May 2007
What's Inside

Bouncing around on a Zodiac boat with the wooden seat slamming against my hindquarters is not exactly the most gentle morning wakeup call. But here I am, halfway between Maui and Lanai, bracing against the sea spray and already feeling a bit queasy. Then, out of nowhere, an enormous fluke erupts on our starboard side — close enough that I could have pegged the whale’s tail with a papaya. My heart races with the realization that we could easily enter a Melvillian tale and be left adrift (or worse) in the whipping currents.

The unflappable captain deftly turns the boat and settles us a good distance away from the humpback (intentionally getting too close to these protected creatures is a federal offense) and idles the engine. Awestruck, we watch a miraculous ballet ensue as one fluke becomes two, then three. The trio of whales engages in a thumping, tail-whacking hoedown, with two young males competing for the attention of a female (or at least that’s how our skipper interpreted it). When the show is over, the captain guns the motor and we speed toward Lanai as our tummies resume their tortured tossings.

Exhilarating yet exhausting, even somewhat dangerous, this sort of outing is probably not the first image conjured when you think of vacationing in Maui. Truth be told, though, rough-and-tumble adventures are as much of the Maui gestalt as sipping beachside cocktails, relishing exotic spa treatments, and rubbing elbows with the haut monde.

Let’s face it: You can get ridiculously pampered on Maui. Need a cooldown during that sunbathing session, but don’t feel like a swim? The pool guys will spritz you with Evian. Live for spas? It’s entirely possible to check out a different one each day on the southern side of Maui and go two months without a repeat visit. Crave fine dining? The island is home to dozens of stellar restaurants dishing up phenomenal cuisine crafted with freshly caught seafood and locally grown fruits and veggies. And it goes without saying that high-end hotels are as much a part of the landscape as palm trees.

But in the very same zip code where the bon ton are being handled with kid gloves (silk, of course), intrepid souls can also get totally pummeled by the surf, dragged down the beach by a powerful kite, tossed into a sea cave by a gargantuan wave, or bogged down to their boot-tops in a bamboo forest on the way to a miraculous waterfall. Cell-phone service in case of emergency? The steep valleys and island geography make a successful 911 call an iffy prospect at best. So while other visitors within shouting distance are having their every whim catered to by a host of smiling service personnel, you could easily find yourself in a precarious situation that would challenge even a seasoned adventurer. And it’s this dichotomy that makes visiting the Valley Isle perhaps the ultimate yin and yang vacation.

While other visitors within shouting distance are having their every whim catered to, you could easily find yourself in a situation that would challenge even a seasoned adventurer.

On this particular morning, my first destination is the side of Lanai that faces away from Maui. Rarely snorkeled and relatively pristine, this leeward coast has sparkling-clear waters fronting lava-rock cliffs. (And snorkeling in a very quiet spot in Hawaii with 40-meter visibility is priceless.) The boat empties when the captain drops anchor, and everyone splashes down to find their own private reef to peruse. As I head toward shore, I spy some parrot fish with purple tinges; nearby is a brown-bodied striped puffer fish and a tiny snowflake eel, waving gently in the wave surge. False brain coral, rice coral, and a few other varieties are parked atop other, older formations. Surfacing for air, I see the electric-blue water give way to a brilliant blue sky, a big green mountain, and puffy white clouds. As the locals would no doubt say, Maui no ka oi (“Maui is the best”).

Arriving back at Mala Wharf near Lahaina, I’m totally parched, but completely in luck: Maui super chef Mark Ellman’s Mala Ocean Tavern restaurant is within walking distance from the pier. I plop down on one of the barstools and order up one of my favorite local brews, a Keoki Sunset (brewed on Kauai), and a platter of ahi tartare so fresh it could have jumped in over the seawall that skirts the back of the restaurant. This is the kind of boîte that everyone from Jimmy Buffett to Jean-Georges Vongerichten could appreciate, with cheery drinkers, local epicures, and an inviting social vibe. Brightly colored hanging fixtures, a richly polished wooden bar, and an open-air patio with an ocean view make tippling at this place an easy pastime.

“So, you come here every day?” I ask a comfortable-looking older gentleman with a snazzy golf shirt and a big gold chain. He smiles and nods, quaffing what appears to be a potent mojito, another Mala specialty. “Most days after I finish up my morning round at Kapalua. In fact, if you hurry up you may be able to make the twilight tee time,” he says with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

And why not? Most golf lovers would kill to be able to say that. The Kapalua Resort golf courses are among the best anywhere, with panoramic views of the Auau Channel and the island of Molokai. After the morning’s rigors, riding around in a golf cart at a leisurely pace sounds just fine. I slip into a foursome at the Bay Course with some merry tourists from Ohio who, fortunately, are terrible hacks just like me. To us, the cry of “Fore!” is less of a warning and more of an announcement that a ball has disappeared into the thick cane grass ringing the lush fairways.

The gusty trade winds are calming and the verdant west Maui mountains begin to take on an ethereal purplish-green glow. As I drink a stiff Mai Tai at the oceanview Lobby Lounge at the Ritz-Carlton Kapalua, I feel profoundly battered but undeniably pampered. With the last drabs of sunshine slipping away, I part ways with my Ohio compadres and head to the plush, inviting bed waiting for me in my hotel room. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the rejuvenation I can get.


Bump, bump, bump. In the crystalline sky sails a billowing kite; in my hands I’m holding a control bar designed to steer the thing. I’m trying to learn the basics of kitesurfing in the stiff morning breeze at Kanaha Beach Park, but so far the only knowledge I’ve gained as my rump bounces along the sand is that it’s a sport that requires patience, strength, and a moderately high pain threshold. As the morning progresses, my instructor slowly coaxes me toward the idea of strapping onto a short, fiberglass board and sailing the kite across the water, perhaps even scoring a bit of air.

But I’m thinking I should stick to merely standing up for now. As a jaded surfer, I’m used to a more passive ride: You point your feet, the board moves. In kitesurfing, you try to point the kite, the wind pushes back, your board does its own thing — and you get dragged. But eventually your brain can simultaneously process all of these inputs and something clicks; then you actually manage to cut a smart line as you glide over the waves, making for a total “Look at me, Ma!” moment. Unfortunately, this takes me about three excruciating hours, but finally the butt-jarring bumps are replaced by little knee bends as I find myself skimming along the waves just offshore.

With my thirst and appetite spiked by the hot sun and salty breezes, I decide to drive to the funky, free-spirited beach town of Paia on the North Shore for nourishment and libations. Lunch will be fresh fish at Mama’s Fish House on Kuau Cove, a beachfront palace that’s all porches and rattan chairs, located right on the cove. The menu reads like a local fishing diary: Beside each seafood entree is not only the name of the fisherman who caught it, but also his boat’s name and the location of the catch.

The laid-back elegance of Mama’s aptly captures the vibe of Maui’s North Shore. This is the windsurfing capital of the universe, full of raggedy Europeans toting all manner of sailing gear. Also off the coast is the world-famous tow-in surfing break called “Jaws,” where surf icon and former model Laird Hamilton catapulted to fame by being slung into 50-foot waves behind roaring jet skis. But this same area is also home to Paia, a thoroughly scruffy plantation town with old clapboard storefronts, dusty streets, and pastel paint jobs. An all-organic pizza parlor and an all-organic chocolate cafe share space with the showroom of Tamara Catz, one of Hollywood’s favorite swimsuit designers (her design studio and headquarters can also be found here). Sitting on the shady, capacious lanai at Mama’s amidst tinkling glassware, I watch the waves break and the clouds blow by and reflect on just how tough life can be on Maui.

 

So tough, in fact, that I decide to retire to the Four Seasons Resort in Wailea for an afternoon snooze. A magnet for potentates and power brokers, the hotel’s white-washed Mediterranean theme is seamlessly infused with a tropical atmosphere: Waterfalls and fountains abound, and at times the resort seems to be completely afloat. White canvas cabanas ring the tiled blue pool, and a Classical Revival fountain serves as the resort’s main decorative ornament. The vista from the pool frames the yellow-pink sands of Wailea Beach, and the green peak of the island of Lanai rises into view. And, of course, there is the aforementioned Evian spritz.

From the pool I head to Spago for an early dinner (the Four Seasons Resort in Wailea is currently one of only three places worldwide where you can dine at Wolfgang Puck’s flagship restaurant) then up to my room for a surprisingly early bedtime. When the morning comes, I wander back to the pool, but don’t stay long: It’s time to abandon the opulence of this dreamlike resort for a visit to a lovely waterfall tucked away in a hidden valley at the end of the long, muddy, and decidedly unglamorous Pipiwai Trail. Getting there means a drive along the fabled Road to Hana, a 53-mile landmark roadway where the waterfalls spill down roadside rock walls under your car and burble over the sea cliffs. At the very end of this road is Kipahulu, a slice of the massive Haleakala National Park that hugs the steep, jungle valleys of East Maui. Most of the tourists arrive in Kipahulu and take a dip at Oheo Gulch, a roadside waterfall attraction with clear rushing water and spectacular pools.

But I have something a bit more strenuous in mind. At the end of the Pipiwai Trail is Waimoku Falls, a 400-foot cataract that spreads across a sheer rock face in a precise, wafer-thin cascade of sparkling liquid aloha. To get to the falls you must hike what the National Park Service Web site terms a “moderately strenuous” four-mile round-trip hike. The same Web page also has this slightly ominous advisory. “WARNING! The Pipiwai Stream...[is] prone to flash flooding.... Visitors have been injured or killed by falling into the streams.” The trail winds through a towering bamboo forest and along Pipiwai Stream until it reaches the falls. They appear suddenly as I hike, an enormous opening hewn from the jungle canopy. Standing before the rushing falls, the sound fills my ears and the mist cools my heat-ruddied face. I sit down, open my pack, and take out a bottle of Evian claimed from one of the pool attendants. Pampered or pummeled? You be the judge. It all gets pretty mixed up on Maui.


HOW TO GET THERE
US Airways flies direct to Maui from Phoenix. To make reservations, go to usairways.com.

WHEN YOU ARRIVE
Maui is a large island and without public transportation, so you’ll need to rent a car.

LODGING
There’s a large variety of hotels ranging from super high-end to hostels. Two posh favorites are the Four Seasons Wailea (808.874.8000, fourseasons.com/maui) on the sunny southeast coast and the Hotel Hana-Maui (800.321.4262, hotelhanamaui.com) in the northeast town of Hana. For those after hot nightlife, check out Lahaina Shores, recently renovated beachfront condos in Maui’s party capital (800.642.6284, lahainashores.com).

WHERE TO EAT
Mala Ocean Tavern is located on the western edge of Lahaina. Reservations are recommended, even for lunch (808.667.9394, malaoceantavern.com). Mama’s Fish House is located just east of Paia town and is about a 30-minute drive from Wailea (808.667.9394, mamasfishhouse.com).

WHAT TO DO
Snorkeling: The only company on the island that runs a voyage to the backside of Lanai is Maui Ocean Riders (800.510.3586, mauioceanriders.com). It’s not an experience for rookies — sessions last from roughly 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Bring sunscreen, sunglasses, hats, and a sweatshirt.

Kitesurfing: For instruction, sail over to Kiteboarding School of Maui. A one-day course includes four hours of instruction. Many of the top-level instructors are sponsored pros or amateurs for top gear companies (808.873.0015, ksmaui.com).

Hiking and Nature Sightseeing: Access to Pipiwai Trail costs $10 per car, the standard entrance fee for Hawaii’s national parks. Plan to spend 3–4 hours on the drive up the Road to Hana (808.248.7375 for the Kipahulu Visitor Center).

Golf: Rates for rounds at Kapalua vary depending on the time and the course. (Bay Course standard rate is $215, and Plantation Course rate is $290.) Twilight tee times run less than half the standard rate. Guests of the resort and its three properties get a significant discount off public rates (1.877.KAPALUA for more information, including tee times, kapalua.com/hawaii-golf).

 

 

Alex Salkever is based in Honolulu and writes about travel, nature, and food.

IMAGES: MVB/RON DAHLQUIST, STEVE BRINKMAN/FOUR SEASONS HOTELS AND RESORTS, MVB/RON DAHLQUISTIMAGES: JOHN C. RUSSELL/FOUR SEASONS HOTELS AND RESORTS, JAMIE ARDILES-ARCE/FOUR SEASONS HOTELS AND RESORTS, MVB/RON DAHLQUIST, MVB, MVB/RON DAHLQUIST, MVB/RON DAHLQUISTIMAGES: JAMIE ARDILES-ARCE/FOUR SEASONS HOTELS AND RESORTS, STEVE BRINKMAN/FOUR SEASONS HOTELS AND RESORTS, MVB. MAP BY STEVEN STANKIEWICZ.