Banana Legs and All
A Maui cycling adventure
By Adam Kleiner

My wife doesn’t want to hear this story, and it’s hard to blame her. Let’s face it: I went to Maui; she went to work. No way a loaf of banana bread will bridge the inequity, even if I did bring it back all the way from the Ke’anae Landing Fruit Stand just for her.

Ah, but what a trip! Two days cruising the island’s country roads — not from the comfort of an air-conditioned tour bus, but on the saddle of an ultra-light touring bike. Basking in the warm trade winds. Swimming in lava pools. Absorbing the culture of Hawaii, its natural setting, its people. And, then there’s Helena and her sweet Lomi Lomi.

Yeah, I suppose I’ll have to come clean about Helena, too. But it’s probably best to start with the cycling. After all, it’s not every day a guy gets an offer to pretend he’s Lance Armstrong in a tropical paradise.

Go Cycling Maui
The offer came courtesy of Donnie Arnoult, a 40-year old former professional bike racer who moved to Maui in 1999. Soon after he landed on the island, Donnie began charting out riding routes so he could stay in shape. People saw him in his gear and dogged him with questions about where he rode. Within two years, he parlayed his answers into a business plan for Go Cycling Maui, which responded to the growing popularity of road cycling and the frustration of carting a bike and gear along on vacation.

Go Cycling Maui outfits you head to toe in riding gear and saddles you on a feather light, 27-speed racing bike. You ride the back roads of Maui, spots dense with vegetation and often missed by the island’s 2.3 million annual visitors. Donnie or one of his employees navigates the rides, while a support truck follows behind, stocked with energy supplements, water, tools, tires and an open seat in case you get banana legs. (I’ll explain later.)

“I just enjoy promoting the sport and sharing the experience of cycling in Maui with everyone,” Donnie says. “I think it’s the best riding on the planet.”

Now let me clarify one small point: I’m no cyclist. Go Cycling Maui caters to people who pedal an average of 100 miles per week. The distance far exceeds what I pedal in an average year. Still, after Lance won his record seventh Tour de France, I got to thinking that maybe his sport could light a fire in me. Not only would Go Cycling Maui help me scratch my cycling itch, but it would provide me an insider’s tour of the island at the same time. I seized the opportunity — even before I knew about Lomi Lomi.

First Ride
I met Donnie and his Go Cycling team in Kula, a local’s enclave at the base of Maui’s 10,000-foot volcano, Haleakala. Some of the crew were scheduled to compete in a 38.2-mile race to the top of Haleakala the next day, so they wanted to take it easy on my first ride. Fine with me.

The Kula route usually meanders out past Tedeschi Vineyards, known for its pineapple wine, spinning through roughly 20 miles of rolling hillsides and open ranch land. We didn’t go that far.

Our one-hour-plus ride zipped by Grandm a’s Coffee Shop, a quaint local institution serving tasty island-grown coffee. We rode beside tall macadamia nut trees, avocado trees and even patches of prickly pear cactus. Several turns in the road bore panoramic views of Kihei and Wailea on Maui’s south shore, where shallow water and coral banks appeared aquamarine in the otherwise deep blue ocean. If I weren’t busy pedaling to keep up, I’d have snapped a few photos. I kept riding.

We also passed a seventyish, grey-haired woman who surprised me by extending the friendly surfer-standard, hang loose hand gesture (thumb and pinky out, other fingers tucked). I, of course, kept my hands on the handlebars.

Sweet Lomi Lomi
By the end of the short morning ride, I was feeling confident. I hadn’t fallen off. I hadn’t collapsed in a pile by the side of the road. In fact, it left me wanting more, but I had other plans for the afternoon. I spent some time poking around Pa’ia, on the north side of the island, and nearby Makawao, where Komoda Bakery serves Maui’s favorite donuts. Then I made a beeline for the island-elegant grounds of the Hyatt Regency. Helena was waiting.
I should probably explain now that Helena is a masseuse at the Hyatt’s Spa Moana. After a few minutes on the massage table, any residual tension that had flown with me from the mainland evaporated. Then she unleashed the Lomi Lomi.

Where Swedish massage emphasizes kneading hand motions, Lomi Lomi practitioners deploy their forearms and elbows in deep, long, flowing strokes. Helena moved methodically from my left shoulder to my lower back. Then from my right shoulder to my lower back.

I was putty. By the end of the 50-minute treatment, the massage chairs on display at Sharper Image were forever spoiled.

I moved to the spa’s aptly-named relaxation room and sipped lemon water as the ocean rippled in the setting sun. Bring on the bike. I was ready.

Ha’iku to Ke’anae
Two days later, I woke up early enough to enjoy the sunrise with a Clif Bar and coffee before driving an hour from my luxurious room at the Sheraton Maui Resort in Ka’anapali. My destination was the Ha’iku Community Center, a spot most Maui visitors zip past en route to Hana on the far east side of the island. Ha’iku would be the starting point for a 48-mile roundtrip ride to Ke’anae!

Within minutes of arriving in Ha’iku, I was wearing a form-fitting pair of bike shorts, shirt, socks and a helmet all flying the Go Cycling Maui logo. I felt as if I had been shrink wrapped at the butcher shop.

Kaye Whitney, one of Go Cycling’s employees, would lead the day’s ride with two Japanese riders and me in tow. The ride started smoothly. We clipped in and rolled past barking dogs and boardshort-clad locals tending to their yards in sleepy Ha’iku. We passed a few cars that appeared to have been abandoned in the tall grass on the side of the road. Kaye said this was becoming a bit of a problem on the island. The broken glass and exposed metal wheels certainly contrasted the otherwise lush green surroundings.
The air was warm, the sun felt good. I was shifting gears with confidence. Then, 12 miles into the ride, one of the guys’ tires popped like an inflated paper bag. “Stop! Stop!” the other yelled. I hit the brakes and steered into a small, grassy turnoff. Then I fell. I had forgotten to unlock my foot from the pedal — total beginner’s move.

Kaye radioed Donnie in the support truck. He rolled up within three minutes. Here we were on one of the most remote stretches of Maui road and what could have been a 30-minute process of replacing a tire was reduced to a water break. Donnie had a spare wheel in the Suburban. He popped it on the bike, and we were off again.

That’s when I decided I need a support truck following me at all times.
There are two activities that top most Maui-guidebook lists of must-do activities. One is sunrise atop the resident volcano, Haleakala, and the other is traveling the road to Hana. Ke’anae is about half way to Hana, and judging by the numerous clusters of cars that passed us on our ride, I got the sense that the guidebook business is going strong.

It also occurred to me how much you miss when traveling in the car. Throughout the winding ride to Ke’anae, I inhaled generous wafts of guava and eucalyptus. I listened to the breeze knocking its way through bamboo forests. I brushed up against vibrant green shrubs, gulped down extended panoramic ocean views and even spotted a few squashed frogs.

Ke’anae is a small town on a peninsula that has two main attractions for tourists: an arboretum and an oceanfront park with the only public bathrooms along the road to Hana. By the time we reached Ke’anae, 25 miles from our starting point, my butt, thighs and the nape of my neck were screaming. But I didn’t mind the pain; I was so drunk with exhilaration, I found it difficult to even put a few sentences together.

Donnie sliced up a $3 loaf of fresh-baked banana bread from the Ke’anae Landing Fruit Stand. I tasted the warm, dense banana flavor and my mouth watered. “Don’t eat too much,” he said, as I cut a second slice. “It’ll make your legs heavy on the way back. We call that, ‘banana legs.’”
You can guess what happened next.

The return route began with an uphill climb, followed by a downhill section and then a second, steeper climb, more than two miles long. I made it up the first hill. I enjoyed the subsequent downhill cruise, but yards into the second climb, I buckled. My lungs heaved. My arms glistened with sweat. My legs were cemented by banana bread.

It was a “Hey Kool-Aid!” moment if I’ve ever had one. My Kool-Aid was Donnie and his support truck. Donnie advertises that Go Cycling Maui can accommodate all levels of riders. This is how he does it. If you run out of gas, you load into the truck and follow the other riders in the comfort of a bucket seat and energy bars. I may have been out of gas, but even still, I took satisfaction in Donnie saying he was impressed that I lasted as long as I did.

Sunrise on Haleakala
The day before, I had taken a ride that I had no difficulty pedaling (coasting, really) ’til the end. Sunrise atop Haleakala is touted as a Maui-must experience. One of the island’s most popular organized activities is watching day break at the peak, and then coasting 38.2 miles down to the sea atop a heavy steel, springy-seated cruiser.

On the day Donnie, Kaye and others were racing to the top, I was cruising to the bottom. My downhill adventure began at 2:30 a.m., when I packed into a van with 14 other bleary-eyed visitors. The tour provider supplied us with mustard-yellow windbreakers to help manage the 30-degree weather that would greet us at the top of Haleakala. Our guide was a chain-smoking ex-Marine named Russell, who quickly proved himself Donnie’s foil.

“On our way down today, you’re going to see some people riding in the opposite direction, going uphill,” he said as we drove to the peak. “The technical term for them is, ‘idiots.’”I laughed quietly.
The air at the top of Haleakala was breezy and cold, just like the beginning of a ski day. Couples and families huddled in their windbreakers and under hotel blankets, anxious to witness the first light of day. Shoulder to shoulder, we looked out to the deep, dark crater. “I hope it’s worth it,” someone shivered.

It seemed to be a popular, if somewhat cynical, point of view.
The sun slowly began to color the vast, cotton ball skies. As the horizon turned electric hues of blue and orange, the crater’s dusty, lava rock lining became clear. To the southeast, the Big Island came into view, appearing as if it also had traveled in the dark of night for the sunrise show.
Within minutes, the sun’s bright rays forced me to avert my eyes. I walked to another vantage point and watched the shadows of nighttime evaporate over the island behind me. The cynics were quiet.

Mustard-yellow centipede
After day break, Russell launched into more than an hour of instructions and bad jokes. All the yammering made me extremely anxious to get moving, and I was happy when we finally climbed into the springy seats of our cruisers and began to roll.

Winding down the hill, we looked like a mustard-yellow centipede. Russell led. I was last. The experience was similar to skiing, and I enjoyed the rush of wind in my face. But then we stopped. Then we started again. Then we stopped. This is how it went as we rode from summit to sea.

We’d get rolling, pick up some speed and then stop for a photo opportunity or bathroom break. The regimentation made me suspicious of whether Russell ever mentally left the Marines. It also made me crave the more constant activity of rides with Go Cycling Maui.

Along the way down Haleakala my group passed Donnie and the others racing to the sun. Their puffed cheeks and gaping mouths conveyed aching muscles and fatigue — perhaps even a longing for Lomi Lomi.

That’s how I felt when I buckled on the way back from Ke’anae.
But even with banana legs, a sore, well, everything, and a mildly disgruntled wife, I’m glad I opted for the Lance Armstrong-come-lately offer. How else would I have gotten such a unique tour of The Valley Isle? How else would I appreciate that those idiots cycling up Haleakala might not be idiots after all?
And how else would I be holding this scrumptious loaf of banana bread from the Ke’anae Landing Fruit Stand — at once a symbol of my downfall and a teaser of what’s in store if my wife accepts my proposal to return next year.

Research and bokk your next Hawaii vacation online

SOURCES
Go Cycling Maui: 808-572-0259; www.gocyclingmaui.com
Maui Visitors Bureau: 808-385-3530; www.visitmaui.com

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