Maui: House of the rising sun

Exploring the peaks and troughs of Hawaii's alternative island, COLIN MOORE cycles 60km without pedalling and learns about Maui's legendary daylight-saving coup.


Busy fellow, that Maui. The Polynesian demi-god with a penchant for mischief and fishing paddled his canoe around the Pacific hauling up islands from the ocean depths, most famously New Zealand's North Island, Te Ika a Maui (The Fish of Maui). He stole fire from the Gods to help Man. And he tricked the sun into slowing its daily march across the sky so people would have more daylight.

In Hawaii, Maui settled down on his own island and from the mountain heights he snared the sun. Now, in the cold and dark each morning, several hundred pilgrims wait for the sun to begin its daily journey.

Sunrise on Haleakala, the world's largest dormant volcano, is a peculiar "number one" activity in a region better known for sun, surf, diving and the hula.

But eight hours' flying time from The Fish of Maui the cheeky demi-god's skills of entrapment have travellers shaking off mai tai hangovers and stumbling into the tropical night for 60km drive 3055m up Haleakala, the "house of the sun," on the island of Maui.

On this ride you climb higher in a short distance than almost anywhere else in the world, but most people never get to see the ascent. "You can go back to sleep," says Joe, our laconic van driver, when we leave at 3.30 am. "We'll be in the line-up at about 5 am and sunrise is 6.30 am. Any questions? OK, mahalo and goodnight."

On cue, his Maui Downhill colleague, Matt, plants his feet on the dashboard and dozes off.

The "line-up" comprises another 20 or so vans, several coaches and 50 or more cars. Get in the line early and you leave early, which means more time for sun, surf, diving and watching the hula. Get there almost last, as we do, and you'll get more sleep.

It is dark, windy and cold enough for ice crystals to mushroom out of the volcanic moonscape. The hardy stand at the railing on the edge of the 12km by 4km crater, camera flashlights piercing the darkness.

We follow the example of Joe and Matt and crawl back into the van with the engine idling and the heater cranked up.

At 6 am the first colours - streaks of pink and a soft orange glow - appear on the horizon and the crowd at the railing swells to four or five deep.

At 6.30 am on the button the sun is released from Maui's snare and pops above the horizon. Mark Twain, always good for a quote, said that watching the sunrise from Maui's soul was the "sublimist spectacle" he'd ever seen.

Personally, I prefer sublime spectacles in a tad more solitude, but the sunrise is only an excuse to get out of bed early for a 60km downhill bicycle cruise that entails less than 400m of pedaling.

The cyclists set off at 15-minute intervals. Those who missed out on their sleep also miss out on the unfolding sight of this huge lump of lava and the island at our feet in brightening sunshine. The Boeing 737 that brought us from Honolulu flies at about 1500m lower. We cruise down the mountain in single file, no passing allowed, at a pace that lives up to its billing of being suitable for all ages.

Still, what the adventure lacks in exhilaration it makes up for with a passing parade of Maui history and the way a "Magic Isle" in the Pacific can lose some of its charm when it falls under the spell of covetous colonisers.

There was not much avaricious missionaries or Polynesian chiefs selling sandalwood could do in the bleak alpine environment of the national park. But endless switchbacks later we see their legacy in the open grasslands of the Haleakala Ranch, which is speckled with clumps of eucalypts and Colorado pine and is reputedly the third largest ranch in the United States. The second largest is on Hawaii's Big Island.

Lower we move into sugarcane and pineapple country. Sugarcane is not a pretty crop whether it is grown in Fiji, Queensland or Maui. It seems to create an air of decay and scruffiness. Pineapple fields are not much sweeter.

The decay is more noticeable in Maui because the sugar on which the island was developed - once whalers had killed off their catch and abandoned the port of Lahaina as a licentious layover - is being replaced by more profitable crops.

Down on the coast, the mill at the old sugar town of Paia where we end our cycle cruise has been left to gather an ugly coating of the fine red dust that blows off the canefields. On the other side of the island, Laihana Town, once the capital of the Hawaiian Islands, is now a National Historic Landmark and from its old jail to the seamen's hospital it has been restored as a treasure of curio and craft shops, cafes and clothing labels in trendy shopfronts.

Body-pierced young surfers and tattooed middle-aged New Agers are leading red-dusted Paia along a more funky tourist path with its old shop fronts recoated in purples, yellows and pinks.

The bead shop has ceramic beads from Peru and appropriate music. Next door four young throwbacks to the 1970s are arranging wares from Nepal. Another store sells carvings, wooden bowls and crafted woodware. I admire a set of coconut-shell salad servers made in Thailand.

An outside seat at the corner cafe reveals a passing parade of young surfers - they're here until Daddy stops sending the cheques, says a local at the next table - and a few from the 1960s whose cheques ran out and and whose skin has been pickled by the sun.

The older dropouts in Paia are there for the plentiful and cheap abandoned housing. The teenagers are there for the sun and surf. Hookipa Beach is a renowned windsurfing location. As the winter swells pick up it draws surfers from around the world.

Just over 100,000 people live on Maui. Joe, formerly of Nevada, says some commute daily to Oahu rather than live in Honolulu where "the crime rate is as bad as New York's with Los Angeles thrown on top." It's a 20-minute flight, quicker than commuting to work from a Honolulu suburb, and books of heavily-discounted tickets are negotiated as part of a salary package.

The American honeymoon couples on the cycle tour - Americans and Japanese seem the predominant visitors to Maui - are impressed. They are young professionals living in the heart of Detroit and New York, the latter paying $US3000 a month for a very ordinary, two-bedroom fourth floor apartment.

Joe is from Nevada, Matt is from California. Now they are from Maui.

The more sheltered southern shore is riven by lava flow. Tropical fish and turtles swim in the underwater canyons. Each morning a flotilla of tour boats take 1500 snorkellers to Molokini Islet, the crescent-shaped remains of a volcanic crater. Snorkelling is confined to a triangle roped off from the stern of each boat. Perhaps the fish don't like the crowds or the film of sunscreen they leave in the water, but the numbers are disappointing. Or perhaps I have been spoilt by the myriad of brightly coloured fish seen just a few metres off the lava foreshore at the Ahihi-Kinau marine reserve the day before without booking or paying anything.

Big Beach, a state park, is also free. It is about the size of Auckland's Long Bay and is the largest undeveloped sand beach on Maui. There is no sign to it but you can spot the beach through the coastal scrub. Its golden sand and clear water is fairly deserted. A small ridge separates it from Little Beach, which is not as nice but more crowded. It's a nude beach.

Clint Eastwood has a house at another small beach a few kilometres down the road. It makes my day because it is a very ordinary house and a very ordinary beach.

Near the airport at Kahului is a huge and bustling new K-mart. About 10,000 people turned up to the opening party - the biggest event on Maui since King Kamehameha conquered the island and unified Hawaii 200 years ago. Matt recommends it for cheap Hawaiian souvenirs.

I check it out but don't buy anything. I find our own big red barns have stolen the adventure and excitement from such shopping expeditions. And we can't blame Maui for that.

* Colin Moore captured the sun on Maui courtesy of Air New Zealand, Aloha Airlines and the Hawaii Visitors and Convention Bureau.

Casenotes

Getting there: Air New New Zealand has eight flights to Honolulu each week, Air Pacific has three flights, Qantas nine flights and Canada 3000 two flights.

What to do:

Maui Downhill Volcano Rides, $US130, ph 1800 535 2453

Maui Ocean Center, aquarium, ph (808) 270 7000

Pacific Whale Foundation eco adventures, snorkel Molokini, $US57, children under-12 free, ph (808) 879 8811