Hookipa, Kanaha, Spreckelsville: Maui – Myth and Reality of the Dream Island

“Every euro you spend on windsurfing trips – and NOT on a flight to Maui – is money down the drain!” Hold on. Wait a minute! Don’t book yet. Don’t fly yet! Because: my friend Cord said that back in the 1990s.

In the past: hippies, youngsters, Euro-Beach

In the nineties, Maui held the promise of something special. Young windsurfers from all over the world lived amongst palm trees, youth hostels and rusty cars. On Spreckelsville Beach – affectionately known as ‘Euro-Beach’ back then – there were more boards than sand. People would discuss Tabletop and Bottomturn, he picked avocados in Iao Valley and used them to jazz up one-dollar burgers from Jack in the Box. Hardly anyone had any money. But they had plenty of time.

Today, this island seems like a reminder of its former self. Jeff Bezos has bought land on the iconic La Perouse beach. Oprah Winfrey owns land the size of 600 football pitches. Property prices are skyrocketing. Four times as many cars as in the 1980s are now travelling along the motorways. Where jungle once thrived, there are now houses. Maui is no longer a hippy’s dream. Maui is a property market.

From bed to board? Forget it.

Finding affordable accommodation is now almost impossible. Even a bunk bed costs around 90 dollars a night. Unless you’re rich, you’ll be staying far from the water. That means a windsurfing holiday in Maui involves a daily commute. You can’t get by without a car. There are two options: either buy a car, insure it, hope it doesn’t break down, and then sell it again – for those staying longer. It used to be an adventure. Nowadays, it’s all about organisation. The alternative is to hire a car. That’s expensive too.

The same goes for windsurfing kit: hire or buy. Because bringing your own costs a fortune and, with the new Airline policies It’s getting more and more expensive. So you’re better off renting or buying. There are plenty of options available. The minimum kit for Maui: a waveboard and two sails (4.2 and 4.7). That’s all you need to get by.

Hookipa is a spot that doesn’t forgive mistakes, but rather comments on them.

Hookipa: the most beautiful spot in the world

You don’t have much choice on the North Shore. There are basically two spots. The first is called Hookipa – and Hookipa isn’t a beach. Hookipa is a test. In photos, the bay looks spacious, almost inviting. In reality, it’s smaller, narrower and more complicated. A pro spot in the truest sense of the word. The entry starts with a shorebreak, continues with a current and, if you’re unlucky, ends on the rocks. If you don’t end up there straight away, you’ll end up there later. “Everyone ends up on the rocks sooner or later,” says professional surfer Robby Swift. He stopped counting ages ago how many times he himself has been washed over the black lava rocks. These rocks shred your board and rig in seconds.

Hookipa demands more than just skill. It demands experience in dealing with the wind, the waves, timing, riding upwind and quick turns – and, above all, with yourself. You have to be confident and keep your cool. The surfer’s saying: ‘If in doubt, don’t go out!’ was invented for a spot like Hookipa. Tip: Anyone wanting to get out on the water at Hookipa should get some guidance. Not just on the rules of etiquette – getting out on the water only from 11 am onwards, right of way in the wave, treating fellow surfers and other windsurfers with respect – but also on currents, launch procedures and exit strategies. Hookipa is a spot that doesn’t forgive mistakes, but rather makes them all the more obvious. If everything goes to plan, however, you’ll be surfing world-class waves. More dynamic, more powerful, more aggressive than almost anywhere else. And you’ll experience the famous Hookipa Arena: a bay that opens up like an amphitheatre. Spectators sit up on the grass, lean against car doors, stand on boot lids. Everyone can see everyone else. That’s both a curse and a blessing. A curse when you’re getting pummelled in the shorebreak or swimming against the current to avoid ending up on the rocks. A blessing when everything goes to plan and your turns on the wave really come off. At Hookipa, the water is bluer, the waves more beautiful, the grass on the hills greener – and the fear greater. At least for me. That’s why I’ve started heading further afield more often. Thirty minutes along the coast, heading west. To Kahului.

Kanaha – the playground

Kahului is Maui’s largest town and has all the charm of an industrial estate. Fast-food restaurants, petrol stations, shopping centres, car dealerships. Nestled between the airport, the sewage treatment works and a homeless settlement – right there – lies Kanaha Beach Park. The Hookipa heroes call it, with a touch of derision: Old Man’s Beach. There are two reasons for the name. Firstly, the waves break gently here. The reef lies about 300 metres out, so you can launch at your leisure and jibe well in advance of the sets. It’s also a spot for bump-and-jump surfers and beginners. Secondly, the name describes the scene on the beach. Nothing but old people. A retirement home with free access, you might say. As a windsurfer, you’re now something of a rarity here – Kanaha is firmly in the hands of the wingfoilers.

Kanaha only changes on big days. When the swells roll in during winter as long Pacific swells, the spot suddenly gets serious. The reef can handle massive waves. By then, Hookipa has long since turned into a whirlpool, as the waves break along their entire length and crush everything in the close-out. On days like these, the Hookipa heroes turn up in Kanaha: Levi Siver, Brawzinho, Bernd Roediger and co. They rip through the waves, pull off XXL backloops and disappear again when the waves get smaller. For me, Kanaha remains my playground despite everything. Here I can have a go without constantly worrying about the rocks. Of course, masts can break and sails can tear here too. But even with big wipe-outs, you’re washed over the reef and carried into calmer waters. And if the wind dies down? No problem: you just swim back or get out down at Kitebeach if you can’t make it up the beach.

Between the airport, the sewage treatment works and a homeless settlement – that’s exactly where Kanaha Beach Park is located.

​But Kanaha isn’t just a great spot because of its waves. The whole place is a stress-free experience. Plenty of parking spaces. Plenty of grassy areas for setting up your board. Showers. Facilities that you suddenly come to appreciate all the more after trips to the Canary Islands or Morocco. And then there’s this astonishing contradiction: on land, you can barely feel the wind, even when it’s blowing at 30 knots out there. No sandblasting effect. No struggle when setting up your board. And the water’s warm. Warm enough that even in December I’m surfing in just shorts. Lovely. In short: everything’s easier here. It’s nothing like the adrenaline-fuelled spot of Hookipa or its neighbours Kuau and Lanes.

Kanaha – Memories of the Golden Days

Kanaha is the real reason why I keep coming back to Maui. Not Hookipa. Not the Hawaiian clichés. But this beach right here. Over the years, I’ve achieved my personal milestones in Kanaha. My first table top. My first properly executed backloop – in 1989, I took off right in front of young gun Jason Prior, spun through the air and landed as soft as butter, without slipping out of my foot straps. Jason cheered me on. He was happy for me. Moments like that stay with you. This is where I landed my first cheeseroll. And this is where, today, I ride the so-called ‘500-dollar waves’: perfect walls of water three to five metres high, cleanly formed, endlessly rideable. Waves you carve into, turn after turn, and suddenly feel like Ricardo Campello. I call them ‘500-dollar waves’ because each turn would probably cost a hundred dollars if you were to keep track of it. And yet: even on Maui, such epic sessions are rare. There are plenty of days on the water, but epic days are few and far between. Five of them in six weeks is already considered a good haul. The magic usually comes late. Between four and six in the afternoon. Then a golden light lies over the water, the waves become less crowded, most kiters and wingfoilers are already packing up, the wind is more consistent – and the lines roll towards the coast, soft as velvet. Unfortunately, in winter, the sun switches off the light right on the dot at six. It’s not uncommon to only reach the beach again after dark.

Sprecks: the lost dream beach

I used to go to Spreckelsville a lot. ‘Sprecks’. A sandy beach situated between Hookipa and Kanaha, straight out of a Hawaii brochure: turquoise-blue water, palm trees, cars parked behind the dunes, a reef on the left, a reef on the right, perfect waves for taking off. That’s how you imagined windsurfing on Maui. A cult spot. At some point over the last ten years, everything changed. A fire burnt down the Keawi trees, and the atmosphere took a turn for the worse. Cars were broken into. Strange figures lurking in the bushes. Fewer and fewer people on the water. More and more of that feeling of being alone – not in a good way. I’ve hardly been back since.

Wind from the right – a must!

On Maui, the wind blows from the right. That’s why I’m here. Only at Kona Days When he does that – I feel like someone brushing their teeth with the wrong hand. Unless I head down to the south coast. But down south, the island looks different: golf courses, hotel chains, Wrangler Jeeps full of tourists, brown water in strong winds. I’ve been there a few times. Only out of desperation.

Whilst out shopping, you might bump into Francisco Goya or Mikey Eskimo; at the petrol station, Laird Hamilton is filling up his monster truck; and on the beach, you might run into Robby Naish.

No wind. What now?

The trade winds blow on Maui. They’re reliable. They’re strongest in summer, but the swells are lacking. In winter, the swells roll in, but the wind dies down. The best months are in between: March to May, September to December. If there’s no wind at all, you’re left with surfing. Sounds romantic. It’s rare. The pro spots like Hookipa or Honolua Bay are too challenging for most people and packed on good days. The locals get irritable. Spirit of Aloha? Not a chance! Hiking works better. Jungle, waterfalls, warm air, walking barefoot along trails, jumping into pools of water, strolling through the scent of eucalyptus and the chirping of birds. No snakes, no poisonous spiders, no drama. Just the scenery. And above all: that glorious warmth. On Maui, you hardly need any clothes. Shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops are enough.

When you’re out shopping, you come across Francisco Goya Or Mikey Eskimo; at the petrol station, Laird Hamilton is filling up his monster truck; on the beach, you bump into Robby Naish. The island’s small enough for that. And tolerant enough for everyone: tourists, dropouts, millionaires, weirdos, time travellers. At 6 pm, the island disappears. Everyone gets into their vans and drives home. Because eating out is absurdly expensive. Even pasta with tomato sauce costs two and a half times as much as at home, as I’ve found out for myself. Anyone travelling to Maui on their own doesn’t just end up broke. They sometimes end up lonely, too. And yet I keep flying back there. Probably because of the memories. And because of the hope that, somewhere amidst the wind, the waves and the evening light, everything will be just as it used to be once more.