Hawaii’s Forgotten Moloka’i

Shortly after our arrival on Moloka’i, I was wondering if we’d made a mistake.Fresh from the lush and flowery ambiance of Honolulu, my wife and I found ourselves staring at parched red earth and desiccated shrubbery. It seemed like the middle of nowhere. Even the tiny airport reminded me of all those end-of-the-earth little island airstrips I had flown into in the South Pacific: roll-away stairs to get off the plane, a tiny, cinder-block terminal, and a couple of burly guys tossing baggage on a bench.”You’re in the country now,” a fellow passenger said to me as we disembarked the plane. He was an island local, returning home from Oahu, and he must have noticed my bemused expression. I was struck by how he said it, though; he was proud, not apologetic.Okay, so it wasn’t rainforest, palm trees, and white sandy beaches. We had decided we wanted to get away, really get away. So despite its initially barren appearance, maybe Moloka’i was just the ticket.At the moment, though, things didn’t look promising. Our rental car had failed to show up at the airport. A call to the agency only resulted in an answering machine. So we were left sitting on… Read full this story

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