Low-Rise Hawaii

Molokai is visible from where I live on the island of Maui. The mountain peaks of Molokai’s east end reach into the clouds, and ancient fishponds line the shore. It seems so close, yet Molokai is foreign--suspended in time. There are no luxury hotels, no boutiques selling beachwear and macadamia nuts, and until recently, not even a movie theater.

It’s often touted as “the most Hawaiian island” or the “friendly island.” Yet it’s hardly overrun by tourists, and its 6,700 residents have passionately fought attempts to bring their home into the mainstream of Hawaii’s visitor industry.

Molokai’s ruggedness and simplicity are not everyone’s cup of tea. Besides, it’s not that easy to get here. There are no nonstop flights from the mainland, and only Hawaiian Airlines and the smaller Aloha Islandair fly in a couple of times a day from Honolulu.

Going over, even the other passengers seemed different from the mix of vacationers and businesspeople with polo shirts and laptops who populate most interisland flights. Next to me, a lovely Hawaiian girl in denim overalls flirted shyly with a boy who had been away from the island for school. In front of me was a family who had been to Honolulu for a shopping spree at Kmart and Costco. Groceries and new clothing were stuffed into a large cooler and numerous taped-shut cardboard boxes.

On the ground I looked for my ride out to the island’s new visitor destination, Molokai Ranch--a cross between a dude ranch and a recreation park complete with three “campsites,” a town and a rodeo arena. Purchased in 1991 by a New Zealand company, the century-old cattle ranch that sprawls over a third of the island has branched out into tourism with a low-impact, eco-adventure resort. An aggressive advertising campaign on neighbor islands was offering locals the chance to come check it out for an attractive kamaaina (special islanders’ rate). So two weeks ago I decided to see what the new owners, Brierley Investments, Ltd., had wrought on Molokai’s arid west end.

Previous stabs at catering to visitors have been few and infrequent. In the 1960s, the bungalow-style Hotel Molokai was built on the east side of Kaunakakai town and, although it has been closed for several years, new owners are making plans to reopen soon. Along Kepuhi Beach on the west end, Kaluakoi Hotel & Golf Club, and condominiums, were developed 20 years ago. But nothing on the scale of the current plans has been seen before. The ranch already is selling lots for “affordable and luxury” homes touting “Old Hawaii charm with contemporary comforts,” and next year it expects to open a 22-room, $11-million lodge in Maunaloa town.

Residents seem torn between the economic realities (estimates of those on government assistance run as high as 30%) and keeping the island “Hawaiian” in character. Development has been slow and designed to maintain the small-town feeling. Still, Molokai is changing, and many locals fear losing their old fishing and hunting areas.

I spotted my Ranch driver, Angie, leaning against a stone pillar near the Hoolehua Airport exit, talking to a Hawaiian woman who had come down to pick up her own cooler and boxes of purchases flown over from Honolulu. There are no supermarkets on Molokai--just a few small groceries in Kaunakakai, Maunaloa and Hoolehua--and prices are staggeringly high. So fishing, hunting the local axis deer and maintaining gardens is essential.

Looking scrubbed in her green Molokai Ranch shirt with polished, black kukui nut lei, Angie cheerfully lugged my one bag into the van, and we were off. We passed a line of a dozen or so pickups and four-wheel-drive vehicles pulled over to the side of the road to watch a water-dropping helicopter put out a brush fire.

“On Molokai this is an event,” she said. Shortly, we pulled up in front of the Ranch Outfitters in the new-old town of Maunaloa.

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The ranch itself dates back to 1848 and Hawaii’s first division of land for private ownership, called the Great Mahele. It was first owned by King Kamehameha V, then by Princess Pauahi Bishop, whose husband Charles Reed Bishop sold the land after Hawaii’s annexation by the United States.

In 1908, Charles M. Cooke, a Honolulu businessman and descendant of missionaries, purchased the ranch and installed his 27-year-old son, George P., as ranch manager. The Cookes were an integral part of island life. They began the successful raising of Santa Gertrudis cattle imported from the Texas King ranch, turning their spread into the second largest cattle ranch in Hawaii, until they sold in the mid-1970s.

My first encounter with Molokai was with the Cookes. In the early 1970s, running from city life in San Francisco, my then husband and infant son and I landed on Molokai for a year to run a bar in Kaunakakai and a U-drive at Hoolehua Airport. I hosed out the bar in the mornings after rowdy nights and cooked up local dishes of pipi (beef) stew and rice on a hot plate in the back room.

Molokai was a tough place in those days. Young rookie cops from Maui were sent here to get street experience, but the last thing they wanted to do was control drunken paniolos (cowboys) on a Saturday night. They put in their time and moved back to Maui as soon as they could. My husband, whose inclinations ran more to poetry and music, was left to ask them to “please leave guns in your Jeeps or check them at the bar.” It would have been comical if it hadn’t been downright scary.

Both from Hawaii and distantly related to the Cookes by marriage, my husband and I lived in the Cooke family compound, or what was left of it. Peppie Cooke, one of George P.’s sons, lived next door with his wife, and on nights when he wanted company he’d come over and sing us old Hawaiian cowboy songs, accompanying himself on his ukulele. He sang in the old guttural style, in perfect Hawaiian, the songs he’d heard in his youth. Even then, we knew how privileged we were to be seeing the last vestiges of Old Hawaii.

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In Maunaloa, an old wooden town that looks like a cowboy movie set, Angie and I picked up a vacationing couple, covered with sweat and dust, with smiling faces. They had been here for almost a week, they said, and were having the most relaxing vacation they could remember. That morning they’d been on a cattle drive that ended with hamburgers on the grill cooked by real cowboys.

We dropped them off at nearby Paniolo Camp, which opened in February 1997 and is the oldest of the ranch’s three campsites. Paniolo, and the recently opened Kaupoa Camp, have canvas-covered “tentalows” with beds and simple furniture, set on raised wooden platforms. Also occupying each platform are an enclosed, roofless bathroom and comfortable lounge furniture. Beside each tentalow a hammock is strung between trees.

The third site, Kolo Cliffs Camp, opened a year ago and has 20 dome-shaped yurts, also set on platforms. The Kolo yurts are spread out on a cliff overlooking the ocean and offer the most privacy. It’s the best choice for honeymooners and the truly stressed out. At Paniolo, and especially Kaupoa, where I stayed, tentalows are clustered closer together into a “village” configuration. Each camp has its own pavilion for gatherings and meals.

Paniolo Camp--where ranch cowboys stage mini-cattle drives and guests ride well-trained horses over about three miles of pastureland--is the best choice for horse enthusiasts.

Our “camp coordinator” Fern, a stocky young woman with a happy face and a warm personality, greeted me at Kaupoa and signed me up for the next morning’s guided walk to see ancient archeological sites, followed by shopping in Maunaloa town. There are mountain bikes here, as well as equipment for snorkeling, kayaking and shore fishing, but I was feeling lazy--and I’m not very outdoorsy. It’s OK, Fern said. Do whatever you like. (The truly active can sign up for two two-hour activities per day.)

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That evening we had a filling, straightforward dinner of salad, garlic bread, grilled mahi-mahi and steaks, finished off with pineapple upside-down cake. Meals are casual and served buffet style in the Kaupoa pavilion kitchen. We found our places at picnic tables covered with brown, coarse burlap. Cool evening breezes wafted through as the sun set behind Diamond Head, a mere 25 miles across the channel on Oahu. There’s no beer or wine, but I could have picked some up in Maunaloa if I’d felt like it. One guest, a restaurateur from Maui, had a six-pack of beer and several bottles of nice wine brought in and was generously offering other diners drinks. There were only six of us in camp that night and we became quick friends, chatting easily over our dinners.

After dinner I took a cup of coffee and walked to the beach to watch the lights of Honolulu in the distance, as the waves dashed on the now-black rocks. There were no footsteps or cigarette butts on this beach. Time was suspended. I was perfectly relaxed.

Later in my tent, I tried with no success to get the solar light to work. There are no phones, not even a house phone (communication is by radio). I tried to call home on my cellular, dialing by flashlight, but there was too much static. Instead I lay in the dark on the comfortable queen-size bed and looked out at the stars through the mesh windows. The decor is sort of minimal Ralph Lauren-goes-West: simple, unpainted bed frame, end tables outfitted with citronella candles and a flashlight, a bookcase, a trunk for clothing and gear, and a cooler filled with drinks, snacks and ice. The floor is covered in lauhala matting, flat, cool and clean. What’s especially nice is the plush terry bathrobe, perfect for running out to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

It was hard to sleep with all the Molokai dirt in my pores, so I grabbed a thick green towel and headed for the bath enclosure. The moon shone so brightly I didn’t bother to turn on the light. I showered right there in the moonlight in the zinc-lined shower, pulling the rope attached to the faucet whenever I wanted a flood of warm, solar-heated water.

The next morning, after a breakfast of eggs, meats, fresh fruit, cereal and pastries, I was joined in the ranch van by two 10-year-olds who were going mountain biking at Paniolo Camp. As we bumped over the washboard-rough dirt road they yelled, “Go faster! Go faster!” to no avail. When we dropped them off at the camp we were met by a group of Boy Scouts headed back down to the beach for kayaking and fishing. They piled into the four-wheel-drive Suburban and were off.

I went with another couple and a former Bishop Museum cultural specialist to look at old Hawaiian house sites and an adze, a Stone Age implement quarry near Paniolo. Molokai has always been a mysterious island, our guide said. In ancient times, when island chiefs warred with each other regularly, they often bypassed Molokai because of its reputation for having kahuna, or spiritual priests, with amazing powers.

The hula is said to have originated on a hill near the town of Maunaloa. Each year in May, dancers from all the islands come to Molokai. They gather in the darkness at 4 a.m. to wait for sunrise, when they offer their dances and chants to Laka, the goddess of the hula. The event kicks off a week of cultural activities on Molokai.

“I can always tell if people are going to like it here [on the ranch] from the moment I pick them up,” says Abcde (pronounced ab-see-dee), our van driver on the way back to Kaupoa Camp. “If they’re standing there in white linen with lots of jewelry, I know they’ll hate it.”

Come to Molokai Ranch with a change of clothes for each day. And be prepared to get dirty. As we bounced back to camp in the late afternoon, I noticed that the pastures, road and trees are all one color--red dirt. If you’ve never been on the Serengeti Plain of East Africa, this is the next best thing.

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GUIDEBOOK

Molokai Moves

Getting there: Fly nonstop L.A.-Honolulu on American, Continental, Delta, Hawaiian Airlines, Northwest and United. Then take either Aloha Islandair or Hawaiian airlines to Hoolehua, Molokai; round-trip fares begin at $602. You can fly nonstop from Maui to Molokai; round-trip fares begin at $78. Service from other islands to Molokai is connecting through Honolulu; round-trip fares begin at $180.

Transportation: There is no need to rent a car if you stay at the campsites. To see the rest of the island, Budget and Dollar rent on Molokai.

Molokai Ranch: Paniolo and Kaupoa camps have 120-square-foot tentalows on raised wood platforms, bathrooms with self-composting toilet, shower and basin with solar-heated water. Kolo Cliffs Camp has 200-square-foot yurts on platforms, furnished similarly. Rates: Paniolo $155-$185 per adult per day, $75 children 4-12, free under 4; Kolo $200-$215; Kaupoa $215-$245. Includes three daily meals; all gratuities; airport shuttle; transfers to activities; horseback riding, cattle drive, hiking, surfing, kayaking, snorkeling, shore and deep-sea fishing and mountain biking. Reservations: telephone (877) 726-4656.

For more information: Hawaii Visitors Bureau, 180 Montgomery St., Suite 2360, San Francisco, CA 94104; tel. (800) 353-5846, fax (415) 248-3808.