Freewheeling in Hawaii

Wipe off your flip-flops and c'mon inside. Let me show you my digs here in Hawaii.

This is my living area, a cosy space that fits two or three. Across the room are chairs that swivel, so I can converse with my guests or ignore them to watch the waves slap the shore.

Over there is the kitchen and curtained windows that inhale the ocean breeze and exhale the scent of burnt toast. If you'll stand up, I'll take you around the bedroom.

Here's the full-size berth, which has bay windows by my head and my feet for a surround-sky effect.

Now, not to be rude, but I must drive off and my accommodations are coming with me: Hotel VW is going back on the road.

No standard stay

On previous visits to Hawaii, I stayed at traditional resorts and took day excursions by car. But for this trip to the Big Island and Maui, I wanted a change. The alternative: a Volkswagen camper.

In my Volkswagen Westfalia, I would have a
more organic, free-spirited, chase-the-tail-of-the-whale experience.

I could be spontaneous with my schedule, because I knew that most of my substantive needs (food, water, full-stretch sleep) lay just behind the driver's seat.

And by removing myself from the tourist setting, I could be part of a scene true to the Hawaiian lifestyle and environment. And, finally, in my drive-up hotel, I could snag $500 (Dh1,837)-a-night ocean views without sacrificing my wallet.

Real face of Hawaii

“This is for the adventurer who wants to see Hawaii for what it is,'' said Teri Fritz, who runs Happy Campers Hawaii on the Big Island with her friend, Bud Turpin.

“You can drive up to the water's edge, open up the back and the beach is right there. You can wake up to a sea turtle in the water or the volcanoes at the national park. You're not going to get that sitting at a hotel.''

In the entire state, only two companies rent campers: Happy Campers Hawaii (formerly GB Adventures) and Aloha Campers on Maui. Both operations own a fleet of Westfalias, a domesticated van that appeared on the market in the 1950s.

The vehicles come equipped with almost all requisites for comfortable travel, including a propane tank for the stove, 15 gallons of running water and a pop-top roof. The one thing missing is a bathroom but you can always park near a portable toilet.

Untouched terrain

The Big Island is the youngest and the largest landmass in the chain; Maui ranks second in size, at 729 square miles. Both destinations have an abundance of campgrounds in parks (national, state, county) and on private land.

The sites are perched on volcanic slopes and ocean-side cliffs and salted along untouched shoreline. Nightly fees are nominal, most under $10 (Dh37) and none more than $20 (Dh74).

Some need reservations and permits; others are on a first come, first served basis. Overnighting in undesignated areas is not advisable.

At the Hilo airport, on the east coast of the Big Island, I was greeted with a giant smile, a bear hug and a flower lei from Fritz.

We drove to an adjoining lot to meet Turpin, a former VW mechanic, and “Sedona'', my home and companion for the first part of the week.

The vehicle was painted the blue of a dawning sky and was as clean as a new car, showing little evidence of her 22 years.

Turpin gave me the rundown, explaining with the care, concern and slight fright of a parent about to hand over the car keys to his teenager.

The camper, surprisingly, was easy to drive. I stocked the vehicle with food from a Hilo market, spending $50 (Dh184) for three days' worth of meals.

At 4,028 square miles, the Big Island is more than twice the combined size of the other Hawaiian islands. To save time, I planned my route: south to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, then west to Ho'okena Beach Park in South Kona and back to the east coast to Laupahoehoe Point Beach Park, about 45 minutes north of Hilo.

Yet, despite my diligent preparation, I got lost in the volcanoes park, getting spooked by signs warning of noxious gases and dangerous sulphur emissions before finding my overnight spot.

The Namakanipaio campground sits up high, at 4,000 feet, and temperature drops at night. A chill nipped at my nose and a grey fog drifted overhead, curling around volcanic rock formations. It was beautiful yet forlorn.

Come morning, I was nudged awake by a sunbeam that shot through the back window and flickered across my face.

My Hawaiian alarm clock. I returned the bed to its day use (cushy couch), collapsed the pop-top and headed to the park entrance for a morning hike, paying $10 for admission.

Volcanic haze

The Kilauea Iki Trail descends 400 feet through dense rainforest loud with birdsong, then flattens out along a crater floor, where steam vents spew hot air and the earth feels warm to the touch.

I misjudged the drive time from the park to the next campsite. I also had to drive slowly: The two-lane road was narrow and curvy and fierce squalls would blow through, causing my camper to sway.

For long stretches, I kept a crab's-claw grip on the steering wheel. I was tempted to jump over the console and lie down. But for once, I had a date to make: sunset on the beach of Ho'okena.

Ho'okena was much more social than the national park campground. Parents grilled, kids dug to China and a small band of guitar and ukulele players strummed free-form.

The next day, the campground was bursting with the bonhomie of a block party. Mums were changing kids into bathing suits as dads flipped pancakes.

Campers visited one another's sites to swap morning salutations and share a cup of coffee.

It was hard to give up Sedona. I had grown attached to her. But I knew that another Westfalia — and another island, Maui — was expecting me.

The red vehicle from Aloha Campers also dated to the Reagan years. Knowing I was going to be driving Hana Road, the 52-mile dare whose beauty belies its peril (52 bridges, many one-lane, and 600 curves squished between sheer rock and ocean drops), I wanted a sturdy car. So I traded it for an automatic model.

A section of Hana Road follows the Old King's Trail, built 500 years ago to link Maui's east-coast communities.

Well-earned rewards

The highway as we know it was constructed by prisoners in 1927 and despite its many hazards, hundreds of drivers travel it daily to view the waterfalls, valleys and rewards at the bottom, including the town the road was named after.

There are few businesses along the way (a couple of fruit stands, mainly) and I had a full tank of petrol and enough food and water to cover a stranding of many days.

But I was missing a campsite. Sleeping along the road was asking for an obituary. Then, halfway to Hana, I spotted a long driveway and a lone figure. The man looked up, I looked back, and I drove through the gates.

Nature's trail

“This is the best deal on the island,'' said Kala “Charles'' Kahiwahiwaokalani, who, with his wife Linda Harrison, helps maintain the YMCA Camp Keanae. “You are also standing on the most beautiful spot on the island.''

The YMCA rents dorm rooms, cabins and cottages but all I needed was a parking spot. Kahiwahiwaokalani led me to some of the best footage on the property: a manicured plot fronted by a cliff that plunged towards the tidy taro fields and crashing waves of Keanae Peninsula.

As I sat behind the wheel, I felt as if I were in a drive-in nature movie, admission at $17 (Dh63).

How to go there from Dubai

Honolulu is one of the closest airports.

United Airlines flies daily via Washington and Chicago.
Fare from Dh5,725

Information courtesy: The Holiday Lounge by Dnata.
Ph: 04 4380454