The wherefores and the whys

There's method to our madness

My husband, our teen son and I are off for a long summer trip. Back to "the old country" as we jokingly call our former home state, now a continent and an ocean away. A three-week vacation for the main bread-winner. Nearly six weeks away for me and our son--the only grandchild in the Hawaii family tree.

Friends and neighbors here in Ottawa are aghast at our timing. The chorus goes: "Are you nuts?! Why not go in winter?"

I'm with them, mostly. Summers here are as nice as they are short. And it's the middle of gardening season. I just hurriedly finished harvesting the garlic--a bit early, but what else could I do? I shudder at the thought of not retuning until the last days of August. The weeds are going to win. Again.

It cannot be helped. Summer vacation is when we can spend enough time there to make the long trip worthwhile.

In a few years my husband and I will be empty-nesters. When that stage comes, I vote to 'do' Hawaii in November, or March, my two least favorite months here. November can be just plain gloomy and March is a hopeless muddle betwixt winter and spring. I'd stick around for January and February, though. To us, snowy winters are terribly exciting, even exotic. We have also become addicted to cross-country skiing and out-door ice skating, pleasures unavailable in Hawaii.

Island weather: Mostly fair with a chance of windward and mauka (mountain) showers

So, when is the best time to visit the islands? The good news is pretty much any month will work. Hawaii doesn't have four distinct seasons. There is a rainy season (Nov-March). That can get pretty wet and windy, with storm fronts that move in for a few days straight before blue skies return. Then there's the dry season (April-October). The tail end of that can be pretty muggy and hot. Which, I guess, is just great for die-hards seeking unadulterated sun and sand.

Hot and cold being relative terms, obviously. Except for higher elevations, most places in Hawaii will never dip below 50 degrees, or exceed the low 90's. And those are the extremes. Generally, expect temperatures in the 70's and 80's. Year round. Pretty darned nice, if a tad monotonous. Since moving, I have found the contrast of distinct seasons to be one of the most interesting and invigorating aspects of life on the mainland. It's always changing here! (Winter-weary Canadians assure me that more time here can cure me of that unnatural excitement.)

There are seven populated islands in Hawaii. With elevations that range from sea-level to some substantial peaks. Obviously, the higher you go the cooler it gets. The tallest mountain, the island of Hawaii's Mauna Kea (13,796') is frequently snow-capped. (Note: Just to keep things confusing, Hawaii is both the name of the entire island chain and the name of the largest island in the chain, hence its clarifying nickname "The Big Island".)

Tradewinds carry moisture from the surrounding ocean until mountain ranges extract their rain. This means each high island has a windward side, lush and tropical, and a leeward side, where brown replaces green and rain falls less frequently. The most popular destinations tend to be on leeward shores: Kauai's Poipu, Oahu's Waikiki, Maui's Lahaina, Kihei and Kaanapali, and Kona on the Big Island of Hawaii--these are all mainly hot and dry, which is what the average visitor is seeking.

Weather isn't everything

At some point I should address the other question that comes up like clockwork. Why would anyone ever leave Hawaii!? Many, many reasons. We weren't the only ones who left, either. A recent snippet in Honolulu Magazine cited US census bureau statistics that the average annual "out-migration" from Hawaii across the 1990's was 11,820. For 2000-2004, that number has fallen to 2,053. (Out of a population of 1.2 million.)

Where do ex-islanders go? All over, really. Sometimes to surprising pockets, such as Las Vegas. We are like a secret society, always watching for signs of fellow exiles. ("Look over there. Slippers and a "Hawaiian Island Creations" backpack. Do you think he is from Hawaii?") It's comforting to find others who share the same pain-tinged nostalgia for what was left behind.

Framed in a positive light, our family left seeking broader experiences and a better standard of living (defined by quality, not money). On the less-positive side, we left as urban refugees. Eager to escape a lengthy economic recession, the high cost of living, an explosion of property crime--fueled by a dreadful crystal meth ("Ice") epidemic, terrible traffic congestion, crowded living conditions, growing homelessness and poor public schools.

The recession is said to be over now, which probably accounts for the decline in departures. Sadly, all the other ills remain, unabated. Your basic "Trouble in Paradise" story of what happens when a good place goes bad.

Death, taxes....and change

The small Ontario village where we now live has a single commercial outlet, a general store/post office. It's run by a charming couple who came to Canada from England many years ago. They visit their "old country" too, and we compare notes. I was explaining how the Hawaii of my youth was quite a bit nicer. The store keeper replied he'd have to say the same about his home region, in Nottingham. For some strange reason crime has exploded there--guns and knives and general mayhem. It's not just Hawaii, or Nottingham, he concluded, with a mixture of anger, sorrow and puzzlement. The problem seems to be popping up everywhere.

We muttered about the world going to hell in a hand basket and congratulated ourselves on having found a small corner that still feels peaceful. And then we got onto local news of a village family who left their out-of-gas vehicle on a side road overnight, only to find it thoroughly vandalized by morning.

Perhaps there is no escape? Just enclaves that still resemble the mythically happy places of our long-lost youth.