Hawai’i calls The Banana Splits back, if but out of sentiment (part III)
(With apologies to Webley “Webb” Edwards [1902-1977] and his legendary radio programme Hawai’i Calls [1935-1975], long the gold standard for Hawai’ian music, as much as Hanna-Barbera)
In a modest cafe at Kahalu’u the morning after such a hula hut experience, you can just imagine Bingo, Drooper, Fleegle and Snorky (as well as their host this go-round, Peter Potamus) having such an appetite for the breakfast offered: Egg, bacon, sausage, SPAM, hashbrowns, toast and Kona-blend coffee. And considering that sunrise swim with the gals of the hula hut releasing so much pent-up energies, they certainly could have used such a hearty breakfast (especially the SPAM, considering where Hawai’i consumes more thereof than anywhere in the United States--as well as being creative about SPAM).
“So, boys,” Peter Potamus asked as the morning’s sun became all the more blatant over the waters of Kane’ohe Bay, “how did that hula hut experience go?”
The reaction of sheer speechlessness spoke volumes as their facial expressions of sheer ecstasy over the experience probably made up for it. You could just tell how the four enjoyed the evening with native Polynesian stock keeping alive (even if in camera for the most part) an “old school” sort of Polynesian hospitality excusing the sensualised (and yet Bingo could still swear he was still smelling the pikake perfume of his companion the night previous as they made the segue from State Hwy, 72 to the H1 freeway towards the Shops at Aloha Tower, in the old port area ... and after a few courtesies to Peter and Mildew, the four could be seen walking around, and even taking in the view from the Aloha Tower proper towards Diamond Head and Waikiki--not to mention the inevitable selfie requests from as much locals as tourists--when, virtually out of the blue surf, you might say--
You could guess where all four were utterly stunned at the presence most unlikely of--she who was previously Twinkles Sunshine, cheesy child film star who was, to use the expression, “saved by surfing.”
“The name, boys,” she explained, “is Sylvia Barbanna.”
“Wasn’t you the one as taught the Hair Bears to surf?” Fleegle asked.
“Affirmative.” As if her surfah-grrrl looks and charm, reinforced by tank tops and cutoff jean bottoms, weren’t attraction enough--
“So what are you Banana Splits doing in paradise?”
“Just relaxing and trying to be ourselves,” was how Drooper explained it. “Yourself--?”
“Perhaps spending some time on perhaps the most famous stretch of surf in the world--and it’s not Waikiki, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I assume you mean the legendary North Shore,” Bingo exclaimed.
Which, at any rate, was the cue to head on out to perhaps big-wave surfing’s most storied Mecca, that stretch of O’ahu between roughly Waialua/Hale’iwa and Hau’ula, as included the likes of Kawailoa Beach, Waimea Bay (gateway to the Pipeline, dream of every big-wave rider), Sunset Beach, Kawela, Kuhuku, Makahoa Point, La’ie (home to the Polynesian Cultural Centre) and Hau’ula Point ... but what made things interesting here was that Sylvia Barbanna hired herself a Jeep to discover, perhaps, that certain “off-the-beaten-track” break on the North Shore as is accessible only in a Jeep, the kind old North Shore pros are hesitant to share unless they’re willing to keep the proverbial secret.
“I have to explain here, boys,” Sylvia was quick to explain in the traffic on Hwy. 99 dominated by the surfing confraternity, “that maybe it was time to discover something different among surf spots on the North Shore. After all, Waimea Bay and Sunset Beach seem overdone, and I learned the other day from a fellow surfer at a surfer’s bar in Kawela about a rather unlikely break near Kuhuku Point as could best be considered a ‘hidden gem’ worth surfing.”
“So what’s stopping us?” remarked Bingo as Sylvia turned the Jeep onto a rather narrow dirt track off the main highway towards Kuhuku Point ... and, after a few minutes’ bumpy ride (”such to be expected going off road,” Sylvia noted), there lay the break of Kuhuku Point, a rather basic stretch of beach seeing a modest little break in the 4-5 foot range and not much else, providing backdrop for what could turn out being an exceptionally memorable surf experience.
Which, considering the isolation and want of serious facilities, came to be enjoyed in the “old school” Polynesian style of sheer, unashamed nakedness which turned out being rather wonderful all around, particularly as Sylvia found opportunity galore to use the beach for some refresher surfing lessons as were followed by an honest-to-the-surf-gods session which began with a classic (as in naked) “duck dive” to enter the wave from beneath ... and sensing what amounted to sheerest ecstasy and delight passing through that green room which any and every surfer seeks to crave.
All in all, how did things turn out?
Let’s just say that, as the Splits’ flight back from Honolulu touched down at Long Beach Airport in the early morning hours a couple days later, at least they felt satisfied with having found some quality time in the experience. And as for any highlights ... all will be quick to admit that such would be a tossup between diving with Peter Potamus and Mildew Wolf in Waimānalo Bay, folowed by a wild night at a hula hut, and their surfing with Sylvia Barbanna “naked and unafraid” at Kuhuku Point.
(And did I mention all the souvenirs they picked up, almost innumerable to mention?)
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