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A REFUGE FOR YESTERDAY AND TODAY
Quietly, I wander the white sand path where royal chiefs once walked under a coconut palm grove. Wounded warriors came here to recover. Women and children found a safe haven during battle. The place was also sought after by those who broke the kapu (sacred laws); if the lawbreaker could get here before being put to death, he would be blessed by the priest and purified. The bones of royal chiefs lay inside the heiau here and are said to keep the place sacred. It's a clear morning, and a single boat bobs in the water offshore, staying clear. After exploring the grounds and fishponds, I peer into the stark eyes the weathered ki'i, carved wood guardians of the royal canoe landing. The volcano Mauna Loa towers behind, Madame Pele nestled in nearby Kiluea Crater. It's an imposing scene, and I'm not surprised the boats give wide berth to the place. AN OLD HAWAIIAN VILLAGE Goro and Yayo Inaba run the Kona Hotel, the area's oldest, in Holualoa Village. Built by Goro's father in 1926 and handed down to him several decades later, the creaking old hotel could almost pass for a haunted house, if such things existed in Hawaii. But the feeling here is far from spooky. The two Inabas comprise the entire hotel staff. It's quiet; not too many visitors these days, the couple tells me. The Inabas charge $26 a night for a double room. They say they get Europeans on a budget. The carpets are worn, the paint old, and pure aloha oozes from the walls. A wooden causeway leading to the separate bathroom opens onto the sloping Kona hills and views of the ocean. Potted tropical plants hang from nooks and crannies. Somehow, I depart with gifts: a hand-drawn calendar left by a Japanese artist, a handful of tropical fruit and some souvenir pens. And I'd just wandered in. The Kona Hotel embodies the essence of Holualoa Village, nestled 1,400 feet above the Pacific in the sun drenched coffee-growing hills. Old Mamalahoa Highway is the string upon which the town's time-worn beads - a tiny post office, galleries and antique outlets - hang. A few knots down the necklace from The Kona we find the quirky Kona Arts Center, an arts cooperative. The outside is painted hot pink, somehow expected. A gaggle of elderly ladies weaving baskets make the rafters hum with chatter. Art packs this old warehouse - paintings, leaf baskets, pottery, weaving, hand-fired magnets inspired by petroglyph drawings. A brochure for the center boasts "No phone, come by!"
The copyright of the article Finding Big Island Treasure in Alternative Travel is owned by Colleen Kaleda. Permission to republish Finding Big Island Treasure in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
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