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A few days ago I returned from an 18-day trip through the Hawaiian Islands. I started with six days on the Big Island, then spent four days apiece on Maui, Oahu and Kauai, going from youngest to oldest in geologic age. Among assorted assignments, I went to Hawaii to explore the interrelationship between nature and Hawaiian culture, both traditional practices and travel-industry counterparts. Of course, that turns out to be a wildly complicated subject, one I could hardly master in a couple weeks, but it did put me in touch with a lot of interesting people in the midst of some amazing landscapes.  I took part in a wide range of water and land sports, tours and cultural events — hiking, stand-up paddling, kayaking, holua sliding, surfing, stargazing, museum gazing, eating, drinking, more. I saw a venting volcano at Kilauea. I saw manta rays feeding off Kona. I saw a tango show in Kahului, Maui. The astounding range of possible activities in the islands is matched only by the range of terrains, climates and communities. I must have said the word wow at least twice a day, for the views and revelations — at the view into the caldera atop Mauna Loa, at the sudden glimpse of a bright red i'iwi honeycreeper in Hakalau Forest, at the expansive sensation sitting atop Pacific swell off Maui's north shore. Famous as some of these experiences are, they're not less moving for being known. I expected Hawaii to impress me, and it impressed me more for that. Why fight it? It's an extraordinary place.  I also stayed in great places, big resort hotels like Four Seasons Hualalai (fourseasons.com), Outrigger Waikiki (outrigger.com) and Grand Hyatt Kauai, and smaller places including the Paia Inn on Maui (paiainn.com) and Waimea Plantation Cottages on Kauai (waimeaplantation.com) — all excellent bases from which to launch daylong expeditions. The trick I re-learned in Hawaii was to push myself so hard and do so much I had no strength left to resist the beauty and the charm. With so much to do, it wasn't hard to exhaust myself, even to the point where my mind felt porous. A sense of scope and history seeped in along with the awe, and I felt honored to be in Hawaii. Evidently that feeling doesn't go away. Pretty much everyone I met, visitors, residents and natives, seemed grateful to be there. David Morgan who runs Kualoa Ranch on Oahu — so picturesque it has appeared in numerous films and television shows — told me, "Even though I've lived here all my life, I'm still amazed at this place." My guides at Kailua Sailboards and Kayaks on Oahu's windward coast indicated the same thing, that yes, it's a job, but it's a job in Hawaii. The visitors I talked to did not want to leave and planned to come back. Quite a few people come to visit and just stay. 
On every island, as much as I did, I know I missed more than I saw, but the experience there feels whole. The world looks a little different as soon as you touch down, and senses soon seem to overlap, the smell of the trees layering into birdcalls that descend from the branches. I at least stopped struggling to separate the scent of the ocean from the sound of the surf or the tug of receding waves at my ankles. The islands seem to promote harmony and integration. And given their history, they have to. That's not to say there's no conflict, but Pollyanna as this may sound, somehow even the conflict seems to pursue fair purpose. I watched a kayaker on remote Hanakapi'ai Beach plant a Hawaii state flag in the sand. I asked him why he was flying it upside down, the Union Jack in the corner (a remnant of British influence) toward the ground. "One nation!" he said and flashed me a shaka. I told him it was the 49th anniversary of Hawaiian statehood, a vexed holiday to say the least. The Hawaiian kayaker hadn't known.  I have a bunch of writing to do about my trip, about Hawaii as place and destination — a featurette on eco-adventure for the December issue, a big feature in March, sometime a column on my quest for the perfect macadamia nut, plus an amusing anecdote or two from the trail. From the volcanic activity of the Big Island to Kauai's ancient, almost otherworldly verdancy, I wanted to see what changes a few million years make on volcanic islands far far from the continents. And I wanted to experience Maui's grungy surf chic and some of the Honolulu frenzy and everything I possibly could. The writing projects seem both daunting and exhilarating, like Hawaii itself. I'm looking forward to the work and hope I can do justice to the lovely, complicated, evolving place I saw. I'm grateful almost beyond description for the opportunity. Lucky me.  On the last whole day of my trip, on Kauai, Peter Artley of Kauai Eco-Tours (kauaieco-tours.com) picked me up from my cottage at Waimea Plantation (two bedrooms and a yard all the way to the beach). We drove to a trailhead down the road from the Waimea Canyon overlook and followed the Nualolo Trail first up and then downhill through Kauai's blended forest to the Na Pali Coast, native koa and ohia lehua trees competing with introduced lantana bushes and blackberry vines. It's always good to walk through a forest with someone who knows it well. Artley has both the gift of articulating while he walks and a background in gardening. In some sections Nualolo Trail got steep enough to overcome my series of questions with gasping. That's about my favorite travel activity and state of mind, talking story till I'm talked out — it can take a few miles — and just then coming upon something stunning, a view of the cliffs or a flower that grows in this place and nowhere else. The trials of getting there do make it more amazing, but beauty, I believe, is absolute. Of course, even the sheer mass of Hawaii's beauty people may take for granted after a while, but they never seem to get jaded, at least not the ones I met. And many people in as many ways seek to present and preserve the island wonders for natives and visitors both. Environmental and cultural pressures notwithstanding, Hawaii endures.  Check out a video glimpse of my trip here: Matthew's Madcap Hawaii Video Adventure
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