By Clay Evans
Camera Staff Writer

HANA, Hawaii — It's possible — actually, easy — to visit the Hawaiian island of Maui and feel like you've just spent your week in, say, Huntington Beach, Calif. 

On the leeward side of Maui, where the sun shines in seeming perpetuity, including Kihei, the famous Kaanapali coast and in the one-time whaling village and seat of the Hawaiian kingdom, Lahaina, there are gorgeous white sand beaches, clear aqua waters, and towering mega-hotels with killer views of two other islands, Lanai and Kahoolawe. 

There also are traffic jams; bewildered heartland tourists wearing Aloha shirts, black socks and sandals; phony tourist trap "luaus"; expensive snorkling "trips" (whose destinations you can reach for 50 cents' worth of gasoline in your rental car); and plenty of American-style noise, restaurants — hot dog on a stick, anyone? — and doo-dad shopping. 

The weather is reliably balmy, with highs in the upper 70s to high 80s, and you do get that ineffable sense that you're on an island. For many travelers, such a combination of sea and sun is just what they're looking for. But frankly, if this is all you see of Maui, you might as well have gone to San Diego. It's that "un-Hawaiian." 

But among the thousands of Maui-bound tourists each year, many have heard rumors of another kind of Maui, in Hana, a mere 60-mile drive from the airport in Kahului. If they've heard of Hana, more than likely it's because they've been told of the infamous "Hana Highway." 

More than half of the drive follows a serpentine, up-and-down route along the windward coast, boasting some 56 one-lane bridges and plenty more tight squeezes and hairpin turns. For the unpracticed, it takes a good two to three hours to drive the road, much more if you happen to get stuck behind a genuinely timid tourist — often, amusingly, driving a big-engined convertible Mustang going 11 mph. 

In reality, the highway isn't so bad these days. Not long ago, it was a genuine expedition, even for the experienced, featuring bumpy dirt tracks, mudholes and precariously crumbling cliff sides. Hana locals tend to peddle the popular "I Survived the Hana Highway" T-shirts with a faint (but polite) smirk, remembering when it was really rough. Still, the drive is beautiful, featuring waterfalls and cold blue pools, dense jungle canopy and mesmerizing views of the Big Blue Beyond of the central Pacific Ocean. 

But having been advised to make a "day trip" out of Hana, most tourists hop out and can't understand what all the fuss is about. Woozy from car sickness, they mill around in search of a restaurant (there are three, one expensive, another off the main road, and a wee "snack shack" down by Hana Bay) and many conclude that they've been had. They buy the T-shirt and perhaps a souvenir mug from Hasegawa General Store, then turn around with a groan, hoping the kids have nothing left to regurgitate for the journey back to "civilization." 

Hana? Ho-hum ... and pass the Dramamine. 

Piece of Old Hawaii 

Ah, but the mass of tourists don't know what they're missing. As even locals — both non-Hawaiians or "haoles," and native islanders — proudly boast, Hana is a genuine piece of Old Hawaii: humble, lovely, friendly and laid back. For travelers with a yen for exploration, adventure and the offbeat, the place also is sheer heaven. 

"To me, this is the closest possible thing to the Garden of Eden," says Bay Area transplant Sandi Simoni, who with her husband Dan recently built two spectacular residential/guest cottages and permanently relocated just south of Hana. "I can't imagine heaven having anything more than what Hana has to offer. It's like the way the world used to be: It's isolated, there's hardly any crime, there's beauty and serendipity. Barely an airplane goes overhead." 

The Simonis, like many other mainlander transplants, had to be creative to find a way to make a living in Hana's humble economy. In their case, they built their elegant home/guest quarters and guest cottage overlooking spectacular Hamoa Beach. They now operate Hana Oceanfront Cottages, their own little piece of paradise. 

"But it's not for everybody," Simoni says, noting that the only bar in town closes at 9:30 p.m. "I have turned people away, people who really should just go to Ka'anapali." 

Although most of the accommodation options in Hana and environs are pricey — from the elegant Hotel Hana-Maui, the only actual hotel in town, at $450 to $800 a night, to bungalows, condos and cottages ranging from $100 to $300 a night — if you plan ahead and are willing to rough it a bit, you can actually have a "budget" vacation on Maui's wild side. For $5 a night, you can pitch a tent at Wainapanapa State Park, or rent a cabin — bedding towels and hot water provided — for between $45 and $55, depending on the number of people, up to six. 

And unless you want to spend a fortune in three restaurants or on groceries at Hasegawa (which has all the basics you might need, with prices that reflect shipping costs) the wise traveler will hit a Safeway in Kahului to stock up on provisions before getting on the highway. 

For those who choose to travel so humbly, the whole vacation can be had for little more than the price of airfare, a rental car (relatively cheap on Maui), gas money and groceries. In Hana, just about anything else the adventurous traveler might care to do is blissfully free. 

If you have a yen for Hawaiian culture, there's the Hana Cultural Center and Museum and the intriguing free tour of the Kahanu Garden and Piilanihale Heiau just north of town, site of the largest ruins of an ancient Hawaiian palace in the state, where the lava rock walls tower 50 feet high. 

Modern culture 

But simply being in Hana is a good way to absorb modern-day Hawaiian culture. The people are friendly — wave to passing cars and you'll see. Choose the right weekend and you'll find yourself immersed in a local festival. The opening ceremonies for this year's March 31-April 1 East Maui Taro Festival, for example, featured three hours of "talk story" and ritual, beginning at 9 a.m. — before day tourists had arrived. 

"This is a festival unique to this area, done on the morning side of the island. We celebrate the long breath of life," said Eddie Pu, a 77-year-old Hana native known as Mr. Aloha, who until recently circumnavigated his native island on foot each year. Spindly, with a banner of pewter-colored hair falling down his brown back, Pu always seems to be smiling. 

Some of the other participants that morning were in moods more political than festive. Speaking often in both Hawaiian and English, burly Polynesian descendants rose to tout a burgeoning movement for self-governance by natives and, echoing complaints you can hear right here in Boulder, to criticize Maui County bureaucracy. In and around Hana, don't be surprised to see signs advocating for "Hawaiian Rights"; recently, a group of 2,000 activists elected its own government. 

But to really see Hana, you've got to experience the natural environment. The area's odd assortment of beaches couldn't be more different from those on the "other side," as Hana residents call everywhere else in Maui. Hamoa Beach south of town comes closest to a traditional white-sand beach, but it's small. Currents offshore can be tricky, but the body surfing here is a blast. 

Of Hamoa, James A. Michener, author of "Tales of the South Pacific," once said, "The only beach I've ever seen that looks like the South Pacific was in the North Pacific." High praise, indeed. 

Less than a mile north of Hamoa is the local surfing cove at Koki Beach. It's nice for sunbathing, but the currents here are truly dangerous, as numerous signs warn — "ASK OUR SURFERS!" (Between the two beaches, notice the native-only fishing "pond" on the coast.) 

In town, just beyond the hotel bungalows, reachable only via a slip-slidey, faintly precarious trail around the edge of a soaring 600-foot cinder cone is Red Sand, or Kaihalulu ("roaring sea") Beach. The beach itself is a small spread of red volcanic cinders, but the enclosed lagoon offers some good snorkeling. Oh yes: It's also a "clothing optional" beach — which sadly keeps most natives away — so expect to find clusters of naked hippies hanging out. 

See seals, sea turtles 

North of town at Wainapanapa State Park is the famed black sand beach. Again, it's small, but the cove features lovely blue waters where you may have a close encounter with seals and green sea turtles. The walks along the jagged lava coast here are spectacularly beautiful. 

Given that the seas around Hana — except for relatively protected Hana Bay, also good for snorkeling — can be rough, especially when the frequent Trade Winds are blowing, those with a hankering for water activities should not miss two gems, Blue Pool and Venus Pool. 

Blue Pool is a bowl of fresh water about 30 feet across, constantly filled by cascading waterfalls. A tad chilly, but very refreshing; go in the morning to catch the sun. To get there, head north of town, turn right on Ulaino Road and follow it four miles to the end. A footpath leads north across a stony beach to the pool. 

Venus Pool is a basin full of emerald water that can be salty or brackish, depending upon the weather. Nestled between a stony barrier beach and two walls of lava, it's 30 feet deep — perfect for cliff jumping from heights of 25 feet and more. To get there, head south on the highway just past mile marker 48 to the white bridge, where you'll find a footpath and place to cross the barbed wire fence. Bear right for about an eighth of a mile to find the pool. 

About 12 miles south of Hana is the lower end of Haleakala National Park, Ohe'o Gulch (don't call it by its tourist-y name of the "Seven Sacred Pools" in front of a native). From the ranger station you can hike two miles (800 foot elevation gain) through stands of non-native (but cool, nevertheless) bamboo to 400-foot Waimoku Falls. 

The real fun at Ohe'o is finding your way down to the pearl string of deep blue pools hiding in the gulch to your right as you ascend the trail. Anybody with a nose for exploration easily can find their way down to the pools, where you can swim in a place that feels remote, wild and exhilarating — feel free to ignore the "No access to pools" signs; everybody does. (The lower pools can be like tourist soup, and are worth avoiding.) 

That's just a sampling of the outdoor wonders you'll find around Hana. Adventurous travelers can easily find others. In and south of Hana, most of the open land is owned by the Hana Ranch, and trespassing to reach the shores (which are all public under Hawaiian law) is no problem. If you wish to drive onto ranch property, check in at the ranch headquarters near town and ask for permission and a gate key. 

Soak up beauty 

There's plenty of adventuring to be had, but anyone who stays in Hana should make an effort to just ... be. For at least a couple hours a day, just soak up the beauty, let the velvety, balmy air caress your skin and curl your Colorado-dry hair and relax. Nap. That's part of Hana's allure. 

"This is a place where there's peacefulness beyond description," says Sandi Simoni. "It's a place where if it's a rainy day, you can just curl up with a book or sit there and watch the rain come down." 

Eventually, of course, most people have to leave. And when you do, consider exiting to the south. The drive around the virtually uninhabited southern end of Maui — about 60 miles to the nearest gas station, so make sure you have enough before leaving Hana — passes over bumpy, potholed roads through jungle, golden pasturelands and across the lower slopes of the volcano before arriving back in settled territory. You can stop at the tiny church where Charles Lindbergh is buried and you may well see whales blowing in the fast currents between Maui and the Big Island. You'll definitely feel like you're near some breathtakingly lovely edge of the world. 

(If you decide to leave Hana early and take a day on the "other side" — most flights are red-eyes that don't leave until late — do check out the national park and crater, and the Maui Ocean Center is an excellent aquarium.) 

Hana isn't for everybody. It's slow, populated by more cows than people, and yes, it has actual weather. The all-but-guaranteed sunshine and lively bustle of "the other side" can certainly satisfy some travelers' semi-tropical yearnings. 

But as Eddie Pu said of his hometown while dressed in his native garb, smiling and nodding at his Hawaiian brothers and a cluster of early-bird haoles during the opening ceremony of the recent Taro Festival, "This is a special place." 

April 29, 2001