california cruise from hawaii

Hawaii by sea - cruise ship tour of Hawaii

A vintage on a timeless voyage whisks winter-weary travelers to this side of paradise.

The S.S. Independence of American Hawaii Cruises leaves the harbor the same way ships depart in the movies, with lots of streamers, confetti, and people on the pier waving good-bye; you half expect to see Gable and Lombard--or at least the Marx Brothers--standing next to you. The ship leaves Honolulu, docks overnight in Kauai, spends two days on Maui, stops for a day in Hilo on the big island of Hawaii and another day on the Kona Coast on the island's other side, then returns to Honolulu.

The Independence set sail on its maiden voyage in 1951 and still has a timeless air of elegance about it--deep, burnished hardwood decks and railings, and brass portholes shined so brightly you could use any one of them as a shaving mirror. However, the ship's age means it is smaller and lacks some of the more modern sailing technology, like stabilizers. As a result, this boat moves . . . a lot. When we hit choppy seas in the Kauai channel, there was more shimmying on board than at a Charo matinee in Waikiki. "I've been on other cruises," says Andrea Minor of Chicago, "and none of them rocked as much as this one does."

To calm my churning stomach, I went looking for someone on board who would be an authority on nausea--a doctor or a bartender. The first expert I spoke with suggested bitters and soda water, which helped a little, but the real magic bullet for seasickness turned out to be a little pink pill called Meclizine. If you have a tendency toward motion sickness, pop a couple of these beauties an hour before setting sail. The battle royal in your stomach will quickly declare a cease-fire.

Port of Call--Nawiliwili, Kauai

By the time we docked in our first port, Kauai, my Meclizine had taken hold, and people began moving briskly--if not a little wobbly--down the gangplank. The Independence's shore excursion office offers a wide variety of activities on all the islands, from jaw-dropping helicopter rides over volcano craters to leisurely, relaxed shopping trips. (You can try to set up your own excursions, but this isn't as easy as you would think. Making your own reservations can waste too much of your vacation time; public transportation is still a myth throughout most of the islands, and the cost of a taxi ride anywhere in Hawaii will eat up any savings you may find bypassing the ship's office.)

On Kauai, you can bus through Waimea Canyon or snorkel off the Na Pali Coast. Or, if you're a little bit adventurous, you can kayak up the Huleia River. Our guide, a Hawaiian native named "Mel" (his real name is a string of vowels and consonants so long that I started to nod off about halfway through his recitation), was a walking--or in this case floating--font of Hawaiian history and folklore. The river has served as the backdrop for several movies, from the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark to both Jurassic Park films. We paddled lazily through the mountains of the Huleia National Wildlife Refuge until we reached the "Menehune Fishpond." Legend says that the pond was built by the Menehunes, a mythic race of leprechaun-like little people. The Menehunes built the pond and the huge wall that surrounds it in a single night (a story Mel says is no story: "The Menehune are real . . . people have seen them," he insists).

Kauai is called the "Garden Isle" for a good reason. Mostly jungles and mountains, Kauai has more birds than people. "It's quiet and very uneventful here," says one of our drivers, a new resident, "just what I wanted." The island quickly gave us a lesson in how unspoiled she really is.

The weather in Hawaii is as predictable as Dennis Rodman's hair, and while we were tying up our kayaks, the skies suddenly opened; in a matter of seconds, the whole party was soaked like a group of drowned rats. As we prepared to head back to the van through the tropical forest, Mel cautioned us: "Don't start without me. There may be wild boars on the trails." Needless to say, everyone moved aside to let him take the lead.

Port of Call--Kahului, Maui

The "Valley Island" of Maui is probably the most popular tourist destination in Hawaii. The island has a little bit of everything: black sand beaches, white sand beaches, palm trees next to wild orchids next to giant ferns, all surrounded by bluegreen water so clear you could read a newspaper under it.

Like Kauai, Maui is mostly mountains and forests, so hiking is naturally a favorite pastime. If you choose to take a romp through one of Maui's rain forests and you're lucky, you'll draw Lono Hunter of Hike Maui as your guide. Like most of the guides on the islands, he can tell you about the state's history and culture. But Lono also crams more information on botany, sociology, geography, and anthropology into a few hours than you could ever hope to remember. And when he's done, he still leaves you wanting more.

Lono drove us up the winding Hana Highway, past endless waving fields of sugarcane and pineapple, to the forests of the 10,000-foot volcano Haleakala. Our tromp through the rain forest ended with a lunch of sandwiches and "apple-bananas" (they look like bananas, they peel like bananas, but they aren't just bananas . . . they're better), and a swim in the bone-chilling waters of one of the forest's lagoons, complete with waterfall.

That night, while we were docked, the Independence threw a party for couples celebrating honeymoons or anniversaries. The crew offers a wide variety of on-board diversions, from hula and ukulele classes to lessons on Hawaiian culture by Kabea Beckley, the ship's kumu. Kumus are the keepers of Hawaii's ancient oral traditions, and Kabea draws quite a crowd when he unfolds his tales of Hawaii's gods and the early days of the islands. At the anniversary party, he presented the Independence's gift to the celebrating couples: a hula danced to an ancient Hawaiian wedding song. Kabea is a huge man, big enough to play linebacker in the NFL, but graceful enough to dance with the Bolshoi Ballet, and his dance was a present no one would soon forget.

Port of Call--Hilo, Hawaii

The Independence prides itself on the quality of its service, a feature given high marks by Thorton and Ann Davis, a pair of cruise-line veterans from Leucadia, California. "All of the crew members are so friendly and laid back," says Thorton, who particularly enjoyed the ship's casual atmosphere.

This dedication to service is a task Dana Washington, our cabin steward, takes very seriously. The whole crew treats its guests like royalty, but Dana will flat-out spoil you rotten. Forget your razor blades or toothbrush? No problem, he'll have replacements waiting when you get back from lunch. Feeling a little queasy after one too many mimosas? Tell Dana and you'll find crackers, apples, and Advil outside your door before you know it. There's something comforting about finding your bed turned down each night when you get back from dinner. It's like living with your mother again (although in this case your mother looks a little like Robin Williams).

One member of the Independence crew is especially valuable while in Hilo. "Tradewinds Tom" (a.k.a. Tom Odem) is a waiter in the ship's Surfrider Bar. More than that, he's the authority on where to go and what to see on the big island of Hawaii. Tom knows how to find the hidden geothermal hot springs around Hilo and where to go for the best views of the lava flows on Kilauea. He'll provide you with a map, a schedule to follow, and a drink. The only thing you have to pay for is the drink.

Cathy Treinen was thrilled by the "Tradewinds Tom Tour": "It was probably the single best day of my life," gushed the newlywed from Le Mars, Iowa.

Tom can also point out the prime spots in Hawaii Volcanoes National Park on the island's southeast coast. Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is just what its name suggests--it is the home of Kilauea, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. The Hawaiian islands were formed by volcanic eruptions starting more than 70 million years ago. However, the gods who created the islands aren't finished yet. Kilauea has been erupting almost constantly since 1983 and is still pouring lava into the ocean at a rate of about 650,000 cubic yards per day, enough to cover a football field 38 miles high.

At the park, visitors can climb down into the eerie, lunar-like fields of Halemaumau, one of the dormant craters of Kilauea, and see this giant up close. The main road leading down to Halemaumau has been wiped out repeatedly by lava flows, but has since been repaired. Now the road seems almost like a suspension bridge over the black sea of cooled, hardened lava. The power of the volcano hangs thickly in the air--during a sojourn through the park, Mark Twain quipped, "The smell of sulfur is strong, but not unpleasant to a sinner."

However, just when you become convinced that Kilauea is cuddly, harmless, and generally Willard Scott-like, the Independence gives you a good look at her angry side. When moving around the big island to the Kona Coast, the ship passes one of the volcano's active lava flows oozing into the Pacific. Hawaiian lore claims that the volcano is sort of the summer condo of the goddess Pele, and the lava flows are one of her ways of fooling around. Pele is very proprietary about her volcano--taking a rock from Kilauea as a souvenir is a big no-no, and bad luck is said to follow the offender until the stolen rock is returned to Madam Pele along with a bottle of gin (which is why the park receives rocks and booze from anonymous sources year-round).

The Independence's nighttime encounter with Kilauea, billed as "Madam Pele's Light Show," occurs rather late, but is definitely worth waiting up for. As the hot lava makes its way into the sea, it gives off a soft, red haze. From the ship, a half-mile away, the scene can alternately look like the lights of a far-off city or the fuzzy halo of a forest fire.

Port of Call--Kailua-Kona, Hawaii

Sunny Kailua-Kona makes a perfect final stop for a vacation. Nestled on the coast of the Big Island's leeward side, the area gets almost no rain (as opposed to Hilo on the island's other side, which is one of the wettest spots on earth). The Independence offers Kona excursions that feature some of the choicest snorkeling, boating, and sunbathing in Hawaii. But Kona may be one of the few places you should skip the Independence's travel office and venture out on your own--the best bet is to rent a car and drive down the coast to Kealakekua Bay and the Pu'uhonua o Honaunau (the City of Refuge).

In ancient times, criminals seeking redemption would attempt to reach the City of Refuge without being caught. If they were successful, they could seek forgiveness from the kahunas, or priests, and be cleansed of their crimes. Just as they have for hundreds of years, the clear blue waters of Kealakekua Bay still lap quietly on the beach at the edge of the city, while its idols silently stand guard over one of the most solemn, sacred places in the world.

Debarkation--Honolulu

And like all good things, a cruise through Hawaii ends at some point; in this case, we debark back in Honolulu. The Independence will help get passengers and luggage to the airport, and even offers a tour that stops off at the U.S.S. Arizona Memorial on the way. While waiting for the flight that will whisk you away from this land that is free of mosquitoes, rodents, snakes, and snow tires, you finally discover the worst part of a Hawaiian vacation--the time when you have to leave.

COPYRIGHT 1998 Saturday Evening Post Society
COPYRIGHT 2000 Gale Group