“Resist the urge to bounce,” Jason Latas says as we walk beneath the great, spreading branches of a banyan tree. Treading gingerly among the columns of aerial roots supporting the luxuriant green canopy overhead, the leaf-covered ground feels almost like a trampoline.

Latas explains that banyans in the wild develop a dense mat of surface roots. Over the years, soil beneath this mat can gradually erode, leaving a woven surface stretched above the forest floor. “Last week a young girl up here couldn’t resist the urge to jump, and one of her legs went through the root mat,” he continues. “She wasn’t hurt, but she was convinced the tree was trying to eat her.”

The northwestern edge of Maui is admittedly one of the least accessible parts of the island. The plush hotels and condominiums of Kapalua are the closest gateway. The area has no developed parks; most land is private. The narrow ribbon of roughly paved road snaking around the northern tip of the island is its own destination.

Packing a picnic, I head out early to Honolua Bay, just north of Kapalua, normally one of the island’s best snorkeling spots but dangerous when waves are breaking on the rocky shore. Visibility is best early in the day—get there by 9am to find parking.

Waterlogged after a morning of snorkeling, I continue beyond Honolua to Maui’s northern tip at Nakalele Point, a dry bluff topping a ragged edge of black lava rock relentlessly pounded by waves. Once the site of a lighthouse, it is also the location of a blowhole. While there is no formal trail here, you can park at the Nakalele Point Light Station sign and, facing the ocean, walk past the Private Property sign and work your way down along the bluff tops to the site of the lighthouse. I spread my picnic out nearby and watch the blow hole spew out water high above the shoreline—high tide offers the best show.

Beyond Nakalele the road grows more scenic as it narrows to barely a lane and a half wide in places; go slow and honk on blind hairpin turns. By the time you reach the village of Kahakuloa, tucked at the lush curve of an impossibly blue bay, you’re ready to stop. You can buy a cold drink, fruit, and homemade jams at Panini Pua Kea Fruit Stand on weekdays—Randy, the stand’s owner, goes fishing on weekends. During summer months you can also get a good shave ice here. Ululani’s pink roadside stand sells polished seed necklaces; at the green stand on the edge of town, two small, shy girls sell tasty loaves of their mother’s banana bread for $5 (it’s worth it).

At the top of a sweeping slope of rangeland beyond the village is Kaukini Gallery, purveyor of local arts and crafts. And then there’s nearly 10 miles of alternating panoramas of mountain and sea as the road twists south to Wailuku. Tired from snorkeling, clambering above the blowhole, I’m content to enjoy the scenery as I munch on banana bread. The only thing that would make this drive any better is a rich, black cup of Al Franco’s Haleakala-grown coffee.