Snorkeling the Not-so-Lonely Islet of Molokini
Updated: Mar 24, 2021
As a Maui local, I’m routinely asked for recommendations. Part of being from here is that you’re likely to serve as an unofficial (or very official) island guide from time to time.
When I’m asked about the ocean, I always recommend snorkeling. I think of snorkeling as a gateway into diving. The equipment is easy to rent, easier to use, where all you do is lay flat on your stomach and cruise along the surface. If diving isn’t your “thing,” then snorkeling just might be, and there’s no better place to snorkel than the mysterious wonder of Molokini crater.
Related | Check out our Hawaii Travel Guide
Some Hawaiian mythology for you. The fire goddess Pele was madly in love with a prince. The prince, however, had fallen for another woman. Pele, in her fury, sought revenge on the prince’s lover, striking the woman in half and turning her into stone. Her head came to be the cinder cone mound that lies on Maui’s Makena Beach, while her body drifted out to sea and became, you guessed it, Molokini.
If there’s one thing you learn for certain about Hawaiian legend, it’s that you NEVER mess with Pele.
Molokini is as mysterious as it is elusive – a crescent moon sitting 1/3 of the way towards neighboring island Kahoolawe. You won’t see Molokini unless you’re on the south side of Maui. There, the crater seems close enough to swim. (Pro tip: don’t)
That proximity makes Molokini charters a breeze. I boarded the Kai Kanani at the unholy hour of 6 a.m. because I thought, what a great way to start the day! I sure as hell wasn’t thinking that when my alarm went off at 5:15.
I’ve gone with family and friends on charters like these before, but this time I wanted to go on my own.
One of the crew had taken notice. “You’re by yourself?” He didn’t so much as ask, but state, and with such nonchalance that offered me some comfort. It’s not so unusual to go at things alone. Like dining. Going to the movies. Traveling. Living.
Other guests on the charter were more curious, asking me why while we stood in line for breakfast.
I said I was auditing.
That seemed to do the trick.
Island life can make you crave loneliness. You drive down the same roads, past the same landmarks, meeting the same people and talking about the same things. Islands are small by definition. You want the world to feel big again. Sometimes you need to get away. That gets compounded when your home itself is a popular getaway, but even locals need a vacation from life’s drama, from Facebook and Netflix drama.
“Self-care,” we often meme and proclaim. It dawned on me that I chose a lover’s spat as an escape, but that’s neither here nor there.
We glided onward in a supreme-sized catamaran. The giant mast and the lack of data reception made it feel like we were voyagers.
That feeling vanquished when selfie sticks got in the way of my sun. Within 20 minutes, Molokini went from the size of a stone to a full-blown crater, curving on opposite ends like a smile, or an open embrace. It truly looked like part of Maui had chipped off and drifted away.
Molokini is a rare islet. Too small to be an island, but large enough to merit a designation – one that’s led a curious history. Early Hawaiians routinely ventured out to Molokini to fish. I can’t blame them. It’s kind of an epic fishing spot.
During World War II, the U.S. Navy used the islet as target practice, citing its resemblance to a battleship. That you can definitely place blame. Both Molokini and Kahoolawe were used as bombing ranges – veritable shooting galleries in the Pacific. I thought about how lonely that must feel, being unable to decide what happens to you.
I myself could think of 10 things I’d like to do with a place like Molokini and almost all of them involve some kind of variation on Tom Hanks’s performance in Cast Away. None of them, however, involves explosions.
If once there was nothing but chaos here, what I found now as we arrived was undisturbed peace and awe.