Aug 7. 2023

Launiopoko Hawaii.  3.2 miles outside of Lahaina proper.

Nine of us spend the entire day unloading the 40’ shipping container from Bali and Java that has just arrived after a year’s worth of planning.  Michael and Zoe Matheson had gone to the islands and arranged everything.  At 10 am a trucker drops it off at their cul de sac which is a few blocks up curved around from my house.  Andreas who owns the local landscaping company is operating a forklift.  Jon (contractor and my brother’s best friend since 7th grade) helps to direct the unload with Michael.  Lauris and his son Peter, Alyssa (Matheson) and her husband Marchello and 10 y.o. daughter Siena, and their friends Peter and Debbie round out the crew.  Mainly my job is to watch and cheer. 

It is a typical hot humid gorgeous summer day.  We are all sweating.  Downing buckets of water and Gatorade.  For the first three hours mainly the Mathesons’ buddha statues, stones, tile, columns, bamboo fencing, day beds, couches, chairs are unloaded.  Carried and rolled into their adjacent yard. 

I call in everyone’s sandwich orders.  Drive into Lahaina.  Stop at Safeway for more drinks and chips.  Pick up duffle size bag of sandwiches from Jersey Mike’s.  Gaze longingly at favorite food truck, Aloha Eats in parking lot. No time. Drive back the fast way. Over and down the bypass instead of along the old road that runs through town.

Zoe sets their dining table which located in a pavilion off the lanai.  The crew doesn’t stop working.  We yell:  food.  They tear themselves away.  Crowd around the table.  Sweaty.  Laughing.  Intent on completing this mission. 

I want to take a photo of the inside of the container.  It’s about 5’ off the ground.  The step stool gets me a little of the way, but have to haul myself in there.  Debbie and Zoe on either side of me.  Push me up.  Make it. Sawdust all over front of me.  Each item is crated.  Packed floor to ceiling in a jumble.    Next to the container is a rental van that will take several loads to my house.  Statues, doors, windows, columns, stone, tile.  Some to be stacked in the garage.  The rest on the lawn by The Hut which Jon has been working on these past several months a couple weeks at a time.

They are done with lunch in less than 30.  Resume.  I head back down to my house.  Try to imagine where everything is going to go.  The van drives up with Lauris and Peter.  They begin to unload.  It is incredibly exciting.  Lanterns, garden pots, tables, chairs.  Andreas drives his forklift up the driveway and moves statues and some of the big pieces closer to Java the Hut.   Van goes back down.  Returns.  Jon, and some helpers somehow manage to install two smaller windows into The Hut.  Crate after crate fills the garage and lawn.  Everyone has now migrated to my house.

At 5:30  I ask:  what are you all doing for dinner.  Splinters of the group wonder aloud until I volunteer:  we went to Costco and have pasta and salad.  Everyone except Andreas says yes let’s have dinner.  He heads off on the forklift. 

While they are finishing up, Peter makes the pasta and I make a salad.  Jon and Michael have put the new table together and we have unwrapped the chairs that now surround it in the pavilion.  Put out dishes. 

The sun slowly sets.  And for the first time.  As we are finally sitting and relaxing, we notice wind.

We all knew there was a storm warning for a hurricane that was passing hundreds of miles away from the Island.  The day before, Caleb –  property manager and neighbor had texted a screenshot of a weather warning.  Lucky for us the wind did not materialize during the day.  We all talk about what great timing. 

Looking around the table, we are all filled with happiness and contentment.  Some of us did not know each other before today.  And yet everyone just absolutely clicked on this shared venture to help the Mathesons and I.  Love this about Hawaii – the closeness and warmth shared within the community.

The others head out sometime after 7.  It is dark now.  Clean up with Peter while Jon and Lauris are doing a few more logistical things with the load.  The wind feels stronger.  We take the cushions off the lounge chairs.  Lie them flat and roll them under the Lanai.  Take down the umbrellas.  Lay a few of the smaller crates down on their sides. 

Clean up.  Turn in.  The wind rushes.  A latch breaks off.  The door bangs rhythmically.   Cannot sleep. 

August 8, 2023

Wake up with the sun.  The wind howls down from the mountain.  Relentless.  Jon is crabby because Caleb tells us to stay inside and off the roads.  I’m crabby because can’t go for a run.  Peter is reading a book.  Lauris is lounging.  The coconut trees are bent over in half as they bow towards the ocean.  Their leaves flying parallel to the ground. 

9:00 am check on Paul and Mary Elizabeth Stritmatter who live a mile away at the top of the hill.  Pull car out of garage.  Drive through neighborhood around a few downed trees that have been moved mainly off the roadway.  They are fine and feel secure as have massive solar system.  Chat a little.  They give me a loaf of banana bread.  Head back down.

Then the electricity goes out.  We watch the flowers rip off the plumeria trees.  The glorious hibiscus bushes with their plate size blooms, stripped bare.  The areca palm border around the house stands firm, but the fronds are shredding.  The pool fills with garden debris. 

Early in the afternoon, we make our hourly pilgrimage back outside.  The air pushes us around.  This time we see a large gray cloud. What is that we point.   We don’t know. Go inside.   Another hour passes.  Go back outside.  It’s fire.  And then Boom.  We go back out to the edge of the ocean side of the property which is a terraced ledge about ten feet above the adjacent street.  A dark gray mushroom cloud billows up.  As if we have been bombed. 

Is that Lahaina we say.  Is that the gas station.  We aren’t sure.  There’s no power.  No internet.  No one knows anything.   We are trying our best due to spotty cell coverage to check in with the Mathesons, the Stritmatters, the Jeromins who live directly above.  No one knows anything for hours.  And then we begin to hear rumors.

The only noise we can hear over the constant white noise rush of wind, are timpani like booms that we begin to suspect are propane tanks.  Not as loud as that first big one.  But like gunfire. Pop. Pop. Pop.  We don’t know what part of Lahaina is on fire but surely it must be.  We are watching the wind ferociously aimed at the ocean.  We don’t smell any smoke.  There is no ash.  But Lanai is surrounded by haze and eventually disappears from sight in the fog of smoke. 

Caleb drives up.  He is rattled.  He is never rattled.  He says Lahaina is on fire.  We’re okay for now.  And takes off.

By 5:30 pm the fire seems closer.   But still far enough away that we hang onto Caleb’s words and don’t feel in immediate danger.  The wind has still not changed direction.  Relentlessly pushing out towards the ocean.  Keeping the clouds of smoke down low.  The range is fueled with propane.  We make and eat dinner.  Try not to open frig but it is already a lost cause.  Pull out as much as we can and store in several ice chests. 

The sun sets.  At 7:30 pm the sky is fiery orange and red.  We check in with everyone in our extended group.  No one knows anything other than Lahaina is burning, our power is out, and we have had no warning to leave.

Every hour we go back and look over the edge of the property down towards Lahaina.  Around midnight we doze on top of the beds.  Fully dressed. My phone buzzes.  An emergency weather alert about the wind. Read it twice.  Does not say evacuate.  Does not say fire. Close eyes.

Phone buzzes around 3 am.  Am sleeping with it in my hand.  Alyssa Matheson.  Shocked to get thru.  Their whole family is packed and going to evacuate.  I repeat in a fog: evacuate.  She heard from another neighbor that we were supposed to have evacuated hours ago.  Tell her am calling Caleb and hang up.  Call for about five minutes until get thru.  First thing he says is how did you get thru.  He can’t call.  Only texts.   Tell him what Alyssa says and ask if we should evacuate.  He says his family is staying put and will let me know if or when we should go.  Trust him.

Text Alyssa we are staying put.  Text doesn’t go thru.  Call several times, get thru and tell her.  Call Stritmatters and tell them.  Go outside with Lauris, Peter, Jon.  It glows orange yellow.  Still down low.  Getting closer. Go back inside. Lie down.

At 5:30 am go back outside to join Jon, Lauris, Peter.  The wind remains unabated.  No matter how much don’t want it to be.  The fire is closer.   We agree if the fire jumps the Lahaina Bypass highway that we will leave.  We are so rational.  Logical.  Not panicked.  Notice that my entire body is shaking. My teeth are chattering.   Don’t want to acknowledge the fear mentally yet.  Turn around and go back to the house.  Like an ostrich.

Cristina has been texting me.  She is managing not to become absolutely hysterical.  I can see texts but not answer them.  Can’t call hardly.  But still try and sometimes get through for less than a minute at a time.  Am able to talk to Alysha then Noelle as well after much effort.  Until the phone garbles and cuts us off.

Pack bag.  Shorts. T shirt.  Laptop.  It isn’t full.  Nothing is worth packing.  This beautiful house with the greatly awaited fantastic crates from Bali and Java.  They don’t matter anymore. 

By 7 the wind lessens incrementally.  But there is a consequence.  The fire jumps the bypass road. 

Cristina texts that the Mathesons have left and are camped out at Leoni’s  (pie shop) parking lot 10 min down the highway away from Lahaina.  There is a blockade at the bottom of our hill at Ke Hele Ku.  No one can drive into Lahaina. 

The neighbor below us is near his truck with bags.  We hear a voice screaming over an intercom on repeat.  It is a police vehicle telling everyone to immediately evacuate – this is mandatory.  The officer pulls up to the neighbor and tells him to get going.  

But Caleb hasn’t told us to go yet.  The four of us flop face down on the lawn.  The officer leaves.  We get up. 

We are intently watching the flames as they begin to march up the hill. Ready to leave any minute. How far away do you think it is I say to Jon.  Maybe a quarter of a mile, he says.  Or less.  And then we see a yellow helicopter.  Jump up and down and raise both fists in the air.  Yes I yell through chattering teeth.   It makes a wide pass around the bottom of the hill.  Then flies off.

Jon says: maybe its a reconnaissance run.  A few minutes later it returns.  And drops its first load of water. 

We spend another hour running back and forth between the house and edge of the lawn to monitor the halting of the fire.  It will take several hours to put it out, and even then throughout the rest of the night and next morning additional loads will be dropped while it smolders and remains at risk of reigniting.

Cristina calls Jeff – who drives our family to and from the airport.  He lives in Kihei with his girlfriend.  She asks if the Mathesons can stay with them.  He agrees.  The five of them drive to his house.

Jon wants to get supplies.  Even though there is no electricity he can still work on the hut he says.  I tell Lauris and Peter to go with him so they can quickly get through home depot in Kahului and return.   They take off.  I won’t see them again for three days.

Walk up the hill to see how the Jeromins are doing.  Totally fine.  Have solar and everything is functioning.  No phone or internet. 

Go back down to house.  Cannot plug into office.  Cannot sit still.  Begin to survey yard damage.  Caleb drives up in old borrowed truck.  What happened I say:

He says that last night he was driving around checking on his clients and properties.  At the blockade the police would not let him drive up the hill.  He told them he needed to get his wife and two young children.  They made him park his truck and walk up the hill.  Which he did.  But his truck and everything in it was burned up into the fire until it melted.

He’s going to check on the Stritmatters.  Ask him to take me up.  Caleb hasn’t slept at all.    About 20 of his friends and business vendors are now at his compound as their houses are gone.  He tells me downtown Lahaina has been destroyed.  Front street is gone. I ask if anyone has died.  He says 3 people.  I feel sick all over.

We arrive at the Stritmatters.  They have solar and are in good shape. They were packed but returned after learning we weren’t leaving.   They give me an extra cooler for food to fill up.  They have no information because no internet.  No one still knows much of anything.

Caleb drops me back at the house.  Have much nervous energy.  Begin to pick up branches.  Toss them into a pile on the terrace directly below the ocean side of the property.  Cristina is texting.  6 people have died. Start imagining what that means.  Have handled burn cases.  The worst way to die.  Hideous.  Horrible.  Agonizing.  Not instant.  Cry. Stop it I say. It stops. Walk up the hill to charge my phone at the Jeromins.  Tell them this news.  They are trying to find a radio.  Go back down.

A woman pulls up at my gate which Caleb has disabled and left open so we can get in and out.  She introduces herself.  A friend of Zoe’s.  Wants to know if I have cell service.  Not really.  She tries.  Nothing.  Tells me that she took photos off a phone from someone who somehow accessed internet.  Do I want to see.  Don’t really.  But need to.

Say: how bad is it.  She says:  Lahaina is gone.  Shows me an aerial of Lahaina front street to the bypass.  Can’t comprehend it.  What was that.  She’s going to stay at a neighbor’s who has power and invites me to stay with her.  Ask how long will it take before the mandatory evacuation is lifted.  Says in her experience 3 days.  She leaves.  My mind wants to go wild but won’t let it. 

Go back to raking and tossing.  Mounds of garden wreckage.  The birds begin to quietly chirp.  They’ve come out from hiding.

Call comes through.  Cristina says Jon Lauris and Peter can’t return.  They are joining the Mathesons at Jeff’s.  She’s very worried.  Tell her will stay working until sun sets.  Then go to the Stritmatters.

My car is in the garage which doesn’t open.  Paul retrieves me after dinner.  They have no power.  The windstorm somehow damaged their solar system.  The house is dark.  Take a cold shower.  Open the sliding door.  Thankfully there is a breeze.  Pass out til the sun begins to rise.

This is my pattern of life for the next three days.  Cristina is trying to make arrangements for me to fly out early.  But how can I go.  Stritmatters can’t drive me because they won’t be let back.  Can’t drive to Kanapali where buses are departing because road is closed thru Lahaina.  Then there is the fact that I don’t want to leave.

That first day post fire, on the way home, Paul and I drive around looking for a view of Lahaina.  This will be our first actual look.  We park.  It is the color of ash and smoldering.  He takes me home.

By now the Jeromins have a radio. The death toll is rising.  I access the internet one time somehow that day.  There are photos of burned vehicles piled up on Front street.  When I let myself think about what is happening, my heart starts to beat too loudly.  Try to shut it off.  But am walking around from one side of the property to the other cleaning madly.  Filled with anguish and dread and a feeling of utter devastation. 

Decide to go for run.  Am the only one on the trail.  Deserted.  Have to climb over downed tree.  There is a water pipe that has burst.  Have one destination:  closest view of Lahaina.  See it.  Like a ghost.

Go past my driveway up the hill to check on Kimo my other neighbor.  He drives up at the same time in his truck.  He is 7th generation.  Their coffee plantation has survived.  But the mill and the hotel are gone.  He is driving around the neighborhood in conjunction with Caleb.  Making sure everyone left is okay.

Day 3 post fire Jon and Lauris return with  Marchello who has a Hawaii license and because he talked his way into being allowed to join an official caravan.  The rest of the crew drive around the island arrive the next day.

And then it is time for me to leave the next day.  Lauris drives me to the current blockade at the Marina.  I get out.  Walk half a mile to the other side.  And it is not really until this moment.  That I begin to feel everything more deeply that have been repressing as worked until absolutely fatigued then slept and restarted each morning.

Along the marina there are people setting up an aid tent.  And directly next to them is a restaurant filled with people. Smiling and eating.  Stores are open.  I walk past quietly.  With my bag.  Feeling alienated.  Their normalcy  slaps me.

On the drive to the airport thank Jeff for putting up everyone.  He says Jon fixed at least seven items in his house from a broken fan and screen door to a faucet.  As we approach the airport he points to the endless rows of rental cars parked on the fields.  The tourists have left the island.

The airport is bustling.  Smiling and laughing families punctuated by more rumpled solemn ones.  Overall, my feelings of alienation persist.  Walk down a corridor where a group of passengers has departed and three rowdy guys come up behind me and pass.  They are loud and drunk.  I bristle with hostility towards them.

Board plane.  Study everyone who is walking by.  Smiling.  Sun tans.  Then make eye contact with a woman - a mom.  Followed by two teenage sons and dad.  Their hair is sticking up.  They are unkempt.  Like they’ve been shaken.  In shorts and tees.  Carrying thin white garbage bags.  A Haines underwear bag visible through one.  And then I feel a little better and a little worse all at the same time.

Photos by me.