The Road to Hāna: Thoughts from a Maui Born and Raised Local:
If you’ve spent even a short time on Maui, chances are you’ve heard about the famous Road to Hāna. It’s marketed in every travel guide, highlighted on social media, and often sits at the very top of tourists’ “must-do” lists. I get it—lush waterfalls, black sand beaches, bamboo forests, and winding roads carved into East Maui’s cliffs sound like a dream.
But as someone born and raised here, I see the Road to Hāna through a much different lens. For us, Hāna isn’t just a scenic drive—it’s a home. It’s family. It’s history. And lately, it’s been stretched and strained under the weight of constant tourism.
Hāna is Not an Attraction—It’s a Community
When people talk about “doing the Road to Hāna,” it often gets framed like an amusement ride. Something you check off a bucket list. Drive the narrow roads, stop at the waterfalls, grab banana bread, snap photos, then head back to the resort before dinner.
But Hāna is not Disneyland. It’s a small, tight-knit Hawaiian community where people live, raise families, and carry on traditions that have been passed down for generations. For many who call East Maui home, the daily drive on that road is not for fun—it’s their only way to get to school, work, or the doctor. Imagine having to commute on a one-lane road only to be blocked for hours because a rental car parked illegally in the way of an emergency vehicle. That’s a real situation that happens far too often.
The Strain on the ʻĀina (Land)
The Road to Hāna winds through some of the most sacred and fragile parts of Maui. Waterfalls, streams, and coastal cliffs that visitors see as photo ops are actually part of delicate ecosystems. Overcrowding, trespassing, and littering have put a huge strain on these places.
I’ve seen cars pulled over in unsafe areas, visitors climbing into closed-off waterfalls, and even people ignoring “kapu” (sacred, off-limits) signs just to get their shot for Instagram. What gets lost is that these aren’t just pretty backdrops—they’re places with deep cultural and spiritual significance.
When the ʻāina gets disrespected, it’s not just nature that suffers. It cuts into the heart of Hawaiian identity.
Safety and Respect
Let’s be real: the Road to Hāna is dangerous if you don’t know it. Sharp turns, one-lane bridges, falling rocks, blind corners—it’s not a drive to take lightly. And yet, I see tourists tailgating locals, driving recklessly, or stopping in the middle of the road because they saw a waterfall out the window.
Even worse, some visitors treat private property like it’s open for exploration, wandering into people’s yards or farms to find a hidden swimming hole. To put it bluntly—this is trespassing. And it’s deeply disrespectful to the people who live there.
If you absolutely must experience Hāna, go with respect: pull over only in legal areas, obey signs, and remember you are a guest in someone else’s home.
What Tourists Don’t Always Realize
For many of us who grew up here, Hāna represents something more than a scenic getaway. It’s one of the last places on Maui where Hawaiian culture and traditions remain strong and rooted. The people of Hāna work hard to protect their land, language, and way of life.
So when waves of visitors treat it like just another attraction, it feels like a piece of our culture is being diminished. It’s not that we don’t want people to experience the beauty of East Maui—it’s that we want it to be done with aloha, mindfulness, and balance.
Alternatives to “Doing the Road to Hāna”
If you’re a visitor, I’d encourage you to really think about your motivation for going. Do you just want a pretty picture? You can find waterfalls and beaches in many other parts of Maui without putting extra pressure on Hāna’s roads and residents.
If your heart is truly set on going, consider:
Going with a local guide rather than driving yourself.
Staying overnight in Hāna instead of doing the quick “in and out” trip. This supports local businesses and gives you time to actually connect with the place.
Following signs and respecting closures. They’re there for a reason.
Final Thoughts
The Road to Hāna is beautiful—no one can deny that. But for those of us born and raised here, it’s also complicated. It’s a reminder of how easily Maui can be marketed, consumed, and disrespected when tourism outweighs community.
So if you choose to travel that road, I ask one thing: don’t just “do” Hāna. Respect it. Move with intention. Remember you’re entering someone’s home, not just a tourist attraction. And always, always leave it better than you found it.
Because at the end of the day, what makes Hāna truly special isn’t just the waterfalls or the cliffs—it’s the people and the culture that continue to hold that place together.
