Divers and Protectors

G-9, Southwest Airlines to Hilo. One tall white bearded man approaches another, asks if he's a diver (fins stick out of his carry-on). One lived in Kona for two years, loves the diving there--there are tunnels through the reefs, and it's so intensely clear. He has a daughter in Kona. He likes to walk around at 2 a.m. and run into random people; Oahu's much better for that. The guy with fins asks if he's been to Kealakekua Bay (where dolphins swam in circles around our kayaks). "Is that where Captain Cook died?" The guy with fins says, "I'M Captain Cook.". Seriously, he pilots a boat and is name is Cook. "Are you related?" the second guy asks. "No, but I'm the only one now; looked through all the directories in Hawai`i and there is no other Captain Cook." One row of seats over, a man and a woman cover their faces with Ku Kia`i Mauna bandanas; he wears a protector shirt. Approaching Hilo, the young man next to the window, wearing a splintered paddle cap, volunteers to take a photograph for me. The Mauna sits snow-covered, wreathed in huge white clouds.