Maui: America's Magic Isle

By Michael Demarest

For malihinis and faithful whales, a last paradise in the sun

Long, long ago, legend has it, the demigod Maui became incensed with the sun. It passed too swiftly over his Hawaiian island, leaving little time for fruits to ripen or womenfolk to dry their tapa cloth. So, with a web of 16 ropes, Maui lassoed the sun. "Give me my life," pleaded Sol. "I will," replied the demigod, "if you promise to move more slowly across our sky." The sun consented, and to this day, islanders swear, its arc is longer, its rays more generous than anywhere else on earth. And ever since, Maui's mighty volcano has been known as Haleakala, House of the Sun.

Maui's magic is as potent as ever, except that today he casts his net at the malihinis, the strangers from all over who swarm to his Valley Island by the thousands, bearing millions. They do not come to Maui for the Don Ho-hula-grass skirt-sarong-muumuu-mai tai-lei-and-luau scenario that, in mainlanders' eyes at least, has become to Hawaii what Mickey Mouse is to Disney World or the one-armed bandit to Las Vegas. They come for some of the world's most spectacular scenery and a variety of activities unmatched by any comparable area on earth. They come to sun, snorkel, scuba, skinny-dip, surf, sail and swim at 33 miles of superb public beaches; to cruise the crystalline waters on glass-bottomed boat, catamaran, windjammer or outrigger canoe; to golf, play tennis, deep-sea fish and surfcast; to flight see by helicopter; to beach-walk, backpack, camp, climb, ride horseback, bicycle, nature-walk, birdwatch, whale-gaze, explore, eat, drink, shop and be entertained, all on a 729-sq.-mi. isle about half the size of Long Island, N. Y. Largely pristine and un-Waikikied, it may be the last paradise with panache.

Maui, a tiny Rorschach splotch in the North Pacific, is pounded by breakers, caressed by potpourri-fragrant trade winds, usually blessed in some parts by 350 days a year of that still obedient sun. Maui is a microcosm of the world's landscapes and climates. Temperatures range from subarctic to subtropic; rainfall from 3 in. to 400 in. (but this whiter the whole island was drenched with a near record rainfall); the terrain from soaring peaks, impenetrable jungles and black lava promontories to viridian uplands, gossamer falls and beaches of bleached sand.

On the same 20DEG N. latitude line as Hong Kong, Mecca, Mexico City and Calcutta, Maui (pop. 54,000) is the second biggest, second youngest (some 15 million years old) of the 132 islands of the 50th and southernmost state. Maui County attracts more visitors than any other of the islands (1,414,867 in 1978, up 12.5% over the previous year). Oahu (Waikiki Beach, Pearl Harbor) is seriously overbuilt and overcrowded; Hawaii ("the Big Island") is famed for its volcanoes and rugged natural beauty but has few beaches and little action for the tourist; Kauai has great, uncrowded, golden beaches and a lush interior but not much else; Molokai also has superb beaches, but only one hotel and an arid interior.

Maui, with its rain forests and high volcanic range, boasts some 1,300 of the higher plants that exist only in the Hawaiian Islands. Indigenous birds include the black-necked stilt, the claw-footed nene, the short-eared owl and the blue-faced booby, and there are such unique fauna as the monk seal, the hoary bat and the predacious caterpillar. (There are no snakes on the islands.) Maui's waters teem with more than 700 species of fish, perhaps 20% of which are to be found only in Hawaii. The island's most faithful visitor is the humpback whale, the sportive, 40-ton leviathan that returns each whiter to the Lahaina roadstead to play and calve --and enthrall the onlooker.

If the island were barren, if it had no majestic koa trees or coconut palms or fern forests, no hibiscus, begonia, bougainvillaea, poinsettia, u'ulei, mamane or hinahina blossoms, it would be worth visiting for Haleakala alone. It is among the world's largest dormant volcanoes--it has not erupted since 1790--and its brooding presence dominates Maui. The crater of 10,000-ft.-high Haleakala (pronounced Hah-lee-ah-kah-lah) is seven miles long, two miles across and half a mile deep. While it has almost no vegetation save for patches of glistening silversword, the crater is dotted with rose-tipped cinder cones, evidence of minor eruptions over the centuries. It resembles nothing so much as a lunar landscape, and indeed was used as an off-off-planet tryout by the astronauts who made the first moon landing. The center of a 28,000-acre national park, Haleakala can be traversed by shanks' mare or mule train, a three-day mountain high.

The islands are as delightful to the philologist as they are to the bird watcher or plant stalker. All Hawaiian place names have meanings, poetic or factual. Maui's Waianapanapa, site of a 120-acre, stream-laced state park, is "glistening water." There are lao (valley of dawning inspiration), Kapilau (sprinkle of rain on leaves), Lanilili (rippling surface) and Waiakoa (waters used by warrior). Kaanapali is "rolling cliffs." It is comforting when boating off Wailea to know that the "waters [are] governed by Lea," goddess of canoe making. Lahaina is "land of prophecies."

Maui is neither easy nor cheap to get to, reports TIME Correspondent William Blaylock. Its Kahului Airport has been deliberately kept small so that it cannot handle direct flights from the mainland; jet passengers must disembark at Honolulu and transfer by cab ($3) or WikiWiki bus to the Aloha or Hawaiian Airlines terminal for the 20-min. onward flight to the Valley Isle, and may then have to rent a car to reach their destinations. Explains Elmer F. Cravalho, 53, the diminutive (5 ft. 5 in.), tough-minded descendant of Portuguese immigrants who has been Maui's mayor for the past eleven years: "We want the people who come to Maui to make a conscious choice that this is where they want to be. We don't want the people who go for the rock-bottom cheapest tour package. Maui is only for people who are willing to make the effort to get here."

One reason that so many are willing is that for many mainlanders the gloss has gone off some once fashionable Caribbean and Mexican resorts. The dollar is worth a dollar, almost. The natives speak English, sort of. It is a fairly easy hop for U.S. Westerners, who account for 80% of Maui's visitors (though 600 people a day flew from New York City en route to Maui on United alone last year). Though here and there a McDonald's, a Pizza Hut, a Baskin-Robbins has sprouted, it is still possible on Maui to rediscover the idyllic Hawaii of swaying palms and hips that Robert Louis Stevenson, Mark Twain and Jack London described so affectionately. More than 75% of the island is gloriously uninhabited and is likely to remain so. Only 2,650 acres are zoned for resort use, while 242,408 acres are reserved for cropland. Sugar cane is Maui's premier crop, yielding some 200,000 tons of sugar a year, the world's highest per-acre yield; the third biggest crop is pineapple. The second most valuable crop? Pakalalo, a.k.a. marijuana. Grown illicitly, of course, in rain forests and cane fields that are well-nigh impossible to police, Maui Wowie is reputedly the world's most potent pot, selling for $140 per oz.

Tourism, however, is the island's biggest money spinner ($176 million, vs. $65 million from agriculture in fiscal 1977). Maui's seven major resort hotels have an occupancy rate of well over 90%, a phenomenon that actually distresses the hoteliers because they hardly have time to change the sheets between check-out and checkin. Not at all unhappy are the property developers who are dotting condominiums around the hotels on what was useless brush and mesquite land a few years ago. If Maui in the past century was ravaged by diseases brought in by outsiders, the island today is in the throes of a more benign importation. It could be called condo fever. Symptoms:--More than 1,000 people gathered at Kapalua last July to engage in a form of real estate roulette. The names of "registered" prospective buyers of condominiums were spun in a revolving cage to decide which 134 lucky ones would get the chance to shell out an average $205,000 each for unbuilt one-or two-bedroom town-house units on leasehold land, with projected ground rent and maintenance charges of $300-$400 a month.

> Over in Wailea last April, more than 500 bidders were on hand to try their luck at 148 condos at Ekolu Village. Prices ranged from $150,000 to $230,000, and may have been a bargain at that. Neighboring Ekahi (first) Village opened three years ago with 294 units. A beachfront house there soared in value from $275,000 to $575,000 in one year. A one-third-acre building lot that went for $80,000 fetched $163,000 some 18 months later.

> At the Whaler, a twelve-story high-rise in Kaanapali, a two-bedroom apartment that sold for $175,000 in 1973 is worth $450,000 today.

> One of every 25 Maui residents is in the real estate business. Says Teney Takahashi, 40, the energetic. Oahu-born president of Amfac Communities--Maui, the island's first bigtime real estate developer: "I'm not kidding you, we just can't build 'em fast enough." Francis Blackwell, 54, Boston-born executive director of the Maui County Visitors Association, boasts: "We have more millionaires per capita than any other place in the country, including Palm Springs." To which Kapalua Land Co.'s Oregon-born vice president, Michael Gallagher, 36, adds: "How many more rich people can there be in the world? Where can they be? It's frightening."

There is little likelihood that Maui will be another South Sea Bubble. A brake on runaway development is the island's limited water supply, to which agriculture has first claim. Moreover, a real estate developer is compelled to divert equivalent acreage to cropland for every acre he takes out of production. Mayor Cravalho foresees a maximum future growth of 35% in hotel and condominium construction. Meanwhile, Maui has the lowest real property tax rate and bonded indebtedness in all of Hawaii. Its pricey real estate is bolstered in value by such intangibles as ambience and climate, but also by solid surroundings: beaches, swimming pools, stores, arts and crafts centers, restaurants, a tennis stadium there are already eight golf courses, almost back to back, at least one of international caliber, and two more are abuilding. Ekahi condo owners alone have access to two golf courses, four swimming pools and eleven (soon to be 24) tennis courts. When not in use by its owners, a three-bedroom town house can rent for up to $260 a night; if shared by two visiting couples with children, the rental can provide cheaper lodgings than a hotel, and greater independence (they can wear swimsuits for a home-cooked dinner).

The first and still biggest pleasure complex to sprout in the wilderness, in 1962, was the Kaanapali Beach Resort on Maui's west coast, overlooking the cloud-capped, green-velvet islands of Molokai and Lanai. On 470 acres girdled by three miles of wide white sand beach, Kaanapali has more than 2,200 rooms divided among the Sheraton-Maui, Royal Lahaina (the island's largest), Kaanapali Beach and Maui Surf hotels. Other Kaanapalitan lures include two championship golf courses (several couples each year get married on the 18th hole); 20 tennis courts; Whaler's Village, a 30 store shopping complex; and an airstrip from which Royal Hawaiian Air Service whisks the visitor in Cessna luxury to and from Honolulu. Henry A. Walker Jr., chairman and president of Amfac, Inc., owners of the resort, is developing a $4 million, seven-acre Hawaiian Sea Village, ressurrecting the islands' ancient arts and crafts. A few miles to the north is Kapalua, whose Bay Hotel opened last October. Operated by Rockresorts, the 196-room hotel has a superb golf course (the 334-yd. 13th green is framed by two beaches); another course is under construction. On the southwest coast is the charming 350-room Wailea Beach Hotel and its two golf courses, which also opened in 1978. The adjoining, three-year-old, 600-room Inter-Continental Maui is perhaps the chain's most elegant hostelry; it put up 2,500 honeymoon couples last year.

That's not all. South of Wailea, Seibu Hawaii Inc., a Japanese company, is building a six-story, 300-room hotel on 1,000 acres--with a golf course, of course. Within the Kaanapali complex, a Hyatt Regency, now half-built, will open in 1980. The $80 million, triple-towered, 820-room hotel, the biggest single construction project in Hawaiian history, will feature, among other things, a mini-Niagara surging through a lobby the size of three football fields.

Far removed from the resort-condo centers is Hana, edging the rain forest on the east coast. It was from Hana's shores in 1778 that King Kamehameha the Great glimpsed the first of the tall ships that were to impose Western so-called civilization on Hawaii; the ship's English captain, James Cook, mapped the island, which he spelled Mowee.* Though Hana can be reached in minutes by air, driving there is half the fun. The shoestring road, with 617 switchback bends and 56 one-way bridges, bumples through a jungle of bamboo, fern, maune loa vines, breadfruit, mango, banyan, banana, kukui and hau trees, perfumed by guava and wild ginger. Then, out of the forest and into the breeze, the white-knuckled driver arrives at the Hotel Hana-Maui, an island landmark.

A 30-year-old retreat for the reclusive, recherche and rich, from Gable to Streisand, the Hana caravansary sprinkles its pastel-colored bungalows (only 57 rooms) over 20 acres of manicured grass, perched between a 14,000-acre cattle ranch and the sandy half-moon of Hamoa Beach. Manager Tony de Jetley, an urbane Englishman who is married to a beautiful Hawaiian curiously named Alberta, enumerates 69 regular activities for hotel guests and their children; they range from frond weaving and night tide-pool fishing to breakfast cookouts and quarter-horse riding through terrain often photographed for Marlboro ads. Some families return to Hana as faithfully as Maui's whales. Charles Lindbergh, who lived for seven years with his wife Anne in Hana, is now buried there. Near by are the Seven Pools, two of which are favored by skinny-dippers: Poohahoahoa (meaning getting heads together) and Nakalaloa (complete forgiveness of sin).

On the other side of Haleakala, on the cool uplands above Wailea, on a clear day you can see, if not forever, a dazzling, dappled distance of meadow, mountain and sea. At the 2,000-to 3,000-ft. level, a host of small farms raise a cornucopia of vegetables, fruits and flowers, notably lychee, avocado, guava, the apple-sweet Kula onion and protea, the flower of a thousand exquisite shapes.

At 2,000 ft., on C. Pardee Erdman's 30,000-acre Ulupalakua ranch, speckled with volcanic boulders, cactus and 6,000 head of cattle, is Hawaii's only vineyard. It was carved out by Emil Tedeschi, 36, an emigre from a Napa Valley wine-making clan. After experimenting with 140 varieties of grape, he has planted 15 acres in Carnelian, a cross between Cabernet, Grenache and Carignane. While the first bottles of his red wine will not reach their prime until 1984, a tasting of an early vintage reveals body and character. Meanwhile, Oenologist Emil and his chemist wife Joanne are making a pineapple wine they call Maui Blanc. It has a fruity aroma but, considering its origin, is a clear, reasonably dry and inexpensive ($3.99) bottle that could go as well with the sorbet as a costly sauterne.

Most island visitors prefer Scotch or martinis. After soaping off the Coppertone, they generally settle for dinner and dreams. For the indefatigable, however, there is nightlife on Maui. There are waiting lines outside the Lost Horizon disco at the Wailea Beach Hotel; the Royal Lahaina's Foxy Lady packs in upper teenagers and the Tommy Dorsey set in equal numbers. The island's hottest spot is the Bluemax, in the town of Lahaina, where visiting Elton John and Linda Ronstadt have done their stuff off the cuff; the place is packed nightly in hopes that other drop-in stars may relieve the resident combo.

Indeed, by night or day, the island's fun-and-games fulcrum is Lahaina (pronounced La-high-nah), a one-street, six-block town with the raffish aura of Virginia City cum Tijuana. Once the playground of Hawaiian royalty, and later in the 19th century a major port for whaling ships and China clippers, the clapboard community has been restored to a state of authentic tackiness. La haina boasts some 30 restaurants and about 260 stores whose offerings range from elegant scrimshaw and touristy puka-shell necklaces to T shirts with slogans like DON'T HASSLE THE HUMPBACKS, MAUI NO KA Ol (Maui is the best) and HERE TODAY GONE TO MAUI. On the town's bustling waterfront, tourists cram aboard the 50-ft. trimaran Trilogy for daylong sails, or the 65-ft. glass-bottomed boat Coral See.

Later this year the Lahaina Restoration Foundation will have almost totally rebuilt Carthaginian II (named for the fictional vessel in James Michener's Hawaii), which will be a true replica of a 19th century trader. One of the foundation's major enterprises is a marine research center which is trying to preserve the endangered humpbacks, of which there are perhaps only 850 left. (By dialing 667-9316 you can hear them "singing.") The foundation has also restored to Victorian primness the home of the Baldwin family, pioneer missionaries and landowners of whom the natives still say: "They came here to do good and did right well." Near by, Baldwin ghosts may note with horror, aging flower children --"bamboo tourists"--dicker for Maui Wowie. Thanks to the tourist boom, Lahaina today has three times as many permanent inhabitants (some 10,000) as it did in the 1840s, whaling's heyday.

Not least among the island's beauties are its beauties. Maui boasts some of the world's most exotic women. Many flashing-eyed, sinuous wahines are hapa-haole, meaning half Caucasian; others are apparently products of every conceivable ethnic mix. Of the larger islands Maui has the state's biggest proportion of Polynesian-descended Hawaiians and part

Hawaiians (26.3%), though they are slightly outnumbered by islanders of Japanese origin (26.4%); the other major non-Caucasian strain is Filipino (17%), followed by Chinese and Korean. Thus while Hawaiian, a melodious language that the missionaries alphabetized into a mere twelve characters, is still spoken and sung on the island, many natives converse in pidgin English, the world's most colorful lingua franca. A dark-hued hotel waiter, cussed out by an irate Texan who has received the soup in his lap, retorts: "Eh, now, no take out on me, you stupid buggah! Udderwise bimeby I gone broke your head in small tiny pieces."

Pidgin for a mouth-watering dish is brok'd'moutt (it breaks the mouth). While Hawaiian cuisine may never break Michelin's mouth, Maui offers some distinctive delicacies: ophis (yellow limpets) eaten raw, chicken stewed in coconut milk, kuolo (coconut and sweet-potato pudding) and macadamia-nut pie, aloha cousin to Southern pecan pie; also, almost all the island's fish, notably mahimahi (dolphin), ahi (tuna), ono (wahoo), opakapaka (pink snapper), akule (mackerel) and aquaculturally raised catfish, all of which are often served in a papillote of ti leaves; and all the tropical fruits like papaya, persimmon, pineapple, lilikoi (passion fruit), guava and dozens of wild berries. Between meals, there are Dewey Kobayashi's famed Kitch'n Cook'd potato chips, which are unobtainable on the mainland at any price. Whether for malihin is or for themselves, Mauians, like all Hawaiians, dish up gargantuan meals, fit for a 300-lb. Queen Namahana. "Mo is bettah!" they say.

Restaurants have bloomed like mamane flowers;, there are some 160, most of them so-so or ho-ho. Among the best: Inter-Continental's La Perouse (where the resident harp player is truly named Holly Angel), Wailea Beach's Raffles, Robaire's, Kimo's and Chez Paul, a French bistro in a beat-up storefront near Lahaina that is owned by a Boston Irishman named Paul Kirk (fortunately, his French wife Fernanda presides over the stove).

The better places do not curdle the diner's juices with Tin Pan Aloha plunk-plunk music. Some of the most memorable songs are English or American ballads rendered in Hawaiian to a Hawaiian beat; The Battle Hymn of the Republic sounds terrific that way. Many other chants have their island-English versions, to wit: The Twelve Days of Christmas, in which "my tutu [grannie] give to me one mynah bird in one papaya tree, two coconut, three dried squid, four flower lei, five fat pig, six hula lesson, seven shrimp as wimming, eight ukulele, nine pound of poi, ten can of beer, eleven missionary and twelve television."

A more magnanimous tutu would surely have thrown in one $500,000 condo and two grilled mahimahi filets. Mo is bettah! Brok'd'moutt! Thank you, Sun! --Michael Demarest

*To this day. the state flag incorporates the Union Jack.

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