5:00 AM. Before dawn, the air around Honolulu International Airport’s commuter terminal hangs heavy with the humid warmth of a summer night. Flights connecting the Hawaiian Islands depart not from the bustling main passenger terminal, teeming with international and mainland-bound travelers, but from this single-story building hundreds of yards away. It’s a world apart, a pocket of calm distinctly separate from the airport’s usual frenzy.
Lanai is one of Hawaii’s lesser-known destinations. Compared to Oahu, Maui, Kauai, or the Big Island, information is surprisingly scarce. Is it simply that little is widely known, or is there truly nothing there? Or perhaps, something hidden? I couldn’t be sure. I’d heard Lanai is now almost entirely privately owned – by a single individual. Private ownership? Owning the landmass, sure, but people live there; there seems to be a town, even an airport served by scheduled flights. How does an airport on a privately owned island even operate? A world I could barely fathom lay just a 30-minute flight across the channel from Honolulu.
My turn came for check-in, though the early morning queue for Island Air held only a handful of people. A staff member casually glanced at my passport, assumed (correctly) I had no checked bags, and handed me a flimsy, thermally printed boarding pass. The seat number field read “OPEN”—open seating, apparently.
Past the security checkpoint lay a spacious waiting area with three gates. A corner housed a pay-to-use lounge operated by Four Seasons Resorts, and free Wi-Fi, generously provided by the airline itself (the network name: simply “Island Air”), was available. Through the window, an ATR turboprop was being prepped for departure.
Only Island Air and Mokulele Airlines operate scheduled inter-island flights from this terminal now. Another carrier, go!, ceased operations in April 2014. Sad reminders remained – areas on terminal signs and counters where the “go!” logo had clearly been painted over or covered up.
The history of airlines serving the Hawaiian Islands is surprisingly complex. Decades ago, aside from small charter outfits and scenic flights, two major players, Hawaiian and Aloha Airlines, dominated, competing head-to-head on routes serving nearly all the islands. But rising fuel costs and other pressures led to Aloha’s decline; it filed for bankruptcy and shut down in 2008. Hawaiian Airlines subsequently expanded its routes, both inter-island and long-haul. However, smaller carriers stepped in to fill the gaps on minor routes or to compete on the lucrative inter-island segments. These included Island Air, Mokulele Airlines, Pacific Wings, go!, and Hawaiian’s own inter-island offshoot, ʻOhana. But Pacific Wings and (as mentioned earlier) go! have since folded.
While these inter-island air services are a vital lifeline connecting life and work across Hawaii, the market is incredibly volatile. It’s no wonder: Hawaii is one of America’s premier resort destinations, drawing over 8 million visitors annually from the US and abroad. It also hosts major U.S. military installations. People, goods, and money are constantly flowing, primarily centered around Oahu. Far from just a “tropical paradise,” Hawaii’s skies represent a fiercely competitive free market.
When boarding was announced, a few dozen passengers proceeded through the gate in an unhurried manner. With little guidance, we simply walked across the tarmac towards the plane. There was none of the frantic urgency you might find during open seating boarding on a European budget airline. The vibe was utterly relaxed, as if everyone implicitly agreed, “If there are no seats, we’ll figure it out.” This, at least, felt like “paradise.”
I easily found a seat on this first flight of the day to Lanai, scheduled for 6:00 AM. I’d chosen the early departure because a day trip was my only practical option. The island has just three places to stay: two Four Seasons resorts and the independent Hotel Lanai. The Four Seasons, predictably upscale, primarily offers rooms starting upwards of $400 a night. Hotel Lanai, while more reasonably priced, has only about ten rooms and is almost perpetually booked. My usual travel mantra – “I’ll figure out lodging when I get there” – clearly wouldn’t fly here. My traveler’s intuition sensed this, so I’d already booked the last flight back, departing Lanai at 7:30 PM.
How many people actually visit Lanai just for the day, I wondered, scanning the cabin. About half of the 64 seats were filled. Perhaps because it was the first flight, or perhaps because it was Lanai, none of my fellow passengers looked like tourists. Most seemed to be commuting or on business trips. One young man carried a toolbox and hard hat. I struck up a conversation; his company contracted with a major telecom provider, and he was heading to Lanai to service a communications tower. It was a far cry from the typical island-hopping leisure flight filled with straw hats and beach mats.
Instead of the usual cart service, a flight attendant came around taking individual drink orders, delivered with a smile but feeling somewhat perfunctory. Perhaps more efficient with fewer passengers. Like on a commuter bus, many simply slept, skipping the drink service altogether—offering little motivation for enthusiastic service, I supposed. All in all, it was an uneventful flight. Flight time: a mere 35 minutes. Just as I was thinking I could nap my way there, sunlight streamed horizontally through the window. It was the sunrise over the Pacific. The perfect timing filled me with an unexpected sense of occasion.
My serene mood was short-lived as the plane began a rapid descent. Outside, a rocky landscape seemingly devoid of human presence stretched to the coastline. It looked so rugged, I wondered if ships could even dock here. A feeling of “What have I gotten myself into?” washed over me.
Upon landing, we were met by the tranquil morning air of Lanai Airport. The small terminal resembled a multi-purpose public facility you might find along the Japanese coast. Built with plenty of wood, high ceilings, and large windows for natural light, it projected a refined image of nature-rich Hawaii. Everyone working there seemed to know each other – family or friends. The entire facility felt accessible right from the main lobby.
I had planned to grab breakfast upon arrival, but my assumption proved naive. There were no cafes or shops. Only a Coca-Cola vending machine and a water fountain. Without cell service, the sole connection to the outside world was a single payphone—which, upon inspection, was jammed with coins and out of order. As a traveler, the lack of basic amenities was disheartening. My only solace was the terminal bathed in gentle morning light and the sight of sleepy-eyed staff working at a leisurely pace.
It wasn’t yet 7:00 AM. Wondering what to do next, I watched as fellow passengers were gradually met by rides or got into their own cars parked out front, heading towards Lanai City, the island’s only town. There was no public transportation. An Island Air employee kindly offered to call a taxi from town. The fare: $10 per person for the short, roughly three-mile ride. Apparently, there’s only one official taxi operator on the island, using an old van that seats up to eight. Eighty dollars maximum revenue for a ten-minute drive – not bad. While island-specific issues like high gas prices and fluctuating passenger numbers likely exist, operating without competition at that price felt like part of the small island’s unspoken harmony. More importantly, I realized the distance—just under three miles—was potentially walkable. If anything went wrong during the day, I could likely hike back here. Airports, anywhere in the world, are a kind of sanctuary, a last resort.
“Here we are, Lanai City,” the driver announced, dropping me in front of an open cafe. It sat on a street bordering a large, pleasant park, near a few other cafes and markets. A closer look revealed a bank, what looked like an administrative center, a history museum, and other services concentrated in the area—clearly the town center. Residential houses dotted the periphery. Too small to truly be called a ‘city,’ it possessed the essential functions of a town, compactly arranged. Well-maintained roads and the central park gave it a surprisingly prosperous feel.
Stepping inside the cafe to get the breakfast I’d missed, I immediately felt a bit out of place. It was filled with locals enjoying their routine morning meal; everyone seemed to know each other. Most tourists probably don’t arrive on this ‘commuter flight’ and likely head straight to one of the Four Seasons, dining within the resorts.
Despite feeling slightly awkward, I enjoyed some delicious pancakes, offered a friendly nod to the locals, and set out to explore. As I quickly discovered, the area around the park constituted nearly all of Lanai City. The island’s population is around 3,000, and virtually no one lives outside this town, save for those at one of the Four Seasons resorts situated alone on a distant beach. It was only 7:30 AM, and with 12 hours until my flight home, I seemed to have already run out of things to do.
Consulting an English travel guide revealed a few points of interest, but with no tourist information center, travel agency, or tour desk in sight, arranging a tour was impossible. My only option was self-drive. I headed to the island’s sole rental agency, a Dollar Rent A Car office. I’d tried booking online before my trip, but failed – apparently because this branch is a franchise, not corporate-owned – and hadn’t had time to arrange it by phone. Luckily, they had a Jeep available due to a last-minute cancellation.
The staff warned that road conditions outside the town center were extremely poor, with designated areas where standard cars were permitted and where they weren’t. I was handed a crude map of the island with handwritten notes on the latest conditions. What kind of road couldn’t even a Jeep handle? My palms were sweating before I even gripped the wheel. Then came the rental agreement: no insurance included. I’d be fully responsible for any damage to the vehicle or any third-party liability. With no other choice, I signed, feeling like I was about to board some no-name rollercoaster, accepting all risks. The Jeep itself was coated in sand, its doors heavy and stiff. Was this truly the ‘frontier’?
Muttering to myself, I partnered up with the slightly weary Jeep. Following the map, I barreled down sandy, unpaved roads in 4WD towards ‘attractions’ like a shipwreck visible off the coast and the otherworldly landscape of Keahiakawelo, often called the “Garden of the Gods.” It was a safari-level driving experience unlike anything back home. The island was surprisingly vast – an expanse of sand and rock stretched as far as the eye could see. Driving felt like going nowhere fast. All that seemed to exist was the timeless, arid landscape of a Pacific island and the thin ribbon of road, a lonely testament to modern civilization trying to tame it. Most of the island felt like a beautiful world largely untouched by human hands.
Occasionally, I encountered other tourists, mostly affluent-looking types who seemed to be staying at the Four Seasons for a week or more. I didn’t meet anyone else attempting a day trip, bouncing around in a rented Jeep on treacherous sandy tracks like I was.
As I mentioned, Lanai is privately owned. Currently, that owner is Larry Ellison, founder of Oracle Corporation, who acquired nearly the entire island in 2012. This is partly why it remains largely ‘undeveloped.’ However, he isn’t rejecting development; rather, he has announced ambitious plans, currently undergoing consultation with the local government and residents. His vision isn’t about island dictatorship or creating a typical billionaire’s playground. Instead, he aims to leverage the existing natural environment to build an unprecedented, sustainable, circular environmental model. It’s a completely novel attempt to transform a living island – with residents, a community, and a public airport – into a cutting-edge model for the future environment and society.
The basic concepts are reportedly well-received by residents. And achieving this vision apparently includes exploring the acquisition of Island Air. Integrating regional air service and the airport directly into this new environmental and social model? If so, it would be a truly revolutionary initiative, unlike anything else in the world.
Learning about this grand vision during my stay was thrilling. The ‘undeveloped’ land I’d initially perceived as a remote frontier might actually become a blueprint for a whole new world. Seeing the island through these new eyes, even the airport terminal I’d lamented for its lack of a cafe now seemed different. If Ellison succeeds in acquiring Island Air as part of his grand endeavor, it could fundamentally change the airline’s service, the Hawaiian inter-island market, and the very nature of the regional airline business. Lanai could become one of the world’s most advanced communities, pioneering cutting-edge environmental development – the first place on Earth to integrally combine a future-oriented social environment with its airline services. Lanai Airport, humble as it appeared, held this latent, immense potential.
The last flight back to Honolulu, perhaps because it serves as a lifeline for residents too, departed on time. About ten passengers were onboard. Passengers and the flight attendant all seemed to know each other; it truly felt like the last commuter bus of the day. Boarding from the rear, the attendant instructed us not to sit in the front section. “Easier to serve just ten people if you all sit together in the back,” was the rationale, though she and the captain repeatedly emphasized the short 25-minute flight time. Ultimately, there was no in-flight service. Understandable – the day was done, and they likely just wanted to get back home to Oahu. As a passenger, I didn’t mind. My day on Lanai seemed to have imbued me with a bit of Hawaii’s outer-island tolerance.
Lanai, just beyond well-known Honolulu, was indeed the literal ‘hidden frontier’ I’d initially sought. But it was also a land nurturing an unknown ‘future’—one where environment, aviation, and community might intertwine and evolve in ways no one has seen before. Imagining Lanai and its airport ten or twenty years from now is an exciting prospect indeed. As I pondered this, the plane touched down smoothly at Honolulu International Airport.
∎