Maui in Reverse

Our overnight sail on November 17 to Maui from Oahu was a bit bumpy--though thanks to our scopolamine patches, we slept like little babies and were ready for a full day of exploring.  When I stepped out on the balcony in the morning, though, I was a bit sad to see an overcast sky, low mist over the mountain, and grey seas that seemed to suggest rain.


Still jet lagged-sleepy, we wolfed down a buffet breakfast ...



... and scooted off the ship, through an industrial and working port, to catch up with our ride for the day, Marcus, who would be driving us on a reverse Road to Hana tour of the entire island. Marcus is Hoaloha Jeep Adventures--one guy, one jeep.  Luckily, he's an amazingly friendly, knowledgeable, and hospitable guy and guide.  We loved our day with him so much that we even let him put our photo on his website (scroll through the photo feed!).

So--fair warning: this is a marathon, photo-filled post for a marathon, photogenic day.

Anyway, when we met up with Marcus, he assured us that no one in Maui follows the weather because it changes every few miles, so we decided to take on his island chill and jumped in the jeep for the climb up the mountain.

The temperature dropped, the skies darkened, and the wind picked up as we drove up Haleakala to about 10,000 ft.  Heading in this direction up and then around the island meant that we would miss most of the tourists in rental cars, buses, and vans heading from the cruise ships more directly to Hana.  It also meant that our day tooling around Maui would be considerably longer: about 11 hours.  As we zipped down almost empty Hawaiian highways in an open top Jeep, Harper declared this journey a dream come true. 


Haleakala acts as a natural wind and weather shear.  The whipping wind on the cliffs was really strong and the views were beautiful.  On a good day in Maui from Haleakala, one can see all the other islands--and we did.






Harper and Penn are gazing down at what we thought was a straight-from-a-70s-movie-car-over-a-cliff-crash, but it turns out that--because it costs so much to dispose of junk cars in Hawaii--people will push them over a cliff, leave them in the woods, or (seriously) just set fire to them.  Still, pretty impressive!


Windy!









Marcus regularly veered off the road to take us right up to the shore, and bumping along through tree stands and gullies was one of the great joys of the trip.  We never knew what to expect and each shoreline was so different from the next.  On the first, millions of water-smoothed rocks and boulders filled the shore, creating a multi-greyed carpet from the trees to the water.







Aside from a couple camping out of their car in the woods, we were the only people there.  It was gorgeous and other worldly.




From the shore, we zipped down a road closed off by a single chain, past a chapel to the cliffs overlooking the ocean.







As we descended from the full height of Haleakala, the day started to get brighter and warmer.



Even on a fairly small island, the sweep of landscape from mountain to shore makes everything seem even smaller.





Exactly why this blog is called "We Take Ourselves With Us":









We left the chapel and continued our journey, stopping at a small roadside coffee and fruit stand run by what appeared to be a retired hippie supermodel.  The iced coffee, banana bread, and fresh squeezed tangelo juice were delightful and revitalized us.





Along the way to our next pull-off, we grabbed photos out of the top and windows of the jeep.  These pics give a good idea of the many different Mauis: rocky lunar landscape, high tree tops, lush green valleys, sudden waterfalls cascading down hard-edged cliffs, sweeping sea grasses, rainbow bark.













Next up: a black sand beach!





We had the option of going to a green sand beach that would have required our climbing along a cliff edge, but the allure of keeping our limbs intact for the remainder of the vacation outweighed the excitement of digging our toes into oxidized lava rock.






The water was brisk--and only one of us was brave enough to go in very far.









Fam!









The banana bread was wearing off--time for lunch!  Marcus took us to a locals place in an out of the way park.  A tent BBQ on the shore serving Huli Huli Chicken and Ribs!



The plates were overflowing and the view from our picnic table was delightful.  Whether we looked out over the bay.











Or under our seats, where a family of very cute but also clearly very feral kitties circled begging for scraps of delicious Hawaiian BBQ. 




Harper and Penn begged for some hissing souvenirs to keep Emmitt company back home, but we resisted and went on our way.

We stopped at an overlook to peek down on our next stop: a tiny village on the shore down a winding road.




This beach was super rocky and the waves crashed hard, sending up misting spray.  Marcus described it as one of his "zen" places, where he could sit all day and think.  It was easy to see why.  The village leading to it was fairly isolated, the shoreline was rough with jagged lava boulders and lots of broken, angular driftwood.  Even the trees were spiky. 








We loved it!


 



 

 

One of the highlights of the tour that we were promised was waterfalls--that we might even swim in--and Marcus delivered!  We drove by waterfall after waterfall as the rain run off from the Haleakela created rough, natural beauty.









Then, we pulled over at a larger waterfall that created a swimming hole





--but one filled with very, very cold water.  Only one of us was brave enough to venture into the icy not-so-depths





... Penn!









Waterfalls, check!

On the route to our next secret beach (according to Marcus, we were seeing what 98% of tourists don't), we chanced to pass a coconut milk ice cream stand.  Lactose-free ice cream? What!! Pull that jeep over, Marcus.



Our second to last beach was down another off road adventure, and when we arrived, it was just us and a pair of local teen lovers with their dog--who eyed us resentfully for discovering their place.  




Surrounded by rugged green hills on all sides, the water came up to create long, shallow eddies that called out to our children.


 




The shoreline was dotted with picture perfect rock stacks on driftwood.  Why are these so appealing to look at and make?  Who knows--but we added our own right away.






Maker and model.


Maui, bringing families together since volcanoes.


The sun was starting to set, but we still had one more stop before calling it a long, lovely day--a beach where the green turtles went when they called it a night. 





Ready for their close-up.




The beach, itself, was filled with cushiony soft white sand that swallowed your feet like a comfort-foam insole, making it completely understandable why the turtles tucked in here for the night. 



Did I mention that we take ourselves with us?  The piercing stares of teenage Harper Davis follow us everywhere.

 


Off shore, underneath the heavy blanket of greying clouds, the sunset waves were kicking up, drawing surfers out beyond the break.

 






Up above the shore, we made one last stop for refreshments: more banana bread and some smoothies whipped up by a lovely woman in a tiny food truck.



Best enjoyed with a ocean-filled sunset ...




... and a very friendly dog in a lei.





We bid adieu to our newest four-legged friend and hopped in the jeep for one last drive--this one to our ship.  About 10 hours after we left POA, we were back, having seen more of Maui than we could have ever imagined thanks to Marcus's sense of adventure and love of his adopted island home.  And, somehow the magic of Maui meant that the four of us spent half of a full day in the confines of a Jeep (with three of us in the backseat) with nary a disagreement in sight.  Mahalo, little coffee cup mouse.  Mahalo, indeed!


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