It is the short way between Hilo and the west side. It is also the road you use to reach Mauna Kea. It is not a secret jeep track. It is also not a strip of shops. Treat it as a high, empty highway with weather of its own.

What the road is

Wikipedia’s Route 200 page is the clean source for the engineering facts. It lists the highway at 52.7 miles. The east end is Route 19 in Hilo. The west end is Route 190 south of Waimea. The crest is 6,632 feet.

That elevation is why the drive feels like leaving the beach. The site’s Mauna Kea trip notes already put it this way: Saddle Road runs from Hilo to Waimea between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa, from sea level to over 6,000 feet. The island map calls the same stretch one of the best sightseeing drives on the island, rainforest to desert, with both peaks in view.

Wikipedia also records the old reputation. The road once had one-lane bridges and poorly kept pavement. Most of it has been rebuilt. Wikipedia says the highway is now well paved, mostly one lane each way, with a second lane on uphill stretches.

Do not treat a rebuilt highway as a city street. Wikipedia says the route is still subject to fog and low visibility.

Check the rental agreement

Older trip reports still talk as if every rental is banned from Saddle Road. That is the old story.

Wikipedia states that many rental companies used to prohibit the road and now allow it. It does not name today’s contracts. Neither should this page.

Read the paper you signed. Restrictions change by company and by vehicle class. A sentence that was true for one compact car last year may not be true for yours this week.

The Mauna Kea summit road is a separate question. Do not mix the two. The paved saddle is one problem. The gravel road past the Visitor Information Station is another. More on that below.

If you still need a car, start with the site’s Kona car-rental notes. That post is about shopping and comparing, not about today’s rates. Rates move. The useful line there is still “read the fine print.”

Fill up before the saddle

Wikipedia is blunt: there are no tourist services or other infrastructure on Saddle Road.

That means no gas, no food court, and no reliable public restroom on the high stretch. Other visitor guides say the same thing in different words. Fuel in Hilo, Kona, or Waimea before you cross. Do not plan to “find something in the middle.”

How long the empty stretch feels depends on where you last filled up and where you are going. Wikipedia does not publish a drive time. Other pages disagree once you change the endpoints and add stops. Give yourself more time than a coastal errand. Do not treat this as a five-minute hop.

The Mauna Kea information post notes Gilbert Kahele Recreation Area a few miles before the Mauna Kea Access Road turn, with picnic tables, a playground, restrooms, and a view of the mountain. That is a known stop near the approach, not a reason to roll onto the saddle on empty.

No services, and some military traffic

Past the last Hilo neighborhood, the road climbs through forest that thins into the Humuʻula Saddle. Wikipedia places the start of the name “Saddle Road” at about mile 8, at Ua Nahele Street. After that, you are leaving town.

Near the crest, around mile 28, two mountain roads meet the highway: the Mauna Loa Observatory Road to the south and the Mauna Kea Summit Road to the north. West of those turnoffs the highway crosses the edge of the Pōhakuloa Training Area. Wikipedia says military vehicles may cross or occupy the roadway. Watch the signs. Do not treat a training-area gate as a scenic pullout.

The Mauna Kea turnoff is a different problem

From either Kona or Hilo you reach Mauna Kea on this highway. The Mauna Kea information post is the on-site how-to: Daniel K. Inouye Highway, then Mauna Kea Access Road.

Coming from Kona, that post says you pass Pōhakuloa and then turn left onto the access road. Coming from Hilo, the same turn is a right. Follow signs for the Visitor Information Station (the Onizuka Center for International Astronomy), about six miles up, keeping left at the fork.

That is as far as many visitors should plan to drive themselves.

The site is clear that the paved road ends at the Visitor Information Station. Beyond it, the summit road is a winding gravel stretch of switchbacks, roughly nine miles. Weather can close that section, especially in winter. Check current road status before you count on the summit.

The same post says most rental companies have customers agree not to drive past the Visitor Information Station. Again: read your contract. Do not assume a sedan that is allowed on Saddle Road is allowed on the summit gravel.

Altitude is the other issue. The information post advises spending at least half an hour at the Visitor Information Station before going higher. The taller-mountain Mauna Kea piece adds layers, water, and the usual altitude symptoms: headache, nausea, fatigue. Evenings at the station can drop to about 30°F, per that information post. Bring a real jacket, not a souvenir hoodie.

Fog, rain, and night

Wikipedia lists fog and low visibility as facts of the route. The rebuilt highway is easier than the old one. It is still a high road with no streetlights on long empty stretches, and weather that can sit on the crest while the coasts are clear.

If the cloud is on the pavement, slow down. If you are tired and it is dark, wait. This page will not invent crash numbers. The practical advice is ordinary: headlights, extra space, and no rush to “make Hilo by dinner” through a whiteout.

The weather widgets cover Kona, Hilo, Waikoloa Village, and Waimea. They will not tell you the exact cloud on the saddle at mile 28. Look at the sky in front of the car.

What you see, and a Hilo-side stop

From Hilo the first miles are town and then Kaūmana Drive. Wikipedia notes that Rainbow Falls sits on Waiānuenue Avenue, the Hilo start of Route 200, and that Kaumana Cave is near mile 4.

The site already has both. Rainbow Falls and Boiling Pots are the Wailuku River overlooks. Kaumana Caves sit beside the Hilo approach. The caves post is specific: headlamp, real shoes, no flip-flops.

You do not have to stop at either to use the highway.

On the west side, the running post treats Saddle Road as a long training route, usually started from Waimea. If you are driving, those empty miles are why you carry water in the car.

Running Saddle Road

When I’m looking for a good long run I go where the pros and the local age groupers get their run on. Saddle Road.

I start from the Waimea side. Park by the first farms as you enter from town. The road is slightly uphill the whole way, so the out is the easy part. Getting back is what gets you.

You can run as many miles as you want if you bring enough water. There is nothing to buy up there.

After, I still end up at Waimea Coffee Company or The Fish and the Hog. More on that in the site’s running post.

Why people cross at all

The Big Island has two main airports. The airports guide puts most visitors at Ellison Onizuka Kona International Airport (KOA) on the west side, on a lava-field runway. Hilo International Airport (ITO) is the east-side field, with more inter-island traffic and fewer mainland arrivals.

People cross because they landed on one side and are sleeping on the other, or because they want Volcanoes National Park and a Kona beach in the same trip. The map post already warns that a short stay is better spent on one side. The saddle makes the crossing possible. It does not make the island small.

Bring layers in the car. The beach shirt that was fine at the airport will not be fine at 6,632 feet if the cloud sits on the road.

It’s a breezy, well-manicured refuge of green; a break in the long string of desolate lava cliffs that make up the Puna coastline, and a recreation spot popular among locals for its cool shade and stunning views of the open ocean. The park has a tendency to enjoy clear, sunny weather even on days when the town of Pahoa, located just a few miles uphill from the coast, is blanketed in its typical skies of dark grey clouds. Additionally, the entrance to the stunning scenic coastal drive of impossibly dense jungle known as “Government Beach Road” is located just beyond Papio, where the road narrows and a canopy of branches starts to reach out overhead.

This makes it a sort of waypoint for hikers, cyclists and drivers making their way along Government Beach Road – the last stop along the rocky oceanfront before Kahakai Boulevard takes them upland to Pahoa and Highway 130. Here they can catch one more glimpse of the ocean, and can spread out on picnic blankets and beach towels to rest in the warm sunshine. Even on interminably hot and humid summer days on Big Island’s wet, lush east side, Papio is cool and shady thanks to a constant onshore breeze rolling in off the ocean. On some days, this makes the park many degrees cooler than town, and creates an ideal spot to explore the sometimes-intimidating coastline of jet-black lava in the middle of a Hawaii heat spell.

The explosive roar of waves crashing against the jagged rocks can be mesmerizing during stretches of high surf – a commotion that resonates up the more than 100-foot-high cliff and fills the neighborhood with the sounds of an angry sea. The endless barrage sends clouds of white mist filtering up over top of the trees and spilling through the park, leaving its inhabitants with the distinct taste of salt in their mouths.

Towering lau hala trees with their sharp, serrated ribbon-like leaves flutter and dance with the rising mist, and collect salty droplets that fall back to the forest floor. They’re a curious-looking species found in the mangrove family, with outcroppings of aerial prop roots offering support and exceptionally dense trunks. Hala trees were favored by ancient Hawaiians for the tough fibers in their leaves, which they would use to create mats, baskets, thatch roofs, grass skirts – even sails for their outrigger voyaging canoes.

Papio is a perfect place to take your dog and play fetch with a tennis ball, or to throw a frisbee around without too much fear of losing it. Cars drive very slow along the residential coastal road, which is often scattered with several different groupings of pedestrians. People in the neighborhood seem friendly and exceedingly chilled out, and usually wave to each other while headed either in the direction of Government Beach Road or up Kahakai Boulevard to town.

There’s even a short trail at the far end of the park that takes visitors through a dense patch of jungle strewn with fallen hala leaves, bringing them at last to the very edge of a dizzyingly tall cliff for a view of the windswept, barren and craggy coastline. Posted signs around this viewpoint advise those who venture out to the edge to exercise extreme caution while walking near the narrow and uneven terrain.

Somehow the park’s many plantings of colorful tropical shrubs have survived in this atmosphere of intermittent sea spray, and they feature several mature specimens of croton plants, with their broad, wavy leaves of vivid, psychedelic neon red. They are planted in what looks like a mini amphitheater, with a sturdy bench made of painted black metal and wooden planks situated in the middle. On the other side of the park is a conventional picnic bench, this one a bit more beat up and made of concrete and heavy-duty plastic.

Residents of the Hawaiian Beaches neighborhood manage the park, and enforce a handful of rules including no alcohol, littering or loud music. Pets are allowed at Papio, but their owners are obliged to pick up their waste and properly dispose of it, as reminded by the several signs stating as much posted around the premises. Bicycles and other non-motorized vehicles are welcome in the park, but all cars, motorcycles, four wheelers and mopeds must not go beyond the parking lot.

“Moonwalker”, Papio Park’s Eerie Nighttime Glow, and The Mini-Beaches Nearby

Perhaps the most unique aspect of Papio Ocean Park is the art installation found at the center of its grounds known as “Moonwalker”. This is a painted metallic sculpture of a woman wearing a vibrantly patterned tie-dye shawl, with her back to the ocean and head held high. Those making their way past the park at night will notice an eerie greenish-blue glow coming from the piece, no doubt powered by some camouflaged solar panel nearby. The artist who sculpted the stoic shawl-clad woman is Karen Mortensen, who dedicated her work to the Hawaiian Beaches community on the day of summer solstice back in 2016 as a farewell present.

Just a few hundred feet farther down the road from Papio Park are several seaside pull-off spots for vehicles, which border a rocky beach dotted with towering ironwood trees. Although this adjacent swath of beach isn’t an official extension of Papio, joggers, dog-walkers and cyclists seem to treat it all as one big park, making their way from the grassy lawn down the road to watch the waves in seamless fashion. This is a popular place to watch the sunset among locals, and to set up their white pop-up tents for campfires, picnics and barbecues.

This string of pull-offs are an informal beach park space. It can’t be found on any map, and camping there is generally frowned upon. It more serves as a day-use area, and as a rest-stop on trips heading to attractions farther down Government Beach Road, such as Mermaid Ponds and Lava Highway 132, both of which are featured in their own dedicated articles on this site. It’s also a great place to come watch the waves on high surf days – keep in mind, though, swimming here is virtually unheard of and exceedingly hazardous, as evidenced by the crashing waves that hit the beach and throw around piles of lava boulders the size of engine blocks.

How To Get There

Visiting the expansive green lawns and sometimes frighteningly high ocean cliffs of Papio Ocean Park is pretty easy; from the town of Pahoa head straight downhill toward the ocean. Follow Kahakai Boulevard for a few miles out of town, looping through an S-curve next to an elementary school, and farther east through the neighborhoods of Hawaiian Beaches and Hawaiian Shores. Gradually, the narrow band of deep blue ocean will come into view on the horizon, and grow wider and wider as you progress downhill until the air starts to smell salty and a cool breeze picks up. Turn right onto Papio Street just before the road runs out, and follow it for a few blocks over a series of speed-bumps before the park’s large trees, bright green lawn and colorful art installation come into view on the left-hand side of the road.

Papio Park is open daily from sunrise to sunset. There are unfortunately no amenities, including restrooms or drinking water, at either the park proper or its adjacent stretch of small, rocky beaches right down the road, with just a single portable toilet typically available near the entrance to the park. Roughly three miles past Papio further down Government Beach Road is the parking area and trailhead for Mermaid Ponds – a naturally formed collection of protected tidal pools formed out of massive lava drifts. A few miles after that is the beginning of Lava Highway 132, with its newly built roadway winding through the vast, bleak lavafield left in the wake of the 2018 Lower Puna Eruption, eventually linking back up with the town of Pahoa.

For picnic foods and road snacks, stock up on supplies in Pahoa at the brand new Puna Kai shopping center with its anchor grocery store Malama Market, or at the town’s only health food shop called Island Naturals. About halfway between Pahoa and Papio Park is the small, dusty and very local convenience store called “Da Store” located in Hawaiian Beaches. This is a great place to pick up snacks and drinks, and it’s usually worked by friendly local aunties with a laid-back country general store vibe. Prices here can be a bit higher than in town, but are reasonable for the most part.

The trail isn’t long: just a little over half a mile, but it does drop nearly 500 feet from the cliffside viewpoint and trailhead down to the valley floor at sea level, where the mouth of a meandering river running through the middle of Pololu empties out at the beach. A grove of ancient ironwood trees grow here at the confluence of fresh and salt water, set just up from the beach and running parallel to it across the entire mouth of the valley. Footpaths lined with rocks wind through the trees, built with an astonishingly painstaking amount of manual labor, and deliver visitors from one side of beach to the other where they can access still more trails that start to climb the cliffs up into next valley over.

The ironwood forest at the bottom is sprinkled with makeshift campsites, even though tent camping is technically not allowed in the valley, which is only set up for day-use hikers and swimmers. A handful of rope swings, in various stages of weathering, can be found dangling from where they’re tied up far overhead, lashed to branches of the exceptionally strong (and appropriately named) wood. Farther up the valley, the wide mouth of the river gets narrower until it turns into marsh, which had made for ideal farmland for countless generations of ancient Hawaiians farmers, who grew staple crops like taro – the starchy root crop from which the dish “poi” is made – in the perennially wet and exceptionally fertile volcanic soil. In Hawaiian, “Pololu” means “long spear”.

The valley floor beyond the grove is made up of lush, green meadows, sometimes frequented by packs of wild horses who graze away lazily on the abundance of overgrown marshland grasses. It is a serene, peaceful and meditative place, where the only sounds to be heard are splashing waves, singing birds, rustling trees and the gurgle of river water babbling over rounded stones on its downhill journey. On weekend afternoons and holidays, crowds can sometimes be gathered here at the trail’s terminus, with some groups arriving and others preparing to make the much more arduous trek back up to the overlook and parking lot. But on weekday mornings during tourism’s off-season, especially after a several-day stretch of rain showers, it is possible to find the place deserted except for the birds, butterflies and horses.

The impromptu campsites make for great picnic areas, most of them situated in the shade of the ironwood canopy, and are good spots to dry off after a morning of bodyboarding and splashing around in the surf. The ground underneath the trees is littered with their needles, which build up over many seasons into matted clumps. So, sometimes its necessary to do a bit of makeshift raking in order to secure a decent shady spot to lie down. A constant onshore breeze comes in from the ocean and filters through the forest, occasionally with enough force to whip up the finely ground black sand inhabiting the beach. This air movement keeps the rock-lined trails and sprawling complex of sitting logs cool on sunny summer days when hikers are more than likely to break a sweat on the way down.

At Trail’s End, A Hidden Gem: Pololu Beach

These sandy, breezy chill spots in the forest are a welcome respite from the hot Hawaiian sun, but not nearly as much as a dip in the electric blue waters of Pololu Beach. Being able to safely and comfortably swim here largely depends on tidal conditions, with low tides revealing a long, almost flat sandbar stretching out for a considerable distance offshore perfect for swimming, and with high tide swallowing the sandy patches and leaving a stout beach of lava boulders, which tumble with the crashing waves and make for an exceptionally hazardous ocean entry and exit.

So, if you plan on tacking on an afternoon of swimming to your morning hike to the valley floor, consult a tide chart beforehand and pick a day to visit with a sufficiently low tide around noon. Big Island surfers swear that there’s a decent surf break a few hundred feet offshore, and visitors will occasionally spot the peculiar sight of a burly local schlepping their board down the precarious switchback trail with only one free hand, headed to the beach and a strenuous paddle out to catch some waves.

On days with large enough beach break, boogie boarders can sometimes be spotted, too, having hiked down with their gear as well, although with significantly less effort. The shoreline of flat, even sand makes for an ideal ride, and they can be seen waiting for the critical moment when a wave has just crashed across the beach to take a running leap onto their boards and skid across the water into the barrel of the next wave in the set.

One of Seven Valley Cut Into The Flanks Of An Ancient Volcano

The winding trail down to Pololu Beach is rocky and badly eroded in some places, with no guardrails to keep hapless hikers from tumbling over the edge of the cliff, and can get slippery after an all-too-often rain shower of Big Island’s wet side. So, slow and steady footsteps, placed with good shoes – not flip-flops – are the name of the game while navigating the entrance to the verdant valley.

And although all this rain is precisely what’s responsible for the washed-out, often-muddy condition of the trail, it’s also this same natural force – erosion, to be precise – that created Pololu Valley in the first place. More than 100,000 years ago, Kohala Volcano – one of the five volcanoes making up Hawaii Island’s landmass – erupted for the last time and fell dormant.

The interminable rainclouds coming in from the Pacific Ocean continued to drop their precipitation, which ran down the now quiet mountain’s flanks in its headlong dash to the sea. Over the eons, the rushing water washed away great sections of rock, carving into the old volcano seven distinct valleys that made ideal homes for intrepid Polynesian settlers who would arrive to the island much later. This unfathomably slow process of erosion is what has created the towering 500-foot-high cliffs of Pololu Valley now seen today from the overlook, as well as its host of gulches, gorges, streams and waterfalls.

How To Get There

Pololu Valley is accessible via the small, bohemian town of Hawi (pronounced “HAH-VEE”) found near Big Island’s northernmost point. From Hawi’s main road, continue along Highway 270, otherwise known as Hawi-Niuli’i Road, passing through the neighboring villages of Kapaau and Halaula heading east.

A few sections of the road beyond this point are one-lane, so obey all yield signs and keep an eye out for cars coming around hairpin turns. Keep right at the turn for Keokea Beach Park, and in another two miles Pololu Valley’s narrow cliffside parking lot and overlook will come into view. Pull-in parking spots here are limited and usually filled up on afternoons and weekends, but there’s usually plenty of informal parallel parking along the road’s shoulder leading back up the hill.

There are no amenities whatsoever to be found at either the trailhead or at Pololu Beach – not even portable toilets. So, ensure to pack in all necessary supplies, including sun protection and bug spray, beach gear, trail snacks and ample amounts of drinking water. Wildlife enthusiasts will find that a pair of binoculars will come in handy to get a better look at the myriad species of birds milling around the forest canopy, and for visits to Pololu Beach during winter months when humpback whales are often spotted just offshore.

Hawi is a pretty far-flung town, almost equal distance from both of the island’s main population centers: Hilo and Kona. It has its requisite commercial strip of restaurants, curio shops, gas station, grocery and hardware stores, but outside of that the landscape becomes very rural very fast. Finding hiking and swimming gear can be difficult to downright impossible in town, and even Hawi residents will tell of having to make frequent trips to the medium-size ranch town of Waimea roughly 40 minutes away to get most supplies.

So stock up on provisions at supermarkets in Hilo or Kona, and keep in mind that on the way north Waimea is the last stop for many essentials. Nakahara Store is the town’s only grocery shop, located in the same building as its Post Office near Kohala Zipline. For visitors who happen to plan their valley hike and beach day on a weekend, Hawi Farmers’ Market is open from 8:00am to 12:30pm on Saturdays at the intersection of Highway 270 and Highway 250 in downtown Hawi. From here, Pololu Valley Overlook is roughly eight miles away.

Above the cloud line, the night air becomes cold and clear, with visibility no longer compromised by tiny droplets of water suspended in the air. This feature, along with Hawaii’s famously dark skies and low global latitude, makes for an ideal stargazing environment – quite possibly the brightest and clearest view of the heavens to be found anywhere in the United States. The grouping of massive telescopes at the mountain’s summit is a testament to this, with mind-boggling amounts of resources spent assembling these sci-fi looking domes in a wholly inhospitable environment of desolate, ancient high-altitude lavafield.

From the summit, a sea of clouds can be seen obscuring the lower flanks of the mountain, with occasional appearances of Mauna Kea’s neighboring volcano Mauna Loa across the great divide, making it seem as if two towering mountain tops were suspended in the sky. Far out on the horizon, it looks like the view from outside an airplane window – a carpet of puffy white clouds and stunningly blue sky and nothing else. The land at the summit is reddish gray and thoroughly weathered, with great rolling hills of cracked rock navigated by a road that loops up and down many switchbacks. It looks like a moonscape at first glance, only betrayed by the cluster of a dozen towering domed buildings seeming to spring out of the earth.

These are the telescopes – funded and maintained by eleven different nations – that have made Mauna Kea the global mecca of land-based astronomical research, with their facilities located within a more than 500-acre “special land use zone” comprising part of the much larger Mauna Kea Science Reserve. Incredibly, the grounds of the telescope complex are open to the public during daylight hours, although the buildings themselves are strictly off-limits to visitors. All mountain-goers have to do to reach this fascinating spot is check in at the Visitor’s Center and ensure that their vehicle is capable of four-wheel drive. 

The gravel road of steep switchbacks connecting the Visitor’s Center with the summit complex is less than nine miles long, but takes nearly half an hour to safely drive. Taking the time to make that extra drive up the hairpin turns above the shrub line is worth it in the end, though, as the full panorama of sky finally comes into view at the top, offering a spectacle that many visitors to Big Island don’t ever get to see.

The Visitor’s Center offers an impressive range of educational models and informational displays, airing videos about the history of the observatories and its myriad research programs. The geology, ecology and cultural importance of Mauna Kea are common topics of the exhibits, as well as more general info about astronomy, volcanology and the formation of the Hawaiian Islands. Unlike the summit area, the Center is open past sundown, which tends to be a busy time due to the several small telescopes – some up to 16 inches in diameter – that get deployed in its courtyard for visitors to use. Peering through the viewfinders on clear nights, first-time astronomers can see planets, star clusters, galaxies, nebulae and other other-worldly looking features of the night sky.

These impromptu nightly stargazing programs are usually run by a staff member or volunteer who walks gazers through a constellation tour, sometimes using a laser pointer to direct their attention to specific objects. This spot is also a popular haunt for amateur astronomers, who make the long drive up the mountain just before dark to set up their own telescopes in the same courtyard area and scan the sky for familiar sights.

Visitors to Mauna Kea who are planning on making the extra trip up to the summit should keep in mind that its strongly advisable to spent at least half an hour (or three to four hours to be even safer) at the Visitor Center’s halfway point in order to acclimatize to the high elevation. Altitude sickness is a real and potentially life-threatening hazard present on the mountain, and the risk is significantly heightened when planning to go higher than the Center. So, come prepared to take a rest stop before climbing the final section, and familiarize yourself with the symptoms of altitude sickness just in case you or someone in your party begins to feel sick.

Hawaiians’ Sacred Ground, Useful Rocks, And An Ecological Challenge

In the ancient Hawaiian religion, the summits of Big Island’s mountains are considered sacred. For generations, a law existed in old-time Hawaii that stipulated only high-ranking members of royalty may visit the top of Mauna Kea, as by being the tallest of the island’s five volcanoes, it was also seen as the holiest. They considered the summit area to be the “region of the gods”, and a place where benevolent spirits lived. In the Hawaiian language Mauna Kea is short for “Mauna a Wakea”, meaning “white mountain”, named so for its snow-covered summit in the wintertime.

Commoners lived on the flanks of the mountain and depended on its large swaths of forests for food, and on its deposits of hard volcanic basalt rock for tool production. Europeans began to arrive to the island in earnest by the late 18^th Century, who introduced cattle, sheep and game animals, many of which escaped their enclosures and became feral, causing significant damage over time to the mountain’s fragile ecological balance.

Nearly a millennia ago, ancient Hawaiians established quarries high up on the mountain to mine exceptionally hard basalt rock found in deposits in areas where red hot rock met glacial ice and quickly cooled. Volcanic glass was collected to make blades and fishing gear, and this industry was going strong until European and American-made steel tools began to replace them wholesale.

How To Get to Mauna Kea

Reaching Mauna Kea’s Visitor’s Center and summit telescope complex can be a bit tricky for first-time visitors to Big Island. Regardless of whether you are coming from Hilo or Kona, though, you will end up on the Daniel K. Inouye Highway, otherwise known as Saddle Road or Highway 200. 

Visitors coming from Kona-side will pass by the Pohakuloa Training Area and its extensive stretch of military troop housing and support buildings before reaching the left turn onto Mauna Kea Access Road. A few miles before the turn, drivers will pass the Gilbert Kahele Recreation Area with picnic areas, an outdoor jungle gym, modern restroom facilities and fantastic views of the mountain. 

After turning left onto Mauna Kea Access Road (right if coming from Hilo), follow it for roughly six miles keeping left at the fork and following signs for the Visitor’s Center, officially known as the Onizuka Center for International Astronomy, which is open seven days a week during business hours, and usually stays open for a few hours after sunset to accommodate its free stargazing program.

This is where the paved road ends, and beyond the Center the route to the summit is a winding stretch of gravel switchbacks that runs another roughly nine miles before ending at the telescope complex loop. It’s important to keep in mind that occasionally the summit road is closed beyond the Visitor’s Center due to bad weather, especially in the winter. So, it’s smart to check to see if the road is open prior to planning a trip to the summit to avoid a big disappointment. Also, those who do opt for a day trip to see the telescopes need to begin the descent back to the Visitor’s Center after sunset as nighttime at the summit is when the researchers work.

All of the buildings at the top are off-limits with the exception of the Subaru Telescope, which does offer pre-planned tours during the daytime on a limited availability basis. It’s also crucial to dress warmly if you plan on sticking around for sunset, since ambient temperatures can drop to as low as 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Most rental car companies on the island have their customers sign paperwork promising that they won’t drive their rentals beyond the Visitor’s Center due to the hazardous nature of the road and other liabilities. If you plan on renting a car on Big Island and taking it up Mauna Kea, make sure to read the fine print of your rental contract to see if there are similar restrictions. 

It is not Hapuna. Hapuna sits farther north in its own state recreation area, with hotels on the bluff and a long half-mile of sand. Kua Bay is a different shoreline, a different park, and a different drive.

The Hawaiian name is Maniniʻōwali. Wikipedia notes that the bay is popularly called Kua Bay because the name is easier to say. The park around it is Kekaha Kai, formerly Kona Coast State Park. Kekaha kai means “the shore line.” The main beach areas in the park are Maniniʻōwali (Kua) Bay at the north end, Makalawena at Puʻu Aliʻi Bay in the middle, and Mahaiʻula Bay to the south.

This site’s map post puts Manini’Owali Beach (Kua Bay) on a short Kona-side list, right next to Magic Sands, and describes it as a beautiful, picturesque beach with great swimming when the waves are calm. The top 10 beaches write-up is the most specific page this site already has: morning water can be calm and inviting for swimmers and snorkelers, fish and turtles show up offshore, winter surf can get big, and there is not much shade.

Water, shade, and when to stay out

Hawaii Division of State Parks is blunt about the water. The Maniniʻōwali (Kua Bay) section offers swimming during calm seas, bodysurfing during periods of shore break, sunbathing, picnicking, and other beach-related activities. It also warns of dangerous rip currents and pounding shore breaks during high surf. Waves over 3 feet are for experts. Everyone else should stay out of the water and away from the shoreline.

The same official page says there are no lifeguard services. That is a real difference from Hapuna, where this site already describes year-round lifeguard coverage. If the bay looks pretty and the shore break is stacking up, treat the pretty as a warning, not an invitation.

This site’s own top-10 note matches that seasonal swing. A morning at Maniniowali is the better bet, when the water can be calm. The surf can get big in winter, which the site says is fine for experienced surfers and a reason to be careful in the water. Bring an umbrella or a sun hat. There are not many trees.

If you see turtles, give them room. This site already uses a ten-foot rule at Punaluʻu and Carlsmith. Do not touch, feed, or crowd them.

What is actually at the park

Kekaha Kai is a large coastal state park (the 2025 State Parks brochure lists 1,642.5 acres). The official brochure describes the Maniniʻōwali (Kua Bay) section as developed with a paved access road, a parking lot, a comfort station with an outdoor shower, and picnic tables.

It is still a dry, hot coastline. The official park write-up and the brochure both say there is no drinking water. Pack more water than you think you need, plus whatever food you want. There is no cafe on this beach.

This site already says parking is limited and the beach is a little harder to reach than other popular Kona-side stops, which is part of why it usually sees fewer crowds. Arrive early if you want a stall and a quieter morning.

Fees are posted on the official park page. As of January 2026, parking and entrance fees are required at the Maniniʻōwali (Kua Bay) section. Payment is credit card only. Hawaii residents with a Hawaii ID or driver license enter free, and resident non-commercial parking is no charge with ID. Non-Hawaii residents pay $5 per person (children 3 and under free) and $10 per non-commercial vehicle. Those are the state’s numbers, not a guess. Check the Kekaha Kai park page before you go, because State Parks says fees can change.

Hours on that same official page: daily 8:00am to 6:30pm, gates close at 7:00pm. In late August 2026, State Parks posted storm-recovery notices after Hurricane Lala and Tropical Storm Moke and said it was still evaluating locations. Kekaha Kai (Kua Bay and Mahaiʻula) was on the August 18 reopening list, then the statewide evaluation notice went up again on August 24. Do not trust this article for a gate that might be closed. Check the official park page and park notices the morning you drive.

The rest of Kekaha Kai

If you want a longer day than a swim, the park is also a hike. A 4.5-mile stretch of the historic Ala Kahakai coastal trail runs north from Mahaiʻula to Kua Bay. Midway, a side hike climbs Puʻu Kuʻili, a 342-foot cinder cone with a wide view of the coastline. Official copy for that walk is short and useful: dry, hot, no drinking water.

Makalawena sits between the two road-access beaches. This site’s top-10 already covers it as a secluded white-sand beach north of Kona that takes about a 20-minute hike across a lava path, with no facilities. Wikipedia places it at Puʻu Aliʻi Bay, in the stretch between the two state-park road ends.

Kua Bay is the easy-road end of that same park. Hapuna is the big white-sand day farther up the Kohala Coast if you want more room, picnic pavilions, and lifeguards. Magic Sands is the closer Kona-town alternative on Aliʻi Drive.

How To Get to Kua Bay

The official brochure puts Kekaha Kai on Queen Kaʻahumanu Highway (Highway 19), 2.6 miles north of Keahole Airport (Kona International). Wikipedia says the same thing in slightly different words: a paved road 2.6 miles north of the airport leads to the beach. Separate 1.5-mile access roads leave the highway for the Mahaiʻula section and for the Maniniʻōwali / Kua Bay section. The Kua Bay road is paved.

That is a different turn, and a different coast, from the Kohala Coast beach roads farther north. If a map or an old page sends you toward Kawaihae, you are still aiming at a different beach.

Bring a credit card, drinking water, shade, and a plan to leave before the gate closes. If the surf is up, enjoy the view from well back of the waterline and save the swim for a calmer morning.

Kua Bay is a west-side beach day. See Kona vs Hilo.

Lava Highway 132, Hawaii’s newest lava field is found on Big Island’s eastern flank, in its rural and agricultural Puna District, and is traversed by a gently curving highway that was opened just a few years ago: Lava Highway 132.

This is a pristine broad-shouldered, two-lane road built on top of the vast sea of black rock left in the wake of the 2018 Lower Puna Eruption. It snakes down downhill through patches of spared agricultural land and long stretches of cracked, brittle-looking hills of hardened lava, the road itself a patchwork of old and new segments with their joints clearly noticeable by the different color and texture of the asphalt. Houses that were somehow miraculously untouched by the flow sit by the roadside; what was once a home on a country block is now a solitary structure lying in an island of untouched land with an endless rocky moonscape stretching out to the horizon in all directions.

The views from along the highway are a truly shocking, tragic and astonishing collection of sights to behold; the rusted metal skeleton of a barn sticking halfway out of a lava drift, mindbogglingly huge piles of dead, dried-out trees slowly being eaten away by the elements, the long-since-hardened bank of what was once a ferocious, rushing river of molten rock measuring in the thousands of degrees Fahrenheit now eerily still and quiet. This river was how the billions of gallons of lava spewing from the monstrous Fissure 8, now known by the Hawaiian name Ahuailaau (AH-HOO-EYE-LAW-OW), in the inland neighborhood of Leilani Estates managed to make its way downhill and almost completely destroy the small coastal town of Kapoho and much of its adjacent farmland.

Visitors making their way down Highway 132 today will drive through cross-sections of this riverbed, with its massive walls of cracked, jet-black rock that appear nearly vertical. Several pull-offs along the road allow for closer observations of the strange, curious and sometimes eerie-looking rock formations. All the different textures of lava are on display here: flat sections of hard, smooth, ropey lava known in Hawaiian as “pahoehoe” (PAH-HOY-HOY), bordered by drifts of porous, brittle and exceptionally sharp rock called “a’a” (AH-AH). The texture of the riverbed itself is peculiar: shards of crumpled, rippled rock that catch the sunlight and seem to glitter within the morass, appearing almost like a valley of black broken glass.

Beyond the channel’s far bank is the bright green canopy of a forest of trees growing at the edge of the flow field, which has regrown its foliage after a thorough dose of sulfuric gasses stemming from the eruption left its branches bare. Above the greenery, a baby blue sky full of puffy, cotton-candy clouds completes the tropical volcanic island color scheme: black rock, green jungle, blue sky. 

Stunning views featuring all these colors, along with the wide belt of turquoise ocean on the horizon, can be found at many of the pull-offs along the Lava Highway, particularly near its western terminus less than a mile from Lava Tree State Park and Puna Geothermal Venture. From this vantage point, the road winds gently downhill through vast stretches of new, largely flat lavafield, which affords onlookers an unencumbered view for several miles. 

It can be tempting to trudge up the bank of mounded boulders beside the road at this point to get an even better view, but be extremely careful: much of the 2018 flow field beyond the rebuilt highway roadbed is still very unstable, and countless undersurface voids such as lava tubes and sinkholes have been encountered by geologists studying the area. These voids can be large enough to swallow a car, and can still be dangerously hot even half a decade since all surface lava has hardened. 

During East Hawaii’s rainy season, huge white billowing clouds of steam can still be spotted drifting over the lower stretches of Highway 132, indicating that even years later there’s still enough residual heat deep underground to boil rainwater. To this day, during particularly heavy rainstorms, County of Hawaii roadworkers sometimes have to close the highway completely due to low visibility from the billowing clouds drifting across the lanes.

The Meaning Of “Kipuka” 

In Hawaiian, the word “kipuka” (KEE-POO-KAH) refers to an island of untouched land surrounded by lavafield on every side. The 2018 Lower Puna Eruption created countless kipuka as pioneering lobes of lava coming from the two-dozen fissures cropping up in Leilani Estates criss-crossed each other, destroying miles of roads and creating an intricate checkerboard landscape of intact farmland and still-standing structures surrounded by lava drifts. The homes within these islands were inaccessible – some of them still isolated even several years after the eruption – due to road loss.

The largest of these kipuka to form was known as the “Highway 132 Kipuka,” which was comprised of approximately 56 properties and 70 residential structures that were spared from destruction. Much of this was agricultural land, with expansive fields of papayas stretching away from the highway in both directions and small groupings of homestead lots, most of which utilized off-grid solar electric and rain catchment water systems. Almost all of the farmland within the kipuka became overgrown during the year-and-a-half when road access was impossible to the cutoff but still-intact section of highway. 

The County of Hawaii government recognized the need to reopen the road and reestablish access to the dozens of surviving properties early on, making it a top priority during planning sessions of eruption recovery work. In early June, 2019, the first bulldozers began the task of clearing more than three miles of covered roadway on either side of the Highway 132 Kipuka. This was made up of two nearly identical-length sections: one from just beyond Lava Tree State Park to the kipuka’s western edge, and the other from its eastern edge down to the former town of Kapoho and the area once called “Four Corners”. 

Contractors building the road sections worked quickly, navigating hundred-foot-thick lava hills, lava tubes and other dangerous voids that threatened to gobble up machines and workers, and even pockets of astoundingly high heat. Some of the crews had to pause construction for a time after coming upon 800-degree rocks that would warp bucket blades and melt the machines’ hydraulic hoses. The road was finally opened in late-November 2019 to the relief of dozens of Puna District residents, who slowly trickled back to their former homes and began the often daunting task of reestablishing their lives. 

These East Hawaii residents are accustomed to living with a volcano in their backyard, and have time and again shown a palpable resilience, stubbornness and plain grit in the face of so much disaster. Visitors to the area notice this shared quality among the locals almost immediately, and it’s easy to spot while driving along the new highway; the clusters of young coconut palms, ti plants and ornamental shrubs planted by undaunted hands along the stretches of otherwise barren, monochrome landscape. 

How To Get There

Lower Puna District’s Lava Highway 132 can be accessed via the small hippie town of Pahoa roughly 10 miles south of Hilo, Big Island’s largest city and home to one of its two main airports, Hilo International Airport (ITO). From the town of Pahoa, continue straight through the traffic light at the far edge of town and follow along the windy, jungle-lined road past the neighborhood of Nanawale Estates, and past the painted wooden sign on the left for Lava Tree State Park and its collection of curious, naturally formed lava monuments. 

Less than a quarter-mile past the entrance to the park, the sides of the highway abruptly go from towering dark green jungle to swaths of cracked black rock. This is the beginning of the Lava Highway, which swoops downhill for several more miles before coming to a stop sign at the very bottom of the hill. The most interesting lava formations are arguably along the highway’s upper portion, but its lower lengths are where steam clouds are most prolific after rainstorms, and where heat can still be felt emanating from holes in the rock. 

At the far end of the highway, just beyond the stop sign, is a makeshift parking lot with some excellent views of the rocky, deserted coastline and far-off Kumukahi Lighthouse, which has been long-defunct. From this parking area, either continue back up the hill toward Lava Tree Park or take the left turn onto Government Beach Road – a route leading to the naturally formed tidal pools known as Mermaid Ponds. This jungly, sometimes narrow road goes on for roughly six miles until intersecting the neighborhood of Hawaiian Beaches, which is only a few miles down the main arterial Kahakai Boulevard from Pahoa, creating a full loop. 

These are known collectively as “Mermaid Ponds” by locals, and they serve as some of the last remaining swimming spots in the entire district after the immensely destructive 2018 Lower Puna Eruption took its toll. This most recent flow engulfed several historic and well-loved ocean destinations, such as the Kapoho Tidepools and Ahalanui Beach Park, and nearly destroyed Isaac Hale Beach Park after filling in Pohoiki Bay with sand. Mermaid Ponds is located only a mile or two up the coastal Highway 137, otherwise known as Government Beach Road or “Red Road”, from the northern edge of the 2018 lavafield, so its survival is considered somewhat miraculous.

With very few other swimming spots left along the north Puna District coastline, locals have found a new appreciation for the unassuming outcroppings of jet-black lava rocks that fill with water at high tide and form pools that absorb heat from the sun on clear East Hawaii afternoons. This tends to turn the ponds into warm, salty bathtubs of crystal-clear water, loaded with schools of darting, colorful fish that seem to come in with the waves and get trapped when the tide ebbs.

There is sea life everywhere, albeit no mermaids; tiny scuttling black crabs, sea stars, urchins, Hawaiian limpets (“opihi”) clinging to slippery algae-covered rocks, sea horses, eels – even the occasional Hawaiian Green Sea Turtle can be spotted frolicking in the rolling waves just beyond the ponds’ seawall. The pools have rocky bottoms littered with fragments of shells, and sometimes a lucky swimmer happens upon a fully intact cowrie or angel clam. Bits of coral from the patchwork of growing reefs beyond the surf break can also be found on the bottom. These break off of their main outcrops in heavy seas and get blown into shore by heaving waves, where their porous white branches become scattered among the lava rocks and pieces of shells.

The tidal pools are more or less in a straight line along the coast, with three main bodies of water where depths can get overhead. They are bordered on the inland side by towering green cliffs of stubby “hala” trees; a member of the mangrove family which features a writhing, knobby trunk and sword-shaped serrated leaves. These halas grow in dense forests bordering the shore, perennially dropping their leaves and covering the forest floor with mats of crunching, golden brown and exceptionally tough fibers. The still-green leaves in the canopy rustle in the steady onshore breeze, complementing the soothing sounds of birds singing and tumbling lava boulders tossed about by the unencumbered waves. 

A smaller, much shallower and very rocky side pool can be found at the northern end of the complex, large enough for just two or three people to lounge in at a time. This is usually used as a backup option when the other swimming spots get crowded. But this particular pool can be hard to enjoy at high tide on high surf days when big rollers coming in off the open ocean crash against its far wall and send sheets of water cascading down on loungers.

A Safe Visit To Mermaid Ponds Depends Upon The Tides

Somedays high tide can be a hazardous time even in the main pools, where much of the protective sea wall disappears underwater and the raw force of incoming waves is hardly tempered when it hits the coast. Locals will regale first time pond-goers with stories of rogue waves exploding over the banks and temporarily turning the ponds into whirlpools, slamming swimmers against the rocks and threatening to suck people back out to sea with their backwash. In short, safely being able to experience Mermaid Ponds is completely dependent upon ocean conditions, and it’s a good idea to check tide tables and weather forecasts before hand to make sure you choose a promising day.

Low tide is usually the best bet when planning a visit, but very low tide can pose its own set of problems. Seemingly several times a month, the water levels in the pools drop to the point that they’re nearly completely dry, and what water is left at the bottom is extremely salty and sometimes stagnant. So the ideal time to swim here seems to be a few hours after high tide on a sunny, calm day with little wind.

The three main tide pools have varying levels of protection from the onslaught of waves, and usually on days when the first and last pools are churning and swirling wildly, the middle pool is still relatively calm. This is because it’s set back from the seawall a bit more than the other two, and the more ground that waves have to cover, the weaker they are when they finally arrive. This makes it an ideal spot for children or inexperienced swimmers, with a relatively easy means of getting in and out of the water. A scattering of large, flat-topped rocks found at the edge of the middle pool are ideal for sunbathing, usually covered in beach towels, water bottles, backpack coolers and drying clothes. 

For some more adventurous swimmers, this wave pool-like effect isn’t so concerning, and groups of people can often be spotted on medium-surf days being tossed about gleefully by incoming waves that come over the sea wall like waterfalls of white foam. On days like this, the thrashing pools are almost like amusement park rides, with crowds cheering as the waves break and the clear, placid waters around them are churned up into violent whirlpools.

Every so often on a clear late-afternoon, the towering figure of Mauna Kea – Big Island’s most culturally and scientifically important mountain – can be spotted far in the distance while swimming in Mermaid Ponds. Its slopes appear as little more than a grey line cast against a changing sky, climbing higher and higher until it disappears into a ring of low-hanging clouds that cling to the summit, obscuring it for most of the day. 

At the right time of early evening, though, some sort of temperature inversion occurs and the clouds shrouding the top dissipate for a moment, showing the mountain in all of its glory. It is a spectacular sight to behold; the still, tranquil ocean pools reflecting back the reds and oranges of sunset, while the forests of shimmering green rustle in the breeze and the silhouette of a massive mountain somehow becomes clearer and clearer in the fading light. 

How To Get There

Mermaid Ponds can be accessed via the northern section of Highway 137, more commonly known as Government Beach Road or “Red Road”. From the town of Pahoa, continue straight at the stoplight at the far edge of town onto Highway 132. This road winds through forests of ohia trees and thick jungle, passing by Lava Tree State Park and its curious assortment of naturally formed lava sculptures. Less than half a mile past the turn for the park, the jungle falls away and the sides of the road become desolate, jet-black lavafield. This is the aftermath of the 2018 Lower Puna Eruption, which destroyed several miles of Highway 132 that were subsequently rebuilt just a few years ago. 

Follow along these new sections of highway until getting to the very bottom of the hill. The thin blue line of the ocean will be visible on the horizon, as well as the now-defunct Kumukahi Lighthouse. There’s a stop sign at the bottom of the hill, and only a left turn is possible. Take this left onto Government Beach Road, and continue for roughly four miles through giant old-growth mango trees lining the road and a stretch of extremely dense broad-leafed jungle. 

At the bottom of a steep hill, on the right-hand side of the road, drivers will come upon an abrupt S-curve in the road with a painted yellow gate and low mortared lava rock wall on the right. Park off of the pavement in a suitable spot along the S-curve and walk along the edge of the rock wall to bypass it. Follow this driveway for roughly a quarter-mile through a section of jungle and a subsequent open clearing.

After crossing the clearing, the forest of hala trees will come into view with a clearly visible trail paved with smooth stones marking the way. The trail becomes pretty steep at this point, and hopping from stone to stone down the bluff can be a bit difficult for those with mobility issues. After a few hundred feet the forest falls away and the collection of pools making up Mermaid Ponds can be spotted below.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Getting to Mermaid Ponds requires crossing private property. The owners of the land with the driveway linking to the coast have been exceptionally gracious in letting people walk on their land to get to the ocean. This policy could change in the future, and those who choose to park along the road should do so at their own risk and not leave valuables in the car. This particular parking area has had a history of break-ins, so exercise extreme caution. 

It’s a rugged, isolated and serenely beautiful forest of rustling trees, outcroppings of moss-covered black rock, well-hidden lava tubes and the badly eroded ruins of an ancient Hawaiian heiau (temple), with a web of hiking trails traversing it all. The surroundings are peaceful and still, only compromised by the occasional commotion created by sets of immense rolling waves coming in off the open ocean and smashing against the cliffs. Visitors coming to the park to experience its tranquility and raw natural landscape might be surprised to learn some of the details of its backstory, too: it boasts a mysterious past dating back more than a century and a half – a history rife with ghost stories, urban legends and claims of the supernatural. 

The 2018 Lower Puna Eruption severely reduces access to MacKenzie, and a few rogue lava lobes did even cover a few small portions of land at its northeastern boundary. These new patches of lava are easy to spot these days: drifts of sharp, jet-black rock spread atop and contrasting against the mossy, grayish-black and weathered-looking rock from previous flows. This covered land included a handful of short sections of Highway 137, known locally as “Red Road” which were bulldozed and graded again several months after the eruption subsided, reestablishing access to the cut-off Pohoiki Road, Isaac Hale Beach Park, and the newly formed Pohoiki Beach. To this day, the only access to these spots is via Highway 137 running right past the park, making it a great pit stop for hikers headed out to a beach day at Isaac Hale.

Hiking trails branch out from the park’s entrance heading in both directions along the cliffside, making for a roughly two-mile roundtrip trek on their longest route. The footpaths are soft and spongey underfoot from the carpet of ironwood needles perennially falling from the trees high above. The dry golden brown needles build up in immense mounds along the trail, covering the forest floor and choking out all other plant life attempting to sprout. The muffled crunching of footsteps is drowned out by the mingling tunes of the forest’s resident songbirds, whose sometimes shrill calls can be heard echoing through the trees on sunny days.

MacKenzie’s parking lot is found at the center of the park, which means hikers will have to backtrack a bit in order to complete both the shorter eastern portion and the longer western portion of its continuous coastal trail. The easiest-to-find lava tubes are located along the western portion roughly a quarter-mile from the trailhead, near the ruins of the ancient temple getting thoroughly swallowed by jungle. 

Trekkers will pass by a mortared lava rock pavilion of picnic tables near the entrance gate, with a handsomely crafted cinder block and tar-shingle-roof building at the far side of the parking lot housing the dry-toilet restrooms. Potable water isn’t available at the park, so be sure to bring all needed supplies for a moderately strenuous hike that can get hot and very humid during summer months. Much of the park’s cliffside trails are remnants of the ancient King’s Highway – a broad footpath dating back to the days of old time Hawaii which circled the entire island and was the primary means of moving goods and people.

The still-green needles clinging to the ironwoods’ furry-looking branches sway in the cool, interminable onshore breeze and make a distinctive “whoosh-ing” sound, which can only be accurately described as the low rumble of a far-off freeway. It’s a constant, somehow soothing rustling that ebbs and flows with the intensity of the wind, building to the point that it drowns out all the other typical forest sounds only to recede once again into the soundscape’s background. In some parts of the world, this peculiar trait has earned the tree the moniker “whistling pine”, although it is in-fact a type of oak. 

A Dangerous Beauty And A Curious, Sometimes-Spooky History

Beyond the cliffside, powerful white-tipped waves can be seen roiling the ocean below and crashing against the rocky bluffs in magnificent, earth-shaking explosions of white sea spray. The salty mist hangs over the park’s flanks, slowly dissipating and drifting uphill as it filters through the trees. It often gets caught in the bundles of ironwood needles and forms droplets, which catch errant sunbeams breaking through the canopy and making the whole surrounding forest sparkle as if imbued with diamonds.

These waves and their cascading walls of water can grow to be so big that they breach the top of the cliff, and have been known to blast away rocks and trees, sweeping them back over the edge as the water recedes again. This makes the cliffside areas at MacKenzie Park notoriously dangerous, as evidenced by the abundance of warning signs found scattered all along park’s ocean boundary cautioning visitors to keep a safe distance away from the cliffs. In the past there have been instances of hapless tourists and unlucky fishermen being swept away by this force and drowning – a fact that should be kept in mind by visitors, in addition to the park’s general isolation and lack of cell phone reception. 

In addition to the very real danger of being swept out to sea, the otherwise tranquil and welcoming vibe of MacKenzie Park is also tempered by its at-times sordid history. The park was built by convicts working on the plantations of Oahu, who were shipped to eastern Big Island in the late 1850s to clear away jungle and work at removing the endless piles of lava rocks to make the terrain navigable. This arduous work out in the tropical heat – with few amenities at all for the workers – led to several deaths during construction, and it’s likely that the bodies of the deceased laborers were buried in unmarked graves within the park. Albert J. MacKenzie was the park’s namesake – a Forest Ranger and the man responsible for planting most of the ironwood saplings that have grown up into the sprawling forest of whistling trees found there today.

Some locals also claim that “nightmarchers”, referring to the ghosts of ancient Hawaiian warriors, are known to roam stretches of the King’s Highway trail at night, preceded by a thick fog, the far-off glow of torches and the jangling of the weapons and armor they carry. Several compelling ghost stories can be found online recounting sightings of nightmarchers from the park’s modern era.

How To Get There

Getting to MacKenzie Park is a bit more difficult these days owing to the 2018 Lower Puna Eruption. Access to the park via Highway 137 north, otherwise known as Red Road, was cut off during the lava flow, creating a dead-end beyond Isaac Hale Beach Park and Pohoiki Road. So, today the only way to get there is via Highway 137 south, from the tiny fishing village of Opihikao with its landmark church.

To get to Opihikao from the main lower Puna District town of Pahoa, take Highway 130 and follow signs for the village of Kalapana. A few miles past Pahoa, a left-hand turn will appear for Kamaili Road. This is a steep and winding route snaking down the hill towards the coast, which narrows into a one-way for a section near the bottom, passing by livestock pasture, homestead farms and plots of towering jungle. It is a shortcut to MacKenzie Park and to Isaac Hale Beach Park beyond it, but can be a bit precarious and demands alert and cautious driving, especially in the rain.

Staying straight at the turn for Kamaili Road takes park-goers on a longer but easier route to the end of Highway 130, past the Star of the Sea Painted Church. A left-turn lane at the bottom of the hill leads to a fork in the road – right onto Highway 137 for Uncle Robert’s Awa Bar and Farmers’ Market, and left for a roughly 8-mile drive up the highway to MacKenzie Park. This longer option passes by Kehena Black Sand Beach and the small neighborhood of Seaview Estates before reaching Opihikao.

This entire stretch of Highway 137 is devoid of places to pick up hiking snacks and drinks, except for the small grocery store called Kaimu Corner located in the village of Kalapana across the parking lot from Uncle Robert’s Market. The prices here can be a bit of a shocker, though, so budget-minded travelers are wise to pick up supplies in Pahoa at its natural food store, Seven-Eleven or at the brand new Puna Kai Shopping Center with its anchor supermarket Malama Market.

Before the 2018 Lower Puna Eruption, the beach park was a popular yet isolated stretch of rainswept, rocky East Hawaii coastline that boasted the only surf breaks and County-maintained boat ramp for many miles in either direction, both found at the adjacent, picturesque Pohoiki Bay. This made Isaac Hale park a multipurpose catch-all haunt for a large community of ocean-going locals living in the area, from fishermen to tour boat operators, swimmers, snorkelers, surfers, boogie boarders and paddlers. The bay’s beauty was known throughout the islands; there were even ukulele songs, watercolor paintings and professional panoramic photos celebrating its crystal blue waters, shoreline of coconut groves and thick jungles of mangrove-like “lau hala” trees.

Camping was highly popular here back in the day, and it was common to see groupings of brightly colored tents scattered around the park’s extensive lawns on sunny weekend afternoons, many erected in the shade of small stubby trees and occupied by surfers taking siestas between their morning and afternoon sets. Then there were the dog walkers, cyclists, food trucks and joggers, along with occasional gaggles of school kids from the charter school up the road, who would often walk down to catch a few waves on their boogie boards during lunch breaks. There was a handsomely built public bathroom with modern amenities, and several stands of cold-water showers used frequently by surfers, swimmers and snorkelers.

All of this changed in 2018, when massive volcanic fissures began to crop up in the neighborhood of Leilani Estates, and then compounded and expanded for several nerve-wracking weeks before sending a river of molten rock cascading downhill toward the sleepy seaside town of Kapoho. Hundreds of homes were destroyed, miles of highway and countless driveways and side roads were covered, and thousands of Lower Puna residents were forced to evacuate, including many who surfed, fished and swam regularly at Isaac Hale Beach Park. 

The lava river met the ocean in Kapoho, exploding into trillions of tiny particles of brittle, glass-like rock and filling in entire bays and sections of rocky coastline with black sand. The flow worked its way south down the coast, destroying historic and well-loved snorkeling grounds and a county park featuring a large geothermal-heated pool known locally as “warm ponds”. The charter school was inundated, too, and for a time seemingly everyone in Lower Puna thought Isaac Hale park and Pohoiki Bay would see the same fate.

But by some miracle, the lava flow’s insidious creep stopped after covering only a minor section of the park, largely sparing its day-use grounds, parking lots and ocean access. However, the forging of so much new black sand nearly filled in Pohoiki Bay, creating a crescent-shaped coastline of large lava cinders mixed with patches of finely pulverized black sand that locals for the past several years have simply called “Pohoiki Beach”. The boat ramp now leads to a pool of brackish, algae-rich water completely cut off from the rest of the remaining bay by a massive berm of lava gravel.

As for the day-use and camping areas, the mindbogglingly destructive flow took out the park’s municipal water line rendering the showers stands and bathroom building inoperable. Besides portable toilets, there are few amenities at Isaac Hale Beach Park these days, and visitors should take this into account and make sure to bring all needed supplies.

A Dramatically Changed Landscape and An Enduring Beauty

Even with so much loss, though, the park is still a wonderful spot to experience; the same cool, salty onshore breeze blows across its spared land, the circular parking lot of towering, shady trees is still populated by friendly locals selling coconuts and stringing up fishing rods, and there’s still a crowd of people lounging on beach blankets and folding chairs at the water’s edge watching the waves roll in. In the day-use area, the lawns and trees are still well-manicured, with inviting swaths of mowed green grass connected by surviving lengths of wide concrete walkway that lead to picnic tables and barbecue pits.

This makes for possibly one of the most peculiar environments at the park: enjoying a delectable barbecue lunch spread out on a picnic table that’s about as close as it could physically be to the edge of an unforgiving-looking lavafield that stretches for miles out to meet the horizon. The scale of the endless sea of jagged rocks compared to how little more distance it would’ve had to travel to destroy the park in its entirety is dizzying. Just a few hundred feet down the road from the string of picnic areas is another classic Big Island volcano photo op: a two-lane striped asphalt road running straight into the lavafield, with the somewhat obvious “No Trespassing” sign posted at its dead-end.

A long line of hazard-yellow vehicle barricades denotes the border between the beach park’s main gravel parking lot and day-use area. Beyond this there are several stands of well-trimmed coconut palms, along with a hedgerow of broad-leafed ornamental trees leading to the closed bathroom facility. Past the trees are the several acres of maintained lawn punctuated with picnic areas, some of which are backed right up against the lava wall. 

Although it might seem tempting to leave the grassy area and climb around on the crunching gravel mounds, don’t do it! Lavafields like this are notoriously unstable and dangerous, with brittle, razor-sharp rocks that can lacerate feet, knees, hands and elbows. Keeping a solid footing while walking on this type of lava is nearly impossible, and these flow fields are rife with lava tubes and sinkholes, sometimes with undersurface voids known as “pukas” large enough to swallow up a whole human. So, even though it’s easy to get intimately close to this new, raw and rugged landscape at Isaac Hale Beach Park, experience it from a safe distance and stay off the lava!

How To Get There:

Prior to the 2018 eruption, reaching Isaac Hale Beach Park was very straightforward and simple, accessible from basically all directions. Since the flow took out large sections of Pohoiki Road and the northern stretches of Highway 137 (also known as Kalapana-Kapoho Road or colloquially “Red Road”), accessing the park is only possible these days via the southern portion of Highway 137 coming from the very small fishing village of Opihikao. This route takes visitors from Opihikao – which is easy to miss completely except for its Congregational Church – past MacKenzie State Recreation Area known locally as MacKenzie Park, and past the Malama Ki Forest Reserve. Drivers will climb up the flanks of three small sections of temporary road – places where lava crossed the highway and have since been bulldozed, graded and marked with safety cones. 

After crossing the three gravel patches, the road will return to asphalt for a few hundred feet more, before coming to a four-way stop. Turn right here, past the hand-carved wooden sign for Isaac Hale Beach Park, and either park in the large gravel parking lot adjacent to the day-use area, or continue until the road dead-ends at the beachfront loop.

To access Highway 137, take Highway 130 in the town of Pahoa (located roughly eleven miles south of Hilo), and follow the signs for Kalapana. A few miles past Pahoa will be a left-hand turn for Kamaili Road, which is a steep, winding and occasionally one-way paved route down to the coast through horse pastures, homestead farms and thick jungle. This is a shortcut to Isaac Hale Beach Park, but can be a bit precarious and demands cautious, concentrated driving. Staying straight at the turn for Kamaili Road will take drivers on a longer but much easier route to the end of Highway 130, past the historic Star Of The Sea Painted Church, with a left turn lane shortly after leading to the village of Kaimu and its world-famous Uncle Robert’s Awa Bar and Farmers’ Market.

Turning right at this next intersection leads to Uncle Robert’s, while heading left will take drivers on a roughly 10 mile serene coastal drive north to the beach park, passing Kehena Black Sand Beach on the right, and then the neighborhood of Seaview Estates soon after on the left. Keep heading up Highway 137 for a few miles past Seaview Estates and you’ll spot the church of Opihikao.

Kaimu Corner in Kalapana, right next to Uncle Robert’s bar and market, is the closest spot to pick up beach snacks and barbecue items when visiting Isaac Hale Beach Park and Pohoiki Beach. The prices here can be a bit of a shocker for visitors, though, so for budget-minded travelers, pick up supplies at the brand new Puna Kai Shopping Center located in Pahoa, with its anchor supermarket Malama Market.

The expansive coastline of rough, smooth black lava pebbles appears almost perfectly straight while standing at the shore, with the low-rise commercial buildings of the city’s downtown flanking the beach on one end, while the brackish waters of where Waiakea Pond meets Hilo Bay form the other boundary. To its south is Kamehameha Avenue – named after the legendary Hawaiian warrior-king who was the first to unite the island chain under one rule – which connects two of Big Island’s main highways; Highway 11 and Highway 19. This casts the beaches of Hilo Bayfront Park essentially in the center of town, and makes them hard to miss for anyone driving from one end of town to the other along the picturesque coast.

The beach park is a more than half-mile-long thin sliver of gently sloping land criss-crossed with concrete walking paths, groves of dizzyingly tall coconut palms and well-manicured ornamental shrubs, and seemingly endless racks of hand-paddled watercraft of every imaginable variety. There are traditional Hawaiian outrigger canoes; sleek hulls of raw wood complete with lacquered tree branches used as supports lashed down with white nylon rope, as well as more modern fiberglass rowing skiffs in an assortment of neon colors. Many are stored in simply built shelters set in a line roughly 100 feet up from the beach, while others are haphazardly scattered along the beach without cover, turned over to deflect rain and stacked atop chunks of beach wood. The Hawaiian names of the vessels are often painted in large white text just above their waterlines: “Moku Ola”, “Hemolele”, “Malanai”, and “Makai Aloha” to name just a few.

Most of the shelters are slapped with hand-painted wooden signs reading “Puna Canoe Club”, “Kamehameha Canoe Club”, “Hilo Paddlers Club” among others, put up by their respective sponsoring organization. “Paddling clubs” are a highly popular pastime on Big Island, and are a natural fit for Hilo Bay considering its several-mile-long breakwater which arcs out into the open ocean tempering the strength of incoming waves and making for a large open area of calm inshore water. For many native Hawaiians, engaging in these water sport past-times help them maintain a connection to the past and keep their millennia-old culture alive. Due to their popularity, paddling sports have supplanted many mainland typical U.S. past-times like baseball, football, basketball and hockey, evident in the fact that the state has no professional sports teams.

So, a visit to the park is a great place to get acquainted with arguably the most popular sport in Hawaii, and to get an up-close look at a truly remarkable variety of watercraft, often while they are in-use. Some are small, light and compact, seemingly built for solo paddles along the waters of Hilo Bay. Others, though, are giant boat-looking crafts with stations for a half-dozen paddlers that look like they must need to be carried across the beach overhead by teams of burly water men and women. This is perhaps the group that Hilo Bayfront Park is most popular with: paddlers, and the park’s flat, even shoreline and typically calm waters of Hilo Bay beyond it – along with a hard-to-beat location at the center of the city hustle and bustle – make it arguably the best spot for paddling on the entire island.

Canoeing, Kayaking, Surfing and Stand-Up Paddleboarding In The Heart Of Hilo Town

The park’s popularity is shared among stand-up paddle boarders as well, who are a relatively new sight on the island but still can be seen on most days plying the bay’s shallow waters and dodging the path of the occasional charging canoe. For visitors to Big Island who are new to the sport, Hilo Bay is a terrific place to learn: board rentals are affordable and plentiful in town, the expansive calm waters are rarely crowded, and depending on the time of year paddlers can take advantage of days-long stretches of cool, reliably sunny weather.

The park is not so great, however, for swimming and snorkeling, since from the beginning of the 20^th Century over-tourism and nearby industrial activity has badly eroded the coastline, with oftentimes murky water along its beaches that can become quite cold from mixing with the runoff of several nearby streams. This is unfortunate considering that, back in the old days, Hilo Bayfront beaches were considered some of the finest swimming spots on the island. Still, today some local Hilo snorkeling enthusiasts claim that there are patches of suitable snorkeling ground several hundred feet offshore that are worth the effort to see.

For those opting to remain on dry land, the park is a great spot for long, easy beach walks across the flat shore of uniformly coarse black sand. Its snaking concrete walking trail and adjacent green lawns set just up from the beach are also popular with picnickers, dog-walkers, joggers and cyclists, who can often be seen cruising along the thoroughfare on breezy Hilo afternoons in between the city’s frequent rain showers. Several picnic benches are strewn on either side of the footpath, often situated in patches of shade cast by the resident towering coconut palms. And visitors can rest easy: these trees are trimmed obsessively by city parks workers, so despite its impressive array of tall palms, “falling coconut” danger at the park is almost nonexistent.

Hilo Bayfront Park connects downtown Hilo with the popular tourist destinations located along Waiakea Peninsula, from its world-famous and history-rich boulevard of towering trees known as Banyan Drive, to the idyllic groves and stretching footbridge of Coconut Island, to the beautifully lush and colorful Liliuokalani Gardens. The park serves as the conduit for cyclists and walking tours making their way from the overloaded tables of delectable tropical fruit offered up daily at Hilo Farmers’ Market along the waterfront to see the sights on the other end of town. So, it’s a great halfway point for walkers and bikers, who can manage to find a vacant picnic table in the shade, enjoy their tropical bounties of fruit and fish, and look out over a bay of glimmering, placid water as a warm, humid breeze stirs up the palm fronds.

Other amenities at the park include multiple restroom and public shower facilities, as well as a large and easy to access parking lot that always seems to be mostly deserted. It’s important to keep in mind, though, that there is no lifeguard tower at Hilo Bayfront Park – most likely because swimming is so unpopular here – so visitors should get in the water at their own risk and keep an eye out for unsafe ocean conditions, which are infrequent yet not unheard of in Hilo Bay. Also important to note: the park is more of a local hangout than a tourist hotspot, so remember to be respectful of the locals while exploring and taking pictures, and make sure any trash created makes it into a bin. Nothing draws the ire of Hawaiians more than visitors who do not “malama aina” (respect the land).

How To Get There:

Hilo Bayfront Park is located along Kamehameha Avenue just three miles from Hilo International Airport and less than one mile from the city’s main downtown commercial strip. From Kamehameha Avenue, there are a handful of entrances to Bayfront Highway, from which the beach park’s sprawling parking lot can be accessed. Some of the narrow side-roads running along the parking lots are technically one-way, so it can be a little tricky navigating once you’ve turned off the main road. Keep an eye out for a heavily eroded hand-carved wooden sign with the park’s name emblazoned on it.

Restroom and shower facilities are located adjacent to the lot, while the primitive shelters housing the wide variety of canoes and other watercraft both ancient and modern are set slightly farther back from the road, along dirt footpaths leading down to the water’s edge. The park’s beaches are some of the only shore spots on the island with significant amounts of driftwood, which can be tossed around and spread out during high tides and heavy storms. So it’s best to bring a pair of sturdy shoes if planning to embark on a beach walk, and setting out on a cloudy winter day with a strong onshore breeze could call for a windbreaker to stay warm.

An afternoon spent exploring the park is sure to work up an appetite, and thankfully there are some exceptional restaurant options right down the road, including Hilo Bay Cafe, Ken’s House of Pancakes, Verna’s Drive-In, Ponds Hilo and the legendary Suisan Fish Market – arguably the best place for traditional Hawaiian plate lunch featuring the iconic staple poke (diced, seasoned raw local fish).