After the beer Olympics, our slightly hungover caravan made their way back down into town to rest and recoup. Fletch and I still had the camper jeep for one more night and didn’t have any plans. We thought about going back to Kipahulu, but didn’t want to drive that far for one night. Matt recommended a spot, but it wasn’t officially a campground, and therefor didn’t have any facilities. We wanted someplace like Kipahulu but closer, and so after a little bit of internet scouring, came up with a campsite called Olowalu that had beautiful photos of lush green campgrounds, and an open spot for a camper vehicle that night.
We drove towards the west side of the island, an area we hadn’t seen yet. The tide was up, and a large swell had taken over the islands, causing water to rush over the road in some areas. The drive was slow moving, as the two-lane road did not offer enough space to drive around the weekend surfers attempting to parallel park along the side of the road. There were just as many cars pulled over along the beach areas as there were trying to drive past.
We arrived at Olowalu and paid the $48 permit fee for two adults. The lady directed us over to the parking lot which was just a giant pile of mulch next to a construction zone. Apparently the site had been destroyed in a not-so-recent hurricane, and they were still in the process of repairing. The website hadn’t mentioned that.
Kipahulu, our previous campsite on our journey to Hana, had given car campers their own lot away from those parking for daytime visits. At Olowalu we shared one parking lot with everyone, and every spot appeared to be taken except for the last one in the corner next to the construction zone. Slightly discouraged, we left the jeep and went to look around.
The campground for those with tents was a sorry sight. It had been drizzling on and off all day, and the dirt was beginning to turn into a muddy mess. The few campers who were wandering about all wore the same long faces, like they were in a refugee camp instead of on their tropical vacations. No one had anything to say. The place had about as much energy as a fat cat on a treadmill.
We continued wandering through the grounds, and discovered where the photos of lush greenery had come from. Several “tentalows” were scattered across a beautifully manicured lawn, peppered with various tropical plants. That one area was picture perfect. The tentalows were permanent, a-frame tent structures, for your ultimate glamping experience. They looked like a fun option for a woodland fairy tale weekend, but at $140 per night, per person, you would definitely be paying for the novelty.*
*Or maybe not. I looked up some other “glamping” places in the country and wow they can get pricey! $1,500 per night for Dunton River Camp in Colorado. Who’d have thought…
The beach area had been taken over by a bachelorette party, so we eventually made our way back to our overpriced pile of mulch. It wasn’t all a complete disappointment though, the bathroom facilities were everything the reviews had built them up to be. I had wondered why so many of the reviews online had focused solely on the gleaming toilets. Turns out it was because there was nothing else commendable about the place as far as people with tents and camping cars were concerned. So for those of you wanting to go camping on Maui with that person who just can’t live without a bathroom and running water (we all know one), Camp Olowalu is your place.
Otherwise there is no reason I would ever recommend it. We spent the night listening to cars sneak in at all hours in order to use the above mentioned gleaming toilets. If you are ever driving around Maui late at night and need a bathroom, apparently Camp Olowalu is entirely too easy to sneak into.
Just when the last pair of passing headlights had finished blinding me awake, there was a sound, and that sound led to a chorus coming from all around us, that sweet, (and by sweet I mean nails-on-a-chalkboard) morning song of cock-a-doodle-doo. I opened my eyes, resigned to the fact that it was time to wake up, only it was most definitely not time to wake up. The sky was still pitch black and the stars twinkling away. The army of roosters didn’t care though. They were battling out who could cock-a-doodle-doo the loudest, and continued to battle it out for hours.
When we finally crawled out of the pop-up tent, I made it a point to give each rooster the stink eye in turn. They paid me back for that trick. As soon as Fletch left to utilize the sparkling bathroom, the head of the rooster army who had claimed our territory snuck up under the jeep, talons raised. I was sitting there on the mulch in my Tommy Bahama chair, wondering what in the world he thought he was going to do. He was eyeing me right back, not even two feet away, talons raised and ready. Luckily Fletch returned before he got any grand ideas and scared him off.
We made ourselves some breakfast burritos just in time for the 8:00 construction work to begin and blow sawdust all over them. Then the tow truck showed up to tow away the vehicle parked next to us. We couldn’t pack up and leave fast enough.
And so ended our last camping experience on Maui. If you’re curious about glamping, then the tentalows might be worth checking out. I only saw them from the outside, but they looked like a cute alternative to a budget hotel. Otherwise, stay away. There’s really no reason to pay $50 to camp out in a rooster mating ground, unless you have a weird thing for roosters, in which case you’ll love it. And you should probably get help.
