Lanai, snorkeling in The Armchair, Hawaii journal, 7/19/91

I grab few minutes to snooze beneath palm trees, a dock over a pond, I am hanging out at the Lanai Club on the shores of Lanai to be exact. It’s a resort without walls. I am perversely feeding the carp some mahi-mahi. They’re stirring up the algae soup to a fine spirulina froth. This looks to be some sort of rough 1920s summer camp or barracks hastily converted over to the tourist trade. I must admit if they can sell it, they will. 

For $21 more than it costs to ride the ferry, I rode a Zodiac out to The Armchair. We snorkeled in the pinnacles, much better than Molokini. It was spectacular, like looking into the Horsehead Nebula. But the whining tourists bugged me. Why don’t they just stay home? I keep my distance. I’m just not cut out for these group activities, everyone is packed in like sardines. I want to do so much more, experience everything longer with a ferocity than most people can’t fathom.

Sleepy afternoon in Lanai, I am not ready to go back to the Maui mainland. This is my last splurge before going back home. Snorkelmania, a pristine dive spot for sure. Lanai is surrounded by a fringe reef and is quite shallow. And most of the 2,400 registered residents who live in Lanai City, located smack dab in the center of the crater. Lanai is a shield dome, or a dome volcano from the looks of it. It is arid except for the upper fringe. Hard to put a development in when there’s no water. Pineapples everywhere dress the slopes like a vast hula skirt.

The water here is brackish. Drinking water is shipped in. Maybe that’s why Mercer & Robertson of Lahaina in Boulder Colorado was able to purchase, or at least lease this land with established grounds and dwellings. Who lived here before? Three different groups have this place to themselves from 4 PM to 9AM not a bad deal. I gaze out at the West Maui Mountains, such an incredible backdrop against the sea. Molokai is shrouded with the clouds of shame, or perhaps grief. The world's tallest seacliffs contemplate the belly of the sea.

Lanai is farther west than Koho’olawe, another barren island planted with live ammo. Everything in Hawaii is transitory. The next time I come here, Club Lanai will either be gone, or evolved into something else. I’m having a hard time letting go of the old Maui I once knew some eight years ago. Only Captain Cook on the big Island seems unchanged.

I am hanging out in a defunct concession stand on an island surrounded by a moat of brackish water but the brilliant Bougainvillea is in bloom. Quietude and birds, mostly mynahbirds and finches or house sparrows. I’ve had enough of the sun. I wear my wetsuit jacket to protect myself from the sun more than from the cold. 

I’m probably the only single person here. It’s definitely a couples place, or a family place. I am so sleepy, I have very little motivation to explore the rest of the island. Then there’s the moat to consider. Perhaps I will doze a little while longer under the palm trees. Catch the last boat back to Lahaina.