Holding a camera changes me. As an introvert, it feels like a superhero cape. Suddenly, I can talk to anyone. On a recent trip to Hilo for a baseball alumni game, I learned that the best moments often come when we least expect them. Sometimes, they happen before we even reach our destination.

Twenty-six years ago, I lived in Hawaii as a student. I had no car and little money, but I always carried my camera. Back then, I could only capture a small part of the island’s beauty. This trip was different. With a car and a little more cash, I set out to explore places I had only heard about in college.

The journey to Akaka Falls started in darkness and rain. I left the Gilbert Kahele Recreation Area before dawn, after sleeping in my car (something my wife may not love hearing). The rain poured down, and daylight was nowhere in sight. So, I pulled into Honomu to wait out the storm.

That’s when I found Ed’s bakery—the only place open at that hour. I went in for coffee and a Danish but left with something far greater: a human connection that no camera could capture.
Ed has run his bakery for over 30 years. We sat across from each other, chatting as rain hit the windows. He told me he was a Vietnam veteran. I noticed the steel braces on his legs and asked if they were from his service.

Surprisingly, Ed wasn’t injured in the war. Years later, an illness took the feeling from his feet. But he wasn’t bitter. Instead, he found joy in his small bakery, making cookies (which I ate entirely on my drive to the falls) and connecting with travelers like me.

We talked for 45 minutes—a long time in today’s world of rushed conversations and constant phone use. We discussed service, life’s surprises, and what truly makes us happy. Ed’s happiness didn’t come from wealth or big achievements. He simply embraced his life and found purpose in his work.

In a time when we are always online yet feel more disconnected than ever, Ed reminded me of something important: the best moments happen when we put our devices away and engage with the world. My camera helps me break out of my shell, but setting it aside that morning gave me something better—a real connection.

Ironically, I had traveled to see Akaka Falls, one of Hawaii’s most stunning sights. Yet, my favorite moment happened in a tiny bakery with a kind, resilient man. The falls would still be there when the rain stopped. But that conversation with Ed was a gift—one that couldn’t be planned or captured in a photo.

When I finally reached Akaka Falls, the 442-foot drop was breathtaking. I took pictures from every angle, watching as the sunlight broke through the mist to form rainbows. But as I clicked my shutter, I kept thinking about Ed. We had both taken unexpected paths that led to that morning.

Hawaii’s beauty draws many visitors, but the islands offer more than scenery. In Hawaiian culture, there is a tradition called “talk story”—the art of relaxed, meaningful conversation. My time with Ed was a perfect example. He reminded me that the best souvenirs are not things we buy but the stories we collect and the people we meet.

We all have a choice in how we experience Hawaii. We can rush from one sight to another, seeing everything through screens, or we can slow down and embrace the journey. The rainy mornings, the unexpected stops, and the chance meetings often leave the biggest impact.

My trip to Akaka Falls showed me that destinations matter, but the path we take and the people we meet matter even more. Ed’s bakery wasn’t in a guidebook, but it gave me something no scenic lookout could—perspective.

So, if you ever travel to Hawaii, make room for the unexpected. Put your phone away now and then. Walk into that small-town shop. Talk to a stranger. The waterfalls and beaches will still be there, but moments like my conversation with Ed are rare and fleeting.

And if you find yourself in Honomu on the way to Akaka Falls, stop at Ed’s bakery. Try the cookies. They taste even better with good conversation.