23rd February 2023

We watched the ship drop anchor as we sat down to breakfast. The sun was just beginning to peek over a stark mountain range, framed by streaky clouds tinged with vivid orange above the small port of Lahaina, a promising omen for fine weather and a good day for an activity at altitude, I thought. We were set to cycle down Haleakalā, also known as the East Maui Volcano, a vast shield volcano that forms over 75% of the Hawaiian island of Maui.

 

Our small group of nine intrepid cyclists left the ship on one of the morning tenders for the 12-minute crossing to the port, once the Hawaiian capital and now home to just under 17,000 residents. The sea was calm, the sun was rising, and the breeze was already warm.

We met our guide for the day on the harbour front and boarded a small minibus that would take us to the company’s office, some 45 minutes away. Peering through the window as we followed the coastal road, we were treated to one postcard-perfect view after another, the kind typical of Hawaiian holiday brochures. Leaving the shoreline behind, we began to ascend through abandoned sugar cane fields and past properties owned by the rich and famous. George Harrison, David Bowie, Marilyn Monroe, and Oprah Winfrey were just a few of the names our guide shared with his attentive audience.

On arrival at the office, we completed the necessary waiver forms before helping ourselves to water and biscuits for the journey ahead. A trailer containing our bikes was hitched to the minibus, and we once again climbed aboard for the final leg, a winding 45-minute drive up towards the rim of the dormant volcano. Along the way, we got to know our guide and driver a little better and exchanged introductions with our fellow cyclists.

Pulling into a small lay-by, we were issued with our helmets and bikes, then gathered around to listen to our guide explain what we could and couldn’t do. The bikes were specially designed and set up for the descent down the tarmacked road. They were heavy, single-speed machines with no gears, and the brakes had been adjusted to slow the rider gradually rather than bring the bike to a sudden halt. We were instructed to keep a distance of 10 metres from the person in front, and our guide would use hand signals to direct us as we made our descent. A mini-bus and trailer would follow behind, both to collect any stragglers and to slow down traffic, although we were told we’d be travelling at speeds most cars wouldn’t dare attempt on such roads. The first five miles would serve as a test run to ensure everyone could descend safely.

We set off and quickly picked up speed on the twisting drop from the summit. After a couple of miles, we were waved into another lay-by, where our guide tactfully asked one member of the group to complete the rest of the route in the mini-bus. I think she was relieved, we had already reached speeds in excess of 30 mph, and it was hairpin bend after hairpin bend. The experience was exciting, exhilarating, and not without its dangers. While downhill traffic was kept behind us by the support vehicle, summit-bound vehicles were not; we had to remain disciplined and stay well to our side of the central yellow line.

Stopping again in another lay-by further down, near the treeline, we eagerly opted to repeat the section, it had been that good. Once more, the bikes were stowed in the trailer, and we boarded the bus to return to our original jump-off point. Another group was preparing to descend as we arrived, but they were using standard mountain bikes. “We’ll catch them easily,” our guide predicted, and he was right. Even after re-kitting and mounting up again, we passed them within a mile or so, flying by as if they were in slow motion.

The second descent was even better, faster, with more leaning into the bends and a generous dose of adrenaline. Reaching the tree line once again, we dismounted, stowed our bikes, and re-boarded the mini-bus for a short drive down the mountain. We stopped for half an hour in a small township for refreshments, and Sue and I took the opportunity to stretch our legs and browse a few of the local shops.

A little further down the volcano, we mounted our bikes for the final time. Sue opted to remain on the bus, joining the other women for the last leg. Our guide, confident in our ability, told us we could descend as fast as we liked and even overtake. He issued a challenge: try to beat him back to base. It was a fifteen-mile downhill stretch, still packed with bends but not quite as steep as the higher section.

Typing this with just a hint of smugness, I caught up with him with three miles to go, tucked in behind to slipstream, and with a mile remaining, passed him on a tight bend to be the first back to base. He said nothing upon arrival, just grimaced.

The traffic back to Lahaina was heavy, and the journey took about an hour. On arrival, we were disheartened to see the queue for the tender back to the ship snaking almost 100 metres. Fortunately, the ship’s crew were well organised, regularly walking along the line of passengers sweltering in the sun, handing out icy towels and umbrellas. As we neared the pier, a cold drinks station appeared, much welcomed and much needed.

Back on the Crown Princess, Sue and I enjoyed pizza and ice cream while watching whales blow and breach just a hundred metres from the ship. We are anchored in a part of the Pacific Ocean where, at this time of year, some 10,000 whales migrate down from Alaskan waters to give birth and mate. They remain here for around three months in the warm waters with their calves, which are born without protective blubber. The adults do not feed again until they return north.

As the evening show in the theatre started early at 9 pm, we once again chose to dine in the buffet restaurant to avoid the excruciatingly slow service in Da Vinci. One advantage was being able to choose the portion sizes, though, on reflection, this was perhaps not such a good thing, as tonight’s meal proved when seconds magically appeared on our plates. Afterwards, we were entertained by a stand-up comic whose humour mostly sailed over the heads of those not from the Americas, but he had his moments, making it worthwhile to pile on a few extra ounces in the buffet.

We now begin a run of sea days before docking in Mexico.