The Other Side Of Hawaii -- Head To The Sleepy Town Of Hilo To Lose The Crowds And See How The Locals Live

HILO, Hawaii - This will take a little self-discipline. First, bypass the crumbling black lava plains and the sun-baked luxury hotels along the Big Island's west coast. Next, cut eastward across the green slopes of the Kohala Mountains, and don't be distracted by the roaring trade winds and the clouds they hurl across the sky. Finally, steer southward. You're running along the island's damp east coast now, and before long you'll be rolling into a Hawaii seldom dreamed of.

This is Hilo, maybe the most genuine old town left in the Hawaiian islands. It's a ramshackle place, its rough edges surrounded by natural wonders, its downtown full of handsome but battered architecture that dates to early in this century.

Some 42,000 people live here, most in the suburbs, and the city is the seat of county government for the island of Hawaii (also known as the Big Island). With the sugar plantations in decline, the government is also the largest employer in the area. Except for the Merrie Monarch Festival, a statewide hula competition that is staged here each April, the town itself offers no big-time tourist attractions (unless you count the banyan tree planted by Babe Ruth). Hilo International Airport, its grand name notwithstanding, currently receives only inter-island passenger flights.

"One of the beauties of Hilo," says longtime resident John Stough, "is that we don't get those mobs right off the airplane."

Of course, that coin has two sides, and Hilo's sense of disconnection is one factor in the city's relatively weak economy. As Stough spoke, he was standing before a brightly painted storefront. It looked like a new business and he looked like an optimistic entrepreneur. But he was a hired carpenter and the cheerful storefront, which held a music shop and boutique, was closing down after just six months. At certain hours, Hilo streets seem still to be awaiting the end of the Great Depression. Not all vacationers are in search of that. Beyond tourists

So if you go to the beach here on a sunny day, you're likely to find not Californians or Nebraskans or Japanese, but actual Hawaiians and their children. (The beach won't be of the long, broad, sand-rich variety seen in tourism ads, but the shores are plenty popular with local families.) Drop 20 cents in a Hilo parking meter and you have two hours to squander. Go to Lehua's Bay City Bar & Grill on Kamehameha Avenue, but expect curious glances from the locals; owner Larry Johnson estimates that just one customer in 10 is a tourist.

Such a low profile can make Hilo a welcome refuge. Think of Hilo as the tropical access road to Main Street U.S.A. - a handful of good restaurants, no high-class hotels, enough shops for a day's browsing, a handful of beaches, an old-fashioned island flavor. And within an easy drive, a traveler finds an unsurpassable range of elemental wonders. Eleven miles to the north, 400-foot-high Kahuna Falls and 420-foot-high Akaka Falls roar to earth amid dense, diverse jungle blooms. About 50 miles to the southwest, an erupting volcano stages daily fireworks.

Only in Hawaii could such a town go under-appreciated.

Human history in Hilo started about eight centuries ago, when Polynesian explorers are thought to have found their way to Hilo Bay. By the beginning of this century, various European, American and Japanese adventurers and missionaries had found their own routes in, and Hilo was a burgeoning business community, with whaling ships and traders stopping regularly.

But the weather changed the direction of things. First came the 1946 tsunami, a tidal wave that killed scores of people and sent tons of water crashing through Hilo's waterfront streets.

Then came another tsunami in 1960. Scores of businesses were flooded; others were scared away. Later, when tourism surged elsewhere on the islands, soggy Hilo was passed by. (Though temperatures are mild, annual rainfall averages more than 120 inches.) The 24-blocks of downtown Hilo became a neighborhood out of time - an island within an island.

"It's been kind of a double-edged sword, living in a tsunami zone," said Russell Kokobun, project manager of the Hilo Main Street Program. "It's gone a long way toward preserving what we have here."

The 28-miles from Hilo to the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is lined with greenery, and rises through a succession of sleepy tropical communities: Kurtistown, Mountain View and Volcano, a village just off Volcano Road.

Kilauea, the park's currently erupting volcano, has been spewing on and off since January 1983. In that time, more than 170 homes have been destroyed, and a few hundred acres of land mass have been added to the island as lava flows into the sea and cools.

The great, black caldera of Kilauea lies near the park's visitor center, and it's as barren and intimidating a landscape as one can find. But the most striking action on the day of my visit was down at the beach, where the lava was lapping into the Pacific.

I was astounded to find how easy it was to see this. You drive down Chain of Craters Road, following the park map directions across miles of black crust. When the shoulder of the road begins to fill with other parked cars, you park. Then you walk along the road until . . . well, about to the point where the road is obliterated by tons of what looks like hard, black bubble gum.

Some of this black bubble gum, the rangers on hand pointed out, is still soft, simmering away at many hundreds of degrees. In spots the flow is hot enough, and liquid enough, to glow that strange, luminous hue of orange, even in full daylight. And all this just 90 minutes' drive from downtown Hilo.

"Been doing this six years," said Bobby Camara, one of the rangers at the lava's lip. "And I haven't been bored yet."

After the volcano

A volcano is no easy act to follow, and other diversions in and around Hilo do seem a little puny in comparison. Still, there is the Lyman Museum and Mission House on Haili Street, which offers a view of 19th century missionary life on the island; the early morning Suisan Fish Market at the foot of Lihiwai Street; the Liliuokalani Gardens, a patch of ordered greenery near the aged banyan trees and faded hotels of Banyan Drive, and to the north of town there is Akaka Falls.

I cast my vote for the falls; their mists, foliage and rainbows operate as yin to the volcano's yang. And as a bonus for those with an extra hour or so to pass, the route to the falls leads through the village of Honomu.

Honomu, a 19th century plantation town, has shriveled to 550 people, six churches and three picturesque blocks along Route 220.

At Ishigo's General Store and Bakery, proprietor Sam Ishigo, 54, was clowning around with his dad, Hideo. The first Ishigo to reach the area, Hideo's father started the store in 1910. Sam was born upstairs. These days, he balances the general store business with speculation in imports and exports, a pursuit he manages mostly by fax machine. ------------------------------------------------------------------- IF YOU GO Tips on visiting Hilo

- Where to stay: There are no high-end lodgings in Hilo. Most guidebooks send travelers to the crescent of waterfront hotels on Hilo's Banyan Drive. I stayed at the Naniloa Hotel (phone 1-808-969-3333) which is one of those, but I don't particularly recommend it.

Although the Naniloa has a prime location overlooking the bay and was recently renovated, the place still feels shabby. The view from my high-up room was compromised by dirty windows; the bathroom was tiny, and my laundry came back gray and scrambled. Double rooms: $96. (This figure, like others here, excludes Hawaii's 9.17 percent room tax.)

Next time, I'll save money and stay at the Hilo Hotel (1-808-961-3733) which sits by a park in the middle of downtown and offers 27 spartan rooms. Rooms for two run $39 and $45; for $85, you can get a two-bedroom suite with kitchen.

The Kilauea Lodge (1-808-967-7366), near Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, offers a woodsy common room and dining room, 12 rooms and a menu with ambitious European entrees. Rooms for two run $85-$105.

Inside the park, Volcano House (1-808-967-7321) offers 42 units with koa-wood furniture, roomy closets and a constant parade of tourists through the lobby and restaurant. Crater-view rooms for two, $131; non-view rooms for two, $79. Volcano House also rents rustic cabins with shared shower and toilet facilities, with rates of $32 per night for two people.

Travel agents can provide more information and make bookings.

- Where to eat: Lehua's Bay City Bar & Grill (11 Waianuenue Ave. in Hilo, phone 1-808-935-8055) is a popular watering hole among locals and often features live music; burgers go for $7, entrees $10-$16. Roussels (60 Keawe St., 1-808-935-5111) offers New Orleans-style cooking in an old Masonic building with high ceilings and wood floors; entrees $13-$28.

I didn't get to eat in Restaurant Fuji at the Hilo Hotel (142 Kinoole St.; 1-808-961-3733) but the atmosphere is handsome and tranquil, and many locals laud it as the top Japanese restaurant in town; entrees $8-$14.

A warning: The Volcano House Hotel & Restaurant, close by the visitor center at Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, may lure you for lunch with its convenient location. Resist. The buffet ($11 for adults, $6.75 for children 11 and under) is just plain cafeteria food. (I don't know about the dinner entrees, which run $15-$26.)

- More information: Contact the Hawaii Visitors Bureau, 3440 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 610, Los Angeles, CA 90010. Phone 1-213-385-5301. Also, the Hilo Main Street Program at 308 Kamehameha Ave., Suite 202, (1-808-935-8850) offers free literature and an excellent annotated map for a 17-stop downtown walking tour. -- Christopher Reynolds