Chief of War pulls back the curtain on the ‘real’ Hawaii
If you want to get a taste of authentic island life away from the tourist hotspots, head this way…
Matt Charlton - 22 July 2025
Apple TV
As Chief of War was conceived by Jason Momoa to shed some light on the indigenous experience of Hawaiian tribes, and tells the little-known story of the bloody campaign to unite their warring kingdoms, I felt some sense of responsibility to echo this in my trip – albeit with some high-thread-count bedding. The first rule was to avoid Honolulu, surrounding island Oahu, and ‘The Big Island’ (Hawaii itself)… because thar be Taco Bells. The second rule was to try and glean some sense of an authentic experience whilst enjoying that comfort blanket of luxury. Tourism images often show a version of Hawaii filtered through social media, while Chief of War offers something different: a dramatic retelling of actual events through Native eyes, set against Hawaii’s own landscapes.
A complete novice to Hawaii – which is quite common among Brits due to the length of the journey – I elect to spend some time in Lāna‘i, and Kauaʻi. The former, one of the least visited, is also the smallest: no traffic lights, one school for all ages, and just 30 miles of paved road. The latter is more a locals’ island: rainforest, strip malls, beach culture… and home to celebrities who no longer need to have LA on their doorstep.
An eleven-hour flight from New York under my belt (yes, we are talking about 20 hours’ total from the UK here) I lollop through Honolulu Airport to be met by a valet, who escorts me to my 12-person plane for the half-hour flight to Lāna‘i. Would it be this seamless if I weren’t staying at the Four Seasons (fourseasons.com) resort? Well, yes, this is a locals’ plane too – the choppy waves so loved by the global surfing community make inter-island boats quite the challenge. Four Seasons now makes up the majority of employment on Lāna‘i, which was once a pineapple plantation. In their two locations – the sprawling resort down at the beach, and adults-only Sensei located at an old lodge house in the ‘city’ – a genuine effort has been made to give you local flavour.
That’s not only with the indigenous art and architectural touches in the resort, but classes which include lei-making, ukulele lessons and cultural tours. I take their 4x4 Holoholo Island trip, where I’m told by my guide that Lāna‘i is most likely named after Kauluāʻau, a Mauian prince banished here because of his wild pranks at his father’s court. Lāna‘i was said to be haunted by ghosts and goblins that Kauluāʻau chased away, bringing peace and order to the island – and it must have worked, as I spot neither. (There were plenty of stray cats, but the Lānaʻi Cat Sanctuary is working hard to rectify this. On visiting, you can sit amongst their furry residents as they crawl all over you.)
Unlike the lush, drenched island to follow, Lānaʻi is sparse and alien, with its open plains and windswept rocky landscape. The scarcity of breadfruit trees, indigenous to all the other islands, is wrapped up in the Kauluāʻau legend – he ripped them all up, apparently. The Lānaʻi Cultural Centre, well worth a visit, tells the story of pre-Western contact, up to eras of ranching, plantation and tourism. It’s the lynchpin of authenticity on an island striving successfully to stay in touch with its roots (unless it’s the roots of breadfruit trees).
Over on Kauaʻi, known for its distinct dialect of the Hawaiian language, I pick up my rental, and immediately notice how much more tropical, and domestic, ‘The Garden Isle’ is. There are traffic lights, for one, but then supermarkets, restaurants, fuel stations… It’s lived-in.
I arrive at beautiful The Cliffs at Princeville (cliffsatprinceville.com), overlooking Kauaʻi’s North Shore, wary that it doesn’t have air conditioning, but with the pleasant trade winds, this is never a problem. In fact, they pride themselves on their sustainability, committed to protecting the fragile local environment, including abundant cockerels who provide the entire island’s daily alarm clock. I’m a short drive outside Hanalei with its surf shacks, family-run restaurants such as Tahiti Nui and Bar Acuda, and from where you can catch a shuttle to the lush Hāʻena State Park. The town throngs with local life, right down to its picture-postcard beach, where I meet surf and shark photographer Mike Coots. He’s also a shark conservationist, with the twist in his backstory being Mike had his leg bitten off by a tiger shark. Two decades later, he found himself working on Discovery’s Shark Week, and, in a satisfying cyclical note, spending time with one of the hosts, Jason Mamoa.
Chief of War is an opportunity for visitors who want to better understand the islands, allowing them to engage differently. Of course, once it’s time for me brave the long flight home again, I suddenly want to see the ‘biggies’ I’ve missed: volcano park, Waikiki beach, Pearl Harbour… But the level of understanding of true island life gained on this trip is something that simply couldn’t be found on the main islands.
You can fly to Hawaii with Virgin Atlantic and Delta, via Los Angeles.
Apple TV
As Chief of War was conceived by Jason Momoa to shed some light on the indigenous experience of Hawaiian tribes, and tells the little-known story of the bloody campaign to unite their warring kingdoms, I felt some sense of responsibility to echo this in my trip – albeit with some high-thread-count bedding. The first rule was to avoid Honolulu, surrounding island Oahu, and ‘The Big Island’ (Hawaii itself)… because thar be Taco Bells. The second rule was to try and glean some sense of an authentic experience whilst enjoying that comfort blanket of luxury. Tourism images often show a version of Hawaii filtered through social media, while Chief of War offers something different: a dramatic retelling of actual events through Native eyes, set against Hawaii’s own landscapes.
A complete novice to Hawaii – which is quite common among Brits due to the length of the journey – I elect to spend some time in Lāna‘i, and Kauaʻi. The former, one of the least visited, is also the smallest: no traffic lights, one school for all ages, and just 30 miles of paved road. The latter is more a locals’ island: rainforest, strip malls, beach culture… and home to celebrities who no longer need to have LA on their doorstep.
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An eleven-hour flight from New York under my belt (yes, we are talking about 20 hours’ total from the UK here) I lollop through Honolulu Airport to be met by a valet, who escorts me to my 12-person plane for the half-hour flight to Lāna‘i. Would it be this seamless if I weren’t staying at the Four Seasons (fourseasons.com) resort? Well, yes, this is a locals’ plane too – the choppy waves so loved by the global surfing community make inter-island boats quite the challenge. Four Seasons now makes up the majority of employment on Lāna‘i, which was once a pineapple plantation. In their two locations – the sprawling resort down at the beach, and adults-only Sensei located at an old lodge house in the ‘city’ – a genuine effort has been made to give you local flavour.
That’s not only with the indigenous art and architectural touches in the resort, but classes which include lei-making, ukulele lessons and cultural tours. I take their 4x4 Holoholo Island trip, where I’m told by my guide that Lāna‘i is most likely named after Kauluāʻau, a Mauian prince banished here because of his wild pranks at his father’s court. Lāna‘i was said to be haunted by ghosts and goblins that Kauluāʻau chased away, bringing peace and order to the island – and it must have worked, as I spot neither. (There were plenty of stray cats, but the Lānaʻi Cat Sanctuary is working hard to rectify this. On visiting, you can sit amongst their furry residents as they crawl all over you.)
Unlike the lush, drenched island to follow, Lānaʻi is sparse and alien, with its open plains and windswept rocky landscape. The scarcity of breadfruit trees, indigenous to all the other islands, is wrapped up in the Kauluāʻau legend – he ripped them all up, apparently. The Lānaʻi Cultural Centre, well worth a visit, tells the story of pre-Western contact, up to eras of ranching, plantation and tourism. It’s the lynchpin of authenticity on an island striving successfully to stay in touch with its roots (unless it’s the roots of breadfruit trees).
Over on Kauaʻi, known for its distinct dialect of the Hawaiian language, I pick up my rental, and immediately notice how much more tropical, and domestic, ‘The Garden Isle’ is. There are traffic lights, for one, but then supermarkets, restaurants, fuel stations… It’s lived-in.
I arrive at beautiful The Cliffs at Princeville (cliffsatprinceville.com), overlooking Kauaʻi’s North Shore, wary that it doesn’t have air conditioning, but with the pleasant trade winds, this is never a problem. In fact, they pride themselves on their sustainability, committed to protecting the fragile local environment, including abundant cockerels who provide the entire island’s daily alarm clock. I’m a short drive outside Hanalei with its surf shacks, family-run restaurants such as Tahiti Nui and Bar Acuda, and from where you can catch a shuttle to the lush Hāʻena State Park. The town throngs with local life, right down to its picture-postcard beach, where I meet surf and shark photographer Mike Coots. He’s also a shark conservationist, with the twist in his backstory being Mike had his leg bitten off by a tiger shark. Two decades later, he found himself working on Discovery’s Shark Week, and, in a satisfying cyclical note, spending time with one of the hosts, Jason Mamoa.
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Chief of War is an opportunity for visitors who want to better understand the islands, allowing them to engage differently. Of course, once it’s time for me brave the long flight home again, I suddenly want to see the ‘biggies’ I’ve missed: volcano park, Waikiki beach, Pearl Harbour… But the level of understanding of true island life gained on this trip is something that simply couldn’t be found on the main islands.
You can fly to Hawaii with Virgin Atlantic and Delta, via Los Angeles.