Waimea Nei

From the beginning

Sometime over a thousand years ago, the best sailors human history has ever known navigated from the remote islands of Tahiti to an even more isolated island archipelago. The Hawaiian Islands, as they are known to the world today, stretch some 1,500 miles across the largest ocean on planet Earth. However, when these Tahitian sailors arrived on the shores, these islands had no name. Nothing on them had a name. The white sandy beaches, the rivers, the forests, the snow-capped mountains, the bogs, the deserts, the erupting volcanoes were devoid of labels. The discoverers didn’t even have a vocabulary for the molten rock flowing out of the cracks in the earth, seemingly at random. They had no name for the frozen substance fluttering from the sky on top of volcanic mountain peaks. How could they? They had never seen or heard of anything like Hawai‘i before.

The immense task of devising a nomenclature for this island paradise fell into the hands of these poetic explorers. They named rivers, beaches, and mountain monstrosities. They named new things, never before seen things, like lava and snow, native birds and tiny bugs, trees, vines, and fish. They named an entire world with elegance and scientific poetry we still use to this day: Waikīkī: lit., spouting water. Said to have been named after the pouring of river water into marshes and swamps that dominated that area. Kailua: lit., two seas. Named, most likely, for the two ocean currents typical of Hawai‘i, and especially in these coastal towns. Waimea: lit., reddish water, after the color of the red dirt that can runoff into the streams.

The soil below Waimea Town is old. Even of the more recent lava flows that covered Waimea some 200,000 years ago. In the thousands of years to follow, natural processes like erosion, decaying organic material, and oxidation has turned the lava into a reddish soil. When the first explorers arrived, they observed the soil, and named the area Waimea.

Today, Waimea is a quiet town resting on top of where two volcanoes touch—Kohala on the north side of town, and Mauna Kea to the south. Kohala rises quickly and dramatically behind Waimea Town, with its buildings and houses nestled snugly at the base. The lime green pastures on the slopes of Kohala are adorned with cows, horses and streams which all move languidly underneath rushing puffy clouds that often host vibrant, but fleeting rainbows. Mauna Kea looms in the distance with a lofty summit elevation of almost 14,000 feet above sea level. When snowcapped, the view of Mauna Kea from Waimea Town is humbling. Locals across the state tend to get a far-off, dreamy look in their eye when Waimea is mentioned, usually followed by a deep sigh and a declaration that someday, they’d like to retire in Waimea.

The first Hawaiians to populate Waimea were descendants of those brave Tahitian explorers. As the small community grew into a large settlement, most likely around the 1100s to 1200s, this group of people burned swaths of the native forest to make room for farming. They built extensive rock walls to contain fertile soil in massive terraced farm plots. These plots were irrigated by canals pulling water from the Waimea streams, ingeniously utilizing gravity to keep the water flowing. Farmers grew kalo (taro), sugar cane, and sweet potato. Native birds chirped in the forest. The population boomed to about 10,000 people before Western contact. Post Western contact quickly and dramatically changed the landscape of Waimea forever. Why? Two species: Bos taurus, and Santalum paniculatum—cattle and sandalwood.

Cattle were unloaded on Hawai‘i by Captain George Vancouver in 1793. The few cows that Vancouver gifted to King Kamehameha multiplied to over 25,000 only 5 decades later. A majority of these cows roamed free, unfettered by fences, into the forests. These powerful ungulates treated Hawai‘i’s native flora like an all-you-caneat salad buffet. Stomping through the undergrowth and chomping on anything trying to grow, cattle quickly turned green into brown.

To take care of the four-legged problem, in rode the Spanish-Mexican vaqueros from California. They taught the Hawaiian people the ways of ranching and cattle management, who in turn elevated the lifestyle. The paniolo, or Hawaiian cowboy, was born. Waimea’s own Ikua Purdy took first prize in the World’s Steer Roping Championship in 1908 in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Purdy upstaged the mainland cowboys by roping, throwing, and tying the steer in 56 seconds—all on a borrowed horse. Purdy had worked at Parker Ranch, which was founded and to this day headquartered in Waimea Town. Parker Ranch began operations in 1847, an astonishing 30 years before many famous ranches in Texas. Today, a large bronze statue of Purdy roping a steer prominently displayed in town pays tribute to the world-famous Hawaiian cowboy, who was inducted into the National Rodeo Cowboy Hall of Fame in 1999.

Meanwhile, in the forests that did remain on the slopes of Kohala above Waimea, a new threat emerged—globalism. Halfway across the largest ocean on the planet, the Chinese affinity for the fragrant hardwood of a native Hawaiian tree, the ‘iliahi (sandalwood), kickstarted Hawai‘i’s very first export—sandalwood. Men lined up by the thousands carrying as much of the native ‘iliahi as they could down the slopes of Kohala to the ships docked below. This lucrative sandalwood bubble eventually burst in the early 1840s, leaving a decimated forest in its place.

In 1899, Walter Maxwell, the Chief Chemist of the Hawai‘i Sugar Planters Association observed, “…vast breadths of superb forests have dried up, and are now dead and bare.”

The Hawaiians have a saying: Hahai nō ka ua i ka ululā‘au. Rain always follows the forest. Fewer forests means less rain. No rain, no watersheds. No watersheds, no water. No water, no life.

Getting angry at our ancestors for their decisions is fruitless. What we can do is learn from their mistakes and move forward. A few collectives in Waimea have joined forces to show just how we can move forward into the future, by looking toward the environmental example of our Hawaiian past, while simultaneously applying a modern knowledge. These groups are The Waimea Outdoor Circle, Waimea Trails and Greenways Committee, and Nāhelehele.

The self-described mission of Waimea Outdoor Circle is to “keep Waimea clean, green, and beautiful.” One of the ways they are doing this is through the Ulu La‘au nature park. Ulu La‘au is a 10-acre parcel of state land in the heart of Waimea. The Outdoor Circle leases this land for “environmental research, education and restoration.” Their team and volunteers are methodically removing invasives plants and replacing them with native ones, especially plants that are endangered or threatened. The park is open to the public and is a wonderful place to enjoy a picnic under the shelter of native trees, or listen to the rushing water of the Waikoloa Stream that winds through the park.

Alongside the Waikoloa Stream is a trail called, Ke Ala Kahawai o Waimea. The Waimea Trails and Greenways committee is an ad hoc advocacy group for the trail. Clemson Lam has been the chairman of this committee since 1994. Lam believes “the trail could be the single most important physical project to enhance community ties to the natural landscape of Waimea.” Lam sees this natural path—away from man-made infrastructure —as a safe way for children to get to school, and for community members to exercise or socialize. Studies show that neighborhoods with more shared community space, or social infrastructure as it is sometimes called, prove to be safer communities overall.

Roughly three miles downstream of Ulu Laÿau is a new park called ‘Ōuli Park. The park itself is not quite dialed in yet. The non-profit Nāhelehele recently broke ground on the park. It is just one of their many habitat restoration projects. The vision for ‘Ōuli Park is to be “…a demonstration area, showcasing various innovative techniques for watershed best management practices and…to increase awareness of native ecosystems.” ‘Ōuli Park and Ulu La‘au will eventually be connected by Ke Ala Kahawai o Waimea.

Groups like The Waimea Outdoor Circle, The Waimea Trails and Greenways, and Nāhelehele show us that we can still look back at the past while moving forward. Mistakes are nothing but lessons. The future is nature. The best way to experience this vision is to stroll the trail and parks yourself. Or better yet, volunteer.

If the original settlers were to return to Waimea today, they may not recognize it. But little pearls of restoration are springing up, ensuring that future generations will understand her full natural glory.

To learn more or to volunteer, visit Waimea Outdoor Circle at www.waimeaoutdoorcircle.org/waimea-naturepark/ and Nāhelehele at drylandforest.org/dry-forestcorridors/ouli-park.

WORDS PETER THOENE

IMAGE ERIC FRANKE