Lava at first sight
Beneath the canopy of palms and banyan trees that greets visitors as they wing their way into the Hawaiian islands lies an under story of ginger, hibiscus and orchids, laced with what the islanders call the spirit of “ohana” – or family.
Encircled by aquamarine waters and the aura of aloha, couples celebrate anniversaries, friends share vacations and families come together for reunions. Island magic beckons all.
It would be hard to conjure up a more ideal setting for a gathering of generations and interests. Our motley crew, ages 8 to 72, includes grandparents, middle-aged children, spouses and grandchildren. Among us are hikers, scuba divers, surfers, anglers, science and history buffs, golfers and tennis players. Yet each of the three generations can do its own “thing,” rejoining for meals, exploration or snorkeling.
Stepping off the plane onto a Wiki-Wiki tram that carries us around the airport, we find Oahu, with its Waikiki wall-to-wall humanity, sand and surf, an ideal place to begin.
The first morning we arrive early at Pearl Harbor to cut down our waiting time at the Arizona Memorial. Mindful of the past, a respectful hush falls over the group aboard the launch that takes us to the white concrete and steel structure that now spans the hull of the sunken ship. From here, we can view the USS Missouri Memorial where Japan’s official surrender ended World War II.
Next we head north, lured by the promise of pineapple fields and lush landscapes, the chance to see countryside instead of concrete and the thunderous surf and surfers for which the north shore and the Turtle Bay area are world-famous. We pause for lunch at a roadside stand where everything from mahi-mahi fish and chips to hamburgers and hot dogs are available.
Now bathed in rain showers rather than sunshine, we begin to wonder whether we’ll have to scrap plans for the Polynesian Cultural Center, where we’d promised to introduce the kids to the ancient traditions of the Pacific isles. But there’s not a drop to be felt by the time we arrive in northeastern Laie.
There, some join in a stick game that challenges hand-eye coordination. We all do our best to twirl poi balls about on a string, Maori style, and 8-year-old Sam visits the ta moko area for a temporary tattoo. Separate villages allow us to delve into each of the Polynesian cultures and a river parade of floats caps our visit with the chance to see the costumes and dances of Fijians, Samoans and a host of other islanders.
A short flight the next morning takes us the oldest and northernmost of the Hawaiian chain, Kauai. At the north end, each family has rented a condo, affording privacy and a place to cook.
Throughout the months prior to our trip, the adults of one contingent have been requalifying in scuba diving as their 11- and 15-year-olds began training with a certified instructor. They’ve arranged ahead of time to finish the final phase of the process with island instructors who will administer the underwater tests necessary to complete certification. Still too young to dive, Sam comes to spend the morning with our family.
It is only 6:30 and we’re literally “up with the birds,” as an island cardinal peers through the sliding glass doors from our balcony, chirping for attention and a handout. Sam carefully prepares a bowl of cereal bits, arranging the pieces along the railing, watching as cardinals, doves and every bird tuned in to the right frequency drops in for breakfast, like planes in a traffic pattern.
From then on, our cardinal appears each morning to see if we’re up. In the evening, a pair of Nene, the Hawaiian state bird, appear on the lawns beneath us. Banded necks tell the story of efforts to bring these geese back from the edge of extinction. Soon, golds, crimsons and salmons also begin to gather on the horizon to dance a sunset ballet against the backdrop of Makana Peak, better known as Bali Hai.
Surfboarding is on almost everyone’s agenda. Despite the fact that all but one of us are total novices, the instructor recommended by our condo guru soon has each of us paddling to meet the waves and gliding in on their crests.
The Grand Canyon of the Pacific, Waimea Canyon, is also a must. The inveterate hikers among us declare the muddy trails they slip and slide over in order to view the wide valley along the Na Pali coast to be the most fun they’ve had in years.
“So we had to hose ourselves off and buy new sandals,” they laugh as they join the rest for a free hula show at the Poipu Village Shopping Center, followed by dinner at Roy’s.
On alternate nights, each family takes turns preparing dinner for the whole gang. Since we can’t grow our own as the Hawaiians do, we hit the farmers’ markets for organic salad greens, papaya and the like, heeding the locals who tell us, “Bring dollar bills and get there 15 minutes ahead of opening to find a parking place.”
Another tip leads us to the fresh fish market behind the Dolphin Restaurant in Hanalei and, for a lazier day, to the Hanalei Gourmet for their takeout macadamia nut-chicken salad nestled in a pineapple shell. Taking an old-timer’s advice once again, we head to Kapaa for one of the best and most authentic luaus we’ve found.
Although we’re careful to heed the counsel to never snorkel alone, get into the water if no one else is in it or turn our backs to the ocean, each day brings another beach adventure.
As we descend into Hanalei Town and meander to the end of the highway, we cross 11 one-lane bridges. Hanalei Bay, which many remember for its mispronounced mention in “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” proves a gem for swimming, surfing or just hanging out—all with benefit of lifeguards.
You won’t find any lifeguards at Tunnels Reef, and little close-by parking, either. But you can float above a kaleidoscope of sea life at what’s rated one of the top 10 snorkel spots in the entire state. At the end of the road, Ke’e Beach is another snorkeling utopia, chock-a-block with reef fish. It’s safest to swim in the lagoon in front of the parking lot.
The finale of our reunion takes us on another short plane ride, this time to the Kona Coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. We find the drive around the island a spectacle in itself as we cross the boundaries between most of the 11 climatic zones, encountering everything from green turtles on a black sand beach to breakers that crash the shore like colossal exclamation points at Laupahoehoe Point Beach Park.
In Kapaau near the northern end of Route 270, we view old Hawaii very much alive – as evidenced by the statue of Kamehameha, which the locals voted to keep painted in traditional island colors rather than restored to its original bronze.
Just above Hilo, at Onomea Bay, even our 18-year-old is mesmerized by the orchids, heliconia, gingers and other flora of the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Gardens, best described as a garden in a valley on the ocean, complete with bird aviary. The Hilo Farmers’ Market is such fun that it’s worth the long drive from Kona to stock up on our produce for the week.
And at Kilauea, we experience the Big Island as a geologic work in progress. The plume of molten rock that spawned it and its sister islands continues to churn out volcanoes, the most active on Earth. Rangers at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park work to make lava viewing safe, with well-marked trails for the thousands awed daily by Kilauea, the Big Island’s “drive-in” volcano. A glance at a visitor’s roster reveals that people flock from across the globe to experience this wonder.
For human history, we stop at the island’s restored place of refuge at Pu’uhonua O Honaunau National Historical Park. In earlier times, it was one of seven places where wrongdoers could escape retribution. Here, kapu-breakers who managed to outrace their avengers were granted sanctuary by a kahuna and absolved of their offenses. These included eating pork, looking at the king or, for women, dining with men – all misdeeds normally punishable by death.
Closer to Kona, there’s world-class golf, whale-watching, tide pooling and swimming at “A” Beach on Anaeho’omalu Bay or Hapuna, one of the best white-sand beaches on the island.
We walk the trails on the Fairmont Orchid’s resort property at Puako, to view one of the largest concentrations of petroglyphs in Hawaii, then relax over lunch on the beach, watching the surf ripple on to the Orchid’s white sands.
For the most special occasions, nothing beats a beachfront dinner at the Four Seasons Hualalai’s Pahui’a, complete with the drama of moonlight, palm trees and spotlighted ocean waters performing a frothy ballet just a stone’s throw away.
Perhaps because it, too, offers a water view from the pier on which it sits over the bay at Kailua-Kona, Huggo’s also calls visitors back.
On the night of our departure, everyone in the restaurant joins in applause as we share a Japanese-American family’s joy that we will long remember. The younger of two sons, fishing from the lava rocks directly below us, has finally landed a catch.
It is the icing on our reunion cake, a reminder that we have shared more than the islands in this place apart.