Lahaina Town

From the 1970s until my mother's death in 2003, our family enjoyed a long succession of family vacations on Maui, almost always at the little bay of Napili.  In the early years, there was little development -- touristic -- between Napili and the nearest town, Lahaina, about 6½ miles to the south.

I have hundreds of photos of all those visits, but they are photos primarily of the ocean scenes viewed from our beach; our hikes, especially into Haleakala crater; and the ever changing faces of our family members -- our middle aged parents becoming older, ourselves becoming middle aged or older; and our children being born, one after another, and transforming into first teenagers and then young adults.

Lahaina was always our big landmark, after arrival on Maui, telling us that we were three-fourths of the way to Napili from the airport.  No matter how young or how old we were, we felt the excitement grow.  And at least once during our Napili stay, we would venture down to Lahaina Town, just to look around, mingle with the crowds, immerse ourselves in what we took to be the "real Hawaii" ("real" to us, despite the swarms of tourists); and read signs on historic buildings, dating back to whaling days and maybe even days before Hawaii became an American territory.

Often, but not always, we would have a beer (or other libation) and a burger in what eventually was named "Cheeseburger in Paradise" -- an upscale dive bar (if that makes sense) sitting on the second floor of an old wood-framed building, open to the trade winds, with a view of the ocean waves rolling ashore.

But for some reason, we don't have that many photos of Lahaina.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe we tended to focus on photos of ourselves and of our ever-evolving bodies and faces, and of the hikes we went on, while we still had the strength and enthusiasm to undertake hikes, sensing that we would not always be young, nor some of us always alive.  And photos of the beach and ocean and sunsets, because that's what one took photos of when he went anywhere in Hawaii. 

But Lahaina, beloved Lahaina, seemed a permanent fixture, its best features preserved by regulation.  For us, it had always been there, and would always be there.  The people changed, the density of the crowds definitely increased, but Lahaina itself remained unchanging.  Recognizable in old photos in the same way as Paris and Rome are seemingly eternal and unchanging, while the society occupying them may change radically.  As permanent a sight as the islands of Moloka'i and Lanai across the straits.

I last visited Lahaina this past January, celebrating the 80th birthday of twin college friends who over the years had become virtual family members.  We walked the streets -- well, Front Street, which was the street -- more crowded than ever, and yet always the same.  We visited the parrot man, who has showed off his parrots to at least a generation of tourists, standing in the same location.  Did he ever sell a parrot?  Did he want to?  I never knew, and now I'll never know.

We visited an art gallery, displaying a number of interesting paintings exhibited for sale.  The gallery owner spent a lot of time with us, discussing the art, although it was obvious that we had neither the money nor the inclination to make a purchase.  Now it's all gone.

The great banyan tree, at one end of town, spread its branches over an entire park, providing shade and beauty to the people below.  Up in flames, although I understand that some have hope that it may still live on in some form.

The historical buildings along the waterfront, reminding us that Lahaina was a royal capital, a governmental outpost, and a whaling port long before it became -- like so many other important cities around the world -- primarily a tourist destination.  Important reminders of the history of a kingdom, a territory, and a state wiped off the face of the map in minutes.

And of course Cheeseburger in Paradise?  In a wood building on Front Street, surrounded by other wood buildings?  It never had a chance.  I had my last burger and drank my last drink there ever in mid-January 2023.  I'm glad I didn't realize it at the time.

Lahaina.  We should have appreciated you even more than we did, back when we had the chance.  We should have visited you more than once per visit to Maui.  We should have taken more photos.

But we thought you'd always be there.  We thought you'd never change.  You'd remain in place forever, placidly overlooking the harbor where whalers once docked, even while we and our own loved ones changed and passed from the scene.  

Lahina Town.  R.I.P.

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Photos: 
Top -- Our last meal at Cheeseburgers in Paradise
Middle -- A cheesy mural over the bar in the Pioneer Inn
Bottom -- The beloved Parrot Man displays his wares