We made it to camp just before dark and strung our hammocks up between two trees. Our gear is stored under a simple tarp for the inevitable rain to come and it's time to eat. Candy bars? Powdered potatoes? How about fresh pork stew from a wild sow. That sounds better.
The dogs made the journey into the valley and they had energy left to hunt wild pigs. 4 sows and 1 boar later we were fat and happy; dogs were too.
How do we cook pig in the valley you may ask? The same way Hawaiians did hundreds of years ago, an imu. An imu is the equivalent of a new England clam bake with a tropical twist. We gathered dry guava wood to start our fire and placed an array of porous volcanic rocks in the blaze. While our oven was heating up we set out for the rest of our materials. Banana leaves, ti leaves and taro leaves we're gathered and placed on top of a wire net (note: wire nets are not traditional Hawaiian materials). The sow meat and fat was prepared and salted before placing it on top of our leafy platter. The taro leaves we're used to make lau lau. Lau lau's literal translation is leaf leaf and it is an integral part of the imu. Sweet potatoes onions and pork were wrapped in the lau lau to make a sort of Hawaiian tamale. When the fire had been reduced to coals and the rocks were good and hot our imu was ready to simmer. Another layer of banana and ti leaves were laid on top of the raw meat and "tamales" and laid directly on top of the hot rocks. We covered the whole set up with a big plastic tarp (also not of traditional Hawaiian technique) and covered the edges with sand. What we created was a big steam oven, buried in the black sand. Our Kalua meat, as it is called, would not be ready for another 8 hours, aka breakfast.
We returned in the morning to unwrap our breakfast and plucked chunks of warm, shredded, organic pork out of the basket and into our mouths.
This is the part of Hawaii they don't advertise in travel guides.
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