That's a tide you don't want to take yourself, so keep an eye on
the surf that begins to creep over the far edge. After a couple of
hours of solitude among the tide pools, you'll deem the Pacific
close enough and make your way back to the trail and higher ground.
From the top of the ridge, you can watch the ocean reclaim this bit
SOARING OVER KAENA POINT
A big man steps out of his flip-flop sandals and climbs into his
cramped cockpit. He's a glider pilot, known island-wide as "Tall
Don" Rohrbach. You're behind him, in the jump seat of a sleek,
orange aircraft. It's a Schwietzer 2-32 sailplane, needle-nosed,
low to the ground with a vast wingspan. Next to you, an engine
fires and a prop whirls to life; the tow plane is rolling out.
Rohrbach shouts back a few last instructions. "Don't pull that
handle unless you want to release the towline," he says. "And if
you're going to be sick, try to tell me ahead of time."
The 200-foot nylon line pulls taut and you lurch onto the runway.
The tow plane floats off the runway and you're right behind, yawing
gently from side to side until you reach cruising speed. The green
grounds of Dillingham Airfield fall away, and the startling blue
Pacific spreads beneath you. Your ride banks inland and you follow
in a steep, rounding climb. When you top 3,000 feet, Rohrbach pulls
up on his stick and you rise above the tow plane. With the slack
off the rope, Don yanks the release handle and the line pulls free.
The tow pilot, free of his load, waggles his wings and flies away.
You're on your own, alone with the wind.