Highway to Heaven

KAILUA, Hawaii —  These were stress-filled days of business in a land known for pleasure. While children scampered along the sands of Waikiki, I’d spend afternoons in my engineering office by Pearl Harbor, toiling until day turned to night.

I’d drive home in darkness, the harbor shimmering behind me and Honolulu’s high-rises and hopping night life ahead. But as my car approached Tourist Central, I’d veer north.

The car would climb dark Pali Highway, and through the open window, cool mountain air carried the raw sweetness of wild tropical shrubs and enticing hints of plumeria. After 10 miles or so, I’d pass Nuuanu Pali Lookout, elevation 1,200 feet, and begin a rapid, twisting descent toward the twinkling lights of home: Kailua. As the town grew closer, worries of work floated away with the wind.

That was five years ago, when I lived in Kailua on Oahu’s Windward Coast. My wife, Emily, and I now live in the Bay Area, but Hawaii still beckons. So in October, we booked a weeklong getaway in Kailua, preferring comfortable and reasonably priced guest-house studios near uncrowded beaches over the urban distractions of Waikiki.

Mention Oahu and most people think of bustling Honolulu streets and packed beaches. Indeed, about three-fourths of Hawaii’s 1.2 million residents live on Oahu (and half of those folks are in Honolulu). Waikiki accounts for 90% of the island’s guest rooms, and about 100,000 tourists pack the hotels, streets and beaches of the southern shore every day.

But a different world lies just 20 minutes northeast. Kailua, with 50,000 residents, and the smaller, more exclusive enclave of Lanikai next door have a low-key, small-town feel. An added bonus: two of Hawaii’s best beaches.

The Koolau Range, whose ridges rise to 3,150 feet, protect against Honolulu’s sprawl. Here there are no hotels to collect the tourist masses--only scattered studios, cottages and homes that are bargains compared with Honolulu’s big, beachfront resorts.

Perhaps the hordes in Waikiki have heard that the sun graces Kailua’s beaches a bit less, and that the Windward Coast is so named for a reason. But those are small sacrifices for a stay in a town filled with calmness and warmth, just like the waters of Kailua Bay.

Emily and I arrived at Honolulu International Airport late one evening, rented a car and headed east on Interstate H-1 toward downtown. My memory began to kick in: Kamaaina (local residents) would say we were heading in the “Diamond Head” direction. Ewa (as in the city on Oahu’s western coast) was west, mauka meant toward the mountains, and makai meant toward the sea.

With the windows down and a warm breeze blowing, we made the drive I remembered so well: first toward Diamond Head, then mauka. We climbed Pali Highway (Hawaii Highway 61), passing fewer and fewer houses until just the road and its lore remained. In 1795, this route was the last stand of Oahu warriors fending off King Kamehameha’s invasion. Outmanned and outgunned, the Oahuans retreated up the mountains but never made it to Kailua. Kamehameha’s men cornered them at a pali (cliff) and forced them over the edge.

But as we passed, peace and quiet filled the spot where tragedy once reigned. When we emerged from a tunnel, there it was again. Kailua. Home.

On my first business trip to Hawaii six years ago, I knew I belonged in Kailua after one drive around Oahu. I loved the residential feel, the compact downtown, the fact that only one building rose higher than three stories. These days, it’s the only place Emily and I stay on the island.

We arrived after midnight at our first guest house, one of several operated by Beach Lane B&B.; We were shown to a bright and spotlessly clean studio with bath and kitchenette ($75 per night), located on a quiet cul-de-sac. The unassuming, unpretentious two-story building lacked the grandeur and glitz of Waikiki--in other words, it was perfect.

Powder-blue-breasted doves awoke us early the next morning with their persistent coo-ca-ca-coo, so we heeded their call and walked to Lanikai Beach with an eye for spots with smaller crowds and good swimming along the half-mile strand.

We couldn’t have asked for a better beach day. Cotton-puff clouds floated across a flawless blue sky. Jade waters ran effortlessly up the shore, then slid silently back. I easily understood why Hawaiians chose the name Lanikai, or “Heavenly Water.”

Even on weekends, Lanikai offered plenty of space to call our own, coupled with views of Kailua Bay broken only by Hobie Cats slicing through the water and yellow and red kayaks bobbing toward the nearby Mokulua Islands. Windsurfers consider this coast Hawaii’s best; our primary exercise, though, consisted of applying sunscreen on hard-to-reach places.

As befits consummate vacationers, this workout was enough to work up a decent appetite, so Emily and I headed into Kailua for lunch. When I left Oahu years ago, one of the Hawaiian delights I missed most was the traditional plate lunch, an eclectic mix of Asian and American tastes. Neat scoops of sticky white rice accompany Japanese-style teriyaki chicken or tonkatsu (breaded pork), Korean barbecued meats, Chinese noodles or other entrees.

Emily and I both chose the barbecue beef and chicken combo, about $5 each, at Yummy Korean BBQ. Hers came with side dishes of watercress, boiled potatoes and seasoned tofu; I selected spicy kimchi, pickled cucumbers and, for an odd but appealing juxtaposition, macaroni salad. We stuffed ourselves with Hawaiian-style fast food and still had more than half left over for dinner.

In the mornings that followed, I soon fell into a ritual--wake before dawn, gather my camera gear, kiss my slumbering wife, drive to Lanikai and walk onto the beach, the soft white sand spilling between my toes. At the first hint of daylight, I’d set up my cameras and wait. The sky invariably awakened with purple, then lavender and pink. The sun emerged from the steely ocean, the Mokulua Islands silhouetted in its glow.

I’d hurry to Agnes’ Portuguese Bake Shop in Kailua for a half-dozen fresh malasadas, hot, sugary and puffed like oversize doughnut holes; a couple of Macao manapuas, doughy buns filled with spicy Portuguese sausage, a hint of butter and cilantro; and two steaming cups of coconut-flavored Kona coffee. Then it was back to the guest house for breakfast with Emily, where a gentle breeze and unfurling hibiscus outside our window made mornings complete.

Travelers seeking action and adventure, of course, won’t find much in Kailua. Emily and I liked our relative solitude, but nonetheless, for a change of pace one day we drove along the Windward Coast toward the surf havens of the North Shore.

Kahekili Highway took us past Byodo-In Temple, modeled after a shrine in Uji, Japan, built more than 900 years ago. The structure was dedicated in 1968 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the first Japanese immigrants, who now constitute about one-fifth of Hawaii’s population.

The rich red exterior, the tranquil carp pond and the 9-foot gold-lacquered Buddha statue inside were alluring, but we drove on. We bypassed Mokolii Island, reachable by foot at low tide, and the sprawling Polynesian Cultural Center at Laie.

After Kahuku Point, the northeast tip of Oahu, stood the prime surfing spots of the North Shore. The soothing ukulele and pure voice of the late Israel Kamakawiwo’ole floated from the tape deck as we cruised past Sunset Beach, Ehukai Beach Park (home of the Banzai Pipeline) and Waimea Bay.

We ended up in Haleiwa, the North Shore’s center of activity, and wandered the shops along Kamehameha Highway. I talked with Aisea, the friendly proprietor at North Shore Tattoo, about Polynesian designs but decided to let them remain only a temptation.

Emily and I were more committed to finding the right pareos, the colorful cloth that Polynesians use as a sarong or wrap. We thought they would make the perfect memento: light and easy to pack. We bought 10 of them, each $10 to $12 and adorned with palm trees, ukuleles, hibiscus and pineapples.

As the afternoon drew to a close, we headed toward Haleiwa Beach Park to watch the sunset. No place I’ve visited, not even the South Pacific, can offer the same dramatic dusk as on Oahu. We watched clouds blanket the setting sun and filter the light into a wash of orange and red. Haleiwa Bay glowed with soft, ethereal light.

After a few days, we moved to a smaller, beach-side studio available from the same B&B; operator at the same price. We were steps away from Kailua Beach, two miles of soft, powdery sand with plenty of grassy areas and trees.

Even though we had Kailua Beach at our beck and call, we found ourselves drawn back to where we had been: the quieter, more intimate beach at Lanikai. Fewer parents with strollers, fewer couples walking dogs.

On a cloudy day late in the week, we ventured into downtown Kailua to shop. Lunch was at Boots & Kimo’s Homestyle Kitchen, a sports-themed diner with burgers, teriyaki dishes and huge omelets with names such as Maui Wowie and Huelo Paniolo.

I chose the Pakalolo Onolicious, hoping it was only partly true to its name (pakalolo is Hawaiian for marijuana, but ono means delicious). I wasn’t disappointed, as the waitress brought me a plate-size omelet with seasoned bell peppers, sweet Kula onions and honey-cured ham. Emily got a peppery rack of ribs.

At night, we occasionally ventured into Waikiki for dinner or drinks at Duke’s. Other evenings, we simply stayed in Kailua, soaking in the scenery and serenity. On our last night, with twilight falling on Kailua Beach and the swish of water at our feet, we strolled hand in hand to Buzz’s Steakhouse. Moist teriyaki moonfish was a fine finish to a fine week.

To walk off the meal, we returned along Kailua Beach, passing local fishermen setting up their poles for night casting. About halfway home, I saw a flash of light from the corner of my eye. Emily turned, and we both traced a shooting star as its streak lingered across the sky. We watched in silent wonder. Who needs the glitter of Waikiki, I thought, when Kailua has the real thing?

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GUIDEBOOK

On Oahu’s Windward Coast

Getting there: American, American Trans Air, Continental, Delta, Hawaiian, Northwest and United airlines fly nonstop from LAX to Honolulu; round-trip fares start at $522. From airport, take Interstate H-1 and Pali Highway east.

Where to stay: We stayed at two guest houses operated by Beach Lane B&B;, 111 Hekili St. #277, Kailua, HI 96734; telephone/fax (808) 262-8286, Internet https://www.beachlane.com. Studios with kitchenette and private bath are $75 per night.

In years past, we stayed at studios, cottages or houses run by Bed & Breakfast Hawaiian Islands ($65-$445 per night); tel. (800) 258-7895, fax (808) 262-2181, Internet https://www.lanikaibb.com. We also like Bed & Breakfast Honolulu (properties statewide, $75-$300 a night in Kailua); tel. (800) 288-4666, fax (808) 595-2030, Internet https://www.hawaiibnb.com.

Where to eat: Agnes’ Portuguese Bake Shop sells Hawaiian pastry and sausage-filled buns, $1-$1.50. 46 Hoolai St., Kailua, local tel. 262-5367.

Boots & Kimo’s Homestyle Kitchen is open breakfast and lunch; entrees $5-$10. 119 Hekili St., Kailua, tel. 263-7929.

At Buzz’s Steakhouse, entrees are $7-$15 for lunch, $15-$35 for dinner. 413 Kawailoa Road, Kai-lua, tel. 261-4661.

For more information: Hawaii Visitors and Convention Bureau, 2270 Kalalaua Ave., Suite 801, Honolulu, HI 96815; tel. (800) GO-HAWAII (464-2924), fax (808) 924-0290, Internet https:// www.gohawaii.com.

Oahu Visitors Bureau, (800) 624-8678, Internet https://www.visit-oahu.com.

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