The day began with a sense of urgency as the Kona Wind approached. For those unfamiliar, the Kona Wind is a weather pattern that brings strong, humid winds from the south or southwest—opposite of the usual trade winds that blow from the northeast. These winds often carry heavy rain, thunderstorms, and sometimes cause significant damage due to their unpredictable gusts. Unlike the cooling trade winds, Kona Winds can feel warm and sticky, and when they arrive, they often linger for days, testing both patience and preparation.
Preparation was key, and every task carried weight knowing what was coming. The first step was to lay all the solar panels flat on the roof to prevent them from being lifted by the strong gusts. Extra screws were driven into the roofing, especially along the edges of the house where the wind pressure would be strongest. Ropes were used to tie down the front of the house, which faced the South-Southwest—the direction the wind was expected to hit hardest. Another rope secured the section of the living room roof that extended more than a foot beyond the edge, a vulnerable spot that could easily catch the wind.
As night fell, the Kona Wind arrived with full force. The sound of the wind howling through the trees and the pounding rain against the roof created an uneasy rhythm that made sleep nearly impossible. Each gust seemed stronger than the last, rattling the windows and shaking the walls. The house creaked under the pressure, and every noise sparked worry—worry for the roof, for the ropes holding everything down, and for the pigs outside in their pen. Their shelter was flimsy compared to the house, and it was hard not to imagine the roof being torn away.
Throughout the night and day, there were constant check-ins with Ohanas living on the islands, especially those on Oahu and Maui, as they were hit the hardest this time. Everyone was doing fine so far, which was a great relief and welcome news amid the storm’s chaos.
Sleep came in short bursts, interrupted by the roar of the wind and the pounding rain. The night felt endless. I think I drank more coffee than I usually do—maybe to calm my worrying self, or maybe I was just that thirsty for coffee and hot cocoa. The warmth of each cup offered a small comfort against the cold, restless night.
When morning finally came, the storm had not completely passed, but there was a brief calm that allowed for inspection. To my relief, the house held up well. The ropes had done their job, and the roof remained intact. The pigpen, however, had taken a beating. Some parts of the roof were gone, and the pigs were soaked, but they were safe.
Throughout the day, the sun tried to come out a couple of times, providing a short burst of energy to the solar batteries—charging up to 2650 watts—only to disappear back into the clouds, dropping the charge back down to zero. Each glimpse of sunlight brought a moment of hope, quickly replaced by the reality of the storm’s persistence.
With the wind still blowing and rain continuing to fall, attention turned to conserving power. Everything nonessential was shut off to ensure enough battery charge for the night ahead. The uncertainty of what was still to come hung in the air, carried by the continuing gusts and sheets of rain.
This first experience with the Kona Wind was both humbling and educational. It revealed the strength of nature and the importance of preparation. There are structural improvements to make—stronger roofing, better tie-down points, and a sturdier pigpen—but the lessons learned will guide those changes. As the wind continues to blow and the rain keeps falling, there’s a deeper respect for the forces that shape island life and a renewed determination to be ready for the next one.
