At the wheel of a Tournahauler
Bouncy experience is like driving a house while in a phone booth
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My most vivid memory from the first day I drove a Tournahauler has nothing to do with rumbling down a cane haul road. It was watching a cattle egret swallow a rat nearly as big as itself.
"Naw, it'll never get that down," said the driver sitting next to me in the towering cab. "Too big." But the Maalaea egret proved him wrong by stretching its maw straight into the air and convulsing its neck a few times. The fat rodent dropped like a log through a wood chipper. Once tail was slurped, the white bird sprawled flat on the ground to rest. Apart from the blowing dust and smoldering cane, the scene reminded me of some of the Thanksgiving dinners I've had.
This set off a string of interesting stories. The driver said that the birds love centipedes and anything else they can lay their beaks on. Sitting 12 feet in the sky gives you a good view, and he'd seen a lot. The driver said one of his workers on the plantation once took an egret home to eat. The resulting stew poisoned the man and sent him to the hospital.
It was about that time when the driver turned and asked if I wanted to drive the Tournahauler back to the mill. If there is one thing I have learned in 36 years of working at The Maui News it's that when someone asks a question like that, the only answer is "yes."
This was back in 2011 while I was working on a photo essay that turned into a three-page spread titled "Faces of Sugar." The driver was harvesting supervisor Amosa Ofoia Jr., and he was assigned to take me for a Tournahauler run out to a harvested field and back.
We passed each other on the cab's exterior catwalk to change seats, and there I was, steering wheel in hand. The first thing you notice is that the driver's seat is like a bouncy chair. The only shock absorbers on the 60-ton rig are under this seat. Taking stock, I found the wheel turned as easy as any Honda's. The brake and gas pedals were the same size and shape, but only the one on the right made the 750-horsepower engine roar.
With a flip of a switch and slide of a lever, we were off. The seven-speed automatic transmission did all the shifting as I navigated from the windswept field and onto the asphalt cane haul road leading to Puunene Mill. Driving a Tournahauler is kind of like driving a house while sitting in a phone booth on the roof. The vistas must have been amazing, but I was too busy trying to keep 120 tons of cane and machine between the ditches to say for sure.
The tricky part was passing empty Tournahaulers on their way back to the field. Thankfully, loaded trucks have the right of way and that was us. The empties pulled aside as we squeezed by without ripping out any fencing along Mokulele Highway.
I made it back to the mill safe and sound and figured that was a one-time event -- until last week. While working on the story in today's newspaper about the huge vehicles, I happened to mention my previous driving experience during a trip to the fields. I was only expecting to take photos and interview a driver or two, but next thing I know, I'm being asked the same question, "Would you like to drive a load back to the mill?" I've already shared my motto, so you know the answer.
Driver Alvin Ponce guided his Tournahauler out of the muddy field and got it pointed straight down the cane haul road before surrendering his seat and taking one on a hard bench next to me for the jouncing ride back to the mill.
Ponce exhibited nerves of steel as he dispensed calm advice like "try to miss the holes" and "you might want to get more in the middle of the road." He pointed out wet spots to be cautious of and got me over a bridge where the road narrowed so much the 14¢-foot-wide truck barely fit through.
Besides the aloha Ponce showed me, the thing I'll remember most from this drive is how bouncy the seat was and how many times my head hit the ceiling in the tiny cab.
Fortunately I had my hard hat on. My only real problem was how tightly the hat was pounded down around my eyes and ears when I pulled to a stop alongside other Tournahaulers waiting outside the mill to unload.
My Tournahauler driving experiences have given me new respect for both the operators and the hulking, powerful machines. Driving a Tournahauler all day is much more physically demanding than one would expect. The dangers the drivers face are balanced by their chance to be one of a select few who are paid to escape to Maui's empty spaces.
From sunrise to sunset, the drivers rumble to where the island views can either stretch forever or as close as 12 feet below where a skinny white bird settles for centipedes while dreaming of catching a fat brown rat.