I woke today to this mildly annoying sound, An odd hum or groan from somewhere in a nearby distance. My boyfriend casually mentioned it was the Tsunami warning siren while his head was still on the pillow. I flippantly said “ yah right” and headed into the bathroom, then I realized he was not kidding. The siren had gone off at somewhere near 6:30 am on our departing day of our Hawaiian vacation. We had arrived on Oahu from  the Big Island the weekend before where, we had rented a house sitting on the water in a location that had already been altered years ago from another tidal wave that hit that area of the coastline and moved a home off its foundation and politely set it down a few blocks away on another lot. The homeowner bought the lot and there the home sits today with nothing but a few bricks and mortar on the shoreline to mark its original spot.

  This morning the television broadcasted the events as they unfolded. An earthquake in Chile,  the night before had started this mornings all-island commotion. A knock at the door of our rented bungalow confirmed and informed us of the Tsunami situation in case for any reason we had not heard the siren going off.  

  I was trying to stay calm, breath deep and not panic, but all the while I wanted to beat my boyfriend who had known since the night before there was a possibility for a tsunami this morning. While I was sleeping he had heard the report over the television. I frantically set about packing, calling the airline and yelling at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I snarled. He rolled his eyes and asked me what the hell I thought I would do about it if I had known the night before.  Good point I thought , but if I did have to actually evacuate it would have been nice to have some sense of organization and not this “end of vacation cluster mayhem” that I saw before me there in the room, my souvenirs scattered everywhere and my under-roos hanging from the curtains.  It wasn’t long before I realized that my boyfriend secretly didn’t “want” to warn me the night before, knowing full well I would have insisted that we pack and get our fannies directly to the airport and be on the first flight to anywhere before dawn. He would miss this adventure if he had woke me up and told me what he knew. This made my ranting and packing all the more hysterical.

  “ Uncle Ed” stopped by on his Harley to see if we are heading for higher ground. He lives directly across the road from the famous Kailua beach park and he and “Aunt Nancy” spent the morning getting all the Harleys and valuables to his parents home a few miles up the slope.  It was only minutes before we were following him to his parents home.

  Gas stations were clogged and the grocery stores picked clean of food and necessities. Reports were coming that folks had plugged up the old Pali highway that curled up the mountain and back down again on the other side. Everyone trying to see the tsunami hit from a safe vantage point. The only highway open over the mountain was the H3 that serviced the marine base on the East side.  The Hilo airport was closed down - as was Maui's , but we hadn’t heard if the Honolulu airport had done the same  but all coastal and low-lying roads were closed to traffic. Evacuation of most of the Hawaiian island’s coastal towns had begun as early as 4am that very morning. Folks in Hilo had spent the morning hours packing up offices, businesses and their homes.

  Ed Senior and his wife Adeline had taken Edward junior in 1960 to the top of Laniki hill to watch the very tsunami that destroyed downtown Hilo as it wrapped its way around the islands. The waters receded, leaving fish on the sand floundering without water to swim, the tide churned and churned just along the break, then it came back in heaves. He told us this without any concern in the world for the issue at hand. “Uncle Ed” was fast asleep in the recliner while the television reported the minute by minute events while “Aunt Nancy” made sandwiches.

We watched the television as the web cams picked up the slightest change in the tide. The coral reefs not so visible before can now be seen and the ones you could easily see were now covered with the tide. Nothing more. The island was quietly waiting, but nothing came.

  The traffic out side started picking up, for the past two hours there had been nearly no sound, only the emergency or tsunami sirens were heard. We decided to bid a hasty farewell and drive like we were wanted and make a run for it to the other side of the mountain.

  We traveled up H3 and I snapped photo after photo of no one on the highway but us. In this island with over one million humans on it this was a rare and historic sight to behold. Climbing up the mountain toward the tunnels that bore their way to the other side the highway was lined with parked cars and folks with coolers out to witness the event below. Some had set up awnings and others just came with the essentials - toilet paper, beer and lau laus.  Further up Stewart pulled the car off to the side of the road and we got out and took photos off the highway behind us overlooking Kaneohe and the Marine Corp base. This could easily be something very few  people in this lifetime would ever see again. The H3 freeway void of traffic and there the two of us - being tourists and taking the pictures of it - being void of traffic.

  We made it to the other side of the tunnels in record breaking time. All the highways through the city were barren of vehicles as well. The overpasses were empty, the stadium flea market that usually held thousands of shoppers on a Saturday morning today was a empty lot. The rental car return was the fastest we had ever had and the shuttle bus to the airport was completely empty. All airport service vehicles were parked on the upper floors of the airport in a long row and the overseas passengers were outside awaiting news of their connecting flights. I took a few great shots of Stewart as we unloaded at the departing area. There was no one there but us. No buses, cars, trucks, taxis, limos, nothing. 

Click on images below to enlarge

View to Kaneohe Bay

Aloha Stadium Swapmeet

The note was sweet but we were at sea level.  Sea level People. Sea!