Hawaiian Highways

Accompanied by a little green friend, the author drives circles around the lush and mystical Big Island

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HIS EYES ARE pools of green. He’s staring back at me. A pink tongue rolls out to lick the jam we’re sharing. I’m enchanted by my new companion.

I’ve fallen for a gecko.

For most, Hawaii is about beach, sun and sea. I’m staying at the Hilton Wai - koloa Village, on the Kohala Coast of the Big Island. It’s an oasis, and you can be tempted to just sit on the beach, sip an umbrella drink and watch the sunset.

But I’ve been to the Big Island before, and living in San Diego has spoiled me for beautiful sunsets and soft beaches. So I’m off on a journey some people will never take: I’m driving the entire Big Island loop. It can be done in one day— the island is 220 miles in circumference. But even a road warrior will want to take two or three days. I make stops along the way, like this lunch with little Frankie (yes, I named the gecko).

My ride is a 2007 Volkswagen Eos convertible. A new vehicle for Volkswagen, the Eos is named for the Greek goddess of the dawn. Perfect for my island adventure.

The Eos has a first for a convertible— an electric retractable hard top with a separate sunroof. I can choose between full top down and partial shade. It’s an ideal feature for the diverse climate here. Multiple microclimates challenge a driver to stay comfortable in temperatures ranging as much as 20 degrees, and tropical downpours are common.

My journey begins with a 20-mile cruise up Highway 19 (Queen Ka‘ahuma nu Highway) and follows Highway 270 along the coast to North Kohala, ending at the Polou Valley Lookout. The coastal road stretches for miles at sea level. Unobstructed views of black lava beds pop out against a flat, wheat-colored landscape. I’m awed by the sharp contrast of the colors—black tree limbs above a golden blanket of dry earth against a backdrop of vivid blue ocean.

The sun’s rays here are penetrating. I put the top up, opening the sunroof.

Past the charming northern town of Hawi, I keep driving toward the lookout. Ten miles and five one-lane stone bridges later, I finally arrive at the road’s end. After snapping a photograph of the rocky, northernmost shore below, it’s a slow creep on the 25-miles-per-hour road back to Hawi. A fresh Thai fish salad at the acclaimed Bamboo Restaurant is the reward.

FROM HAWI, I take Highway 250 to get to Waimea. Rising into dense cloud cover, the road is framed by rolling hills of green. High above the shoreline, long views of the coast from North Kohala to Kona are visible. In 20 miles, the road begins a steep descent to Waimea’s ranch lands. Rejoining Highway 19 where it becomes Kawaihae Road, I head west, away from the coast and into the island’s cowboy culture.

Cattle and cutting horses graze high above the sea in pastures defined by pristine white fences. This is the famous Parker Ranch, where generations of cowboys have supplied beef to the mainland. Like some parts of San Diego County, the ranchers who live here have a strikingly different environment and lifestyle than locals in the tourist-catering beach communities.

From the windswept fields of Waimea to the coastal town of Ho no ka‘a on the east side of the island, the drive is a turn from Highway 19 onto the Belt Road that borders the island. It slowly climbs above the ocean, stretching south for 60 miles to Hilo. Here, the climate changes rapidly to cool humidity.

Eight miles from Hilo, a small sign for Old Mamaholo Highway inspires a spontaneous turn off the main road. I’ve driven into a fairy tale. No doubt this is the home of Hawaiian god Kane, ruler of the forests and trees. Old-growth banyan, breadfruit, candlenut and banana trees canopy the narrow old highway. Deeply shaded, the shoulder is thick with red, maroon and pink ti plants. Bromeliads with dark-green, shiny leaves stretch up for light under thick vines draping from branches.

Like Alice in Wonderland, I creep along in the Eos, making it last. When the old road rejoins the Belt Road highway, it’s a short drive into Hilo.

I need more fuel for the climb to Mauna Kea. Rising 13,796 above sea level, it’s the highest mountain peak in the Hawaiian Islands. An isolated, desolate place, it is rich with spiritual lore.

The only road there is elusive and not apparent on my map. The service-station attendant tells me not to go. Fearlessly, I ignore his advice and finally find the road.

As I head up steep Saddle Road, Hilo rapidly falls away in the rear-view mirror. I’m only 85 miles from my Mauna Kea hotel, but it feels like a world away. As I gain elevation, the lush vegetation disappears. Large boulders of jagged black lava begin to appear.

Soon, I’m surrounded by a moonscape of hard lava in every direction. According to island lore, this is where Pele, god dess of volcanic fire, tried to kill her arch en e my, Mauna Kea’s white goddess, Poliahu. Pele sent hot lava underground to Mauna Kea, and Poliahu fled up the mountain, cloaking it with her gown (snow), freezing Pele’s lava flow of rage. Driving the dark terrain of mythical female egos, I hope my four-wheeled goddess can safely make the trek.

The road to the Onizuka Center for International Astronomy gains elevation quickly. Signs warn travelers to go no farther than the observatory. The air is thin here. The view is breathtaking. From Hilo to Kona, the ocean beyond the great island is an endless expanse that must have humbled every explorer who navigated it.

Inching down Poliahu’s mountain toward the northwest coast, Saddle Road eventually becomes sparsely landscaped. Black rock morphs first into dry yellow, then green grass. Flat desolation devoid of vegetation gradually gives way to rolling hills of color.

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