*This story was originally published on March 6, 2019 and updated on Aug. 20. On a Sunday at sunrise, the South Kona sky painted in pastels, I drive bleary-eyed on Māmalahoa Highway heading south past monstera and banana plants toward the hulking mass of Mauna Loa, rising nearly 1,500 feet into the sky. Two […]
It’s notoriously windy in North Kohala. Trade winds reliably blast Hawai‘i Island’s northern coast and the smoothed hump of its oldest volcano. It’s morning as I step out of an air-conditioned tour vehicle onto the dusty landscape. Tucked behind a row of windmills, on a 40-acre plot, leafy stems tower above me, shaking in the wind.
Most mornings around dawn, Tommy gets his workout by cruising Kaua‘i’s Wailua River on water skis. Pulled behind a speedboat, he maneuvers its wake as expertly as a veteran surfer at his home break. It’s an unusually clear day in one of the rainiest places on the planet—the seemingly ever-present clouds over Kaua‘i’s central Mount
It had rained for nearly a week straight, and the thick mud along the steepest road of its length in the United States filled the air with the heady scent of fresh, wet, vegetative earth. The sun was shining, finally, and it was the perfect time to visit: The abundant rain left waterfalls streaming down
On a Sunday at sunrise, the South Kona sky painted in pastels, I drive bleary-eyed on Māmalahoa Highway heading south past monstera and banana plants toward the hulking mass of Mauna Loa, rising nearly 1,500 feet into the sky. Two quick turns past roadside fruit stands and my car rumbles into the parking lot of
Rust-colored with a clapboard exterior, baseboard radiators and cozy furniture, the Volcano House is more ski lodge than sunny resort, defying typical Hawaii hotel expectations. Yet its superlative location, overlooking the park’s molten lava lake within Halemaumau Crater, is quintessentially Hawaiian. At 4,000 feet and surrounded on three sides by rain forests filled with 10-foot-tall
Beneath the light of the full Big Island moon, a magical string of moments transpires: The air fills with mele (songs) and laughter over a kanikapila session, where all are welcome. It’s the kind of tropical ambiance many young and old yearn to replicate—a Hawaiian night that shines a light on the past. Thanks
Ahupuaa, traditional land divisions stretching from the mountain down to the sea, provided everything Native Hawaiians needed to live. Inspired by the landscape diversity still contained within these slivers, Bike Hawaii founder John Alford fashioned a multi-sport tour to explore the breadth of the state’s most visited ahupuaa: Waikiki. “I really liked the concept …
It’s early on a bright autumn day in Kona and the sun is steadily baking the earth beneath my feet. Brittle blades crunch with each step and tiny clinging burrs linger on my long pants. I’m searching for the 3,000-foot-long Kaneaka, the longest remaining ancient kahua holua (sledding course) in Hawaii, on the steep slopes
As the helicopter rises from the tarmac with a whir of chopper blades on a voggy Kona morning, I watch the airport pavement’s fine details transition from a chunky rock conglomeration to a distant grey strip. Instead of navigating over the familiar island-bisecting Saddle Road that connects Kona and Hilo, our cheerful Paradise Helicopters pilot,
Just over 16 miles from Maui, the sleepy island of Lanai seems a world apart. One of the least visited and smallest Hawaiian Islands, it retains a unique charm and character—tall red cliffs fronting the tropical blue sea, Norfolk pine-lined thoroughfares and a down-home feel—not found anywhere else. There’s not a lot to do here
Waimanu Valley’s ancient green amphitheater streams with white water falling from impossibly high heights. Its star, Waihilau Falls, rains down a series of drops totaling an improbable 2,600 feet. Coveted oceanside campsites in this remote and pristine region—the largest of Hawaii Island’s northern valleys—offer a chance to sleep under a blanket of stars, laze away
