Island-hopping Chee Chee Leung found plenty of new experiences in Hawaii, along with its heralded natural beauty.
I have recently discovered what it feels like to be truly and utterly helpless. In my case, it involved getting stuck halfway across a 180-metre cable that had been strung across two clifftops, with 30 metres of air between my dangling feet and the valley below.
Many get their thrills in Hawaii trying to master the waves at its beaches, including the famous Waimea Bay and Sunset Beach on Oahu's north shore. But a surfboard is not a prerequisite for a Hawaiian adrenaline rush.
Instead, I opted to crank up my heart rate by signing on for "ziplining" at a ranch on the island of Kauai. It's much easier than learning how to stand up on a longboard. You simply step into a harness, hook your straps on to the cable and walk off the cliff's edge. Of the eight aerial ziplines, which included a 225-metre long and 45-metre high line dubbed "The Big Kahuna", the first two were the trickiest as the voice in my head refused to stop yapping about how unnatural it was to jump off a cliff and hurtle through space.
By the third zipline, I managed to start looking around at the lush treetops and mountain streams in the valleys beneath me, instead of staring straight ahead at the landing, as I sped from one clifftop to the next. From the fourth, I was actually relishing that this was probably the closest I would ever come to flying.
The mid-air drama occurred at zipline number seven. This line, called "Lele Pali" - or "jumping cliffs" - had a much steeper curve than those before it, and was notorious for being the one where zippers got stuck.
We were told the people who got caught tended to be those of a smaller build, because they had more trouble producing the momentum required to make it up the slope to the finish. A few members in our group immediately shifted their eyeline downwards to take in my 155-centimetre frame.
For extra speed, we had been advised to tuck our knees tightly in to our chest - the so-called "cannonball" effect. But when it came to my crossing, I realised I was either too small or needed some serious work on my cannonballing technique, as my body chugged slowly up the last few metres before safe ground. The guide at the end threw a rope in my direction, but because I insisted on keeping my stronger right hand clutched to my harness in white-knuckle desperation, I missed it. And so began my rapid, backwards descent away from the landing ramp until I stopped at the bottom of the zipline's curve, where I hung like a tiny human pendant on a 180-metre long necklace.
It was about this time that I started recalling sections of the legal waiver I had signed that morning, "I understand and acknowledge that ziplines have inherent dangers that no amount of care, caution, instruction or expertise can eliminate, and I expressly and voluntarily assume all risk of injury or harm while participating in this recreational activity."
So, I had been warned. But thankfully I didn't have too long to wonder whether my travel insurance had a zipline clause before the rescue operation kicked into place (although our guides, Kimo and Parley, insisted on calling it "a retrieval, not a rescue").
This exercise involved Kimo, a young, blond and not unattractive Hawaiian, attaching a rope to his harness and sliding down the line towards me. He then wrapped his legs around my body before signalling for us to be hauled to safety. Later, there was some suggestion among the other zippers that I had engineered the entire incident to get up close and personal with Kimo. But I hadn't. Truly.
Ziplining was one of several ways I enjoyed the natural scenery of Kauai, known as the Garden Island for its lush, green surrounds. It is home to the world's wettest location, the more than 1500-metre-high Mount Wai'ale'ale, which averages more than 1200 centimetres of rain a year. The island has served as a backdrop for many films, including South Pacific, Elvis' Blue Hawaii, and Jurassic Park. It was also where Captain James Cook first set foot on Hawaii, which he called the Sandwich Islands after his patron, the Earl of Sandwich. (Somehow, Sandwich Five-O just doesn't have quite the same ring to it.)
A helicopter ride, though not cheap (our one-hour tour cost about $260), provided some jaw-dropping views of this oldest of the main Hawaiian islands. Within minutes of taking off we were what seemed just metres away from the Mount Wai'ale'ale crater and its gushing waterfalls, a sight so spectacular that all five passengers simply gawked in silence. "Is someone going to say this is cool or what?" the pilot asked.
The chopper flew over the verdant fields of the Hanalei Valley, the heights of the red-hued Waimea Canyon - described by Mark Twain as "the Grand Canyon of the Pacific" - and the postcard-perfect Na Pali coastline where waters of glimmering blue sat at the foot of soaring, ridged cliffs. Our pilot also pointed out a vegetation-covered formation that resembled a dragon's head, which he called Puff - as in the magic dragon who "lived by the sea, he frolicked in the autumn mist, in a land called Hanalei (or honah lee, as it is in the song)". The best tip for these helicopter rides: forget about taking a lot of photos. They rarely do the scenery justice and it's far better just to sit back and enjoy the views while you can.
Another day was spent taking in the island from river level, as part of a kayak tour down the mangrove-lined Hulei'a Stream. With towering cliffs looking down on us, we paddled past the stone wall of the Menehune Fishpond, which, according to legend, was built in one night by Kauai's menehune, or little people.
We drifted past a rope swing that Harrison Ford is said to have used in Raiders of the Lost Ark. After jumping out of our kayaks, we took a walk through a wildlife refuge, stopping to pose for obligatory waterfall photographs, nibble on purple flowers that tasted like mushrooms, and rub juice from the awapuhi or "shampoo ginger" through our hair (the plant's juice is harvested by upmarket beauty product manufacturers).
Kauai's tourism industry is full of such commercial adventure activities but I could easily have spent my days lazing on one of the island's many beaches. We stayed at the luxury Princeville Resort (once owned by Christopher Skase's Quintex), where I had impressive views of mountain peaks from my beach towel, but a drive to the end of the road on the north shore is worth it for the pretty beach of Ke'e.
Meet in the Sandwich Islands
If you need a break from sand and water, take a trip to the town of Kapa'a, with its colourful, wooden-fronted shops. Here I slurped on an organic blueberry and rice-milk smoothie from the Lotus Root Juice Bar and Bakery, and then negated any of the health benefits a few hours later by tucking into a taro burger at Bubba's Burgers, where the onion rings were the size of bangles.
After three days I was a Kauai convert, and a bumper sticker we saw summed up my thoughts perfectly: "If you like Kauai, tell your friends to go to Maui". I wasn't ready to leave this laid-back Hawaiian island but I had a plane ticket for Oahu and a hotel reservation at the famous Waikiki Beach.
I had been warned this was an American version of the Gold Coast's Surfers Paradise, overcrowded and overdeveloped, and there's no doubt parts of Waikiki live up to the cliche. Along certain stretches in front of exclusive hotels, it no longer feels like a public beach because of the proliferation of ropes and signs laying claim to a hotel's portion of sand. But you don't come to Waikiki without knowing what you're in for and it can be fun to tiptoe your way through sunbathers, find a sandy patch of your own and lose yourself in the bustle of beach life, which includes seasoned and beginner surfers, holidaymakers lazing on sailboats, and children in lolly-coloured plastic tyres bobbing in the warm ocean water.
For those seeking some quiet time, the Fort DeRussy Military Reservation is a peaceful public park just a short stroll from the water. Or take a walk in the direction of the Diamond Head Crater, past the Kuhio Beach Park, where you can see locals playing chess and other board games on public benches. From our base at the Waikiki Marriott Beach Resort and Spa, we were directly opposite this less-populated section of Waikiki beach, where you can swim, float or splash around in the saltwater swimming pool created by a low sea wall.
On my last morning in Waikiki I decided to burn off some mai-tai kilojoules by going for a jog through Kapiolani Park, at the Diamond Head end of town. I was too late to see the early-morning tai-chi crowd but I did catch residents walking their dogs before the working day. Afterwards, I stretched out on the sand in front of Kuhio Beach Park and listened to a group of locals - some looking a little worse for wear - singing along with a lone guitarist. As I thought about how refreshing it was to catch a small glimpse of everyday Hawaiian life, I also realised that for the most part the package holiday experience was just what I needed after a Melbourne winter. Not that I should admit it. Rather, I'll take a lesson from that bumper sticker and tell my friends to go to Surfers Paradise.
The writer visited Hawaii as a guest of Hawaiian Airlines, Virgin Blue, Starwood Princeville Resort, Marriott Hotels and Resorts and Hawaii Tourism Oceania.
