Horses aren’t the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Hawaii. Palm trees. Pineapple plantations. Luau. Hula, maybe.
But horses? No. And definitely not cowboys. But in Maui’s upcountry, far from the beach resorts and the gentle surf and the postcard-perfect waterfalls, there I was, confronted with a funny question.
“Dad, which horse goes down the zipline?”
My six-year-old son, Iden, who’s a pro at coming up with riddles like that–unanswerable ones, usually–was totally serious. He’d seen the zipline course at Piiholo Ranch, on a hillside that leads up to one of Maui’s dormant volcanoes, and then horses, and he’d connected the dots.
“Horses don’t zipline,” I said.