The far side of Paradise

It is hard to guess Eddie Pu’s age. His long gray hair is pulled neatly back and kept in place by a ti-leaf headband to ward off headaches. In a few weeks, he tells me, he would set off with a towel, a walking stick, and a bag of dried fruit to do what he has done nearly every birthday for more than 25 years: Walk around Maui. On November 25, he turned 75.

Pu always walks the nearly 200 miles alone. “A spiritual walk to heal my soul,” he explains, and his secret route changes from year to year. He might walk past Hotel H¯ana-Maui’s H¯amoa Beach, where he lifeguarded for 21 years, out past the flower farm his son owns and then to Kaup¯o, where the last abandoned church stands sentinel. The road moves inland here, spiraling up toward Haleakal¯a’s crater, past the wineries and lavender farms of Kula.

But Pu often follows the desolate, uninhabited coast, passing the remains of ancient fishing villages, traveling along the overgrown path of what was once the King’s Highway. He may walk for a day in the no-man’s-land of volcanic rubble and windswept dry grass before La Pérouse Bay comes in sight, and later, the clipped golf courses of Wailea; then the condos of Ki¯hei, the old whaling town of Lahaina, and the beachfront resorts of K¯a‘anapali on the westernmost end.

Along the way, he talks to the trees and the birds and plucks a leaf or two from plants he knows not by name but by their medicinal values. (Once back home, he sends them to the University of Hawai‘i for identification.) “These are healing plants our ancestors left for us,” Pu explains. “They planted what they needed at the shores and then moved inland.” Ancestors, I start to gather, means not the deceased great-grandfather or grandmother who often show up in his dreams to offer unsolicited advice, but the Polynesians who brought with them the canoe plants.

Slideshow   Polynesian paradise The Hawaiian Islands are the perfect vacation destination for travelers of all types. more photos

Pu has come across sacred ruins and even human remains. “I bring no camera, draw no map—these things must be left there and not disturbed,” he says. He tells a story about how on his first two trips, all the film he shot came out black. After the second trip, he dreamed he must go to the island of Moloka‘i. A young girl met him at the airport and said, “You follow me. My great-grandmother is waiting for you.” They came to a home where an old woman sat on a porch chair, rocking and laughing.

“Eddie Pu, you should throw away your camera,” the old woman said, still roaring in mirth. “Your film will never come out. Your mind, that is where you must store pictures, so our ancestors will not be disturbed.”

Maui is a misshapen peanut, with volcanic mountains cracking the shells at either end and a flat isthmus of cane fields in the middle. The north side is lush and steep, the south side sunny and dry. At the east end is Ki¯pahulu, a settlement just past H¯ana that still has no electricity, and where, if you want a burger or a steak, you rope one of the wild cattle that roam the hills. At the west end is Kapalua, a resort where you can sup on filet mignon and a $9,000 bottle of 1961 Chateau Latour at the Ritz-Carlton.

MORE FROM HAWAII TRAVEL

Hawaii Travel Section Front

True Hawaii Sacred territory Hawaii: A diver’s paradise Hawaii getting used to strict smoking ban Hawaiian cruise tips for thrifty travelers Aloha weddings Historic palace damaged, but blessed Hawaii looks to calm edgy tourists Hawaii dream vacations turn into nightmares The Polynesian adventure Hawaii Travel Section Front   Add Hawaii Travel headlines to your news reader: