Darkness. Pitch black. Suddenly, wheels touch tarmac. No lights greet us as we fly over the airport, and the landing takes us by surprise. We've arrived on Lana'i, an island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, although our bags haven't. It doesn't matter.

Boarding a shuttle, we're whisked off to the Manele Bay hotel, one of two magnificent hotels on this otherwise rustic island. The air is dry, with a hint of the ocean. Along with half a dozen other tourists, we anxiously crane our necks for a glimpse of this new island. At the hotel, we are greeted with aloha and the traditional hibiscus lei.

Although it's late in our time zone, we leave our hand luggage in the room, and venture down to the beach. A waxing moon is low on the horizon, and the sound of a band draws us. The beach feels good underfoot. Karyn takes off her shoes to wiggle her toes in the sand. After, we fall into the largest king-size bed on the island, congratulating ourselves on the great deal we got on the room. The velvet darkness quietly lulls us to sleep.

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