A Maui ATV Adventure and the Little Magical  People Who May Have Made it Possible

Drawing by 

By Alex Dennis - https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47965494

There is a legend on Maui that centuries before settlers from other Polynesian islands came to Hawaii, magical dwarf-like people called the Menehune lived in the island’s forests and hidden valleys. Gifted craftsmen, they are said to have erected temples, created roadways and houses, and built little fishponds that were isolated and far from the coastlines. 

Some, Menehune like Ea’alulu could turn invisible. Others, like Eleu could move so quickly that he could disappear. Molowa, whose name meant “lazy,” had the power to appear sleeping while his magical invisible self could go off and do good deeds.

We just might have enjoyed a bit of their handiwork when we motored up a rugged mountainside just above Lahaina over rutted, red, dusty pathways in a caravan of noisy indestructible all-terrain vehicles to take a dip in a refreshing little pond 1,800 above the beaches far below. If Ha’alulu, Eleu, and Molowa could see us they would either be happy over the pleasure we took in our journey and their pond, appalled over the noise and dirt we kicked up in the process, or both.

It was a grimy trip from the start. The young tattooed Hawaiian man picked us up in the parking lot of the local Office Max and smiled broadly has he held open the side door of the dirtiest passenger van in America—a well-worn vehicle that would transport our little party, five adults and two kids, up the mountain near Lahaina on Maui for our ATV adventure.

Clouds of red dust billowed up from the old worn seats of the van when we plopped down for the short drive. Reggae music blasted out of the speakers. A wide-mouth plastic container was suspended from the ceiling by a little braided rope with a paper note glued to the front that said, “Tips welcome. Mahalo (Hawaiian word for thanks).” 

A ten-minute, bouncing, jostling, bone-jarring ride later, we emerged from our dirty battered transportation and were greeted by a tall, friendly guide who sat us down under the shade of a rustic shelter, welcomed us to the Kahoma Cattle Ranch, fitted us all for helmets, passed out green bandanas to cover our mouths and noses, and lectured us a bit about safety.

“Keep buckled up. If your vehicle tips over, do not panic,” he said. “Just keep your legs and arms inside the cab and let the roll bars do their job. Everything should be just fine. Oh and keep the bandanas. Don’t try to give them back to me. I don’t want em. That’s disgusting.”

On the ground nearby was a tremendous pile of filthy, abandoned tennis shoes.

“Are those the shoes of riders who didn’t make it?” one tourist in our group cracked as though the joke would be fresh to our host.

The guide patiently explained that those were indeed shoes that belonged to previous riders but they were abandoned because their owners believed that the dust and dirt of the ATV experience had rendered them useless for further wear. That made some of us glance with concern at our own reasonably new Nikes, Adidas, and Asics.

“If anyone wants to borrow a pair for the ride and save your own shoes, have at it,” the guide said. “Word of warning here: you will get dirty.”

The thought of someone else’s’ dirty, dusty, and crusty shoes didn’t seem to appeal to anyone in our group and we all seemed willing to risk our current footwear. Then, the guide escorted us out to a squadron of parked Polaris Rangers—short stubby little vehicles

with tough-looking little tires and sturdy roofs. There were two seats and a little cargo bed in the back of each ATV. We climbed in our assigned carts, two to a vehicle, and got a quick primer on the automatic transmission. Then, we were off in single file up a dirt road that would take us higher up on the mountain.

The Hawaiian Islands are basically just the tops of big volcanic mountains that were formed by eruptions of lava over several million years. The soil is red because of iron and other minerals in the dirt that oxidize or rust over time. Sometimes those hematite soils are used to create dye for fabrics or in spiritual ceremonies in the Hawaiian culture known as ‘ale.

The guide, driving the lead Ranger, enjoyed a red dirt-free trip. The rest of us, following in his wake, were not that lucky. Seven of the stumpy little vehicles kicked up a tremendous amount of red dust and it blew and settled everywhere. If not for our goggles and the bandana that each of us wore over our faces, we would have been blind and unable to breathe.

The dust was so thick that drivers couldn’t’ see the road and had to steer by the taillights or other visible items—like the driver’s shirt—on the vehicle just in front. That made avoiding potholes and ruts impossible. We bounced, slid, and skidded our way up the dusty road and at a good pace. Drivers had to keep up because if we lost sight of the vehicle in front, we would lose the caravan at best, and be unable to see the road at worst. We wound around hairpin uphill curves and scraped against the green tree limbs that lined our wilderness path. We passed through mud puddles, under overhanging vegetation in jungle-like areas, and dipped and dodged all the way up the incline.

The dusty road was interrupted occasionally as we passed over peaceful pastures of an active cattle ranch that remains inaccessible to the general public. Finally, we came to a plateau and rounded the edges of a small body of water—perhaps, but not likely, the work of our little friends, the Menehune. There was a wooden platform in the center of the little lake with a ladder extending into the water. We motored noisily past the lake and continued upward again until the guide brought us to a stop and gave the sign to exit our dusty little vehicles. We had reached the summit of our climb, and a chance to cool down and clean off by way of a long slippery water slide that emptied users in the little lake below that we had passed a few moments before. We were told that the little reservoir was fed by pristine West Maui Mountain waterfalls.

Our hosts offered cold bottles of water from a big blue cooler and sliced up fresh pineapples as a snack. The waterslide experience

bounced riders quickly down a slick white plastic half tube that was kept slippery and fast by trickling water sent down the slide’s long descent into the reservoir. Riding the slides down required a long climb up a wooden set of stairs to regain the summit.

There was a little wooden suspension bridge that carried a trail

down to the lake for those of us who wanted to visit the waters without the quick bouncy descent of the slide. Our altitude gave us breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean and the town of Lahaina far down below. A peacock wandered the area around the parked Rangers and was perfectly at home with the visitors. 

Occasionally, the bird would stop, cock its head and seemingly stare straight ahead at something we couldn’t detect. Maybe he could see one of the little Menehune!

Eventually, the sliders wearied of their watery adventure. We dried off, helmeted up, covered our mouths and noses with our green bandanas, and fired up our Rangers for the dusty descent to our

starting point. Halfway down the mountain, we came to a stop and our guide walked back through the dusty clouds. Apparently, he had been notified on his radio by his fellow guide, who brought up the rear of our caravan, that one our seven vehicles had flipped when rounding a particularly difficult bend at a speed that wasn’t conducive to keeping all four wheels in contact with the dusty roadway. There were no injuries and the tough little vehicle wasn’t damaged. Another Ranger was dispatched from the base camp not far away to pick up the riders.

Eventually, we all rendezvoused at our starting point where about

14 of us tried very hard to wash away some of the dirt at a tiny little sink and dryed off with one roll of paper towels. It was pretty much a futile effort. Then, it was back to our incredibly filthy van for a ride back to our own vehicles.

Sometimes as I drift off to sleep back home on the mainland, I get this image in my head of three little guys named Ha’alulu, Eleu, and Molowa, standing beside the peacock and pond waving farewell as we slipped back into civilization on our noisy 21^st Century transportation that day.

Drawing by H. Kyoht Luterman www.Kyoht.deviantart.com

Mahalo Ha’alulu.

Mahalo Eleu.

Mahalo Molowa.

Sorry about the dust…and the noise.