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Residents of Maui have a slogan, Maui no ka ’oi— Maui is the best. Having visited all five of the major Hawaiian islands, I find that very concept preposterous. Each island has a distinctive but equally valid claim on “the best.” I think the slogan might actually mean Maui has something for everyone. If you seek the stereotypical Hawaiian vacation at one of the expensive resorts jam-packed along a sun-baked stretch of sandy beach, you can find it on Maui. If you’re looking to fill an active agenda of snorkeling, windsurfing, hiking, and mountain biking down a volcano, you can find it on Maui. If you just want to ramble down narrow winding roads and marvel at the scenery, or have an isolated beach all to yourself, you can also find that on Maui. The official marketeers seem to have defined the Maui brand as a romantic getaway for weddings, honeymoons, and anniversaries that’s also packed with family-friendly activities. But they don’t mention that the proliferation of condominiums and vacation rentals away from the overbuilt resort areas also makes Maui a fine destination for solo travelers and non-romantic friends.

Maui is actually two islands in one. West Maui is an ancient extinct volcano (the West Maui Mountains) that millennia of rain and wind have eroded into many deep valleys. The valleys inspired government officials to dub Maui “the Valley Isle” as part of a campaign to promote tourism after World War II. You’ll still see that nickname, but Visitors Bureau marketeers recently scrapped it for one with more romantic pizzazz. Maui is now “the Magic Isle.”

East Maui is the massive Haleakala (“Ha-lay-ah-ka-lah”) volcano, active in historic times but now “dormant.” Lava from Haleakala filled in the channel between the islands, creating an isthmus that contains the twin cities of Wailuku (“Why-loo-koo,” meaning water of destruction) and Kahului (“Ka-who-loo-ee,” meaning the winning). Like the island itself, these two towns have merged into a single agglomeration; it’s where most of Maui’s non-tourist population lives and works. The ancient Hawaiians neatly summed up Maui when they named the West Maui volcano Mauna Kahalawai— Synergy Mountain.

Kaanapali (“Ka-ah-nah-pah-lee,” meaning divided cliff) is Maui’s main resort area. In the early 1960s, the sugar conglomerate Amfac decided that their cane fields on the sunny West Maui beach at Kaanapali would be more profitable as a beachfront resort. Thus began the relentless condo-ization of Maui, as well as the ascent of Amfac as a resort and tour operator. My first trip to Hawaii was an Amfac package. Although Amfac has succumbed to the ravages of mergers and bankruptcy, the development and northward expansion of Kaanapali continues unabated. The West Maui coast is now a continuous strip of generic beachfront hotels, restaurants, and time-share complexes. It rivals Waikiki’s density, crowds, and traffic jams, but has none of Waikiki’s distinctive color or character. There’s really no reason to visit the Kaanapali strip unless you’re staying there.

Just south of Kaanapali, the former whaling town of Lahaina (“La-high-na”) is a touristy collection of shops, restaurants, and time-share hawkers. But it preserves enough colorful history as the 19th century capital of Hawaii to be worth a visit. Lahaina means cruel sun, but a more appropriate translation might be cruel parking. Street parking and free public lots are limited to three hours and usually packed. Private lots also are often full, despite the extortionate cost. If you venture away from the crowds of Front Street, the main tourist thoroughfare, you can find not only parking but pockets of the “real” Hawaii. The wood and corrugated steel construction of this house (with the West Maui Mountains in the background) is common throughout rural Hawaii.

Each May, Lahaina hosts the International Festival of Canoes. Artisans from all over Polynesia gather under a giant banyan tree to carve traditional canoes and other crafts, including this Hawaiian pahu drum. Tourists can watch the canoes take shape over several weeks, culminating in a ceremonial blessing and launching of the completed canoes in Lahaina Harbor.

If you’re looking for unspoiled beaches you’ll have better luck in South Maui, the sunny west coast of Haleakala. Kihei (“Key-hay,” meaning cape or cloak) is Maui’s second overbuilt resort area. Captain George Vancouver landed there in 1778. He declared it too hot and dry to be of any value, and then sailed off to find a climate more to his liking in British Columbia. He probably would be surprised by the haphazard sprawl of condominiums and strip malls that has since sprouted in Kihei. If you drive south from Kihei, past Wailea’s posh gated golf resorts, you’ll get to Makena (“Ma-kay-na,” meaning abundance). At least for now, Makena remains free of condominium overgrowth.

The main landmark in Makena is the historic Keawalai Congregational Church (“Kay-ah-wah-la-ee,” meaning the tranquil heaven). Built in 1855, its meter-thick walls are made of lava rock held together with coral mortar. It’s typical of many churches in Hawaii that externally resemble the New England houses of worship familiar to Hawaii’s first Congregationalist missionaries. But they’re built from materials— and often painted in colors— you’d never find in Massachusetts. Keawalai Church has a beautiful oceanfront setting next to postcard-pretty Maluaka Beach (“Ma-loo-ah-ka”).

Makena Landing was once the dock for a large ranch on the “Upcountry” slopes of Haleakala. Cowboys would drive cattle down a road for loading onto the barges that took them “to market” on Oahu. It’s now a beach park that has seen better days— a 1999 storm washed away most of the sand. Off the beaten path, it’s a pleasantly secluded place for kayaking, snorkeling, picnics, or just enjoying the scenery.

South of Makena, the road narrows and the landscape becomes strangely barren. This is the Ahihi-Kina’u Natural Area Reserve, created by Haleakala’s last eruption in 1790. Two centuries just isn’t enough time for plants and erosion to turn volcanic rock into soil, so the Reserve is 827 hectares of piled black aa lava. The paved road ends at La Perouse Bay. French explorer Jean-François de Galoup, Comte de La Pérouse “discovered” Maui in 1786. This bay was where he became the first European to set foot on the island.

The Iao Valley (“Ee-yow”) is deep in a canyon in the West Maui Mountains. It’s best known for the iconic “Iao Needle.” The ancient name for the 366-meter-high erosional pillar was Kukaemoku, for which a reasonably polite translation might be broken excrement. The name perhaps offers a glimpse into the way ancient Hawaiians saw the world. The valley is a state park, tastefully developed with nicely paved trails. It has a tranquil atmosphere, at least until several tour buses arrive and simultaneously unleash their occupants. Iao means supreme cloud, and heavy clouds in the valley indeed often dull the verdant “needle.”

Peaceful Iao Valley has a gruesome history. At the end of the 18th century, Kamehameha I conquered all the Hawaiian islands into a unified kingdom. During the battle for Maui in 1790, Kamehameha’s warriors routed Maui’s defenders into this valley (with the help of American advisors and their cannons). Those who couldn’t escape over the mountains were massacred. So many bodies clogged the stream that runs through the valley that the battle site was named Kepaniwai, dammed waters. There is still a bloodthirsty army at Kepaniwai. Swarms of aggressive mosquitoes wait by the stream, eager to attack invading tourists (who might call it damned waters).

Haleakala means House of the Sun. The prosaic reason for the name is that in West Maui or the isthmus, the sun appears to rise from the mountain each morning. But the mythical explanation is more appealing. The demigod Maui, after whom the island is named, was the Polynesian Hercules. During a fishing trip around the Pacific, Maui’s fishhook kept getting snagged. That’s how he pulled up all the Hawaiian islands (and also New Zealand) from the ocean floor. Days were shorter in Maui’s time, and his mother would often complain that there wasn’t enough daylight for her laundry to dry. So he climbed up the volcano and lassoed the rising sun by its rays. Maui refused to let the sun go until it promised to slow down. The mountain henceforth was called Haleakala, and became a sacred place for ancient kahuna priests. More recently, New Age practitioners— whose increasing presence there may soon make the island of Maui a Hawaiian version of Sedona— consider Haleakala a powerful energy vortex, a natural source of spiritual forces analogous to one of the Earth’s acupuncture points.

Whatever your beliefs, a trip up the world’s largest dormant volcano is an essential Maui experience. Geologists consider Haleakala “dormant” because it last erupted in 1790. In geological terms, an eruption 200 years ago is too recent to consider a volcano “extinct.” There’s still enough lava moving around inside the mountain to produce the occasional earthquake. And Haleakala has a history of rather lengthy snoozes between eruptions, so it could wake up again. The crater is 12 kilometers long and 4 kilometers wide, big enough to contain a city. It could be a surrealistic version of the surface of Mars, with colors that change with the angle of the sun.

Guidebooks invariably recommend emulating the mythical Maui: Start up the mountain in the wee hours of the morning to arrive at the summit in time to catch the sun’s first rays. That’s great if you like to get up early, bundle up for some very cold weather, and negotiate a very steep, twisty, and possibly icy road in the dark (the Haleakala Crater Road reputedly gains the most altitude in the shortest distance of any road in the world). But later in the morning is nearly as good. You’ll encounter smaller crowds and less traffic from cars and from tour groups who travel up the volcano in a van and ride down on rented bicycles.

The summit doesn’t have a good view of the crater. But at 3055 meters above sea level, it’s the best place to experience the sunrise. Once the sun is up, the summit offers a tremendous view of Maui and its surrounding islands (if it’s a clear day). You can get a much better view of the crater at the Visitor Center (2969 meters) and the Kalahaku Overlook (2842 meters). Check the weather forecast before heading for Haleakala. It’s a two-hour trip from the West Maui resorts, and the crater sometimes is shrouded in fog.

The slopes of Haleakala are Maui’s “Upcountry.” At a thousand meters above sea level the climate is cool and temperate. It’s suitable for cattle and horse ranching, and particularly for crops that would die in the tropical heat and humidity elsewhere in Hawaii. Upcountry farms grow everything from carnations to onions; there’s even a winery that makes both grape and pineapple wine.

The Holy Ghost Church is in the Upcountry town of Kula (meaning plain where, according to the local Chamber of Commerce, “it’s cooler”). Completed in 1895, it originally served Portuguese Catholic immigrants who worked as contract laborers in the sugar cane fields and later became Upcountry farmers. The only octagonal church in Hawaii, its design resembles that of chapels in Portugal.

 
Despite the crowds, congestion, and miserable traffic jams of West Maui’s beach resorts, at the end of the day it’s a great place to enjoy a world-class sunset. This one was at Lahaina Harbor, looking across the Auau Channel (“Ow-ow,” meaning bathing) to the island of Lanai.

Maui’s Scenic Coastal Highways

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The fine print: All pictures and text are copyright © 1988 and 2006 by Ted R. Marcus and may not be reproduced without permission. For information about licensing any of these images for Web, print, stock, or other uses, contact me.