Waking up blows. And no doubt, this is the last thing you want to do when you’re on holiday.

But, as we’ve talked about before – vacations are all about making us cool, yes? If you don’t come back with stories of drinking with the locals, boring tidbits on food preparation and a few sets of unfortunate coasters, then you haven’t really done your job, have you?

Oh yes – and pictures. In this day in age of social networking, if you’re not ‘tagging’ your own feet with the beach in the background, then your vacation credentials should be taken away all together.

Which brings me to my original point of waking up early…once.

For a sunrise, of course:

Now – a few things you need to do to prepare for said ‘rise’.

It’s cold. No matter where you are. See, the sun keeps things warm. So if it’s not visible, then you won’t be warm. So bring warm clothes. You roll your eyes and wonder if I’m just trying to meet word count (totally possible), but I’ve climbed* 2 volcanoes in the past year and have witnessed too many strangers cuddling (which, if you’re into, I can recommend a few bars in Berlin) out of poor preparation.

So bring a blanket or something.

And then charge the camera.

Get a coffee.

And have one day when you see both a rise and set.

‘Cause that’s the kind of thing friends back home love to hear about.

Enter Talking Heads lyrics here.

This is what I saw. Not as zoomed in as you see now, but you get what I’m saying.

See, there’s this inherent curiosity in guys that always gets the better of us. Which is why we refuse maps, challenge ‘the man’ and smell everything.

So when I saw a point, I told myself ‘I’d like to see that point’. And I did – but that’s not what this is about. To be honest, the point looked a lot like the rest of the island and I’m not sure exactly what I had hoped to find.

But, as the old adage goes, ‘the journey’ is the reward.

Wherever you go, rent a car. Or a scooter. Or a bike. Tuck an emergency quarter* into your sock for a phone call and head out.

It’s what I did.

I drove on roads like this:

I accidentally found churches like this:

I got lost. On the only road on the island.

Met a few locals.

Drank their coffee.

Picked up a hitchhiker.

Etc.

See, there’s something about the hotels in Hawaii that don’t want you to go anywhere. Which makes you wonder ‘why’?

Could be that they want your money.

Could be that they’re worried about your safety.

Or it could just be that they create this adult-Disneyland for you…

So they can have the good stuff all to themselves.

*This cost was entirely based on my years of 7-13 years of age. Prices may vary

Where the lava meets the water.

I’m sure there are people out there who hate camping…

But I don’t want to meet them.

We’re American. We camp. That and make everything 33% more!/faster!/stronger!.

What you’re looking at wasn’t there 100 years ago. And in another 100, this picture won’t be possible. Reason is that it’s growing. It’s lava. Lava that comes down from the active volcano on The Big Island in Hawaii and meets the ocean.

It’s cool, trust me. An apocalyptic cool, if you will. Think Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’ meets a Jack Johnson video. Sort of.

Even cooler? Our heavily-tattooed guide Warren informed me that you can camp in this area, as long as you’re a mile away from the road. It’s in a national park, see, which means you have to pay $10 a car and that’s it. Bring a tent for 2 of you, some wine, food (if you must) and spend a few days exploring the lava tubes and forests, peer into the moon-like features of the craters (just not directly over it – can’t believe they have to tell you this) and wake up to some ridiculous sights.

I don’t want to give them away, as it should be for the person(s) who actually experience it – but to think that for in a place where expenses add up, you can spend a few days hiking the 330,000 acres and visit a beach like none other, well…let’s just say it beats what you just spent $50 on yesterday.

And you know what I’m talking about.

Grammy-nominated Makana plays...loudly. (Hint, hint)

Fact: Coming home from a vacation and talking about the local live music makes you cool. Seriously. And you can work it into more dinner-party conversations than you can that unbelievably boring wine tour you keep convincing yourself is interesting (wine-tours recaps are the slide-shows of the 21st century).

Anyway.

Music. Yes. Hawaiian music, to be precise. Award-winning, Grammy-nominated organic local music to be very, very precise. The famed ‘Makana‘ to be just amazingly anal about the details of this entire paragraph.

He’s good. Very good. People smarter than you and I who know music say so. Like, Esquire, for example, who called him the “greatest living player” of Hawaiian slack key guitar

Now, you can go about getting this one of two ways.

The first, being the obvious, make your way to the Sheraton Waikiki’s Rum Fire on Oahu anytime around 8pm, pay good money for beautiful drinks surrounded by sunburnt Brits with loud shirts. Wait, I take all that back. Said hotel threw us a great welcoming party and I’m going to try and score a few more free pints off of their publicist before this trip is over.

In fact, here’s part of his show he did when we were there, filmed by my friend Christine.

Let’s try that again:

Now, you can go about getting this one of two ways.

The first, being the obvious, treat yourself to one of the nicest hotels in Honolulu, grab an adult beverage and make your way to the table that sits not 4 feet in front of him on the deck.

Or…

You can slum it.

See, this hotel is so nice, it’s on the main strip that divides the stage from the crashing waves of the oceanfront Diamond Head Point.

Did I mention he plays loud? Famous people tend to do that.

You getting me here?

Fine, I’ll spell it out, but if this costs me my pints I’m sending you my PayPal info, okay?

Sit on the public lawn and listen. You don’t get to see him straight-on, but saving $50 on drinks might make that okay.

But buy a CD from the guy, he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Plus, let’s be honest – listening to a dreadlocked hippie from Michigan strum ‘Redemption Song’ on a cheap ukulele under a banyan tree isn’t exactly immersion…

And you’re better than that.