LINGERING IN HANA IT'S MORE THAN JUST A ROADSIDE STOP ON MAUI'S FAMOUS HIGHWAY.

Byline: Eric Noland Travel Editor

HANA, Hawaii - Around 5 p.m. Or maybe 6. That's when you begin to notice a subtle shift in the town's personality.

That's when the last rental cars pull out of Hana, the unpretentious little village on the southeastern edge of the Hawaiian island of Maui. You see the drivers glance impatiently at their watches, then pick up speed a little as they head for the first of 56 bridges, the first of 617 curves on the infamous Hana Highway that will be their route out.

It's then that Hana ceases to be a midday tourist refueling stop and regains its truer identity.

A softball game begins on an emerald-green field across from the school, the very young or very old hopping onto the hoods of parked cars to watch the action and heckle the participants. A grill leaps to flaming life down on the beach of Hana Bay, as the day's catch is readied for dinner. Siblings squeal with excitement as they ride their bikes toward Hasegawa General Store in hopes of getting there before it closes at 6:30.

As the night descends, there will be no streetlights to defile it. And at some point, all sound is destined to be muffled by a sudden cloudburst.

This is the Hana - this is the Hawaii - that few visitors experience. Reams have been written about a drive on the Hana Highway, that 51-mile scenic wonder that perches precariously along the lush, nearly vertical eastern slope of Maui's Haleakala volcano. But almost all of it is presented in the context of a day trip, and that's how it is treated by the majority of visitors staying in the resort enclaves of Kaanapali or Wailea.

They hop into their rental cars at midmorning and begin bending around the 10-mph curves and over the quaint, one-lane bridges, marveling at each waterfall, each neon-orange burst of African tulip blossom, each sweeping vista of the cobalt-blue Pacific.

Then they make the briefest of stops in Hana (perhaps wondering what all the fuss is about) before venturing a bit farther on to the so-called Seven Sacred Pools (which are not considered sacred by Hawaiians and number about two dozen). As late afternoon closes in, they beat a hurried retreat, perhaps sensing that a drive that had been a charming delight in the morning will be three hours of white-knuckle torture on the return.

Those who linger in Hana thus have it to themselves. In those evening hours, and again in the early morning before the leading edge of the day's tourist caravan rolls in, they're treated to a profound sense of Hawaii of old. And it is heavenly. Clearly, an overnight stay is the optimal way to experience its charms.

Isolation fosters the little town's simplicity. You can't get here readily, so there is no popping in for dinner. The Hana Highway is one route in. The other is even more daunting: the Piilani Highway, an unimproved, all-but-deserted road around the island's southern edge. Rental-car companies use red ink in their drive-guide brochures to inform customers that their contracts will be void if they venture onto this track.

Hana has a long history of being removed from the rest of island life, and it shows. Until the 1920s, access to it was only by boat, mule or foot. In 1927, convict laborers, using only picks and shovels, began hacking away at a narrow path that had been the only route through the rain forest since ancient times. The road wasn't even paved until the early 1960s.

So Hana was allowed to exist on its own terms. It was a sugar cane plantation until the late 1940s, when soaring costs - not the least of which was transporting the harvested cane off the island - made the operation unfeasible. Then tourism took a toehold, as San Francisco entrepreneur Paul Fagan opened the six-room Kauiki Inn, the forerunner to what is now the 66-acre, 66-room Hotel Hana-Maui.

This enterprise and others (notably cattle ranching) enabled a high proportion of the indigenous population to remain in the area after the cane business fizzled out. Maybe that's why the sense of family, of stability seems to be so strong here.

``On the other side of the island, you're with tourists like yourself,'' said Dave Brazda, manager of the Hotel Hana-Maui. ``You're going to luaus that are more in the Tahitian tradition, while our (entertainment) is Hawaiian. We have second and third generations working here, people whose parents and grandparents worked here. We have one employee getting ready to retire who's been here 40 years.''

When it's time for the show, don't expect any fire-twirling act, the frenetic pounding of drums (that's Tahitian, too), or cheesecake dancers. On a Sunday evening in February, a small choir of older Hawaiians ascended a stage in the hotel's dining room and sang songs in their native language, accompanied only by guitars and ukuleles. This wasn't a polished act - many, in fact, seemed to be wrestling mightily with pitch - but it was absolutely endearing.

Like Hana itself. Over the past 30 years of Hawaii's development boom, a trend has emerged. A hotel-builder will find a suitable oceanfront site, then come in and scrape it clean. What follows is what you might describe as an art director's concept of paradise: lagoon, waterfalls, tropical trees, sandy beach. Little of it is authentic (even the sand is trucked in at some of the Big Island's newer resorts).

Hana has the real deal. You want a rock-lined cove? Hana Bay is the answer. A picturesque beach? It's hard to beat Hamoa Beach, where the sand has a salt-and-pepper look and consistency, the byproduct of lava decomposition. Lagoon? Oheo Gulch is nearby. Tropical vegetation? Geez, just look around. Haleakala's rainfall works out to an average of about an inch a day, and most of it falls here on the eastern slope - which is why the Hana Highway winds through a carpet of so many hues of green.

The Hotel Hana-Maui is pleasantly low-rise. Its most popular accommodations are the Sea Ranch Cottages, built in the 1980s in the understated design of plantation workers' quarters. Step out onto your porch here and your view toward the sea is likely to be punctuated by a grazing horse.

The hotel underwent an ownership change last year and is still working to bring in an operational partner willing to sink some money into the place. It's needed. It hasn't undergone any capital improvements in more than 10 years, and ``when you're in Hawaii, sitting by the ocean, maintenance has to be done,'' Brazda said. ``The saltwater will take over.''

If the Hotel Hana-Maui is in need of a sprucing up, you wouldn't know it from its room rates. Brochure rates for the Sea Ranch Cottages range between $500 and $695, while garden suites start at $475.

Frightened off by these steep tariffs, we opted instead for the Hana Kai- Maui Resort, which offers 18 beach-motel-like units on Hana Bay. The rooms, priced between $125 and $195 nightly, are divided between two buildings, one of which faces the bay ... the other of which faces the back of the first building. So you might want to specify bay-front when you make your reservation.

Even in the rear building, the accommodations were found to be pleasant - primarily because they were in Hana. The room had a broad wooden balcony with comfortable lounge furniture, a heavy wood sliding door and screen, a ceiling fan, louvered windows on the inland side of the unit (allowing the onshore breezes to ventilate the place vigorously), and a full kitchen. It did not include such amenities as beach towels, a hair dryer or an iron.

The real appeal of the place was revealed at night. Sleeping conditions were ideal - so dark and so quiet, the only sounds being the breakers rolling into Hana Bay and the tradewinds ruffling the palm fronds.

Another Hana attribute is its friendliness - a refreshing break from a longstanding Hawaiian norm. In many areas where tourists congregate, the aloha spirit is something of a fraud, as mainland visitors are met with surliness or, worse, are ignored altogether.

For the most part, Hana has yet to be infected with this. We encountered locals who waved from passing cars, cheerfully offered assistance at Hasegawa's General Store and, with the exception of those serving breakfast at the Hana Ranch Restaurant, were unfailingly congenial. We even felt welcome at the softball game.

After three days here it was difficult to leave, but an adventure beckoned. The great majority of visitors to Hana return the way they came, tackling anew the corkscrews of the Hana Highway. The idea of heading west on the Piilani Highway - perhaps because the rental-car company so strenuously discouraged it - seemed infinitely more interesting.

Four-wheel-drive is strongly recommended for its 26 miles of dirt road, primarily because the frequency of Haleakala's stormy fury can create some suddenly sloppy passages. But many travelers tackle the risks of this route in compact rentals. While never having to shift into four-wheel, we encountered three women in a Chevy Cavalier and one fellow in a Mustang with the top down.

Just west of Hana, a popular stop with travelers is Oheo Gulch, where a mountain stream cascades over elaborate rock formations, forming a series of swimming holes large and small - commonly but inaccurately referred to as the aforementioned Seven Sacred Pools. It is the destination and turn-around point for many of the Hana Highway day-trippers.

The site is part of Haleakala National Park, and you can't miss the crowded parking lot. Most people follow trails to the big pools below the road, and by afternoon these swimming and rock-leaping spots look like tourist ant hills. The pools above the road are usually deserted, perhaps because there are no signs marking the path to them.

To reach them, follow a trail that parallels the road just west of the gulch bridge (on the ocean side of the road). When you encounter a road sign that reads ``Parking, 0.2 miles,'' cross the road and pick up a trail that descends to the upper pools. The mountain runoff can be bracing, but afterward you can regain warmth by lying across one of the sun-washed boulders.

Driving west from Oheo Gulch, you'll probably be on your own soon after passing the idyllic bluff that is home to the Palapala Hoomau Congregational Church, where famed aviator Charles Lindbergh chose to be buried after living out his final years in Hana.

Later, as the road works its way along windswept coastal bluffs, the ride can be equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. On some tight turns, the salt spray was blowing through the driver-side window. Grassy hillsides swept down to gray-pebble beaches that were utterly deserted. The ocean was absurdly blue, perhaps because the channel between here and the Big Island is more than a mile deep in places.

It was reassuring to see no tourist development, no signs of life, not even any power poles at one point - and to enjoy these wide-open vistas for miles and miles. There are a few scattered signs of habitation: the weathered Kaupo Store and, farther on, a barnlike missionary church built in 1886.

We encountered a woman driving alone from the other direction with a map spread on the passenger seat. ``How much farther to civilization?'' she asked in a querulous voice.

As desolate as this land might appear, it was once home to a thriving civilization, attested to by hundreds of archeological sites. These southern reaches of Maui were covered with sandalwood forest, but the trees were felled in the 1800s because newly arrived traders placed an extreme value on the wood, and the land soon became arid, suitable only for cattle grazing.

As the road began to climb toward the western end of the island, the views became ever more spectacular, with black-lava peninsulas jutting out into a white-capped ocean. A stop at one turn in the road provided, with only a slight turn of the head, a view of four other protrusions in the Hawaiian archipelago: the Big Island (the summit of Mauna Kea poking through a cloud bank), Kahoolawe, Lanai and the tiny sliver that is Molokini.

Someday this road may be fully paved, closing the loop with the Hana Highway, which is scheduled for extensive upgrades. Until then, this corner of Hawaii will remain blissfully untouched.

And Hana will remain Hana.

IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE: Hana is 51 miles from Kahului (where Maui's airport is located) along highways 36 and 360. Southern California freeway drivers see the mileage distance and assume they can get there in an hour. But over the highway's final 34 miles, it becomes a narrow road that clings to the edge of a verdant cliff and picks its way across 56 one-lane bridges. It is a spectacularly beautiful drive that should not be rushed. Stop frequently to enjoy the many waterfalls and vistas. If you allow three hours, you'll appreciate the drive infinitely more. Allow at least that much time to drive from Hana to the Ulupalakua Ranch around the southern end of the island on the Piilani Highway (Route 31). The distance is 36 miles along a track that, for much of the way, is either dirt or battered asphalt. Most rental-car companies consider your contract void on this road. Before embarking, check with the rangers at the Haleakala National Park/Oheo Gulch visitors center for an update on road conditions.

LODGING: Brochure rates for rooms at the Hotel Hana-Maui start at $475 for garden suites, $500 for a Sea Ranch Cottage. Packages are offered. Information and reservations: [phone] or [phone]; www.hotelhanamaui.com. If that's too steep for your budget, you'll probably find the Hana Kai Maui Resort (an awfully fancy name for a motel) to be perfectly adequate. Doubles from $125. Information and reservations: [phone] or [phone]; www.hanakaimaui.com. Hana also has a number of bed-and-breakfast options, which can be found through an exploration of guidebooks or Web searches. One excellent resource is ``Hidden Maui,'' (Ulysses Press; $13.95).

DINING: The fine-dining options are fairly limited in Hana. As in one. The restaurant at the Hotel Hana-Maui, imaginatively referred to as the Main Dining Room, blends Pacific Islander, Asian and American cuisine in a delightfully laid-back setting. If the local fishermen have pulled in some papio, you might luck into an entree of this delicate white fish, served grilled with garlic butter sauce, stir-fried vegetables and mashed potatoes that have been spread out on a griddle and flash-grilled. However, the best thing about the restaurant is an hour of Hawaiian music presented by local families, at 7:30 p.m. Thursday through Sunday.

PICNIC FARE: If you're just making a day trip to Hana (as most Maui visitors do), pause briefly in the town of Paia before tackling the highway. Later, you'll be glad you did, because the lunch fare in Hana is sorely lacking. At the Hana Ranch Restaurant's snack window, they prepare deli sandwiches early in the morning - using bread no more interesting than hamburger buns (the only choice). You don't want to think about what tuna salad on a hamburger bun looks like five hours after assembly. For this, they'll gladly charge you $6. Hasegawa General Store sells only fixings, no pre-made sandwiches. Instead, stop in Paia (four miles from the airport) at a place called Picnics - just off the highway at 30 Baldwin Ave. It prepares exceptional sandwiches and box lunches targeted specifically for Hana Highway travelers.

INFORMATION: For information on Hana, the Hana Highway or the Piilani Highway, contact the Maui Visitors Bureau at [phone]. Web: www.visitmaui.com.

CAPTION(S):

7 photos, box

Photo:

(1 -- color) The Sea Ranch Cottages at the Hotel Hana-Maui were built in the low-key manner of plantation workers' quarters. No resort glitz here - their porches overlook pasure land and peaceful Kaihalulu Bay.

(2 -- color) It's not a good idea to be in a hurry when driving the Hana Highway. The route along Maui's southeastern shore crosses numerous vintage one-lane bridges.

(3 -- color) Just beyond Hana is popular Oheo Gulch, where a stream tumbles down boulders and fills a series of pools. The little-visited upper pools are well worth the exploration.

(4) Hamoa Beach is a popular lounging spot for Hana's residents and visitors. Its sand has a salt-and-pepper look and consistency.

(5) The Piilani Highway follows an unimproved track along Maui's desolate south side. It's only for the adventurous - but the scenic vistas are well worth the effort.

(6) The Palapala Hoomau Congregational Church sits atop an idyllic ocean bluff a few miles from Hana. Aviator Charles Lindbergh, who lived out his final years in this corner of Hawaii, is buried in the church yard.

(7) Oheo Gulch, a series of waterfalls and pools near Hana, offers visitors an opportunity to climb the rocks and plunge into the cool waters.

Photos by Eric Noland/Travel Editor

Box: If You Go (see text)