A Hawaiian treasure

May 31, 2007

By BILL WAGNER

While Hawaiian green sea turtles (honu) are still a threatened species, they are not that hard to find in Kahalu'u Bay.

Turtles swim and feed in the waters off Kahalu'u Beach and plod along the bottom of the tidal pool of the adjacent Keauhou Beach Resort in Kona on the west side of Hawaii, the Big Island.

The placid reptiles are vegetarians, content to munch on algae all day. The algae colors their body fat, giving them their name. Despite the diet, adults can weigh as much as 500 pounds.

While they graze, slowly breaking the surface to breathe, they are capable of reaching speeds up to 35 mph in open water.

They also can stay submerged for two hours or more when resting.

The turtles are unusual in that they are the only marine turtles to crawl ashore and bask in the sunlight, which obviously makes them easy mark for poachers.

Once an endangered species, the large turtles were hunted almost to extinction for their meat, skins (to make leather goods) and shells (to make jewelry).

Even though they have been protected for several decades, their high value on the commercial market means poachers continue to take hundreds each year even in the face of stiff fines and possible jail time.

Once there were tens of millions of turtles worldwide; now fewer than 200,000 mature females are known to exist.

"These ancient mariners cruised the seas before Hawaii's islands even existed. How sad that they could vanish forever in coming decades due to human impact," said Don White, president, EarthTrust.org.

Male and female green turtles look alike until they are mature. Then, the male develops a long tail extending beyond the hind flippers. A female's tail extends only a short distance beyond the end of her shell.

There are other estimates that indicate that only 100 to 350 females nest each year in Hawaii. Those females can produce up to 100 eggs or so, but only a few hatchlings survive from each nest to even make it back to the ocean, falling prey to crabs and often dying from the sun's heat before making it to the ocean.

Once in the ocean, hatchlings remain at greater risk until they grow.

Thanks to their size and speed in the water, adult green sea turtles have only two predators: sharks and people. Tiger sharks regularly feed on all sizes of green turtles.

While the life span of these turtles -- the largest of the hard-shelled marine turtles -- is unknown, it is believed that it takes an average of 25 years for them to reach sexual maturity.

Despite the fact the turtles are a threatened species, some see silver linings among the clouds.

"The Hawaiian green turtle is, right now, the luckiest marine turtle population in the world," said Peter Bennett. He and his wife, Ursula, created a Web site dedicated to sea turtles -- www.turtles.org. "It is protected, but, more importantly, the people of Hawaii respect and obey the laws of protection. This is not true for most marine turtle populations."

Also, the nesting grounds of the honu are remote, uninhabited and protected.

"Virtually all other marine turtles are heavily exploited on their nesting beaches, usually by the removal of their eggs, and often by the slaughter of nesting females," Bennett said.

(Some information for this story came from the sites www.turtles.org and www.earthtrust.org.)

(Bill Wagner also writes, as Babe Waxpack, the ASKBABE sports-collectibles feature that runs on Scripps Howard News Service.)

The butler did it -- provided perfect pampering, that is

By CRISTINA ROUVALIS

The butler has drawn my bath.

How often does a working stiff like myself get to say that?

I repeat that thought to myself as warm bubbles ooze over me and the candles and imported orchids wrap me in a warm glow.

"May I adjust your head pillow, Ms. Rouvalis?" my butler -- yes, MY butler, for a few hours, anyway -- asks me.

I have to be honest here.

I had not realized until now that the Five Diamond opulence of Falling Rock hotel comes with an offer from a discreet uniformed stranger to adjust the towel under my neck as I soak in bubbles.

It's a little weird.

But Tommy Dewitt, the lead butler at this boutique hotel at Nemacolin Woodlands Resort, has such a reassuring manner that I figure, what the heck. How many opportunities in my life will I get to experience how the ultra-rich get squeaky-clean?

Yes, that neck pillow is a tad too low, now that you mention it, Tommy.

A coal miner's son from West Virginia, he is simply called Tommy, despite the formal job title and the white gloves and the perfect manners. The 31-year-old with kind blue eyes has mastered the fine art of doting on people without being intrusive. He is one of the reasons people will pay $795 for a weekend night and $650 for a weeknight for this sumptuous suite overlooking a golf course.

While some high-end resorts have a butler on staff, hotel manager Dan Gorajczyk says Falling Rock is one of only a handful with a corps of butlers offering 24-hour service.

So if you have some crazy craving at any hour and Tommy answers the phone, he would likely answer jauntily with his favorite word -- "Absolutely."

It would take a lot to put Tommy out.

After all, this is a man who once arranged for a private jet to take a couple to Las Vegas to be married on the spot. (The man declined after he found out it would cost $40,000, but Tommy figured out the logistics that would have made it happen). He has hidden engagement rings inside desserts and learned from the chef how to make guacamole tableside so a man could impress his girlfriend. He has played video games with young guests. He will do almost anything, provided it is legal and fits the hotel's family-friendly ethics.

"There is no such thing as a high-maintenance guest," he tells me.

That's nice to know as I soak in the tub, admiring the orange James Story orchids flown in from Hawaii on the tub's edge. I ask him to move the tray up a little so I can read my magazine. He moves it just so and dims the lights.

"Would you like a glass of champagne or wine?" he asks, flashing a hint of a smile that seems to be saying, "Go ahead. You deserve it."

It is very tempting. But I am afraid if I start drinking in the middle of the afternoon inside a warm tub at a Five Diamond hotel, it will make it all the harder to return to my stiff chair in my dingy no-diamond newsroom.

Tommy stands ramrod straight in the next room with his gray-and-black striped pants and a black jacket with black and brass buttons, tailored to his slightly stocky 5-foot-6-inch body. He asks me if I want to change into a towel or robe. I opt for the plush white robe. He does not enter the bathroom until I tell him it is OK. (There are female butlers for female guests who might feel awkward around a male butler, something I would consider. But he says he draws baths for many women, too.)

The bed with the 1,200-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets beckons me next. I put my head on a perfectly comfortable pillow. But is it really the right pillow? -- a question I had never really pondered before.

Tommy hands me a pillow menu, the rage in high-end hotels, filled with enough flowery feather language to satisfy the most finicky head.

Should I rest my weary head atop the Tri-Core Pillow, with Dupont Dacron Hollofill, or the Buckwheat Hull Pillow, or an inflatable Aire-Core Pillow, to name a few? The pillow menu is like a foreign language, so I tell Tommy to bring in my options before settling on the delightfully squishy Buckwheat Hull Pillow.

Because I am not spending the night, he does a mock wake-up call. He knocks on the door -- three gentle knocks -- and, soothingly rouses me out of bed with "Good morning, Ms. Rouvalis," then draws the shades. He would next hand me coffee in bed or on a tray and serve breakfast in bed or on the deck.

As someone who finds all mornings a jarring jolt -- and who is pampered by a sweet husband who gives me coffee in bed -- this is my idea of heaven. Yes, this ritual would take the edge off of morning.

Tommy lays out my clothes, folding them so carefully as though they were fine silk instead of rumpled cotton. Then he serves me a lunch of mixed greens and creme brulee -- on the balcony, his recommendation. All of the stresses of daily life have left my body.

The trick of the good butler is to know when to dote on someone and when to leave him or her alone.

The No. 1 no-no of a butler is gossip, because butlers unpack suitcases and lay out personal items. So Tommy will not name-drop any of his famous clients.

The lack of loose lips applies to himself.

I try to interview Tommy, but he is politely vague. He allows that after working odd jobs in Morgantown, W.Va., he became a valet at Nemacolin in 1997 and worked his way up to butler, a coveted job.

"I found my calling," he says. Someone tells me they once saw him get a $400 tip. He will not discuss his hourly wage or tips.

I walk out of Falling Rock relaxed and pampered, thanks to Tommy. Story? Deadline? Who cares?

As I drive back to Pittsburgh and the stress of the real world creeps back, I look at my cup holder and see two bottles of Nemacolin spring water that my butler somehow put in my car.

I take a swig and savor the memory of Tommy.

(Cristina Rouvalis can be reached at crouvalis@post-gazette.com.)