Boulders of every size and a multitude of earthy colors look as if they've been precisely placed in the lunar-like landscape. Or maybe, as one legend has it, they were tossed from the sky willy-nilly by gods tending their celestial gardens. This is, after all, Garden of the Gods. But it's not in Colorado Springs; it's on a ridge thousands of feet above the ocean on the island of Lana'i.
Truthfully, this Garden does not have the same power to amaze as ours, but it's in keeping with Lana'i itself-a place of quiet charm.
Lana'i and its kindred spirit, Molokai, are unlike Hawaii's other islands. With little development and fewer tourists, they evoke old Hawaii, though their histories are markedly different. Neither is for tourists seeking glitz or nightlife; shopping is limited, restaurants even more so. Both islands are reached by ferry from Lahaina on Maui, and though day trips are possible, the reward of staying is experiencing what these small islands offer in abundance: richness of culture and wild beauty.

Eighteen miles long and 13 miles wide, Lana'i was almost entirely pineapple plantation until 1991. It has no traffic lights, no public transportation, and more of its roads are dirt than paved-staying here requires renting a four-wheel-drive Jeep. The island is still 98% company-owned. Vestiges of plantation history remain, especially in inexplicably named Lana'i City, just barely a town.
Shipwreck Beach, down a partly paved road near nowhere, is named for the half-sunk hulk offshore. These ship-devouring waters aren't swimmable, but a trail curves 200 yards inland to a shady grotto of boulders on which ancient Hawaiians left stories of their daily lives. Petroglyphs are everywhere. Standing here, it's hard not to wonder: If our lives were etched in stone, what would the pictures be? Couches and TVs? Would future vacationers care?
There are more petroglyphs at Kaunolu, one-time fishing retreat of Kamehameha the Great, but the island's most distinctive historic feature can be seen everywhere—a skyline punctuated by immense Cook Island pines, introduced in 1915 by ranch manager George Munro. You can learn more about Lana'i's ancient past, and its plantation and ranching heritage, at the Lana'i Culture and Heritage Center in Lana'i City.
Lana'i also has in abundance what all visitors to Hawaii want: alluring beaches and waters teeming with marine life. The most accessible beach is Hulopo'e. If you're lucky you'll see spinner dolphins tossing themselves into the air, and the snorkeling is decent, especially near the rocks along the bay's left shore. Lopa Beach on Lana'i's eastern coast is the place to learn surfing.
From December to April there's one must-do adventure: whale watching. Trilogy Excursions runs trips from Manele Bay and though whales aren't guaranteed, marine life is likely. Sea turtles lounge on the waves, and spinner and bottlenose dolphins leap year-round.
Sometimes tourists get lucky. When a humpback heaved itself out of the water just 20 yards from our boat, I got my whale shot of a lifetime; but photo or not, a breaching whale is one of the most thrillingly beautiful sights on the sea, and Lana'i waters have whales galore.
Championship golf courses at the two Four Seasons resorts lure many day-trippers. These exquisite hotels also offer the only fine dining, and if they seem in contrast to the island's low-key demeanor, they aren't. Lana'i's legacy is not just pineapple fields, but also the gracious, plantation lifestyle of those who owned them. The only other lodging, historic Hotel Lana'i, was built in 1923 as a retreat for executives and guests of the Dole Company. With just 10 rooms and guests given a front-door key to use at night, it still feels more like a guesthouse than a hotel.
Meandering around Lana'i City is a pleasant, if only 15-minute, diversion—except it begs puttering. The porch of Coffee Works is perfect for mingling with locals and whiling away sunny Hawaiian hours. The few restaurants are modest (no late-night dining here), and the hands-down best place for puttering is Dis 'N Dat, a shop crammed with jewelry, handicrafts, antiques, and, well, dis 'n' dat. If you can't find something you love here, you're impossible to please.

Across the channel, Molokai is both the most and least friendly of the six Hawaiian islands I've visited, and my favorite. Bereft of tiki bars and high-rise hotels, Molokai's best nightlife is, no kidding, a bakery. Islanders resolutely fight development and honor tradition. Most are unconditionally welcoming. However, some, like workers riding the ferry who belligerently stretch across entire rows and glare, wish tourists would go away.
Yet leave your camera on the ferry and mention it the next morning to Keanini Phifer, guide on Molokai's famous mule ride, and he'll call his grandma to get in touch with her neighbor (who happens to be the ferry captain) to ask him to hold the camera until the boat returns. That you're a total stranger is irrelevant.
Phifer genuinely loves sharing his island with visitors. "Come discover beautiful Molokai," he says, "but then go home." No one wants mainlanders building multi-million-dollar condos here. "If we do what Oahu and Maui did, we'll look like Oahu and Maui," says Phifer. It doesn't take long to understand what a loss that would be.
Molokai's major attraction is National Historic Site Kalaupapa, where Hawaiians with leprosy (now called Hansen's Disease) were once banished. The settlement is reached via a slightly harrowing 1889-vintage trail descending 1,664 feet from Molokai's uplands to the peninsula below. You can hike it, but way more fun is the mule ride.
At the age of 14, Ilikea knows every inch of the 3 1/2-mile trail carved into these cliffs. He calmly negotiates the 26 switchbacks (thoughtfully numbered, like you aren't counting every one of them anyway), inspiring confidence as he leads the group on the 1 1/2-hour trek. I'd put my life in his hands-if he had hands. Being a mule, he has hooves.
Kalaupapa's history is heart-wrenching: children and adults tossed off boats in treacherous water to reach shore on their own, whether they could swim or not; people marooned with no shelter, food or potable water. There are stories of unfathomable callousness but also of deep compassion, principally that of Father Damien, who for 16 years worked tirelessly building a settlement and caring for the people until the disease ended his life in 1889. Revered, Damien has passed the Vatican's first two steps to sainthood.

Molokai's east and west ends, just 38 miles apart, could be different islands. In the west are the dry, rolling grasslands of 65,000-acre Molokai Ranch. It's a working ranch, but also home to the island's only hint of upscale, the Lodge at Molokai Ranch. If you're looking for a pristine sweep of beach to have almost to yourself, it's Papohaku, Hawaii's longest white-sand beach at 3 1/2 miles.
Across the island, misty Halawa Valley holds clues to Molokai's earliest civilization dating to 650 A.D. The dense forest, its trees hanging with plump tropical fruits and nuts, hides ancient stone ruins and Moa'oula Falls, where legend has it Pele's sister vanquished a monster lizard.
Forest and falls are part of a hike offered through Molokai's cultural program (booked through local lodging). The program is headed up by Lawrence Aki, a complicated man dedicated to preserving Hawaiian language and traditions, and wary of tourism's impact. Among his efforts is uncovering and replanting the valley's traditional taro pools because, he says, taro is inextricably tied to the Hawaiian spirit. The hike passes these glassy, stone-lined pools where Molokai's past and present intersect in the still waters.
Not all traditions are old. One of Molokai's newest, and my favorite, is knocking on the back door of Kanemitsu Bakery for fresh-baked bread at 10:30 p.m. Generally, tourists anywhere should avoid dark alleys, but not this one next to Inamura's store in Kaunakakai, Molokai's main town. There are toppings choices, including popular cream cheese and blueberries, but order melt-in-your-mouth butter and cinnamon. Calories? What calories? This is a vacation.
Because we can't live on bread alone, there's also Kualapu'u Cook House, mid-island, with delectable fresh fish. Strictly casual and BYOB, it's packed when there's live music. Hotel Molokai's restaurant has Hawaiian entertainment poolside on "Aloha Fridays," and dining at the Lodge is superb.
Naturally, Molokai also has snorkeling, kayaking, fishing and diving. The working coffee plantation in Kualapu'u offers tours, and, yes, there's whale watching. Whales aren't guaranteed, but something else on Molokai and Lana'i is: a sublimely relaxing vacation, one less about doing than simply being-on the water, on a deserted beach, at a hidden waterfall where legends still live.
Christine Loomis is a freelance writer and editor in Lafayette.
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