I was watching the local Hawaiian news one night. Waiting for the weather forecast. I wanted to go to the beach and go snorkeling at Capt. Cook. The waves could be overwhelming if the wind was blowing or a storm was coming in. The local weather girl was starting her report. Waters were 78 degrees. Light wind with 1 to 3 foot waves. That’s good, I thought. The water will be calm near the shore and we will be able to see all the colorful fish in the coral, maybe even see some turtles. Great! Tomorrow is a snorkeling day. Then I heard it! What? Back up, replay. Did you hear that? I called out. We both heard it, just couldn’t believe our ears. The weather girl had just said that the forecast for Wipio Valley included Night Marchers.
Night Marchers. I had read about them from the books that I bought on Amazon. Chicken Skin stories from the Islands of Hawaii. Stories told by locals who had these strange occurrences happen to them or their families. Some of them were really spooky. Night Marchers are wandering spirits of the dead Hawaiians who have been killed in battle or died in an unnatural way. They are seen usually at night, but sometimes they have been seen in the day light. Many have felt their presence, locals and tourist alike.
Wipio Valley is a remote place on the Big Island. Most tourists only stop for a few minutes and take pictures from the top of the cliff. It is a sacred place to many where ancient Kings have been raised. Mostly farms and locals live there now. You can take a tour there if you want. It is a steep road even to walk. I tried it and I was out of breath. The road was a 25% grade. Try it, it is not a walk in the park. This is the place that had a frequent visitation of these night marchers.
I was sitting in my kayak, there at the city of refuge. It was a favorite place to snorkel and kayak. We were just kind of drifting and watching the waves. We had been out snorkeling and were relaxing and resting in the warm sun. A small fishing boat had come in from the ocean, he had caught some Ahi tuna and was waiting to use the small loading ramp. There were swimmers there and he was waiting for them to leave. He ask us about ourselves and where we lived. Nice man, younger than me. A local Hawaiian with rich brown skin and a handsome face. He offered to take me out fishing one day. He was real friendly and while he was waiting for the ramp to be free, he told us a story. Said he had come to the beach early that day. Before sunrise, to launch his boat. He was driving down the road when he saw him. It looked like a local who might be heading down to the beach to swim. Except for the ancient Hawaiian wrap. This young man was running down the road very fast. As my fisherman friend turned the corner in the road to enter the boat ramp the young man disappeared. He said that he was surprised that the young man couldn’t be seen. He should have been right there. There was no place where he could have gone. He told us that the skin on his arms began to tingle, chicken skin, the locals call it. He realized that the young man was a night marcher. A melding of two different times coming together long enough to see into another lifetime. The ancient Hawaiian young man was running for his life. The city of Refuge was a designated place of safety. Set up to help those who broke Kapu. The sentence for most law breakers was death. If a person could get here to the city of refuge before the warriors killed them, they would be safe. After weeks here in this sacred place, they would be cleansed and able to return to society.
We floated for a long time there on the warm waters near the city of Refuge. It was a peaceful place to us. Gentle lapping of the water against the kayak. My eyes closed and I drifted into a light sleep. It seemed that I could hear shouting somewhere in the distance, screams. Then it faded and I opened my eyes. It was beautiful. The clear blue waters were so warm and inviting. Thousands of colorful fish. The living coral. People playing in the water. Families sharing food. It was a good day to be alive.
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