April Peletta | Associate Editor

Smoke plumes billowing in the dawn sky as we watch lava seep in to the Pacific Ocean from the Kilauea Volcano. || Photos by April Peletta

Diving under Hawaiian wave breaks as the sun sets at Hapuna Beach, I watch the water change from translucent teal into cresting orange and pink pools divided by slivers of violet. I slide onto my back letting the warm waves curl under me. Soft brush strokes press into my spine as I float in this salty nectar of the gods and contemplate the miracle of  being in paradise in the middle of winter.

As a poor, lowly college student, it seems impossible that I’ve made it here, and yet my skin is plumped tender, near overripe from lounging under the sun, attesting that this is real. Listening to the waves fold into the finely ground sand on the shore—which at this hour is nearly naked of tourists—I remember how hard I worked to afford this moment, that when all is said and done, is not costing me that much. I won’t pretend that it was easy. It took months of planning—long distance phone calls, e-mails, Web surfing, and letter writing—coupled with nail-biting glances at my very modest checking account.

The basin of Pe’epe’e Falls in Hilo.

Irish luck and personality traits with roots as deep as a delta oak, such as tenacity and an innate stubbornness, served me well as I struggled to make it to the Big Island. Now, I’m glowing with success, my mind capturing these last tropical rays of sunlight and burning them into memory as dusk swallows day and the sun pours itself into the sea.

The fading colors of sky remind me of my first morning in Hilo, four days earlier and 67 or so miles from the white sands of Hapuna. After a lifetime of sleepless delays, between limbs stretched out on airport floors and balled up in airplane seats like wet laundry, our third and final flight descended toward the Hilo tarmac. Back home, friends were memorizing equations or typing term papers, but I had finished my finals early to save money on the flight. Despite the crummy airplane seat that wouldn’t go back and the boisterous lady next to me who punctuated her sentences with flying elbows, I was glad not to be headed into a classroom at City

Sacred statues face the bay at Pu’uhonua o Honaunau (Place of Refuge) on the Big Island.

College. From the window, black shores encased the eastern side of the island like a shadow. The sea pulsed as our plane pushed streams of air into crashing pewter swells that broke like mirrors along the jagged lava beaches. Sleep-deprived and spellbound, I watched the color-drenched landscape bloom minutes before dawn unfolded her wings and stretched across the sky.

When it was safe, I made my way—with schools of other weary travelers—up the crooked arm bridge to the wooden balcony of the exposed airport. Leaving the recycled air behind, wet

earthen scents flowed over me, a soft mist of plumeria and anthurium rising from the ground steeped in wild foliage. My muscles unknotted and my eyes adjusted to the sweeping pink blush of the rising sun. I was glad to be awake and thousands of miles from Sacramento in December.

After picking up the rental car, paying just under $250 for the week, my travel partner and I made our way to the downtown seafront, where we dumped our luggage in the charming Hilo Bay Hostel. Walking through the farmers market full of peddlers calling out “Aloha,” we loaded our bags with island fruit and musubi—a kind of Hawaiian fusion snack of thinly sliced fried spam, pressed between sushi rice and spices wrapped in nori for the trip to Pe’ePe’e Falls. We cricket-climbed and butt-slid our way down huge muddy cliffs to reach lava lagoons that led to the three-tiered cascade of water. Filthy and covered in sweat, we sank into inky wells and swam until winter and college were a distant memory.

Tired, we pulled ourselves onto the rocky shore, sliced mangos and let our faces fall into wet orange flesh, letting the cool juice pool in our humid mouths.

White sand and palms on the west side of the Big Island.

Like my floating body, my memory drifts to the previous morning when we drove down to Kailua-Kona, stopping at Denny’s to have breakfast and to use their free Wi-Fi. Sitting on the raised balcony patio, I clicked submit and paid my City College spring fees as I watched the fog clear over the buildings until I could see ocean in the distance. Then we made our way to a nearby shore and snorkeled until we were bobbing alongside sea turtles.

Now a wave curls over my face and my eyes soak in Hapuna Beach again. Starting my swim to shore, my mind is moving to the night ahead, to the $20 campsite, my rented A-frame cabin full of food and an airbed waiting to be blown up. My arms rebel against the curving motion of my strokes, as I feel the need to hold the moment a little longer.

Flipping over on to my back, limbs open like petals, I linger. Dusk is fading, the moon has slipped into the sky and the stars of the Milky Way wink down at me brighter than any light around.

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Cheap travel tips

It seems like an oxymoron these days when paying everyday bills is enough to break the bank. So here is my advice:

Stay in hostels. It’s only $25–$30 a night (even in Hawaii). Hostels like hotels have beds and towels, but rooms are usually shared like dorms. They have communal kitchens, sometimes free food and other savvy travelers to chat with as you cook. Most hostels have common areas to hang out in, coin washers and dryers to keep everyone in clean clothes, free lockers to keep valuables, and I have found that they’re frequently cleaner than budget hotels.

Talk to people; the best thing about hostels is inside information. On the Big Island, the owner put us in touch with Fisherman Melvin, who takes tourists and locals “in the know” out in his boat to watch lava twist down Kilauea Volcano and spill into the ocean. People pay $200 to go on a ship stuffed full of spectators, but we only paid $80 and there were four of us on the boat.

Save money by camping. Every day that I camped on the Big Island, I woke up with nothing but sand between me and the ocean. I was not roughing it. The campsite had showers, toilets that flushed, a shared kitchen and electricity. Making my own food saved me hundreds of dollars and places like Costco are great to grab a cheap bite to eat and fill up the gas tank without killing the budget. The key is research. Don’t slack off. My A-frame cabin cost $20; split with my friend that means I paid $10 a night to vacation in paradise.

For me traveling is about the experience, not what hotel I stay in. Every moment that I’m traveling, my senses are engaged and knowledge becomes deeper than ink in a textbook. I go out and meet people, stand where history was made and feed the local economy by shopping at framers markets and discount stores. Education is more than showing up on time to class and earning good grades, it’s about learning how to interact with people and the world we live in. When I come home my wallet is slightly lighter, but I’m richer than when I left.

All these tips work for more than just Hawaii. I’ve stayed in hostels throughout the U.S., and every year I camp along the coast. This kind of travel is not for everyone. It’s more bare bones than most travel guides, but it’s doable if you’re willing to cram an airbed in your suitcase.