LC The Lodge at Koele
Hawaii

I live in Texas, so meeting cowboys isn't exactly a novel concept. The idea of meeting a cowboy in Hawaii, on the other hand, really piqued my interest. Knowing that the Lodge in Koele, touted as one of the world's most luxurious resorts, lies on what was once Lanai's biggest cattle ranch, I figured I'd finally meet a famed "paniolo," a Hawaiian cowboy.

My flight from Honolulu gave me the perfect vantage point of Lanai, seven miles off the west coast of Maui. Spanning a mere 13 miles wide and 18 miles long, the island of Lanai lives a quiet existence among its volcanic counterparts. Fifteen minutes into the flight, we began descending. Golden prairie grasses and open fields of dry red soil, skirted by green mountain peaks filled my airplane window, and shattered my notion of a lush, tropical Hawaii. Noticing my look of bewilderment, a local leaned over and kindly explained, "Those fields used to be where all of the pines were planted--you know, pineapples."

"Ahh," I said shaking my head with a new understanding, remembering that Lanai used to be called "The Pineapple Island." Dole Food Company owned 98% of the island and operated a plantation covering 16,000 acres--not to mention a big slice of Lanai's economy until the pineapple industry began to falter. In 1985, David Murdock, Dole's Chairman of the Board and CEO, purchased controlling interest of the company and the gift-with-purchase was his very own island. Pineapples were phased out by 1993 and by 1996 Dole Food Company's real estate holdings split into a different stock, Castle & Cooke, Inc., owner and operator of Lanai's two most prominent resorts--The Lodge at Koele being one of them.

Giant Cook Island Pines lined the road leading up to The Lodge at Koele, in the central highlands of the island. Bellboys in neat white shirts and green vests quickly attended to my luggage as I was greeted with a fragrant Plumeria lei by manager Tina Harlow. An expansive wood-floor terrace, accented with rattan furnishings and Hawaiian-quilted pillows, wrapped around the 102 rooms of this English country manor, adding a hint of Southern hospitality to British formality.

High tea and crumpets were being served in the Great Hall, which was steeped in warm shades of reds and greens. Rustic stone fireplaces, chocolate Eucalyptus floors and 35-foot wooden-beam ceilings added earthy contrast to the intricately carved furnishings, as well as the ornate Hawaiian and Asian artifacts. This property's paradoxical persona, balancing lodge comfort with exquisite luxury, redefined the Hawaiian vacation, being the only landlocked resort of its caliber throughout the entire state.

"So much for meeting a paniolo here," I said to my friend Katherine, who'd spent the entire flight listening to me babble endlessly about Hawaiians trained by Vaqueros from Spanish California to ride horses and herd cattle in the 1800s. "Being a redneck here simply means that you forgot to wear sunscreen while golfing," I added with a smirk.

Not to say that paniolos were ever considered uncouth. In fact, they were the heroes that saved the cattle overpopulation problem created by a kapu (taboo) placed on their slaughter by King Kamehameha I. Think Don Ho meets John Wayne, and you've got yourself a real live horse ridin', ukulele playin' paniolo--hardly a redneck.

The golfing-variety redneck proves prominent on this island, and does the majority of "driving," as cattle are no longer a mainstay. Voted one of the world's best golf resorts by Condé Nast Traveler, Koele's 18-hole course was designed by Greg Norman and Ted Robinson who edged the greens with panoramic views and sea cliff challenges. Sister resort Manele Bay Hotel, only seven miles away, featured putting privileges for Koele guests at an 18-hole course designed by Jack Nicklaus.

Manele Bay Hotel, frequented by resort shuttle buses every 30 minutes, provided guests with a beachfront access as well as what I like to refer to as "ranch hands." Only instead of tying up horses, they take out knots at the full-service spa. I scheduled a hot stone massage, followed by a quick steam for my paniolo pampering, before dining at one of their on-site gourmet restaurants.

In Texas there's an old cowboy saying: "Don't worry about bitin' off more than you can chew. Your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger'n you think." I found this to be a fitting expression while dining at both Castle & Cooke resorts, which feature high-end cuisine and extensive wine lists. The Lodge at Koele's formal dining room paired an understanding of Hawaiian fish specialties like moi, ahi and hamachi with a mainland contemporary edge, inspiring many diners to bite off more than they could chew.

Despite my use of cowboy colloquialisms, I'm living proof that everyone in Texas doesn't wear a ten-gallon hat and wield a rifle. Actually, I'd never even held a gun. But given the fact that the Lanai Pine Sporting Clays is the only resort course throughout the state of Hawaii, I thought I'd give it a shot. With 14 stations, both beginners and expert marksmen can partake in blowing up clay pigeons, ducks, pheasants, rabbits, whatever. Beginner's luck on my side, not to mention an instructor, I was able to hit a few pretend varmints of my own. And while I wasn't able to track down a paniolo, I did manage to strike up a conversation with someone that remembered life on the Koele Ranch.

Alberta Dejetley grew up as one of the Lanai "ranch kids," on Koele grounds. "Mr. Murdock has done a great job at developing this island," she said, her warm-brown eyes smiling with sincerity. "When we were growing up, there were only pineapple fields. Being a laborer on the pineapple plantation is very difficult and the people that grew up here wanted to do other things." With the decline of the pineapple industry, locals got their wish, along with no other alternatives. "If we didn't have the hotel and resorts, we would be unemployed and we wouldn't be able to live here," she explained.

Murdock did more than provide economic means for the locals, he did so with a respect for the land upon which Koele is built. "Mr. Murdock was so meticulous about building the lodge. He wanted it 'just so' and wanted to keep as many of the existing trees as possible," Dejetley noted with admiration. Many of the trees were roped off and even the concrete for the walkways was brought in via helicopter. This preservation paid off, with beautiful old growth trees and flora and fauna lining Koele's paths. For a more extensive walk with nature, serious hikers enjoy the Munro Trail, which leads to Lanai's highest peak at 3,400 feet.

A ten-minute walk from the lodge in the other direction will take you into the Lanai "metroplex." After passing rows of wooden-frame cottages of the 3,000 residents, one will reach a city block that literally comprises the entire downtown of Lanai City. A visit to the gallery of artist Mike Carroll, and "The Local Gentry" boutique, as well as taking in the eclectic mix of trinkets at Dis n' Dat Shop, is a must. Five daily roundtrip ferries to Lahaina on Maui seem to meet the demands of the more avid shopper, but those who visit Lanai typically prefer to get away from it all instead.

One way to accomplish the urban escape is on the back of a horse. "Surely we'll see a paniolo at the ranch!" I determined excitedly before reaching Koele's stables. Seeing a guy clad in spurs, a pair of Levišs and a beat-up cowboy hat, leading a horse to the stable, I was surprised he didn't look more, well, Hawaiian. "Hi thar," he said with a Southern drawl. "Where y'all from?"

"Dallas," I responded, intensely studying the mannerisms of an authentic paniolo.

"I'm from Fort Worth!" he replied excitedly.

Go figure. I flew seven hours to meet a local. Better yet, the other "cowboy" happened to have an accent as well, a British one. She saddled me up and led me across the painted landscapes, right up to a ledge overlooking the neighboring island of Molokai. It was obvious that her knowledge of the vegetation and history of the island, as well as her riding savvy, overshadowed any talk of Queen Mother.

The life of a paniolo on Lanai isn't what it used to be, with massaging ranch hands, gourmet chuck wagons and British cowgirls. Maybe I didn't get the chance to meet a "real" Hawaiian cowboy during my stay, but I'm pretty familiar with Koele's new paniolo. In fact, before heading out to dinner my last evening, I finally saw one. While finishing getting ready, I put on a coat of lipstick and looked in the mirror. Giving myself a little nod, I said in my best John Wayne voice, "Yippe-yi-yay, yippe-yi-alo-ha!"

Photos: Katherine Thomson