THE WILDEST ISLE

Compared with its neighbors, the island of Hawaii is bigger, more untamed-and, at times, unpredictable. With her family in tow, Flora Stubbs finds the perfect balance between relaxation and rugged adventure.

- Flora Stubbs

FROM NEW YORK CITY, the flight to Hawaii takes 11 hours. Eleven long, daylight hours, during which my kids, ages seven and 10, seemed to fight almost continuously: about the seats, the snacks, the blankets, the headphones; about whose foot touched whose across the armrest first. There were moments when my husband, Dave, and I started to wonder if some cruel god had sentenced us to live out the rest of our days on that Airbus A330, hissing "Give it back right now," and checking the time remaining on our seatback screens for the ten thousandth time.

Less than 48 hours after landing in Hawaii, we found ourselves on a journey of a very different kind—and this time, the mood was a little more collaborative. The four of us were out in the bay in front of Mauna Lani, a resort on Hawaii Island's rugged Kohala Coast. Jet lag had woken us well before sunrise, so we'd joined an early morning paddle in an outrigger canoe led by a staffer named Josiah Kalima-Padillio.

"It's really important that we all paddle together," he shouted over his shoulder as we navigated the break and headed out into open water. "In together, out together." From my seat at the back I looked up to see Stella, our eldest, and Leo, her little brother, rowing away furiously, straining to keep time.