Our longest flight on the way home - Auckland to Honolulu - was no great ordeal, although getting onto the plane was. Air New Zealand is a stickler for rules, and our carry-ons felt the brunt of these. One overweight bag had to be booked through while the other needed just an item or two taken out to get it to the legal limit. This bag was weighed again at a post specifically set up for such. And of course, as we were traveling to the USA we were subjected to a second complete security check before entering the departure lounge.

Honolulu was more humid than usual, even though it was 11 pm when we arrived. This moisture laden air would play havoc later in our trip. To our hotel and an early start next morning, when we met Heather's mother, Vicki, and her would-be traveling companion, Margaret, in the lobby, both of them eager to get going.

Although very early, we were amazed at the line-up outside Aloha Airways. The line was not for ticketing but for - security. People were lined out of the building and way past the entrances to the airline. And this at 6:30 am.

Fortunately we were at the wrong counters and so we rushed off to the commuter terminal for Island Air. As our flight was ready to leave (when most of the passengers are aboard a flight is "ready to leave") we were called out of line and hurried off to security. No hurrying here. Each bag, carry-on or booked, is subjected to a chemical or bacterial test, our shoes were removed, orthotics explained, video cameras visually checked. (I spoke to a few natives of the islands subsequently and, confident they had a sympathetic ear, ridiculed the removal of shoes, believing that "someone" is simply trying to push passengers further and further. Could regular strip-searching of all passengers be far away?)

Off to Hilo on the Big Island where we picked up our car and headed to Ken's for breakfast. Ken's is a 24-hour pancake house and is very, very popular. So much so that neighbouring establishments charge $10 per car for people parking in their lots to eat at Kens'. We were lucky enough to find a free spot, ate, then headed off down-town to the Saturday morning market. It was then that the first of several &*^&*^*& struck.

Near the market a woman was waiting to cross the street at a pedestrian crossing. I stopped to allow her the right of way. Behind me a motorcyclist was breezing along on his Harley, looking at everything except the road ahead. Too late he realized I had stopped, and tried to avoid hitting me by going - not to the left where there was an empty lane - but to the right! His boot clipped the back of the car as he careened by and collided with the woman who was in the process of waving a thank-you to me before she stepped off the sidewalk. She was sent flying and the motorcyclist lost control of his bike and he went rolling down the street under his own momentum. I am sure that his size - and it was considerable - allowed him to roll and not slide. He was not wearing a helmet: they're not mandatory and not used. The woman had considerable abrasions but there was no panic amongst her friends and onlookers (two of them were doctors) about her condition. The biker was eventually able to walk while others moved his bike which had more than a few scrapes. I stayed and gave a statement to police before we were told we were free to go. I was more scared of the biker - he was wearing colours - and the chance that any of his buddies might happen along. We did not stick around for the market!

I was distressed that my random act of kindness to the pedestrian should turn into a nightmare for her. I watched the papers for the next two days: there was no mention of the incident.

We headed instead to Volcano National Park for a drive around the volcanic activity: everything from steaming vents; Thurston Lava Tube; the vast caldera to the road blocked by recent lava flows. For Heather and me this was somewhat anticlimactic after New Zealand, but the two ladies found the whole thing fascinating. They were more intrigued and curious than many of the other visitors who seemed to have a "seen it" check list. Place a tick and race off to the next challenge!

Our lunch experience was typical of several of the experiences we had with people in the hospitality sector. We were told to make up our minds and order as "I have to count the till." Bolts of exasperation exploded every time we asked about a menu item - one thought that we we not the reason for the business; the customer had to fit into the owner's schedule.

The Bougainvillea Bed and Breakfast had been booked several months ago and our rooms were waiting for us, even though the owners were not - they had left for the afternoon for a concert in Kona. Our evening meal at the nearby Desert Rose was a joy (at least we had a waitress who could take and give a lot of kidding). Too cloudy to sit in the hot tub and watch the night sky, we lingered longer at the Rose and assisted in the removal of several dessert servings.

Vicky and Margaret were very intrigued with the owner of the B&B: she teaches yoga and is a believer in the works of Olin. The discussion therefore went far into our traveling time and the paying of our bill seemed incidental.

We stopped off to walk through the Painted Church, again as beautiful as I had remembered from my trip in 1998. Looking out from the altar, across the flowers and the graveyard to the ocean is breath-taking. Our next stop was one I had looked forward to: the place of sanctuary - a spot where Hawaiians, having committed an offense against their tribe, could seek to reach, probably while being pursued by tribesmen with death on their minds. Once the offended reached this out-of-the-way place he was granted both sanctuary and forgiveness, allowing him safe return to his tribe. When I had last visited, it was quiet and the leap back in time was easy. Today it was crowded with week-enders and the mood would have been lost. We drove on.

Along the slopes of the volcanic mountain to Waema for our second lunch from hell. Granted, she did not chew the typical gum, but we were subjected to a young waitress who did not like people. "Decaf? Well . . .yes, but it would mean I'd have to make it!" When asked for the specials, she parroted them while walking away, so we heard nothing. This time we called her back and asked her to face us while she repeated - perhaps a little more slowly? - the menu. I believe she then refused our table because we soon had a more mature and friendly server who could not do enough for us. As we left I called this server aside and told her of the attitude of the original. Who knows, perhaps she didn't know any better, but the older woman would ensure that she learned - fast.

Along the wet side of the island we stopped at a couple of gulches and waterfalls. These provided us with our daily hike. Along the way we heard several beautiful song birds, but could not see them. Later we learned that this melodious song came from a frog - an introduced species that had become a menace. (We also saw several mongoose, another "miracle cure" introduced species that both failed to eradicate the rats (rats being nocturnal - you can guess the rest) and had become an even greater menace.)

Hilo is not a large town. And the restaurants in this town close early. After a lot of walking we found a wonderful Chinese place that provided good food, a lovely atmosphere and gracious service.

Our last day was spent at an orchid nursery (where the shapes and colours were beyond description), and then along the coast to watch boarders ride waves. Late in the afternoon it was time to remove our shoes for security and fly to Maui.

Driving on a pitch-black night on a strange island on the slopes of a volcano is not my idea of relaxation, but we did find our abode, "Peace of Maui" where we were greeted by a note in magic marker. Doesn't anyone stay to greet their guests? When we eventually found a live body we understood why they were avoiding us: the reservation we had made on December 2 had been cancelled, as they had the opportunity to house a larger party. We hit the bloody roof, but they were unmoved, the smell of greater revenue backing their resolve. Graciously they allowed us to stay that one night while they found something else for us. Somewhat more calmer we retired, hoping that the two hornets we killed in our room did not have friends to take revenge during the night.

We found our way next morning to our new abode in a home nearer and in view of the ocean. We later found that, like may others in the business of accommodation in Hawaii, the owner does not advertise, does not accept credit cards - cash only. Relying on trade from "overflow" and word-of-mouth, his four rooms are possibly not reported as taxable income. The rooms we had were spacious, well equipped and, most importantly, clean and hornet-free!

By 10 am we were on our way along the coast road to Hana. The road is legendary, there being 52 one-lane bridges along the route, along with many one-lane sections of the road. The road is quite narrow and not always sporting a centre line, that marking so commonly ignored by locals in a hurry. Driving was therefore a challenge but we took our time so that we all could enjoy the drive. We stopped at several look-outs and at a couple of roadside stalls - one employing a young woman from Melbourne with whom I could exchange several barbs about our states of origin.

Hana is not so much a destination, but more the end of the road (not even that, if one wishes to ignore the rental car agreement and continue to circumnavigate the volcano). Being isolated, the prices were quite high, so we started back, remembering a spot from earlier. We soon found it: a barbecue set up beside the road, offering chicken and steak, along with rice (and the apparent Hawaiian national dish, macaroni salad!) Seated at a picnic table on a car seat and old chairs we enjoyed this far more than a rushed meal at a restaurant. The cook was from Tuvalu, a small Pacific group of islands formerly known as Ellice Islands. He told us, as he sat with us while we ate, that somewhere in the world there are URLs that use .tv as their address. A lawyer spotted this, took whoever to court on behalf of the island, won, extracted his major share and still left the 11,000 residents with a windfall. This man took his money, moved to the US, became an engineer with United Airlines and spends his four days off flying to Maui, driving to his brother's home near Hana, and setting up a BBQ. He may enjoy his job in LA, but his heart is an island heart, so it is in Hana that he gets his peace.

Pa'ia, near our accommodation, was once a hippie town, and for some "once" does not have a meaning. there were several free spirits roaming the street of this small place while we shopped for groceries (the only store being organic - no supermarket, big box or even MacDonald's). Fresh fish in hand we headed home to pan fry the Ono and create a salad of island veggies.

We (Heather and I) had romanced the idea of riding bicycles down the 10,000+ ft, 38-mile road from the top of Haleakala Crater after watching the sunrise. Apprehensive, we took a day-time drive to the top to check out the possibility. No bloody way! The road was quite steep (all cars were advised to use their lowest gear to descend) and the turns quite sharp, Seeing those cyclists participating at the time with their mandatory armour and huge helmets, we decided this was not for us old farts and continued on to enjoy the view.

And the view was incredible. From on top of the crater - so large that Manhattan could be dropped in and it would scarcely be noticed - we could see the snow clad peaks of the big island's volcanoes. The air was thin, but pure and fresh. Though crowded, there was a sense of isolation up hear, separated from the rest of the island by a layer of cloud. Margaret felt that she could step out onto those clouds, with or without the cream cheese.

Here too was the silver-sword plant, found nowhere else in the world. The plant can grow for up to 20-30 years until unknown factors cause it to bloom, covering itself with dozens of sunflower-like flowers, after which it dies. Despite warnings and pleas to not step close to these plants (for fear of damaging the root systems and destroying any slowly germinating plants) there were still those who found it necessary to pose beside them, pretend to pick on up, etc.

Our descent was slow, wanting to still have brakes at the bottom, so we allowed most other cars to overtake us when it was safe and convenient to do so. Our only stop was to photograph some horses and collect a handful of gum leaves.

On then for a lunch in a local bakery and then to the Iao Needle and the park in the canyon where it is found. This environment was truly the Hawaii one would expect: lush greenery, impossibly steep mountains and volcanic cores piercing the sky. Magic!

Next day, our last on Maui, was to be spent at the Maui Aquarium (a beautiful experience) and then traveling along the more touristy coast - past Lahaina and Kahana. However we did not anticipate the change in environment from one side of the island to the other. On the Hana coast the people were polite and friendly, here on the tourist side they were anything but. Perhaps blase to strangers, they offered no assistance to our inquiries about the location of wharves and car return depots. Most of our time was spent on narrow streets, dealing with unaccommodating drivers, until we found the locations by chance. By then there was only time for a quick sandwich before ridding ourselves of the car and being driven (this time by a very friendly person) to the wharf.

I took the opportunity to chat with the woman driver about the separation question. Many Hawaiians are not happy being part of the USA and want out. This woman was not one of those. She felt that having her family serve in Iraq was a responsibility - "'twas better to fight them there than fight them here." (on Maui????) Even amongst those who want to separate there is the admission that it will be tough, given the amount of American capital invested here. I immediately wondered if there will soon be an "incident" in the state, causing the US forces to intervene and thus save the day while demonstrating the need of the mighty force to protect them.

Our ferry ride to Molokai was a joy. It was simply a 90-minute inter-island commuter service, but we were treated to several sightings of whales (one very close by) and dolphins. Add to that the sunset and the moonrise and had instead a sunset cruise, even though the condition of the boat would suggest otherwise.

Met at the wharf by our host we were escorted first to an aborted attempt to eat out (they kept running out of food and with only 7,500 people on the entire island, there was no stockpile - just a wait for tomorrow's flight) we settled into our guest house and ate several papayas from the owner's trees. ("I shall be throwing them out if you don't eat them")

Next morning, after a night of near and far rooster crowing - some of them are wild others being bred for cock-fighting - was time for a much anticipated adventure. Heather and I were deposited at the Molokai Mule Ranch where we mounted our steeds and set off down the 1650 ft cliff on a path 3 1/8 miles long, with 26 switchbacks and over 1300 steps. Bear in mind that neither of us had been on a horse, pony, mule or ass for many years (with the exception of Heather's mule ride in Santorini). Almost immediately we were on the steep path and being jolted as the beasts found their way down the steps and at times jumping to the next level. I had visions of the condition of my back when we got to the bottom. Remembering what the owner said, "If they get too close to the rock wall, give a little push. If they get too close to the cliff face, hell, sit back and enjoy the view" (and they did both the former and the latter!) we had a hard time trying to look casual, although only one of the other seven on the trip seemed at ease.

Shaken and with wobbly boots, we made it to the bottom and to Kalaupapa, where Father Damien worked amongst the lepers over one hundred years ago (I recommend that you see the movie, "Molokai", which was shot there and follows the life of Damien in the settlement. It was easy top see why this spot was chosen. In front of us was an angry sea and behind us a huge cliff face. There was not way for these patients, having been thrown overboard some 300 yards offshore and obliged to swim to safety, could have escaped. Today there are only 35 patients, aged from 65 to the 90's. Our guide on a broken down school bus was Richard Marks, the sheriff, mayor and a patient in the centre. He spoke of the hardships suffered in years gone by, and even today, as he was separated from his wife and family (they can visit him for up to 5 days).

I took an opportunity during a break to ask him about the political correctness of using Hansen's Disease instead of leprosy. He replied that the patients are quite comfortable with leprosy - it is only those on the outside that do not like the stigma of the word - and the collective term lepers. However, one single person is known as a patient, not a leper.

Once though to be contagious and transmitted by touch, fears of the disease have diminished. No one dies of leprosy, they die of influenza, pneumonia and such, their bodies weakened by the leprosy.

We ate lunch with Vickie and Margaret who had flown down in a light aircraft and had joined a group of Elder Hostel tourists. After they left we took in the view, familiar from the film, of the islands and of the nearby sea cliffs - highest in the world, and the backdrop for the movies Jurassic Park 2 and 3.

By now it was time to remount the mules and head back up - a ride that was far easier and faster than the descent. During the climb we encountered rain and noted how the fog was closing in. How true that was!

Back on top we were told that flights from Kalaupapa had been suspended until 4 pm. Then as we waited for our flight back to Honolulu we learned that further flights were impossible - Vickie and Margaret would be spending the night in the colony at Kalaupapa.

There being nothing we could do after explaining the situation to Island Air, we took the 2:00 pm flight (it took off at 6:05 pm!!) flew into Honolulu, made a frantic dash to collect our larger suitcases from the hotel in Waikiki, and back to check in for the Air Canada flight to Vancouver.

The flight was uneventful, we were in Vancouver by 5:30 am, and on our way to Toronto by 8:30 am. At home we learned that Vickie and Margaret had made it back to Waikiki safe and sound.