe, watching the huddle of 20 villagers smoking the fish they’d caught earlier that day. But with laughter as our only form of mutual communication, we found a welcoming place to wait out the storm. We spent the next two hours sitting under the village’s solitary hut, watching the wind and rain take on the lake while sharing slices of fresh coconut.

Sitting on a canoe and watching the world from the waterline became a daily meditation, and minutes and hours were almost interchangeable. The river is the vein of all life in the region, and in just one canoe trip we could have seen naked children swimming, men fishing silently for piranha, or women making sago with river water. Early one morning, we even saw the elusive Bird of Paradise on the outskirts of Wagu.

You can visit the Sepik River at any time of year, but the wet season is when mosquitoes are at their most vicious. Visit in January or June (at the end and beginning of the dry season) to experience the scenic extremes of seeing the river at its lowest and highest points, and make the most of the fewer insects. If you’re looking for a little luxury, you can take cruises through the Lower and Middle Sepik, but these trips won’t be able to access all of the smaller villages or tributaries. Traveling by canoe is surprisingly comfortable and other than a few short treks, limited fitness is required. All that is required is that you’re prepared for anything, and ready to be amazed.

5-Day Rabaul Mask Festival in Papua New Guinea with Meals

If You Go:

International flights to Port Moresby arrive directly from several cities in Australia, as well as some cities in Asia, including Singapore, Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur and Manila. Visas can be obtained on arrival at Port Moresby Jacksons International airport, but avoid the queues and stress by organizing one in advance.

Currency is the Kina, worth US $1.00 = $2.56. Don’t be fooled into thinking that PNG is a cheap holiday destination! The lack of tourism infrastructure along with the growing expatriate population of wealthy miners means that transport, accommodation and food can be very pricey.

Don’t forget to take malaria tablets, mosquito repellent, long-sleeved shirts and trousers, and plenty of sunscreen. A sarong is extremely handy for women or men – it can serve as sun protection during the day and offer warmth in the cooler evening or early morning.

Visit the Papua New Guinea official tourism website.

Contact East Sepik Cultural Affairs by phone, +675 856 1108, or Niugini Holidays by email, info@ngholidays.com. Both offer expert advice and assistance for planning a trip to PNG, particularly in the Sepik region. It is worth considering to enlist the help of a travel agent because PNG can be a difficult place to navigate without careful preparation.

About the author:
Jessica Carter is a freelance journalist, originally from Australia. She is passionate about discovering new places and learning from new people. Her travels have led her to some amazing spots, ranging from the chaos of India to the scenic wonders of Alaska. Read about her current travels on her blog, Red Shoes and Cobblestones. Or read more of her articles by visiting her portfolio on jessicacarter.wordpress.com

Photo credits:
Top photo of Mount Hagen mudmen by Trevor Cole on Unsplash
All other photos by Jessica Carter.

The Other Fiji

An Indian Community in the South Pacific

by Tom Koppel

Santosh Kumar, a young artist, squats in a sprawling Hindu temple, designing a poster-size painting. Featuring the voluptuous goddess Lakshmi, it will become a huge outdoor billboard announcing Diwali, the annual festival of lights. A specialized religious painter, Kumar tells my wife and me that he has worked here for four years, creating dramatic ceiling images of almost psychedelic brightness in modern acrylics.

But this is not India. We are visiting Fiji, where we keep meeting people of Indian origin. Descendants of indentured plantation laborers first brought in by the British in the 19th century, they are now a thriving community coexisting alongside that of the native Fijians.

While riding the ferry to the island of Ovalau, we chat with an electrical contractor named Sharma. On board are his trucks and Indo-Fijian technicians, all heading out to install new power lines. While on Ovalau, I need some bandaids and enter a small general store. The proprietor, Bhupendra Kumar, is thrilled to meet a visiting journalist. “I’m a writer, too,” he beams and shows me a book on the history of his town. He had written the chapter on commerce and trade and had once served for several years as mayor.

It becomes clear that the Indo-Fijians, just under 40 percent of the population, are predominant in urban life and modern sectors of the economy. They own and operate most of the stores, drive the buses and taxis, staff government offices, maintain the water, sewage and electrical systems, and keep the entire commercial and technological infrastructure running. As one American resort manager tells us, “they are more entrepreneurial than the Fijians, and they show up for work on time.”

The Indians also contribute a distinctive cultural flavor to a country that is physically lush and beautiful but full of contrasts. The city of Nadi is a gritty, sun-baked place with a Third World feeling. But we duck into a shop on the main street and find ourselves in a dazzling emporium of brilliant saris and South Asian fabrics. At the open-air market, we weave through milling throngs who browse and schmooze as well as buy. Counters are decoratively piled with a cornucopia of enticing tropical produce: papayas and jackfruits, pumpkins and tomatoes, oranges and okra, radishes and watermelons. Around the fringe are stalls where Indian women weigh out lentils, beans, chilis, rice and other grains. The fragrance of ground cumin and turmeric wafts on the breeze. In a cool, air-conditioned room, fisherman Saiman sells his fresh catch. He goes out with two boys as crew and hand-lines for sea bream, red snapper and barracuda. Because Indians have been marginalized politically by the Fijian majority, in recent decades tens of thousands have emigrated. Saiman’s own mother now lives in Canada.

All this good food whets our appetite for dinner. At a simple screened-in restaurant, unique local ingredients have been incorporated into traditional Indian cuisine. The highlight is succulent curried fresh-water mussels on rice.

A week later, having flown to the quaint and friendly northern port town of Savusavu, we meet a wiry young contortionist, Rajesh Kanna, who puts on shows in Fiji’s larger cities. He demonstrates some of his seemingly impossible positions and hands us his card. Adjacent to the market is a tiny take-out place with only a few tables and chairs. The owner, Kamla Pati, cooks us a spicy chicken curry lunch, with dal, rice and rotis, for a laughably low price. Her daughter Rita, 20, is engaged to be wed. It is an “arranged” marriage, but only in that the families must approve the match and are negotiating important details. However, the two young people had in fact met where the fiancé works and felt a strong immediate attraction. Then younger daughter, Briya, 16, shows up. Still in high school, she aspires to a career managing a department store and proudly shows us the one-room Hindu temple where her family worships, the men on Friday nights and the women on Mondays.

One of our drivers between towns, Kasim, is an Indian Moslem with a Hindu wife. Mosques are scattered across towns and rural areas. But such intermarriage is unusual. And although Indians and native Fijians mix comfortably at work, there is little more intimate contact.

We come to see how Fiji’s Indians inhabit an unusual cultural world. After more than a century, memories of the Indian past are fading. Hardly any of them have ever set foot in that distant country. And with English taught in school, few can read or write proper Hindi. Yet some still identify with their great-grandparents’ regions of origin. “I am from northern India,” says our last driver, Hamesh Sanjay (who in fact has never been there) “but my wife is from the south, and when we married, it had to be according to the southern way.” There are also significant north-south differences, he says, in religion and funeral customs. Although generations removed, the Indians of Fiji continue to hear echoes of life from their ancestral homeland.

Authethic Fijian Day Cruise – Best day you will have in Fiji – Guaranteed

If You Go:

The Sofitel is a large, stylish hotel with excellent food convenient to Nadi and the international airport. www.sofitelfiji.com.fj
Koro Sun is a beautiful small resort of individual cottages near outlying Savusavu. www.korosunresort.com
Best connections to Fiji are via Honolulu with Continental.www.continental.com

About the author:
Tom Koppel is a veteran Canadian author, journalist and travel writer who has contributed travel features to numerous newspapers and magazines for over 25 years, including the LA Times, Chicago Tribune, Dallas Morning News, Columbus Dispatch, Georgia Straight, Globe & Mail, National Post, Islands Magazine, Sydney Morning Herald and Canadian World Traveller magazine. He recently completed his fifth book of popular nonfiction, about the South Pacific islands, and this story emerged from travels in that region.

All photos are by Annie Palovcik.

Sigatoka River: Safari to Fijian Village

Viti Levu, Fiji Islands

by Irene Butler

“We must choose a chief to lead our group in the Kava Ceremony,” said Captain Jack Sparrow (a.k.a. Josh). “Who is the oldest male here?”

Everyone zeros in on the striking cumulus of grey on the head of Charles from the UK, who admits to his esteemed age of 55. Charles is given charge of a cloth bound yanqona or kava root, a cousin of the pepper plant. Our group of mostly Aussies, and a few British, and moi from Canada pile into a specially designed jet boat and with Captain Jack at the helm we are soon skimming the Sigatoka River to the remote village of Koronisagana to take part in the ritualistic drinking of kava.

The 120 kilometre Sigatoka River flows between the central and western mountain ranges to the coast of Viti Levu, the largest of Fiji’s 333 islands. It is the major means of transportation to this part of the island’s interior. Why the boat was built with a small draft is apparent with the continual changes in water depth, ranging from five feet to inches over sandbars that require a burst of speed so as not to get hung up.

Emerald hills of lush tropical growth and shimmering marble cliffs that had seemingly been sliced by a mighty sculptor’s tool pass us by. In the lowlands workers wave as they tend the farm fields of the many villages along the way. Jack stops the boat beside the overhanging boughs of a gigantic tree with a blue scarf tied to a branch 15 metres above our heads. He says this was the water level reached during the floods of January 2009, destroying all crops, except taro.

At another point Jack comments, “There is a school on the right bank. Children from the villages on the left side of the river swim or wade across to go back and forth to school. The little ones are pulled across on a tire-tube or raft.”

In about 40 minutes we step onto Koronisagana soil. This village is one of twelve which Sigotoka River Safari visits throughout the year; six villages once a week for a half-year, then the next six villages for the following half-year. This method gives each of these villages extra income, while not encroaching unduly on their traditional way of life.

Captain Jack whips off his pirate’s bandana, and instructs us to remove our head gear as a sign of respect. We ladies wrap the sarong provided by the tour around our shorts and pants.

After a fairly steep incline the dirt path weaves through fields with women stooped hoeing and weeding. We shimmy over to one side to make room for oxen being led to the river where the sizeable tank strapped to a small wagon will be filled and pulled back up the path to water the fields.

We are welcomed at the village entrance by guide Lapani who leads us through the modest dwellings of brick or weathered wood with corrugated tin roofs and splashes of colour on doors and window frames. The dominant structure is the towering thatched roofed chief’s house built according to tradition with poles protruding from the front and back of the peak, which in the island’s cannibalistic days were used as skull holders of defeated enemy chiefs.

The simplicity and hardship of remote living is exemplified as Lepani proudly displays the prized upgrade to the village. Swinging open an electric panel box on the side of a building, he says, “We were given hydro by the government in 2006, before that we had to haul in kerosene for lamps which cost us $2.00 a day, and now our hydro is $2.00 a month.”

Unlike other lands once colonized by a European country, and in Fiji’s case Britain, the native Fijians own 86% of the 333 islands that make up the Republic of Fiji (thanks to Sir Arthur Gordon, the first Governor of the Colony in 1875); the remainder being freehold and crown land. The native lands are exempt from taxes, but the villages that are the stronghold of Fijian society, lack infra-structure and adequate roads; issues that are slowly being addressed.

Lapani tells us lineage determines the village chief, but if the oldest son is not willing or able to become the next chief, the position can go to the next son in line. Being born into a village means membership for life and provides a caring haven for their handicapped and elderly. When women marry and leave for their husband’s village, they are still deemed as belonging to their birth village and return for weddings, funerals, family visits. Uncles on the mother’s side play an important role as arrangers of marriages on behalf of their nieces. “Where is your farm?” is the pivotal question posed to a young man to ensure a good life for the girl whose hand he requests in marriage.

Small children dance along beside us throughout our village walk, their little fingers springing into a “V” the moment they see a camera. Removing our shoes we enter the chief’s house and sit on grass mats across from Chief Aipate and a row of men, backed by a smattering of children and women.

The ceremony begins with traditional calls of welcome. Our Chief Charles presents our gift of kava root to Chief Aipate. With much solemnity the men on either side of the chief prepare the kava. Previously dried and crushed kava is mixed with water and strained through a cloth into a tanoa bowl. The long cord affixed to the bowl with a seashell at its end is placed outward to signify the kava is ready.

Our honorary chief is the first to be offered kava in a bilo (half-coconut shell); next the village chief, then a guest and a village member in turn. I had tasted kava once before and although not terribly anxious for seconds, propriety won out. I tip back the tongue-numbing earthy tasting mud-brown liquid, then clap three times according to custom.

At the end of the ceremony musicians fill the cavernous house with catchy tunes. The village men and women sprint over to cajole us guests onto the floor for an uproarious Meke dance called taralala, where we mimic the hilarious antics of the lead dancer.

While we sit again to catch our breath the women cover the grass mats with long clothes and platters of food. Having poked my head into their rudimentary communal kitchen, the feast spread before us is akin to a miracle. The taste and texture of fare with unpronounceable names is exquisite. The dough-nutty bread is my favourite, as is the seasoned cassava root slices.

Hardly a word is uttered by anyone in the group on the way back to the boat. Perhaps like me they are reluctant to leave the heart-warming hospitality of the villagers. Captain Jack knows how to lighten our melancholy. He spins the boat into 360º turns until we are all shrieking with laughter and soggy with the spray. A day never to be forgotten.

Great Taste of Fiji Sightseeing Adventure

If You Go:

Sigatoka River Safari begins at the Coral Coast town of Sigatoka on the island of Viti Levu. The tour includes van transportation for 16km through Sigatoka Valley to and from the off-the-beaten-track dock where the jet boats are boarded.
www.sigatokariver.com

About the author:
Irene Butler is a Richmond B.C. based travel journalist/photographer who with her husband Rick has trekked through 63 countries to date. She loves off-the-beaten-path travel best. www.globaltrekkers.ca.

All photos are by Irene and Rick Butler.

Hawaii’s Cowboy Country: Historic Parker Ranch

The Big Island, Hawaii

by Chris Millikan

Surprising to many, Hawaiians were raising cattle long before their mainlander counterparts. Even today, four of the USA’s twenty biggest ranches flourish on the Big Island. So signing on for a cattle country tour, my hubby and I check out Parker Ranch, Hawaii’s oldest and largest.

Paralleling miles of fenced pasturelands dotted with stands of gnarled windbreak trees, our route climbs to 2500 feet above sea level. While we munch our macadamia-nut banana bread under big blue skies, cattle chomp abundant grasses along rolling green hills. We soon pull into a trendy Waimea-town mall, certainly not the dusty 19th century cowboy town we’d imagined.

From the Gear up and Go desk our guide Anthony ushers us aboard his suburban 4×4 and along the Mamalahoa Highway sets the scene.

“Our 35,000 cattle graze on these lands where over 10,000 Hawaiians once lived, farming along Waimea’s streams and collecting feathers from forest birds,” he explains. “But all this changed at Kealakekua Bay when Captain George Vancouver sent five cows ashore on outrigger canoes in 1793. King Kamehameha put a kapu on this gift, so cattle couldn’t be touched. At first kept in a large stone paddock in Kona, these longhorns eventually escaped and rampaged over farmlands for years.”

Just south of Waimea’s center, we first stop at beautifully landscaped grounds.

“Six generations of Parkers lived in these two historic homes,” Anthony remarks. Entering Mana Hale cottage he says, “This represents the Cape Cod-style house Parker and his sons built in 1847 to replace their traditional Hawaiian dwelling on the range. The last descendant dismantled its rich-brown koa-wood interior board-by-board, reassembling it inside this replicated exterior.”

Walking carefully across these beautiful, smooth floors, we study antique tools, historic furnishings and artwork. While gazing at early portraits, Anthony introduces the captivating family.

“The Parker’s saga began in 1809 when young John Palmer Parker, a sailor from Massachusetts landed in Hawaii…this was way before other foreigners ventured to these islands, one year before King Kameheameha I united the islands and 10 years before the Missionaries first came.” He goes on to explain how the great Kamehameha permitted this humble, hardworking tea-totaller to stay. Parker worked more than 30 years for the monarchy, first managing the King’s fishponds and later commissioned as a royal cattle hunter culling the maverick herds now roaming Mauna Kea’s slopes.

Parker married Kamehameha’s granddaughter Kipikane in 1816 and made his descendents prominent Hawaiian royalty. This sailor-turned-cowboy and his princess began a 160-year-old cattle dynasty with Kamehameha III’s two-acre land grant for $10, Kipikane’s 640-acre dowry and his purchase of 1,000 acres more, later expanding to over 175,000 acres.

After three generations, the Parker family work ethic diminished: Grandson Samuel began frivolously spending the fortune; John Parker II and wife Hanai, purchased Pu’uopelu, the elegant Hawaiian-Victorian mansion next door in 1879 and their son John Parker III married Elizabeth, a European debutante. Dying shortly after daughter Thelma was born, his half of the estate went to her. This story continues within Pu’uopelu.

Anthony points out a group of period photographs in Thelma’s restored bedroom. “Parker III’s widow Elizabeth hired Lawyer Alfred Carter to manage ranch fortunes. Carter modernized the enterprise with expanded cattle breeding and improved grasses for pastures. They bought out Samuel’s share for $600,000 and from age 12, groomed young Thelma to operate the ranch.”

At eighteen, Thelma married Virginia businessman and horse breeder Henry Smart and had a son, Richard Palmer Smart. Tragically, Thelma and Henry died in1914, leaving baby Richard sole heir to the estate. Grandmother Elizabeth raised him; Carter mentored him.

Richard Smart updated this spacious home creating a spacious French provincial interior with lofty ceilings, furnished it with European heirlooms and hung crystal chandeliers. His exquisite collections of impressionist paintings and rare yellow glazed Chinese porcelain remain on display.

The music room reflects Richard’s chosen career. Vintage posters reflect his 30-year career as a popular singer for over 30 years on Broadway and in top cabarets worldwide. Autographed photos of the glamorous guests entertained here cover the main wall. Smart lived in the mansion from 1960 until this last family cattle baron died in 1992, ending the Parker reign over the ranch. He is interred behind his beloved home.

After meeting the Parkers we head into the ranchlands, jolting and jostling down Mana Road, a rutted one-lane dirt-and-gravel country road that had ended in Hilo during ancient times. With majestic snow-covered Mauna Kea standing in front of us, the verdant Kohala Mountains behind, it seems that over hundreds of years, this magnificent landscape has remained unchanged. Grazing Black Angus cattle…and some white Charolais…dot the lush rolling hillsides.

In the heart of the ranchlands we stop at the original homestead site. Anthony mentions that Hawaii’s last reigning king, Merrie Monarch David Kalakaua and Samuel, the Royal Rancher had many grand times here together. Though fire destroyed Samuel’s magnificent mansion, Mana Hale cottage and the early schoolhouse remain.

Across the fields five generations of Parkers rest high on a knoll shaded by trees. Among the gravesites, Anthony recounts, “Everyone in Waimea lined the road to this cemetery, mourning the passage of their beloved Thelma.” As we pause in the gentle breezes, we consider their amazing heritage.

Picnicking at Makahalau, one of several rustic cowboy stations out on the range, Anthony tells us, “This paniolo station was inhabited until the 1960’s. Five generations of paniolos lived way out here. Today’s cowboys use it only for weekend outings or stop by to repair gear.” He grins, “When the King finally lifted the kapu order, Hawaiian’s didn’t know how to manage the cattle. Kamehameha III convinced California vaquero Joaquin Armas to come to Waimea to teach them how to handle herds from horseback; others came from Latin America and Spain. Hawaiians called them ‘paniolo,’ morphed from their Spanish language Espanola. Hawaiian paniolos have long won prizes at rodeos, both here and on the mainland.”

As I gaze over these magnificent emerald landscapes, I imagine early paniolos roping steers, branding, driving herds and mending the hundred of miles of fences…

Waimea’s cattle trade thrived. An influx of whaling ships stopping in the islands for supplies produced a huge need for fresh or salted beef, launching a lasting industry; tallow and hides developed into major exports. The Parkers’ fortune and influence increased with the demand for ranch products.

Returning down Mana Road we pass through Waimea, ending up at ranch headquarters, where structures from 1903 are still used. Though community rodeos are now staged here, record-holding thoroughbreds once trained at Pukalani Stables and racetrack until Richard got out of raising racehorses in the 1970’s. Nearby, lava rock walls surround an old breaking corral where horse whisperers still work their magic with young horses and today’s wannabe cowpokes rent mounts, saddle up and ride upcountry trails.

Owned these days by a trust supporting schools, hospitals and charitable organizations in Waimea, Parker Ranch still raises cattle herds on its 150,000 island acres. Steeped in both Western heritage and Hawaiian history, poking around in Hawaii’s cowboy country proves an extraordinary Big Island experience.

Private Tour: Waimea Canyon, Wailua Falls, Kauai Coffee Company and Spouting Horn

If You Go:

Big Island Visitors Bureau – www.gohawaii.com and .www.bigisland.org
Parker Ranch – www.parkerranch.com.

About the author:
Much-traveled freelance writer/photographer team, Chris and hubby Rick Millikan reside near Vancouver, BC. Former educators, they now present travel as an inviting ‘curriculum’. Globe trotting in search of historic, cultural and zany adventures, their accounts appear in many BC Newspapers, local magazines, In-flight magazines and occasionally the Vancouver Sun or Province.

All photos are by Rick and Chris Millikan.