Farmer Mark Hamamoto, a native Hawaiian who grew up on Oʻahu, learned farming from a Catholic priest on the other side of the mountain and bought this land 20 years ago. His goal is both to feed and teach people. At Mohala Farms, he explains, “entertainment always comes with education.”
Hamamoto leads us past a tangle of breadfruit trees, a field of cassava plants, a line of banana trees, compost piles, and his gaggle of Rhode Island Red chickens. Meanwhile, we sample food that has experienced “as few touches as possible” — a smoked marlin dip served on a banana stem and grilled Japanese pumpkin.
Photo: Ka L’ai Waikiki
As the sun sets and wild peacocks howl in the dark, we gather in a halé (a traditional Hawaiian hut) to eat mashed taro, white fish, and a roasted native pig caught in the nearby woods. We learn facts about the food and the Hawaiian language (for example, water is so important to Hawaiians that saying “water water” means “abundance”). We wrap up the night with a group song.
This excursion to the farm is part of the initiative I’m here in Hawaii to report on: Hilton LXR Hotels and Resorts’ Pursuit of Adventure, a program that launched at properties around the world this spring. Visitors at LXR properties will now be able to book excursions like the one to Mohala Farms directly through the hotels.
Photos: Emily Cataneo
The idea behind the Pursuit of Adventure program is that, increasingly, travelers to luxury hotels don’t just want to sit around and relax. Rather, they want to experience: to go beyond the hotel and learn about local culture. This is an idea that resonates with me. I’ve always raised my eyebrows at resort trips and have never liked relaxing in a cloistered space on vacation. It feels like a waste, and besides, beauty without context gets boring.
That’s not to say that the hotel here doesn’t beckon the traveler to put their feet up. The LXR in Honolulu is the recently acquired Ka L’ai Waikiki, about a five-minute walk to the beach. The hotel has a sixth-floor lobby with an infinity pool, a peaceful spa, a delicious chirashi bowl that I order for pretty much every meal, and an award-winning Mai Tai.
My room overlooks the ocean and downtown Honolulu, and I see a rainbow every day of my stay. The hotel is starting renovations in June 2025, a project that will transform its rooms with colorful countertops and furniture, more natural light, and books and knick-knacks representative of the rich Hawaiian culture. But the activities are the star.
Photo: Diegomezr/Shutterstock
In addition to our farm tour, we also venture through the rainforest to Manoa Falls, a 150-foot waterfall where, traditionally, native Hawaiians honored sacred deities. Our guide is Andres Ruzo, a National Geographic explorer who studies volcanoes. Ruzo has studied geothermal activity all over the world, and he’s here to teach us the art of noticing stories in landscapes.
“With geology, you can literally read a landscape like a book,” Ruzo says. “A detail on a rock can connect you with a multi-billion-year-old story.”
As we hike past bamboo and banyan trees, Ruzo explains that we’re on one of the tallest mountains on the planet, with layers upon layers of geologic history under our feet. He points out volcanic and lava-based rocks holding up a bank of interlaced tree roots. He spots a poison dart frog, an invasive species, and we stop at a felled bromeliad, where Ruzo teaches us that these critters like to lay eggs in the water that collects between bromeliad fronds.
Photos: Emily Cataneo
Back at the hotel that night, guests gather by the pool to sip bespoke lava-colored cocktails while Ruzo presents his research into our planet’s geothermal systems, or “Earth’s beating heart.” We are, after all, in Hawaiʻi, a landscape inextricably tied to volcanoes, and as the sun sets over Honolulu’s skyscrapers, Ruzo explains how the Pacific tectonic plate passed over a hot spot to create Hawaiʻi millions of years ago.
He shows us pictures of Oʻahu growing from a baby island to its current shape as sea levels rose and fell. He describes how geology has shaped everything from the outcome of wars, to the New York City skyline, to the history of medicine: studying microbes in Yellowstone’s geothermal springs allowed scientists to develop the PCR technology behind the COVID-19 vaccines.
Ruzo also brings some items for show and tell. As darkness drops over Waikīkī, he pulls out what looks like a plastic bag of human hair. It’s actually a particular kind of cooled volcanic glass called Pele’s hair, named after the Hawaiian goddess. Just for fun, Ruzo wraps up his talk by unfurling a 30-foot-long snakeskin that he found in the Amazonian jungle.
Photos: Emily Cataneo
All of this might sound like a nerdy way to spend a Hawaiian vacation. But for me, learning about breadfruit and volcanoes transforms the island from a paradise to a paradise with texture.
As Ruzo says, “There are stories hidden in this landscape.” We just need to look.
The landscape is not the only part of Hawaiʻi that we delve into during our weekend. We also learn some traditions and tales of Hawaiʻi’s original residents. One day after lunch, Kalei ʻUwēkoolani, a native Hawaiian from Maui who works for the hotel, leads us in a Ti leaf-making workshop at the hotel cafe, where we learn to wrangle slimy, slick green Ti leaves into tightly woven leis.
On our last day, we take a catamaran out into Māmala Bay for a twist on a traditional practice. Once we’ve sailed out into the bay, with Waikīkī’s hotels and high-rises diminished behind us, ‘Uwēkoolani explains why we’re out here. It’s a Hawaiian tradition to venture out at sunrise and mentally release something to the ocean that you want to let go.
Our coordinators didn’t want to wake us up at sunrise, and they wanted us to have a visual, so they adapted the tradition for mid-morning and added cards and Sharpies. As the waves buck our boat and sea turtles nose out of the dark water, we scribble on our cards, and ‘Uwēkoolani leads a chant to prepare us to release our intentions.
Then we reach our hands over the side of the boat, clenching our cards, and we open our fingers and let them go. 