In contrast to her siblings, the island of Lanai is rugged substance in rare form, and visitors here find a contradiction of terms. Clearly overshadowed, yet quietly aloof, here is an island truly set apart. Lanai's unique vibe may be due to a predominantly Asian immigrant population, or perhaps it is because of its lack of fast food restaurants and late night watering holes. Whatever the reason for its soft-pedaled vibe, it is just as long time island residents endearingly say: “Lanai is the closest you’ll get to Third-World in the U.S.A.”

As your ferry from the island of Maui nears the shores of unruffled Lanai, the pod of dolphins that have been surfing in its wake takes graceful leave, plunging deep into the blue waters that skirt the island. You are left staring inland at Manele Bay Small Boat Harbor, which for decades had been nothing more than a rustic welcome pad with a single dirt road and its fair share of pot holes. Today it is a refreshingly warm landing place of freshly poured concrete and beautifully patterned rock walls. Looking around you begin to understand that what you are about to experience is an exclusive taste of an alternative Hawaii.

A 4x4 Lover’s Paradise 

The recently repaved Manele Road slowly snakes its way up from the harbor, until about 1,306 feet above sea-level, where stands historic Lanai City, a small plantation town nestled at the cool mist-laden base of Lanaihale, the island’s highest point. From this tiny hamlet, the highway splits off into two opposite directions--southwest descending to Kaumalapau Harbor, the island’s commercial port, and northeast down Maunalei Gulch to Shipwreck Beach and the rugged North Shore. Aside from these three comfortably paved thoroughfares, you can expect to hit red earth the rest of the way.

With only thirty miles of asphalt, the island offers more than a hundred miles of wild off-road adventuring as an alternative. Although these trails are accessible mainly by 4-wheel drive, it is not unheard of to pass a beach going islander, sporting a rusted and red-dirt dusted sedan, cruising along these back-country byways. 

Lanai City, USA; population 3,557

“Don’t blink… otherwise you miss it!” These well repeated words describe the compact brevity of the island’s old, and only, town. And this is not just a cliché, it is the truth. 

The old plantation town’s main business district sits on 7th & 8th, two streets that run parallel with Dole Park, a large grassy square dotted with pine trees that stand guard like rooted sentinels towering over the city center. Here you’ll find a modern art gallery alongside a charming playhouse, “plate-lunch” restaurants with local fare, an Asian market tucked behind a New York style deli, as well as the island’s very own vintage jailhouse, currently closed for business. 

Of Sleeping Bags & Sandy Beaches

Regardless of its laid back small town atmosphere, the island is no stranger to the spotlight. Mostly due to Bill Gates’ buttoned-up wedding in 1994, the world now knows Lanai by name. And year after year, a steady stream of high profile visitors have graced this tiny island since. But despite being an occasional media child this playground is not exclusive to the rich and famous. 

For those traveling on a shoestring budget, the island offers an authentic beach camping experience. This involves pitching a tent on the golden sands of Hulopo’e Beach Park. Facilities include restrooms, showers, running water, barbecue areas, and picnic tables. The site also boasts a strategic placement at the base of the Four Seasons Manele Bay Hotel, which connects you by shuttle to the uplands of Lanai City, where you can stock up for provisions at any one of the island’s three grocery stores. 

The Heartbeat of a Town

Enjoy breakfast beneath the tawny roof of “Canoe’s Restaurant”, and lose yourself in an enlightening discussion with the island's old-timers while enjoying a plate of gravy soaked loco-moco, getting a feel of what life was like back in the days when pineapple ruled as island king.

Get your lunchtime caffeine fix at “Coffee Works” and talk story with second or third generation islanders who sit around sipping steamy lattes with an up and coming crop of mainland American resident transplants. 

At night, stop in for pupus and a drink at “Pele’s Other Garden”, the town’s most happening yet laid-back hotspot, and mingle with expatriates hailing from countries such as France, Egypt and Malaysia, all of whom make up a growing portion of the island’s current influx of resort workers.

An Island Set Apart

Far from being the stereotypical Hawaii of little grass shacks and lovely hula hands, the island of Lanai is more pine tree cool than palm tree hot, more an eclectic mix of East-meets-West than a Polynesian paradise. Whether you come here to experience a vibrantly alive but forgotten part of old plantation Hawaii, or to hobnob it with the world’s pampered elite, chances are you will leave Lanai with a quiet grin on your face and a faint feeling in your heart that runs deep, like you’ve just been let in on a well-kept secret.

And as your plane touches down at the Honolulu Airport and you find yourself once again staring at a sprawling skyline of a concrete city, or as your ferry pulls into the crowded port of a neighboring isle and you reluctantly push your way through an all too familiar congestion of people and vehicles, just remember that the island of Lanai, a tiny pebble in the center of the Pacific, is quite possibly the closest you will ever get to touching the outside world while still standing on American soil.

Some people just have a knack for making new friends, while the rest of us like to take our time. How do you react when it's time to make new friends in a new place? 

I buzzed my head with a #4... or, to be exact, Brian did it for me. We were sitting around in Nick's living room, and he asked me if I wanted to buzz my head. When I said "maybe," and the girls said "no," I immediately replied with a quick stripping off of my shirt and a shaving of my head.

That evening I went home... or, to be exact, to the Ostrander's home (of which I am sitting for the next three weeks), and I closed the night with a thought on cats. My mind is jogged by one named Savannah, who is desperate for human affection intent on pawing me with her claws and rubbing me without restraint as I ponder life's questions while draining my bladder. My thought is as follows...

Cats are like me in that they put on a facade of aloof-ness, purring around with an air of independence, self assured and free from want. But if you leave them for a few than they'll be all over you. Affection starved and baring all, they have no problem wearing their emotions on their fur, throwing themselves upon you as if they were expected to. The catch is that, when you give a cat what he wants, that is personal affection, then he's back to being self reliant and un-needy. And it's because of this that I am like cats.

And yet I've reasoned out a line of thought to get past my catlike qualities. This was brought on by a series of several nights, of which I am about to relate.

I left the cats at home a night back when my family was on island for the Labor Day weekend and they camped down at The Bay. I worked that night, and I didn't get off until 11. But as late as it was, I still went. I caught a ride down with Nick and Brilei, Leslie rode with Feline to keep her company. Feline wore a silly cap which made her look like a french mime.

When we got down to the beach campsite, however late that was, Melanie, Simon and Cressentia were still up talking about sign language, Kat and Kaimana were both ready for bed, and the haole boy Keith was trying to get Kaimana to sleep. The suburban was gone, which meant that I was stuck wearing my p.j.'s and nothing to swim with. I informed a certain Brian that I would not be joining him in a midnight swim, but happily enough, Simon was prepared, and the two went off to swim with the sharks.

A few nights previous (while at the very same campsite), I had been moody and aloof. Quiet and anti social, I distanced myself from the 'group', content on wallowing in my feelings of loneliness. My mind was consumed with memories and thoughts about my friends that I had left behind in New York. I remembered how we would bonfire at the 'Bay of the Most Beautiful Sunsets' and of how, once a year, we would bundle up on the sand and we'd watch the fireworks from across the Bay.

And the night felt quiet and empty without them... it seemed as if every falling star reminded me of how slowly by slowly they were all falling away from me. The group tried their finest to get me to wrestle with them, yet I felt as if my real friends weren't with me on that almost perfect evening. I fell asleep that night struggling to hold on to whatever memories I could... but the sand was hard, the ocean was loud, and the stars seemed harsh and blinding.

The next morning was pitiful. I crawled into the shade while everyone else played in the water. I tried so hard to want to get up and join them, but my mind forced myself to sleep in the midday heat. When I got up and found that they had left, I felt the emptiness inside of me deepen. The heat was making me dizzy. The flies were driving me irritable, and I felt like I was going insane. Why did I need anyone?

And then I remembered how, a couple days prior, I had jumped out of bed at the sound of the phone ringing. The cats had been all over me that morning, and I had closed the door to close them out. When I answered the phone, it was hungry Brian looking for a friend to lunch with. I looked at the time on the microwave, and it read 11:20. "Sure," I said. "I'll meet you in 30." I hung up the phone and telephoned Ash. "Sure," she said. "I'll pick you up in 25."

We got to The Cafe, Ashley and I, a half an hour later, and Brian was a quarter to done. So she called up her daddy and Richard came over, then Brian could leave us alone. Well Richard ate nothing and I ate tempura, and Ashley had something like spam. When Leslie came by, we asked her to sit, then Richard decided to leave. Before he could leave, tho, Chrissy stopped by, and she ordered her lunch, but to go. Then she sat at our table, and asked Dick "How you doing?" And he ended up staying a bit longer. By the time we were finished, Lesleigh and Rachel had come and the kids were all hungry for lunch. So she got them both lunches to go in a baggy, and then we all left with full bellies.

I realized then that friends come in various packages. Some of them are canned pretty darn good, well preserved and everlasting... good for eternity, hardy and weathered. They may be like a favorite trinket you place on a shelf, one that you can take down and show off, or admire when everything else seems so imperfect. Or a friend could be a dusty photo you can return to whenever you feel like the memories are slipping away. Some friends are momentary, a quick fix like a double espresso on a drabby day. And some are permanent figures, like the firm foundation of a standing fixture. Whatever a friend is, they're there for your well being. And you are there for theirs.

So back to the night when I got off of work at 11, and went down to the beach with Nick, Brilei, Leslie and Fe the french mime... it was then that I made up my mind to try and be happy with all that I had. It shouldn't matter that my friends in New York were all working together at the annual Hampton Classic horse show and I wasn't. Because I'm here now, lying in the sand with a group of new friends, pretty and polished and ready to play, each of them with their own personality quirks. "You wanna wrestle?" they asked me, and again I said, "No."

But this time it wasn't because I didn't want to be there with them. The truth was that I was there and that they loved me for who I was, just like friends should. They too had friends they were missing. They had lives outside of what I knew about them. But they chose to be there with me, and they smiled at me, even when I turned them down on their offer for a wrestling match.

So I sprawled out in the sand with Scott's radio on 'Oldies 104.7', and I smiled as I remembered how Nick flipped Brian with one hand while eating a cookie with the other. Leslie lay there on her cot with her ever ready listening ears. Kat said goodnight as she tucked herself into bed next to Sammy. And the lantern was bright as it shone down on Keith and Fe playing trumps with Brilei and Brian.

I fell asleep in the sand again that night... but this time it wasn't as hard as it was a few nights prior. The ocean rolled quietly as I shut my eyes, and the stars were soft and unassuming.

And now we'd like to ask: How do you deal with having to make new friends in a strange place? Do you find those fast and furious connections? Or do you pace yourself? Do you sometimes find it hard to "let go" of your old friends and make room for the new? Or is at all good for you? Comment below and let us know!