South Point

Well I found the OSFA* computer in the hotel lobby. Sue and I just got back from a dip in the pool, and I thought I'd write a little bit about South Point, while we wait for lunch to heat up.

We got a tip from Kate that it's a good time to make the drive down to South Point and take a plunge off the jumping rocks. So we went. The point itself is the Southern most point in the United States. When you get there, you feel like you are at the end of the world though. Most of South Point is a sheer cliff ten meters above the vast super blue ocean. The water hits the walls so hard that it has actually carved out some amazing caves in the side of the precipice.

I took a running dive off the end. I had this feeling midway down that maybe, just maybe, I had really made a bad decision. Too late. I hit the water pretty hard, but gratefully did not over rotate and end up flopping. What a rush too look around and see Sue peering over the edge way up there, me bobbing down below as if on glass, and then look into the huge gaping caves under the ledge. I swam into a cave about 20 yards from my crash-down. I was intrigued because the back of the cave was lit. It turns out, the water had blasted a hole in the ceiling in the back. Maybe a hundred thousand years ago it was a spout, who knows. From the end of the cave I could look straight up and see blue sky. After I had my fun, I climbed up the enormous rod iron rusty ladder tethered to the side of the cliff. I really felt like I was in the middle of a Lost episode or something.

About two hundred yards further down South Point it finally edges off into the water. Sue and I took a walk down there where frozen giant lava rocks butt heads with huge turqoiuse blue double overhead waves. The picture above is one of Sue, from the minds eye it seemed like she was almost in front of a Posieden Adventure blue screen of a gynourmous wave. It was seriously crazy though how a man devouring, rock pounding break turned into a gentle tidle pool, in less than sixty yards. The lava rock sentinels really do their job well.

On the way there and back we stopped at several places. Basically turning a two and a half hour drive into a four hour marathon Oregon Trail. We stopped at Kona Joe's coffee, and also had a roadside break next to this awesome sixty year old lava field junk yard. Maybe you have to be a guy to get this; but seriously. Rusted up Model T's by a dilapidated mill, in lava bed? It was a total Mad Max moment. Oh, and I'm not saying I did, but I might have taken back some old rusty gears, an odometer and a goat skull to commemorate the event. I wonder what baggage check will think of that.

I'd better wrap this up, but I'll tell you a little about Kona Joe's first. In a phrase, excellent coffee, impressive estate, HORRIBLE service. I had my first experience eating a coffee cherry. There were some trees right there in the parking lot. The gift shop was classic. All wood interiors, 25% marked up tourist stuff, and two (dos) free shots of coffee, accompanied by a pair of chocoloates, a white chocolate covered bean, and standard chocolate covered bean. Noms! The patio/coffee-bar/tour-starting-place/outdoor-pavilion/bella-vista spot was gorgeous. Coffee roasting machines all around. A view of the Kona coast over trellised coffee trees. Super wow. But, but, just TRY and get a cup of coffee from the barista. At five bucks a cup, this is NO factory outlet discount. It was served in a foam (foam? plastic?) cup, there was NO cream available, and no sugar in the raw. So what? the worlds best coffee served from a pump jug, brewed i-dunno-when with Splenda and 2% milk. FAIL!

Okay, okay, so I'm over reacting, the coffee was good. I mean good. Not like that funny tingle you get in your crotch when you are going down-hill on a roller-coaster good, but it was pretty darn good. Smooth to be sure.

(*) OSFA: One Size Fits All