Hopes Take Flight : Economy: Hawaii has beckoned North County farm workers recruited to toil in Maui’s pineapple fields.

Eleven migrant workers sought an unusual refuge Thursday from San Diego County’s winter of bankrupt tomato farms and squalid squatters camps.

They went to Hawaii.

The departing farm workers--and about 20 other Latino migrant laborers who will leave at a later date--were recruited in North County to harvest pineapples on the island of Maui as part of a program teaming a major Hawaiian agricultural firm, a Maui nonprofit agency and the North County Chaplaincy, an Encinitas social service agency.

A labor shortage in Hawaii has prompted big agricultural companies to hire from the mainland, where the recession has left farm workers and day laborers struggling to find work.

In the past, chaplaincy director Rev. Rafael Martinez has helped one or two migrants at a time find work in Maui’s pineapple fields, but, at the urging of the Maui Land & Pineapple Co. and its recruiting agency, nonprofit Maui Economic Opportunity, he recently stepped up his efforts.

The program offers a six-month contract, with hourly wages of $8.47 plus medical benefits, considerably better pay than the sporadic, minimum-wage jobs to which many of the workers are accustomed. The employer also advances one-way air fare out of future wages.

At about 4 p.m. Thursday, the recruits began arriving at Martinez’s office in an Encinitas strip mall for their ride to Los Angeles International Airport, carrying duffel bags, backpacks and plastic bags. They looked both excited and uneasy about the adventure at hand.

Each man who arrived asked the others the same question: “Everybody ready?”

The workers had overcome considerable obstacles. Many were initially wary about the destination. They had suffered past abuses and disappointments; several are still owed hundreds of dollars by Rancho Lopez, a Carlsbad tomato farm that recently went bankrupt. And they had asked a lot of questions: Where exactly is Hawaii? Is it farther from San Diego than the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca? Is it the place with palm trees they had seen on episodes of “Magnum, P.I.”?

In the end, they were won over by encouragements such as a Spanish-language orientation video--it showed images of rainbows over pineapple fields and dormitories complete with pool tables and telephones.

More important, they valued Martinez’s word.

“The reverend is trustworthy,” said Ramon Soto, 53, a former Rancho Lopez worker who has been living in a makeshift hut in the brush.

Soto has never been to Hawaii, but he has seen pineapple farming in the Mexican state of Nayarit. Workers wear protective suits over their clothes because the plants are prickly and because of the dust kicked up by machinery. As he demonstrated how pineapples are picked, the others watched intently.

“They supply the equipment, otherwise your clothes would get worn out right away,” he said. “Goggles for the eyes, because there is a lot of dust. It’s tough work, and the dust bothers you after a while.”

Other obstacles included a rigorous application process and medical screening, including X-rays and drug tests.

Angel Flores, a 42-year-old veteran of both Vietnam and the lettuce fields of Arizona, almost lost his spot at the last minute. Company officials in Maui raised questions Thursday morning about an old bullet wound in his back that he received in the war.

After several anxious hours, Flores got word by phone that he had been approved nonetheless.

“It was touch-and-go there,” the mustachioed worker said with a grin. He is bilingual and hopes to act as a leader and interpreter for the group. “I think this is a good opportunity. It’s something different.”

If the workers do well, they will be encouraged to remain in Hawaii once the six-month contracts end. But since the recruitment program began in 1990, many workers have left, spurred by homesickness and the high cost of living, according to Gladys Baisa of Maui Economic Opportunity.

Recruiters are urging men to bring their families to establish a base in Maui. The Latino immigrant population there has grown rapidly during the past two years because of plentiful agriculture and tourism jobs, Baisa said.

“If there are that many jobs, maybe we are going to be there for a while, “ said Ruben Flores, Angel’s brother. “Our families support us on this. They know we have been struggling for a while.”

Martinez dispensed plane tickets and advice. He told the men to have their immigration cards ready in case they were stopped at the airport; the program serves only legal immigrants with permanent residency or agricultural work permits.

Martinez scolded one recruit who showed up with liquor on his breath, and told the men he hopes they will make the best of the opportunity.

“We chose you because you are serious and mature workers,” he said. “It’s not going to be like here, where some of our people have to live in the camps almost like animals. The state of Hawaii is better in this. I wish you all good luck.”

As the hour approached to depart for the airport, some men said goodby to relatives. Pablo Garcia talked softly with his grandmother. Ruben Flores paced in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette.

And Isauro Lopez said he had one thing left to do.

“I’m ready for Hawaii,” he said. “Just give me five minutes.”

Then he excused himself, hurried across the mall to a small restaurant, and ate what he said might be his last authentic Mexican-style meal for a while.