On Friday, we ventured up Diamond Head. Diamond Head is an inactive volcano and a state park. You hike up a side of it for a view of its crater on one side and the ocean on the other.
I knew there were 72 steps. What I did not know was that there was a hike up to those steps, and another 99 steps following those 72 steps. Also, I did not know that Diamond Head crater would be like hiking southern California in the middle of a summer day. Breezeless (the crater walls keeping out any coolness), bone-dry, crackling hot. Thus, I brought only one bottle of water, which I finished halfway up the path to the stairs.
Kaiya was happy about the whole thing, as her daddy carried her the entire way. Especially when she spied the Japanese girl with pink hair. “I like your hair!” Kaiya called out to her. The girl smiled. Ethan munched on a bag of dry ramen. As long as he has food, he’s fine. He chirped, “Excuse-moi,” to each group we passed. Each group of Japanese tourists gave us the “hang-ten” sign and chorused, “Alooo-ha!” and the girls all cooed at Ethan. Elyse vacillated between proclaiming, “I am about to die!” and “Hey, look at the view!”
I was not so happy. I only like to hike in the cool of evening or morn, not at one o’clock in the mid-90s. Lucky for me, my MIL wanted to go down, too. Her knee bothered her. She offered to buy me a shave ice from the truck at the bottom (which was really more like a Snoopy Snow-Cone, gritty and large ice particles). I went with her and she called her daughter while I ate my extremely large snow-cone thing.
My husband promises that we shall return, on a morning, with Camel-Baks. I should have given him the camera and had him take pics at the top and said that I had done it already. A pic is proof, right?
MARGARET DILLOWAY 