How Kauai is Betting on Regenerative Tourism Planning

by Scott Laird
Last updated: 10:30 AM ET, Fri December 1, 2023

From my expansive penthouse terrace at Whaler’s Cove in Poipu, on Kaua‘i’s sunny south shore, I could peer into Koloa Landing, a protected anchorage where a variety of boats used to embark passengers and sugar cane during the island’s early plantation days in the 19^th Century. Back then, Kaua‘i was something of a restive backwater—never conquered by Kamehameha I, it joined the Kingdom of Hawai’i along with Ni‘ihau under duress—assured by Kamehameha that the threat of invasion wouldn’t wane.

That independent spirit of the island continues to this day. While most counties in the State of Hawai‘i (each island is its own county except for Maui, which also includes the islands of Lana‘i and most of Molokai) have made plans for regenerative tourism—that is, tourism that contributes to the local community instead of extracting from it—Kaua‘i was one of the first. Kaua‘i was also one of the first counties to implement master planning for tourism development.

Decades ago, wanting to avoid the tourism sprawl of neighboring islands like Oahu and Maui, officials planned for tourism development only in three main areas: Koloa/Poipu Beach, Lihue/Kapa‘a/Coconut Coast, and Princeville. The other parts of the island would generally be left alone from the development of large hotels or resorts.

Growing up, I spent significant time here, just up Lawai Road across from Prince Kuhio Park. I remember when the island was blanketed with endless fields of sugarcane, one of which was invariably burning off in a cloud of butterscotch-scented smoke to prepare for processing at the giant mill in Lihue.

It was markedly sleepier back then, and even after the multiyear development pause caused by 1992's hurricane Iniki (some exteriors of the film Jurassic Park were filmed on Kaua‘i as rains from the outer bands of the storm began to make landfall), tourism infrastructure growth marched on.

I’m back now, for the first time since Covid, to see how the plan is faring.

The good news is Kaua‘i is still Kaua‘i. The sunrise over Ha‘upu is still a spectacular companion for a morning on the terrace with a cup of Kaua‘i Coffee (grown, harvested, and roasted just a few miles away in Kalaheo). Visitors to Spouting Horn can still admire a rainbow refracted during the sweater shot skyward from the lava rock tube during the sunset hours, and motorists still throw up a “shaka” hand sign at cars that have stopped to let them cross the ancient one-lane bridges in the Hanalei Valley.

It's not really bad news, but it does highlight the need for a focused destination management plan: there are crowds everywhere. Tahiti Nui, the Hanalei bar and grill made famous in the George Clooney film The Descendants, has expanded onto the front porch, into tents in the front yard and still maintains a waitlist for a table during busy periods. Yes, the strong maitais and char-grilled burgers are completely worth the wait, but it’s a far cry from the neighborhood haunt it once was.

There are lines at favorite coffee shops and breakfast haunts, like Little Fish Coffee and Anuenue Café in Poipu, and reservations for restaurants that accept them have become utterly essential.

Much has been written about the restrictions on parking on the North Shore, where parking permits are now limited for non-resident motorists venturing past Hanalei Town. There's a shuttle service now that I really wanted to try. Visitors make reservations for it in advance and park on the grounds of the Waipa Foundation just past Hanalei. The shuttle runs to Ha‘ena State Park, where the Kalalau Trailhead is, and the bus driver provides some narration en route, reminding visitors they need good shoes, plenty of water and bug spray and that hiking past Hanakapi‘ai Falls is prohibited without an overnight camping permit.

When we reach the parking lot for Ke‘e Beach on the shuttle, a worker again gathers everyone into a group to give reminders on how long some of the hikes are and what time hikers should turn around if they want to make the last shuttle back—otherwise, it's a long walk.

I’m delighted to find Ke‘e Beach much improved. The adjacent wooded area used to be unkept and littered, and the streets leading up to the beach were lined with cars because of insufficient parking. Today, the woods are pristine, with clearly marked walking trails from the parking lot, which also crosses a community taro patch. Taro is a staple in Hawaiian cooking—the main ingredient in starchy, nutrition-rich poi.

Ke‘e Beach is a wonderful place to spend a day – there are plenty of shade trees, a sugar-sand beach, and a lifeguard station. It's an area that keeps cropping up in Hawaiian songs and stories, perhaps most famously figuring in a tale involving the goddess Pele, her lover Lohi‘au and her sister Hi‘iaka. Today, though, there's the constant buzz of helicopters over the beach—perhaps one every five minutes. It's a good indicator of one of the central tenets of the regenerative tourism plan, which discourages visitors from visiting the Na Pali Coast by hiking the Kalalau Trail in favor of visits by air or sea.

Kaua‘i County spends significant resources each year rescuing hikers injured on the trail—many due to being ill-prepared or hiking beyond their abilities. There's also the expense associated with periodic trash removal from the path and the Kalalau Valley. Kaua‘i Visitors Bureau strongly encourages visitors to see the Na Pali Coast by helicopter or boat excursions. I strongly encourage visitors to see it both ways—the Na Pali Coast is one of those places on earth where words like “breathtaking” and “awe-inspiring” are simply not hyperbole—there are just no better words to describe it.

Another tenet of the regenerative tourism plan is for the island to be more food secure and less dependent on imports. Visitors can learn about the island's bounty on a Tasting Kaua‘i food tour in downtown Lihue. This tour helps spread some of the tourism wealth outside the resort areas without overrunning the community. Stops include a microbrewery, a vegan-friendly grocery store, a gastropub, and a ginger beer shop—all far from the tourist districts in Lihue, which—aside from the swaying palms, lava rock historic buildings (like the gorgeous Kaua‘i Museum—another must-see in the neighborhood), and lush mountain views, feels like any small American town.

For more organic fare and lovely sunset views, visitors can check out Merriman’s in Poipu, where fish is from dayboats, and the "dirt grown" salads use local produce whenever possible. The entire restaurant group (also located on O‘ahu, Maui, and the Island of Hawai'i) works with GreenPlaces to reduce their carbon footprint. Like surf and turf? Try the petite filet paired with macadamia nut-crushed fresh catch.

For more great dining in Poipu, try Red Salt at Ko‘a Kea Resort, where the Executive Chef is Kaua‘I Native Noelani Planas, whose culinary mentors include Joel Robuchon and Wolfgang Puck. At Red Salt, she brings local and imported ingredients together inventively—the seared Hokkaido scallops with local sweet corn and Portuguese sausage ragu still live rent-free in my head.

Overall, I felt Kaua‘I had weathered the pandemic well and is well-positioned to continue developing tourism on the Garden Island positively with its regenerative tourism plan.

The author acknowledges the significance of Hawaiian Language diacritical marks such as the kahako (macron), but some may have been omitted for web browser compatibility.

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