No one remembered the old man's real name, yet he acknowledged the multitude of names people had for him. Uncle, papa, pops, gramps were just a few of the names that caused him to smile and nod with a nonchalance that never seemed to change. Every morning he would make his way along the perpetually muddy path that snaked its way through the rain forest that everyone loved to explore, but never with the intimacy the old man seemed to evoke between nature and himself. His nearby presence always perplexed me ; I never knew exactly what to make of him. He looked to be as old as the giant trees he passed as he waded deeper and deeper into the sea of green tropical foliage that arose from beneath the valley's fertile depths. He always wore a red 'malo; a white g inger lei caressed his neck with its silky petal fingers and intoxicating fragrance when he entered the forest in the morning, but when he eventually emerged in the afternoon the lei mysteriously disappeared only to be replaced by another the next morning .

I lived next to the rain forest on a family kuleana that was over fifty years old and grew up preferring the cool mountain breezes and light misty rains over the pounding surf and sandy beach that the old man loved the most. People saw him living in a sma ll shack preferring to chase the darkness away with the light of a kukui nut candle he fashioned himself from the kukui tree behind his hale. Outside, the door was guarded by an ancient koa wood surfboard that looked twice his height and weighed as much a s he did.

Yet, when he paddled out to surf the waves that broke along the outside reef in front of his house, he and the beard merged Into one. The younger surfers would hear him chant some phrase in Hawaiian as he sliced through the wave's watery embrace like the pueo slices across the night sky speeding towards a goal only his eyes are privileged to see. Other surfers tried to imitate the old man's graceful and unique way of surfing, never matching the level of eloquence the old man had obtained. When he surfed h e became part of the wave rather than someone trying to ride its crest; at the same time his beard transformed into an ocean denizen exhibiting the same speed and powerful grace of the huge tiger sharks who often shared the ocean waves with the old man.

The old man became a living enigma to me, continuously fanning the flames of my curiosity as his mystical ways siphoned off any interest I had in anything or anyone else. I found myself following him from an ever narrowing distance as his mana acted like a magnet drawing me closer and closer to his presence. Every time I saw him I wo uld try to speak always unable to cross the bridge conversation spans between people. I made a promise to myself that one day I would cross over the abyss carved out by inner fears and talk to the old man face-to-face about the awe and admiration I began to feel towards him. There were so many questions I needed to ask him in order to place my mind at ease and I somehow knew the old man held the key to this mystery now surrounding my inner self.

I followed him along the beach for a couple of days with no success. I began to follow the old man during his morning sojourn up to the rain forest above my house, but I always seemed to lose track of him whenever we got close to the triple waterfall and its endless cascade down the two connecting, lush valley walls. I usually managed to follow him until we passed the second falls, then he would disappear from view leaving me alone with the sound of the rushing water made by the third and highest waterfal l. This happened for two weeks until finally, I embarked on a daring course of action that would resolve the mysteries created by the old man's peculiar habits. Instead of returning home after losing sight of the old man, I found a comfortable hiding plac e that provided an unobstucted view of the third waterfall; I was determined to spend the night waiting for dawn's morning light to announce the arrival of the old man.

During the night I didn't make a fire for myself for fear that the old man might know that I was somewhere near the falls. I fought against being lulled off to sleep by the endless chatter going on between the falling water and the shallow pond below it; unafraid, I looked above at the thousands of stars in the clear indigo night sky as they kept a soft vigil overhead, continuously gazing down on me as they blink their twinkling colorful eyes reassuring me that I have nothing to tear while they are on gua rd. Dawn's rays painted a brilliant red collage on the shifting background of the morning sky's heavenly canvass. I resolved the argument I had with my grumbling hungry stomach by eating from the bunch of apple bananas dangling temptingly a few feet behin d me. I hurriedly splashed my face' with ice cold mountain water, then quickly I took up my position above the fall's ledge.

Before long, I sighted the old man's silhouetted outline as he ventured along the main trail to the falls. It was no wonder why I never caught up to him the previous times I had followed him; he scaled the mountain in such a fluid manner that he became ch ameleon like, blending into the natural surroundings and becoming part of the mountainside. My mind flashed back to the last time I had seen him surf, it reminded me of the way that he also blended in with the ocean, slicing across the mountain trail like he sliced through the waves that propelled the ancient board beneath his feet. In a flash, he appeared directly below my hiding place, dressed in his red malo, while wearing a white ginger lei and a look of total devotion. Quickly he stepped behind the w aterfall quietly disappearing from sight. I realized I had discovered the old man's secret; summoning up all the courage I could find, I slowly made by way down and cautiously peaked behind the foamy, white, watery veil to see the entrance of a mountain c ave beckoning to me to enter.

Stepping slowly through the entrance I waited until my eyes became accustomed to the dark light now engulfing my body. Slowly, I became accustomed to the light; I started to see that I was in the main room of what looked like an ancient burial cave filled with relics that catapulted me back to a time when only Polynesians walked these islands we now call Hawai'i. The room resounded with the old man's unearthly voice chanting oli to gods and goddesses I thought were long dead with names I never knew existe d. I listened awe- struck as his voice stabbed my very soul, instilling reverence while causing a shiver to march up and down my spine. Transfixed, my mind refused to acknowledge my body's request to leave; instead nudging me closer to the natural altar t he old man prostrated himself before.

Upon the altar rested many carved stone and wooden figures along with feathered images with shell eyes that seemed to stare straight through me into my very soul. I noticed a calabash that looked to be older than the old man himself permeated with the fra grant perfume of the ginger lei that had recently surrounded the old man's neck. "Come closer, do not be afraid," whispered the old man in a soothing tone, "I will show you how you are an important part of all that you see around you." Mesmerized, I moved closer to the old man and the images on the altar. I felt an instant kinship with the old man; he was like the missing piece to the puzzle of my life that finally made my life a complete picture My mind and body began to relax and fill with a warmth and serenity I had never experienced; the cave seemed less foreboding, seeming to be more of a protector and a channel for the knowledge that would be passed on to me by the old man who became my mentor, guardian, and friend.

Day after day, I sat spellbound as the old man filled the cave with his stories of great warrior kings and legends of mighty gods and goddesses who once walked among the people who called these islands home. I learned how the demigod Maui pulled up these islands with his magic fishhook, how he captured the sun and forced it to slow down so his mother Hina could dry her kapa cloth, how he learned to fly in "moku-manu," a bird ship his grandfather fashioned from feathers and vines Maui had collected, and ho w he obtained fire for the Hawaiian people. He told of the "Marchers of the Night", wandering spirits of warriors and chiefs who walk the land waiting for some friendly aumakua to lead them to Kaena Point's leaping place of spirits. The more I learned the more knowledge I wanted; it was if some light inside me was tripped on and now I began to see the world around me with a clarity and oneness I never dreamed possible.

I lost all concept of time, I was gripped in a new awareness that transformed the world around me into part of my inner being. When I surfed beside the old man the wave became an extension of myself. I was able to glide effortlessly up and down its crest as easily as I climbed along the trails that lead to our secret cave. Together we walked from one end of the island to the other. Wherever we were the old man would mention the importance of that particular area. He told me how from ancient times to the r eign of King Kamehameha the ahupuaa of Waimea, Pupukea, Waiahole, and Hakipu'u once belonged to the kahuna. I learned of Kane-au-kai, the great shark of Waialua, and the areas where he would swim along the coast. We prayed among the ruins of many heiau th at still dot the island landscape: hiked through valleys and swam in pristine mountain pools that people do not know exist. The old man taught me how to fish, construct lo'i, farm the land, familiarized me with the many plants that could be used to ward o ff disease and cure other maladies of man; he molded me into someone who only needed to rely on nature's gifts to live a life of complete harmony. I memorized chants to guide my way through the ocean's vast watery domain. The sun became a friend who warme d me during the day, the moon became a fickle companion at night always showing me a different face, the rain renewed the life around me while cleansing my body with an angel like touch, and the wind became someone who whispered a soft hello or shouted a blustery warning.

Year after year I traveled along the side of the old man becoming more and more like him. One day he told me that our time together was coming to an end and there was one last thing he needed to show me to make his purpose complete. The old man swore me t o secrecy and made me promise to guard this last great refuge of the many great chiefs who once ruled Oahu. The place he showed me was called Pohukaina, the greatest burial cave on the island. The cave was enormous and ran beneath the Koolau mountain rang e. Pools of water, underground streams and creeks shared the darkness with canoes, feathered capes and helmets, spears over twenty feet long, shark toothed daggers, and countless baskets holding the bones and the mane they contained safe from the desecrat ion that follows modern discoveries. He told me that he was almost the last of a long line of guardians who protected this last source of our heritage. When I asked him who else would guard the spirits of our ancestors he looked at me and smiled.

The next morning when I arrived at the old man's beach house I found a basket waiting for me. The old man had once told me that when it was his time to become a spiritual part of all that we know he would leave a sign of some kind for me; then, I would kn ow it was my time to continue in his footsteps. He had said that he would still be there to watch over me either as mano the shark or pueo the owl. He had also told me, "One day you will meet someone, just as you and I once met and you will know like I di d that he or she will be the next guardian of the cave. Until that time arrives everything that was mine is now yours; do with it as you see fit. Remember all that I have revealed to you so it can be passed on to the next in line." I opened the basket and found a red malo and a ginger lei. I put them on and slowly started to walk towards the valley where I first had met the old man. As I walked I heard the young surfers call out, "Hey uncle! Hey cousin! What's up?" and I nodded nonchalantly like the old m an did to me along time ago.