Not a Five Star (Hawaii, Sep 2009)

I always envisioned my first trip to Hawaii being special, with a stay in a Five Star resort which offered luxury and refinement next to a sandy beach. The resort would include a world-class spa, a fitness center, leisure facilities, restaurants, and endearing locals. I never guessed that the actual experience would exceed expectations several fold. All in all, with my traveling mates Nate and Jace, we had an exquisite time at a “resort” like no other.

I had always heard that Hawaiian natives were an endearing laid-back lot. It never occurred to me that a few of them were red-neck, like the big fella that passed us on the road as we began our jaunt. His expression shouted, “You’re going to Waimanu? Are you freaking crazy?” His actual words were, “It’s ‘effing HOT!”. Indeed it was hot, which only made our arrival at the resort seven hours later even more special.

Our destination was nestled in a deep valley which opened to the Pacific on the north side of the Big Island. The pristine quarter-mile long beach was framed on either end by 1200-foot high bluffs. The view to the south, enjoyed from a make-shift lounge chair cut into a tree stump, was sensational. Several waterfalls cascaded hundreds of feet down steep mountain slopes, feeding lush tropical foliage on the valley floor. The beach laid only a few steps north of our sleeping accommodations. In the evenings we were lulled to sleep by the surf, which churned continuously. The spa included a 300-ft water fall which cascaded into a pristine pool - perfect for swimming and bathing. The fitness center included a one-mile walk along a rudimentary trail through the jungle to the falls. The scenery along the trail was phenomenal, including tropical plants and wild pigs. The local cuisine included Guava and macadamia nuts. It was cool to pick fruit directly from native trees, even if it did move through our bodies with the speed of water through a garden hose.

The welcoming nature of the locals was exemplified by the 2-inch long Hawaiian cockroaches who loved savory brown gravy even more than Jace and a little brown mouse that paid me a very personal nose-to-nose visit.

The focal point of this resort was the beach with its soft black sand. It was there that we lounged at day break and watched distant clouds over the Pacific turn magnificent colors as the sun inched its way over the horizon. We lounged in the same location in the late evening as the rising moon silhouetted the jutting thousand-foot high island cliffs to the east. In between these events the beach provided hours of activities, from body surfing and boogey boarding to make-shift arcade games in which we tossed rocks at everything from coconuts to sand crabs. When it rained we continued frolicking in the surf. There was no reason to get out. The pitter patter of rain drops on the ocean surface only enhanced the experience.

Waimanu Valley is an exquisite undeveloped piece of Hawaii that typical tourists don’t ever get to enjoy. Most that get an opportunity to gawk at its wonders lay down big bucks to do it high from a helicopter. What price is to be paid to enjoy this paradise up close and personal, this tropical utopia which surpasses Gilligan’s Island in beauty and has the same number of inhabitants that Gilligan’s place had before the Skipper’s boat floundered on its beach? The answer is an arduous 10-mile hike.

Though the hike was difficult, it was an adventure all unto itself. Climbing the steep switchbacks up mountainous trails provided exquisite views of sandy beaches and white-water surf a thousand feet below. Fording two waist-deep rivers was a welcome diversion, as was a swim in a deep waterfall-fed pool tucked away in a shadowy jungle setting. All in all, it was an exceptional trip. Sure, we expected a lot going in. We were not disappointed.