I moved to Maui in the summer of 1969, solely for the purpose of surfing Honolua Bay.
Honolua, which was then ranked among the best waves in the world, is a winter break, however, and so I rode the smaller waves in and around Lahaina: The Harbor, Shark Pit, Olowalu and, on big south swells, Maalaea.
Due to those vivid color photos in Surfer Magazine, Maui had become the prime destination for surfers internationally. With the housing boom decades away, finding a place to stay was nearly impossible.
Attempting to conquer the housing shortage, I bought and moved into a 1962 Ford Falcon station wagon. It was roomy enough even when sharing sleeping space with all my worldly possessions: five T-shirts, an equal number of underwear, two pairs of surf trunks, one pair of flip-flops, one pair of tennis shoes, two pairs of socks, a box of paraffin wax and the 6’10” mini gun I built in my family’s garage.
I would have spent the entire winter in that rusty old car had it not lacked a rear window, something that turned my skin into a mosquito buffet.
In desperation, I moved to Animal Farm, a sprawling plantation house years past its glory, on the beach, facing the coral-rich wave called Shark Pit.
Ten bucks a week entitled a tenant to a moldy shower, a dilapidated kitchen and a piece of floor.
Breakfast at the Pioneer Inn just up the street was only for elites who could afford $2.50 for macadamia nut pancakes. We proletariat saved our pennies for a monthly treat at the Lahaina Bakery, where a hard-earned buck was traded for a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
If that was too expensive, saimin at Larry’s was 45 cents, and do-it yourself Top Ramen would set you back a shiny new dime. Fresh mangoes and guavas, which could be picked freely, grew everywhere.
Shark Pit was a good wave when it broke, which wasn’t often that year. We scored Maalaea and The Harbor a couple times, though, and when all those spots were flat, a trip across the island to Ho’okipa Park guaranteed fun wind swells.
Our biggest concern was the quality of the surf, everyone hyping the coming winter swells that were predicted (accurately as it turns out) to be huge.
Health problems consisted of coral cuts, which often led to staph, something that could cause extremities to swell like water balloons and leave you delirious. We treated the problem with aloe vera and golden seal.
Nobody I knew owned a TV or had a subscription to a newspaper, and so events like Woodstock and the moon landings were out of our orbit. We had nothing. We had everything. We lived in a run-down paradise where our monthly expenses were far less than a night’s stay at a beachfront hotel. We had no clue that something far worse was coming.
While the old plantation homes were demolished by developers decades ago, the Pioneer Inn, and other classic Lahaina landmarks, have been reduced to ash.
Tragically, more than 100 Maui residents lost their lives along with the loss of ancient wooden structures unique to Lahaina.
Still, nothing can remove my memories of Lahaina in 1969. Those remain, forever etched in my memory.
Anyone wishing to help the people of Maui are invited to contribute to the Go Fund Me page at: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-the-people-of-maui
