Far up the eastern shore of the islands, the town of Hanalei sleeps quietly on one of the most picturesque bays you’ll ever see. Films (The Descendants, South Pacific), songs and countless poems have tried to share the wonder of Hanalei Bay, but you can’t appreciate it until you see it for yourself — the majesty of a waterfall cascading seemingly from the summit of a mountain all the way to its base; the bright, blue bay protected by a tropical reef filled with colorful fish and giant sea turtles; the majestic mountains of the far western edge of the famed Na’Pali Coast; and as always, the ever-present Pacific.
It’s that sensory-blowing panorama that greets guests upon arrival at The St. Regis Princeville Resort (808-826-9644, www.stregisprinceville.com), located on the southern shore of Hanalei Bay in the resort community of Princeville. A luxurious lobby with vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, dark-wood paneling and marble floors gives way to indoor and outdoor dining rooms featuring window walls looking out across the breathtaking beauty described above. To dine at the hotel’s Kaua’i Grill at sunset, as we would on our final night on the island — enjoying chicken samosas in cilantro yogurt, steamed Kona lobster and a succulent filet mignon, paired with a California cab personally matched to our menu choices by the on-site sommelier, and followed by a salted caramel ice cream sundae — is to soak in one of the finest dining experiences of your lifetime.
The hotel pool by the beach below is more peaceful than those on the busier southern part of the island, reflective of Princeville’s more quiet, refined atmosphere. The bay and surrounding beaches, meanwhile, offer some of the finest snorkeling to be found in Kaua’i — at Tunnels beach, just a few miles north, we spotted no fewer than four sea turtles in just 20 minutes in the water, while famed Hideaways Beach is just a short walk from The St. Regis entrance.
For as clearly as Kaua’i’s breathtaking scenery comes across on film or in photographs, it’s much more difficult to communicate its “aloha” spirit. One island native explained that the word “aloha” is really two words — “alo,” meaning face-to-face, and “ha,” meaning “breath of life.” When Hawaiians greet family and friends, they often touch foreheads and exhale, literally exchanging the breath of life between them. It’s a spirit on full display at the hotel’s fabulous Halele’a Spa, where my wife indulged her skin with a Halele’a custom facial while I indulged my golf game at Princeville’s two Robert Trent Jones, Jr., courses.
Originally built in the late 1960s, the Princeville Makai Golf Club (808-826-1912, www.makaigolf.com) was the first Kaua’i course built by RTJII, who fell in love with Hanalei and still maintains a home there.
Both nines feature numerous holes on the ocean, with the front nine offering additional views of Hanalei Bay from the par-5 second and scenic, downhill, par-3 third. From behind the infinity green at No. 6, golfers can look down at the Queen’s Bath, a natural pool amidst lava rocks that is popular with swimmers and sunbathers in the summertime (but often lethal in winter, when 30-foot swells pound the shore and swamp the rocks). Just steps away from the tee box at the par-4 7th, golfers look down to Turtle Cove, where giant sea turtles often frolic.
For as much as there is to see on the front nine, the back might be even better. Long par-3s combined with risk-reward par-4s and -5s make for an exciting finish. No hole on Kaua’i thrilled me more than Makai’s par-4 14th, a 288-yard carry across a gaping canyon, with the Pacific Ocean to my right and the beach down below. Miss out on your birdie there, and you’ll get another chance at the 505-yard 18th, where a good drive that cuts the corner of a pond will leave you 220 yards to a well-guarded green.
The official state bird of Hawaii is the nene, a Hawaiian goose, but it might as well be the wild chicken. Brought to the island by Polynesian settlers centuries ago, the chickens have come to thrive on an island where they have no real predators. Tourists drive around chickens on roads, watch them warily from the beaches, and even shoo them off greens at world-class golf courses.
Striking my irons off the practice tee at The Prince Course at Princeville Golf Club (808-826-5001, www.princeville.com) — one of the most acclaimed courses in America, mind you — I was struck by how many roosters brazenly traipsed across the hitting area, seemingly oblivious to the golf balls flying at their heads. Of course, Kaua’i’s roosters are notoriously tough — as the joke was told to me, to cook a wild chicken, just drop it in a pot with a lava rock and some local spices. When the rock is tender, so is the chicken.
The Prince has been described by RTJII as one of his “master works,” and it’s immediately apparent why. The course tumbles down from the top of a hill towards the ocean below, winding through various forms of terrain along the way. Like a symphony, it starts with a dramatic opening hole, requiring two precise shots and some skill with the putter to avoid bogey. It eases over the next few holes, rolling across gentle hills and offering plenty of scenic views and opportunities for birdie. The par-4 sixth hole immediately brought to mind one of my favorite RTJII holes, the 10th at Chambers Bay — the hole starts wide before funneling into a chute near the green, tightly guarded by deep bunkers and thick grass into which a golf ball can completely disappear.
The climax of the course’s first movement comes at No. 10, a unique par-5 requiring three well-placed shots to navigate the islands of fairway on the way to the pin. After a brief par-3 to catch your breath, the Prince’s second act begins when it plummets nearly 200 feet in one shot, dropping golfers from the tee box at No. 12 into the heart of the valley below. The next three holes wind around the valley floor, with the par-5 15th dropping golfers one last time from an elevated tee box to a green tucked among the valley trees. The final three holes are like a climb back to heaven, the 18th offering one last chance to look back at the ocean and valley views, before heading to the luxurious hilltop clubhouse.
As the Pacific Plate moves slowly to the northwest, to collide with and eventually pass under the Philippine Sea and North American Plates, islands form over the hotspot of lava bursting up from the mantle, their geologically brief, violent creations followed by a long, peaceful existence, before eventually eroding back into the sea from which they came.
Perhaps that fragile existence is why nearly everything about the Hawaiian islands feels fleeting and nostalgic — a magical place lost to time, someday to be lost forever. Millions of years from now, the islands will disappear back into the sea, replaced by others yet to form; so, too, must we eventually make our way back home, even as others arrive to take our place. Whether island, man or woman, our lives are but a passing trifle as measured by the forces that crafted a place such as this.
Yet we are here; we are now. How lucky we are.