When I told a friend I was planning to stay in an off-grid cabin on a farm in Hawaii, her reaction of a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity reflected my general attitude toward camping, and most outdoor activities: “Spontaneous? Doesn’t Hawaii have literally hundreds of the most beautiful hotels and resorts?”
She wasn’t wrong.
Hawaii has hundreds of hotels across its islands, and as someone who considers a run in the park an outdoor adventure, the choice to stay in one of the most beautiful places in the world was understandably disconcerting.
But I wanted a different kind of adventure than what people associate with islands — sitting on the beach sipping Mai Tais. I planned to kayak, snorkel, take local tours, and see local art. I wanted to have fun, but I also wanted to learn something and support local businesses along the way.
I also knew that making locally and Native Hawaiian-owned businesses a bigger part of the tourism industry was a major goal of the Native Hawaiian Advancement Council, the organization recently tasked with promoting the state to the rest of the country.
“Have fun,” a friend told me a few days before we left.
That’s what I intended to do.
Farm Stay
I was drawn to the Kulaniapia Falls Inn in the foothills of Hilo not only for its spectacular 120-foot waterfall and the many interesting activities it offers, but also for its insight into how tourism can thrive in the future in Hawaii and other overcrowded places without harming the environment or the people who live there.
The inn is on one side of a 40-plus acre property, with a farm on the other, and three cabins available to rent for guests (I paid $147 a night in November). A waterfall and solar panels provide nearly all the power, including the cabin I stayed in. Rainwater is also collected, put through a multi-stage filtration process, and used for drinking, bathing, and cleaning. The entire operation is an exciting experiment in sustainable, renewable travel (and living) and worth seeing and experiencing, even for me, a skeptic about paying hundreds of dollars to be outdoors.
Within an hour of checking into my cabin, I was kayaking under a waterfall. The cabin didn’t have its own bathroom or electricity, but it overlooked the ocean and the bed was super comfortable. This experience allowed me to say out loud that this was the start of my outdoor girl days. I spent hours walking lush trails (failing miserably at identifying most of the plants), sitting in bamboo forests, and swimming in cool, still waters. As I looked up at the trees from under the waterfall, I felt like putting my phone away and getting away from the internet.
And that’s exactly what everyone who works at the property expects from guests, says Christophe Bisciglia, one of the inn’s partners. Entry to Kulaniapia is limited to guests staying at the property and those who register in advance and purchase a day pass ($49 for adults, $29 for children), an arrangement that limits the number of visitors and ensures “all of our guests can enjoy our wild, natural environment,” Bisciglia said. He adds that more than half of the full-time staff are of Native Hawaiian descent, and many of the activities offered onsite are tied to local businesses.
One of the activities was to rappel down a waterfall with a guide, but I decided against it and instead took a farm tour ($29) led by two members of Kulaniapia’s “family.” About a dozen members live there full time, many of whom are involved in community projects that allow them to experience hospitality, farming, building, and other skills.
On the tour, we learned about the fruits and vegetables grown on the farm, including taro, bananas, cauliflower and broccoli, which are used in cooking classes held on the farm several times a week, giving the phrase “farm-to-table” a literal and personal meaning.
I ate, too. As I explored, I occasionally passed the inn’s kitchen and caught a glimpse of chef Greg Lockwood preparing that day’s dinner. Served on a lanai (veranda) with views of the waterfall, paths, and gardens, Lockwood’s dinner included Kauai shrimp and mahi-mahi ceviche, yellowfin tuna poke, and sushi rice. Another course was pumpkin soup with coconut cream and pancetta. The third course was opakapaka (one of seven species of snapper native to Hawaii) served with Japanese taro poi, ginger-lemongrass broth, snap peas, and grape tomatoes. Dessert was coconut ice cream pie with macadamia nut crust and Hawaiian dark chocolate ganache.
For someone like me who is indecisive or easily overwhelmed, this meal was ideal not only for its rich flavor and freshness, but also because there was no need to decide: Chef Greg selected local meats, fish and produce, and chose wines to pair with each course.
That night, I took an outdoor shower, used the flashlight on my phone to walk the few yards back to the cabin, and crawled into bed, content to be experiencing and enjoying farm life. But around 5 a.m., I was suddenly awakened as another reality of farm life became apparent: the animals. Outside, a chorus of birds was chirping and a cow named Opus was mooing. I couldn’t begrudge him. With that name, he’d talk a lot. I’d also been warned.
“Opus has a very distinctive sound,” Community Manager Clay Mosby tells me the first night I’m there. “It’s a kind of metallic-sounding moo-moo sound.”
Jumping into the water
While it would be optimistic to expect more travelers to try out stays on Hawaiian farms and camps, it’s probably safe to assume that most people will continue to gravitate toward hotels and resorts. Even the least adventurous among us can find comfort in a hotel without too much effort.
For those who prefer traditional accommodation, there are also hotels that work with local businesses and prioritise sustainability in their operations.
For example, the Seoul Community Planet Hilo Hotel in Hilo uses solar power and other energy-efficient systems and aims to achieve net-zero waste by the end of the year. By staying at the hotel, guests automatically support the Hawaii Wildlife Foundation, which works to protect native Hawaiian species, keep beaches clean, and raise environmental awareness. (Visitors can find out how they can volunteer on the foundation’s website.)
But I was headed to Kailua-Kona for its sandy beaches and snorkeling, so I took the free Hereon bus from Kulani Pier to Kailua-Kona (about a four-hour drive) and checked into the newly renovated Courtyard King Kamehameha’s Kona Beach Hotel, part of the Courtyard by Marriott. I chose this hotel because it was right on the beach and within walking distance of restaurants, museums, and bars, but I was also drawn to the cultural activities happening on-site.
A chain hotel’s lobby and common areas might not seem like the kind of place you’d expect to learn about Hawaiian history, but cultural preservation and education are an increasingly important part of the efforts of this and many other chain hotels. Traditional crafts are on display, along with paintings by Herb Cain, an artist and historian whose work focuses on Hawaiian history and seafaring traditions. The spacious lobby also features a 40-foot Kai Opua Canoe Club canoe made from native Hawaiian koa wood.
A few days a week, local business owners will be invited to sell their wares within the hotel, an initiative sparked by the pandemic and part of an ongoing effort by hoteliers across the islands to connect guests with local experiences.
Among the companies recommended to me was Fair Wind Cruises. In the 1970s, Michael and Janet Dant started offering snorkeling tours in Kealakekua Bay on the Big Island. A few years later, their son Puhi and his wife Mendi bought the company and continued to offer the tours, adding other excursions, including manta ray tours.
When Fair Wind first started, like many other tour companies, they focused on simply getting people to have a good time. Today, educating people about the history of the island, the local nature, and how to protect it is at the heart of their operations.
“We embrace and even respect the host culture, and part of that is making sure tourists are educated about the current state of the environment,” Mendy Danto told me. “We want to show people that our corals are different than they were 20 years ago, and that there are thoughtful ways to be here and interact with people and nature.”
Upon checking in for a 3.5-hour snorkeling trip on a recent Sunday afternoon, tour participants were given reef-safe sunscreen — or, in the captain’s words, “as reef-safe as possible.”
On board the custom-built, biodiesel-powered catamaran, we were instructed to drink from reusable cups, avoid contact with marine life, and use the restrooms on board instead of in the water. We were served fresh fruit, including pineapple and chips made from Hawaiian ‘uala sweet potato. We were told all food waste would be composted on the Dantz family farm.
After an hour-long boat ride across the perfectly calm waters in shades of blue, green and turquoise, we approached Kealakekua Bay State Historic Park, which is not accessible by car and can only be reached by foot or boat.
After we dropped anchor, I spent at least 10 minutes deciding whether to jump into the water 15 feet from the boat or enter slowly down the steps. After some embarrassment as crew members and strangers in the water urged me to dive, I finally did, and then two more times, further enhancing my status as an outdoors girl. My reward was pure beauty. Through my mask, I saw fish everywhere I looked: tangs, striped moorish idols, yellow longnose butterflyfish. The coral in the area where we were told to keep our distance stretched out below in shades of pink, purple and white.
Accepting tourism thoughtfully
A lot of things are true about tourism in Hawaii: the islands are full of tourists. the islands need tourists. the tourists are often rude. this rudeness has created a lot of tension between tourists and residents for decades.
The breaking point was reached when a record 10.4 million people visited the island in 2019. By the time the pandemic hit, locals were relieved to have their homes back.
In June, the Hawaii Tourism Authority shocked the tourism industry by announcing that for the first time in more than 20 years, it would not award a multi-year state marketing contract to the Hawaii Tourism and Convention Authority, a body that has been responsible for promoting Hawaii to the world for 120 years.
Instead, the contract was awarded to the Native Hawaiian Advancement Council, a 23-year-old group that believes tourism should benefit Native Hawaiians and the state of Hawaii above all else. The HVCB fought the decision, arguing that the process for determining who should receive the contract was unfair. In October, the two groups agreed to work together, and the contract with the HVCB was extended for six months.
CNHA president and CEO Kuhio Lewis said the fact his organization was awarded the contract shows the way people think about tourism is changing.
“Tourists want the real thing, the authentic thing, but they don’t even know what that looks like,” Lewis said. “This change allows people and our culture to be at the center of the tourism industry. Hawaii is one of the largest tourism markets in the country, and it could be a model for a Native American-run tourism model, one that gives more than it takes.”
While some voices on social media may give potential visitors to Hawaii the impression that they are unwelcome (after all, aloha means both greeting and farewell), the truth is that most residents want tourism, as long as it is respectful and considerate.
What I learned is that respectful and thoughtful travel can actually be fun and enlightening. Not only did I paddle a kayak under a waterfall and wake up to the sounds of cows mooing before jumping into 15 feet of water, but I also learned how to eat food grown and harvested locally, shop at local stores, and continue to support those businesses when I return home. I’m not ashamed to say that most of my Christmas gifts will come from Pop-Up Makeke, an online marketplace created by CNHA to keep local businesses afloat during the pandemic.