I am covered in “reef safe” sunscreen, which is code for, “It won’t come off for weeks.” RBD has tuckered herself out swatting at mosquitos. Years ago she smacked me across the face. (The mosquito lived.) Fortunately these mosquitos seem disinterested in us, unlike East Coast mosquitos. I assume our blood is too bitter for their palate.

For our final meal in Kauai, we tripped into Hanalei. It’s a 15 minute drive from our hotel. The town is small. Only 275 people live here full time, down from about 500 a few years ago. The word Hanalei means “crescent bay.”

The valley Hanalei sits in has been farmed by Hawaiians for hundreds of years. Flooding was (and still is) common, which recharges the already fertile volcanic soil. They grew taro mostly. Around 1900 the Chinese and Japanese started growing rice in this valley, a crop that requires a lot of water. Fortunately, there’s plenty to go around. That industry eventually faded too, leaving the current town to explore its bohemian inclinations. Now it’s a place to surf, fish, snorkel, and adventure by day and party by night. I wonder what the original locals think of all this hoopla surrounding their once-quiet village.

I do know these locals are vehemently anti-resort and building. This place has strict laws regarding zoning and preservation. I am of two minds regarding historic preservation. It seems like a good idea, to preserve history, to pay homage to what came before. How can anyone be against that? On the other hand, historic preservation is a way to freeze development and keep “those people” out. “I’ve found and locked down my slice of paradise; piss-off, you.” In NYC it continues to drive a housing shortage. I suspect the same applies here too. If the laws were really about preservation, compromises could be made.

The 60s were sixty years ago, but in Hanalei you can visit them today.