I Took a Family Vacation to Hawaii That Combined Relaxation and Adventure

From New York City, the flight to Hawaii takes 11 hours. Eleven long, daylight hours, during which my kids, ages seven and 10, seemed to fight almost continuously: about the seats, the snacks, the blankets, the headphones; about whose foot touched whose across the armrest first. There were moments when my husband, Dave, and I started to wonder if some cruel god had sentenced us to live out the rest of our days on that Airbus A330, hissing “Give it back right now,” and checking the time remaining on our seat-back screens for the ten thousandth time. 

Less than 48 hours after landing in Hawaii, we found ourselves on a journey of a very different kind — and this time, the mood was a little more collaborative. The four of us were out in the bay in front of Mauna Lani, a resort on Hawaii Island’s rugged Kohala Coast. Jet lag had woken us well before sunrise, so we’d joined an early morning paddle in an outrigger canoe led by a staffer named Josiah Kalima-Padillio. 

“It’s really important that we all paddle together,” he shouted over his shoulder as we navigated the break and headed out into open water. “In together, out together.” From my seat at the back I looked up to see Stella, our eldest, and Leo, her little brother, rowing away furiously, straining to keep time.

We stopped just as the sun came blasting over Mauna Kea, a dormant volcano about 30 miles inland that, at almost 14,000 feet, is Hawaii’s highest peak. As our canoe bobbed up and down, Kalima-Padillio explained that the ritual of watching the sun rise dates back to the Polynesians who settled these islands more than a thousand years ago. This spot, encircled by the five mountains Hawaiians consider most sacred, is considered a uniquely powerful place to do it. “In ancient times it was believed that here you were closer to your ancestors, and to the spirit world,” Kalima-Padillio said. “It was a way to show unity and togetherness, and to let your negativity wash away.” 

As we sat catching our collective breaths — who knew paddling was such hard work? — he shouted and pointed toward the horizon. A couple hundred yards away, two humpback whales were cavorting: breaching and splashing around as if they were every bit as jazzed about the rising sun as we were. Minutes later a third humpback appeared just a stone’s throw from our canoe, its enormous, curved back gliding through the water like the upturned hull of a ship, black and shining wet.

By the time we returned to shore for breakfast we were blissed out, a little exhausted, and ready to spend the rest of the morning by the pool. As we changed into our swimsuits back up in our room, Stella picked up a hotel pencil from beside the bed. let’s all paddle together, read the inscription along one side. 

When you’re on a beach vacation, it’s not always easy to find ways to take in the local culture — and that’s before you throw young kids into the mix. At Mauna Lani they’ve solved this problem for you, because as well as scheduled activities like the sunrise canoe paddle, the resort grounds contain Kalāhuipua‘a Historical Park, a 48-acre reserve that guests can walk around without needing to book tickets or take a taxi; you can basically wander down in your swimsuits and shorts, as we did that afternoon. 

We were shown around by Ethan Souza, a charismatic Mauna Lani staffer, who explained that Kalāhuipua‘a is where Hawaii’s unifier and first ruler, Kamehameha the Great, kept a series of fishponds to feed his royal court. Seven of these are now preserved in this palm-shaded oasis, which also contains walking trails, petroglyphs, and the remains of an ancient fishing village. Souza told us about the early islanders’ sophisticated system of aquaculture and pointed out the eel, barracuda, and — excitement! — puffer fish that live in the ponds today.

Mauna Lani also has a cute Hale ‘I‘ike, or house of knowledge, in the main atrium, where kids can take ukulele lessons and learn Indigenous stargazing techniques. We signed up for a lei-making class — though I’ll be honest, I had my doubts about Leo’s enthusiasm for making a necklace out of flowers. Much to everyone’s surprise, he sat down at the long wooden table presided over by Kahoku Hurley, a member of Mauna Lani’s living-culture team, and knocked out a perfect orchid lei in about the time it took the rest of us to tie our starting knots. 

The Hale ‘I‘ike was given a makeover in 2020, when Mauna Lani reopened as part of the Auberge Resorts Collection after a $200 million renovation. Built in 1983, the property had, over the decades, become a much-loved island landmark. Fans of the original can rest assured: though it now has a retail branch of Goop, Gwyneth Paltrow’s wellness and fashion brand; a taco truck; and a New York–style deli serving matcha lattes, there remains a satisfying air of 1980s grandeur about the wedge-shaped main building and its towering, palm-filled atrium.

Another thing Auberge didn’t change, and wisely so, is Canoe House. Once a shack used to store canoes (some used by Babe Ruth, who vacationed on these beaches in the 1930s), the building has housed Mauna Lani’s signature Japanese-inspired restaurant since the late 80s. It’s where Hawaii Islanders go for birthdays and special occasions, and on our first night at the resort, we immediately saw why. There was something magical about looking out at the Pacific as the sun set the sky on fire, eating Kauai shrimp in a Japanese curry with garlic fried rice — a combination we still talk about, quite frequently.

As our server cleared our plates, she asked: “Is this your first time in Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” Leo said casually. “We probably should have done it a couple of years ago.”

Most trips to Hawaii begin in Honolulu, and if you’re spending a night or two in the city, you kind of have to stay at the Royal Hawaiian. You’ve probably seen pictures of it: the pink Art Deco palace overlooking Waikiki Beach where Elvis and Marilyn and the Beatles all stayed. It’s pretty much the definition of a landmark hotel. For me and Dave, that punishing flight from New York became instantly worthwhile — forgotten, even — when we entered its leafy grounds, changed into matching pink bathrobes, and sent the kids off to splash each other in the pool while we drank mai tais out of plastic cups.

And that was before we’d seen Waikiki Beach. For our winter-weary eyes, it was almost too much: the smooth, milky-blue water; the blinding-white sand; the high-rises twinkling away on the shore; and above it all, Diamond Head, a volcanic peak so plush and verdant I half expected it to come to life and start singing, like something from Disney’s Moana. 

Honestly, we could have easily just sat and stared at the view for the two days we were in Honolulu. But we felt a sense of duty to see Pearl Harbor, which was every bit as moving and monumental as we’d been told it would be, despite our profoundly jet-lagged state when we visited the next morning. Back at the Royal Hawaiian we made trips to the mall next door for poke and shaved ice, and later that afternoon, the nice people at the front desk helped us set up surfing lessons for Stella and Leo. Lying motionless on a sun lounger as they rode out their competitive energy on the waves, I let out a long, slow breath. Yes, we were on vacation now. 

Hawaii is a land of volcanoes, and my kids — Leo, especially — are volcano enthusiasts. (Close readers of this magazine may remember our volcanically motivated trip to Pompeii, the ancient Italian city destroyed by Mount Vesuvius, a couple of years ago.) Hawaii Island itself has a somewhat mind-blowing four active craters: this, in an area just a shade smaller than Connecticut. Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park, in the south of the island, is where most of the action is, as it contains Mauna Loa and Kīlauea, two of the most active craters in the world. Clearly we had to see it.

There’s an interesting divide between the fancy-beach-resort people and the national-park people on Hawaii Island. Many travelers staying on the coast will take a helicopter tour of the volcanoes and call it a day. This is in some ways understandable: there aren’t that many places to stay around the park, the drive takes a couple of hours, and the roads aren’t the least bit straight. 

But Volcanoes was an absolute blast, and I mean that in a good way. We stayed at Volcano Rainforest Retreat, a collection of Japanese-style wooden cottages about three miles from the park, hidden away in a jungly thicket of bamboo and fern. The contrast with Mauna Lani couldn’t have been greater. Here, the kids slept on futons on the floor. It rained about 50 percent of the time we were in that part of the island, so we had to run out between showers to use the cedar soaking tub in the garden. For dinner we ate Thai food from Aunty Pon’s, a truck stationed in a nearby parking lot. Maybe it was the euphoria that comes with tracking down something good to eat in an unfamiliar place, but I swear the green curry and pad thai could have held their own among the best food stalls in Bangkok. 

The next morning we headed into the park equipped with two big bottles of water, two peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for the kids, and not much in the way of a plan. We decided to begin by investigating the Nāhuku lava tube. When we got there it turned out Leo had expected it to be full of actual lava; the discovery that it was in fact a tunnel created by molten rock that had cooled and solidified centuries ago was a bitter disappointment, even when we learned that temperatures reach up to 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit during an active flow. 

We needed to step up the excitement. Across from the Nāhuku parking lot we saw a sign for a loop that would take us across Kīlauea Iki, a pit crater next to Kīlauea’s main caldera. Three-point-three miles, it read. Could we do it? 

“Nah,” said Leo. “It’s too far.”

“Come on Leo, it will be a cool experience,” Stella said. 

Dave and I looked at each other. Who was this grown-up girl talking about cool experiences? We liked her a lot, wherever she had suddenly sprung from. 

“Come on Leo,” I said. “We’re doing it.” And we did: four miles all told, which, for a seven-year-old with an unreliable attitude, was a pretty much unheard-of result. 

To be fair, there were distractions. Pit craters are essentially giant holes in the ground, so we began by descending the inside wall, where everything was lush and green and giant, prehistoric tree ferns curled high above our heads. After about a half-hour, we hit the volcano floor. Dave read from his phone: In 1959, Kīlauea Iki had erupted for more than a month, spraying lava some 1,900 feet into the air — one of the most spectacular volcanic events of the 20th century. When it eventually cooled, the lava formed a layer of flat, cindery basalt, 1.7 miles of which now stretched out before us. Up ahead we could see other hikers making the crossing: they looked like little bugs, dwarfed by the walls of the crater rising up on every side. 

We walked on, a bit daunted, here and there passing huge cracks in the ground and places where the rock had buckled and ballooned from the heat of the magma still simmering away beneath the surface. But by the time we’d crossed the crater, climbed up the wall on the other side, and followed the rim back round to Nāhuku, we all felt incredible: hot and tired and hungry, but united by the thrill of a shared accomplishment. A cool experience indeed. 

After all the adventure of the park, it felt right to end our trip back on the beach. The next morning we drove down to the Kona Coast to spend our last few nights at Kona Village. I’m from England, so I hadn’t heard of this place until it reopened under the Rosewood Hotels Group in 2023, but everyone in the U.S. I spoke to seemed to have known about it for years. I quickly learned that, in the context of Hawaiian tourism, Kona Village is the stuff of legend. 

Its story began in 1965, when a Texas oil executive named Johnno Jackson and his wife, Helen, were sailing the South Pacific on their schooner, the New Moon. The couple moored up at Ka‘upulehu, an ancient Polynesian settlement that had been abandoned in the 1930s. The Jacksons fell for the place, leased 81 acres of lava rock with ocean views, and spent the next few years constructing a resort. There was no road access, so Jackson built an airstrip. There were no phones, no clocks, and no TVs; guests slept in thatched-roof hales, or traditional houses, with wooden shutters that opened to the breeze. Kona Village came to define barefoot luxury, and over the next three decades it attracted a list of supremely glamorous guests, from Jim Morrison in the 1970s to Steve Jobs in the early aughts.

In 2011, the Asian tsunami destroyed the resort. Its fan base, which runs deep and is intensely loyal, had to wait 12 long years for Kona Village to reopen. But it’s safe to say that those who choose to return will not be disappointed. Today, the hales are still thatched, but now they have air-conditioning; several even have their own butlers. The New Moon, which sank in Kahuwai Bay back in the 60s, has been resurrected and made into an adorable beach bar. There’s a spa built into the Ka‘upulehu lava field where you can have a massage while gazing up at the slopes of Mauna Kea. It’s barefoot luxury 2.0: relaxed and informal, but with every conceivable comfort. 

The focal point is the perfect crescent beach at Kahuwai Bay, which we’d heard was an excellent place for kids to go snorkeling. I asked Brent Imonen, head of the aquatic center, to set us up with the gear one morning, and in we all went. Under the surface the water was a bright, chalky blue. Within about a minute we saw a green sea turtle, just feet away, regarding us disdainfully with its big black eyes before swooping down to the seabed abruptly, flippers outstretched like wings, to nibble at some algae. Around it swam a Finding Nemo–esque explosion of fish, darting about in every shape, color, and size: Moorish idols, yellow tangs, battalions of needlefish, and Hawaii’s tongue-twister of a state fish, the humuhumunukunukuapua‘a, or reef triggerfish. 

“Wow,” I said to Imonen as we handed back our masks and snorkels an hour or so later. He grinned and explained that a no-catch zone introduced some eight years ago was now bearing fruit. “Conditions down there are some of the best on the island.” 

Back on land, we were curious to learn a bit more about the history of Ka‘upulehu. So the next day, after a breakfast that included a truly unforgettable lilikoi kouign-amann, a pastry filled with passion-fruit custard (side note: Kona Village has the most incredible pastry chef), we went to see the petroglyphs carved into the lava field under the resort. Reading from a handout, we learned that this sheet of basalt was formed about 3,000 years ago and has been inhabited for the past millennium. Over the centuries, the people of Ka‘upulehu carved around 450 images into the rock, most of which visitors can view from a boardwalk; there’s also a new cultural center nearby where you can find out more about their meaning. 

“Look,” Leo said, pointing to two small figures etched into the rock. “It’s a brother and sister.”

“It looks like Leo trying to hit me on the shins with a pool noodle,” Stella said.

We all stopped to look at these ancient siblings, their disagreements rendered irrelevant centuries ago. 

“Do you think brothers and sisters got along in ancient Hawaiian times?” I asked her.

“Probably not,” she said with a sigh. 

Soon enough, it was our last morning at Kona Village, and our last day in Hawaii. We had a couple of hours to play with, so we asked Imonen to take us around the headland on an outrigger canoe. Our first paddle at Mauna Lani seemed like weeks ago — so much had happened since. We cut along under the palm-lined cliffs of Ka‘upulehu, passing one or two little black-sand coves. Every couple of minutes Imonen gave the command “Hut-Hooo” to signal it was time to switch arms. Then we heard something different. “There — at 11 o’clock!” 

A pod of around 100 spinner dolphins was heading our way, their silvery fins barely distinguishable from the crests of the waves. Then they were all around us, slicing through the water almost silently, just a bottlenose visible here and there, or the occasional eye. They passed at incredible speed: within a minute or so they had almost disappeared. 

Imonen turned the canoe around; we needed to head back. And this time he didn’t have to tell us how — we already knew. We picked up our oars and rowed toward the shore, all paddling together.  

Oahu

The Royal Hawaiian

A Waikiki Beach classic — part of Marriott’s Luxury Collection — this pink art deco hotel has lush gardens, postcard views, and an unbeatable location.

Pearl Harbor National Memorial

If you’re in Honolulu, a tour of this World War II memorial, now a national park, is unmissable. Visitors get around the sprawling site on scheduled buses, and the place gets busy, so be sure to allocate several hours for a visit.

Hawaii Island

Kona-Kohala Coast

Kona Village, a Rosewood Resort

After being destroyed by a tsunami in 2011, this iconic property reopened in 2023. The new, 150-room iteration is more luxurious, of course, but the barefoot spirit of the original shines through.

Mauna Lani, Auberge Resorts Collection

Part of Auberge Resorts Collection since 2020, this landmark resort on the Kohala Coast has more than 300 stylish rooms and suites, three pools, and a Goop store, alongside a flotilla of family-friendly amenities and activities.

Waimea

The Fish & the Hog

If you’re driving up to Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park, make it your business to stop at this locals-only barbecue spot for lunch. The pulled-pork sandwich was one of the best things I ate in Hawaii.

Volcano

Volcano Rainforest Retreat Bed & Breakfast

A collection of Japanese-style self-catering cottages with outdoor onsen baths in the village of Volcano, a 10-minute drive from the entrance to the park.

Aunty Pon’s Thai Food Truck

Authentic Thai food served, in huge portions, from a truck in the parking lot of Volcano’s Cooper Center.

Hilo

The Booch Bar Hilo

You’ll find downright delicious plant-forward cuisine at this casual Keawe Street spot.

Hawai‘i Tropical Botanical Garden

It’s worth making the 45-minute detour from Volcanoes to visit this gorgeous garden arranged around the cliffs and waterfalls of the Hamakua Coast. 

Sig Zane

The high-quality Hawaiian shirts in this chic Hilo boutique make covetable souvenirs.

A version of this story first appeared in the November 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline “The Wildest Isle.”