Looking for Lindbergh's Grave, and Violations of Aloha

The gravesite of Charles Lindbergh on the south coast of Maui. This is not our picture but one from the Internet, as we drove past it accidentally, and contrary to expectations, were not forced to turn back because of any road blockage.

Going west from Lindbergh's grave, one enters thickening forests where the trees provide a forest cave in which the road runs. The cover just to the east of Alelele Bridge is where one finds the steepest cliff, and where the road was recently repairs, allowing passage along the south coast. One then passes through a stretch of one-lane gravel road up and down and sideways in the small gulches that reach down the forested slopes to the water.

From the Kipahulu visitor's center of the park, we continued south along coast of Maui on State Route 360, looking for Charles Lindbergh's grave, which was marked on the map as being at a church in a small town. No such town appeared--perhaps the town was the thickening of houses along the road at one point, but no signs appeared regarding a church of the great aviator, who lived out his final days after moving here, having visited a friend and fallen in love with this coast, which in our current era still feels remote.

At every turn in the forest we expected to see a barricade indicating we had reached the end of public access, but many miles went by and soon we realized we had gone further than the original signs had indicated one would be able to go. All bets were off, so we just kept going.

Within ten minutes we found ourselves on a rough gravel stretch that passed almost along the edge of the land itself, in a cove where steep rock cliffs went upwards to our right, and the surf. pounded the rocks just our left. We proceeded slowly, not only from the narrowness and roughness of the road, but from the anticipation that any moment we would come upon a concrete barrier. We saw such barriers, but they had been pushed aside to the side of the road, allowing passage. Sporadically workmen in hardhats were busy tidying up. We expected one might hail us down, to tell us we had gone to far, and turn around. But this did not happen either.

Instead we crept along the rough seaside road, past spots where it appeared the road had been recently repaired from a state of impassibility. Slowly the road began to climb away from the water, still flanked by steep forested hills on the right side, but no longer sheer rock cliffs. Here one did not any houses, or properties of any kind, only openings in the roadside fence that provided crude access to whatever lay in the woods beyond. It was a place of privacy and seclusion.

As we drove through this area, we encountered light traffic coming in the oncoming direction, wondering if they had come all the way around the island, as we were seeking to do, or if they had hit the end of the road and had turned around.  Or perhaps they are locals, driving into Hana town. In many cases we had to negotiate passage on the narrow road with the oncoming car. 

At this point, the idea of turning around and passing back through the rough repaired section seemed very unappealing (and then driving all the way back along the north coast from Hana) seemed unappealing, even as it would have afforded us a second chance to find Lindbergh's grave. I began to root strongly that we would be able to make it make along the south coast without retracing our steps.

At last, within a mile or so, the trees began to grow shorter as we abruptly entered the dry side on the leeward side of Haleakala, blocked from the Trade Winds. The forest grew thin and scrub-like and finally the mountainside was not forest at all, but a dry yellow prairie reaching up the mountain. Cattle guards served as indications of the purpose of the ranches here. Neither of us got any cell phone reception at all, although the satellite GPS of the Jeep continued to work, allowing up to see where we were on the paper map I had.

During this time we discussed an incident from the news that Jessica had read about.. It had taken place exactly along this very stretch of remote road on the south coast during the previous spring. A young white couple had rented a vehicle much like the one we were driving, and were following this same road in the same direction. They encountered a truck coming in the other direction which had forced them to stop, and several men with guns got out and proceeded to demand that they evacuate their car and turn it over to them. 

It was 7 pm---the dark was enveloping island. They felt endanger for their lives and sought to escape, but which direction. Of all possibilities---along the road, down to the water, or uphill, they chose the last option. So they fled up the mountainside, without water or supplies of any kind, pursued on foot in the dark by the carjackers but also by drones. Finally they made contact with locals who rescued them. The rental car was later found and several men arrested. It made for a terrifying story. We ourselves never felt in such danger, in part because they idea of driving such a remote place in the dark would have been preposterous to us. I drove around the entire entire states, staying in campgrounds and motels, and almost never drove past sundown. 

We found the story interesting to think about. What would one do in such a case, to save one's life? The next morning, however, I found a different slant on it, when discussing our adventure with our BnB proprietor as he served us breakfast on the balcony overlooking the ocean.

We told them what we done, and after that I mentioned the story of the young couple. I wondered what locals thought of it At that moment I sensed that his mood cooled and he mumbled some things that made me intuit that he did not care to elaborate about it. He even said something that implied that not everyone believed the story of the young couple being carjacked. It felt slightly awkward

Later I realized that perhaps I broken the spirit of Aloha. It was what our proprietor in Lahaina  had told us, regarding the reluctance of locals to discuss the fire with strangers. They are there to provide Aloha to visitors. Whatever happened to young couple was not something they wished to discuss in detail, perhaps out of embarrassment and shame if nothing else. I resolved not to bring up the subject again, and to henceforth probe into a negative matters with the kind of care to preserve Aloha, unless it were truly necessary.

For true crime fans, here a local news article about the incident.