old hawaii

There is another swinging bridge. It goes across the Waimea River and leads up into Makaweli Valley. That's pretty much the only way to get there, unless the river is low and you have a holoholo vehicle. I used to drive rental cars across on my way to see Pepito Makuaole, but the bottom has silted up and become soft these days, as have I.
   You're not really allowed to go there unless you know somebody. But fortunately I do. Pepito has died ( see what i wrote about him here), but Chief, one of his acolytes I went boar hunting with, is still living there. So I wandered over the swinging bridge and through the keep-out gates beside the Makaweli River and found myself among flooded taro fields in an older world.

The Makaweli River was rushing and muddy from rains in the mountains.

"No worries, I looking for Chief!" "You find him by the middle taro fiend, under the mango tree."

Taro fields are as green and lovely as rice fields.

And, yes, that structure is for real. No tourist eye has soiled it.