Local greeting all washed out

It's pretty hard to get excited about landing in a much dreamed about tropical island when you can barely identify the airport terminal because of driving rain.

Forget the traditional Hawaiian dancing girls in grass skirts adorned with garlands. There was no welcoming party in these weather conditions. The problem with the quaint little Kapalua/Maui airport set by the sea was that you had to battle your way into baggage claim through the sheets of rain.

Where are the sophisticated air bridges when you need them? In order to relieve the boredom of the latter part of the 17-hour trip to Honolulu via Los Angeles, I opened my tourist guide to Maui and started planning my scenic drive around the picturesque western part of the second largest island in Hawaii. Be careful, the booked warned, of cars ahead of you slamming on their brakes because the drivers have sighted a humpback whale emerging from the clearly visible Pacific Ocean below.

So much for having to screech to a halt going north on route 30 because of yet another whale sighting. Many of the roads were closed due to flooding. Aloha indeed.

The traditional local greeting of aloha had already got me suspicious after only 24 hours on the island. It was starting to sound as phoney as "failte" in Connemara every time you so much as looked at a local. Of course Maui is a long way from mainland America but it was beginning to sound like it was right round the block when it comes to using exotic marketing tools . Back off with the alohas buddy, it's hosing it down with rain, and it sounds out of place .

Jet-lag, in case you are fortunate enough not to have experienced it, is a strange condition. I always feel that it is as close as I will get to understanding how a pregnant woman feels when she craves certain foods. I found myself tucking into a bowl of muesli and sipping tea at midnight on the second day of my arrival. Perfectly timed for a late breakfast at home. Then when it came to lunchtime (eating had become a digression from looking and listening to the incessant rain) after a few mouthfuls of my delicious mahimahi lemon caper, I was stuffed and had to doggy bag the majority of lunch and retire for yet another hours catnap.

I know on a bleak Tuesday in post festive Ireland I should not be whingeing about my sentence to the apex of the Polynesian triangle. But things were going to have to change dramatically before I met up with my new boss Retief Goosen on Monday morning. I wanted to appear fresh and enthusiastic, not washed out and grumpy.

Things took a turn for the better on Sunday morning. Having woken at the customary jet-lagged time of 3.30 a.m. and feeling like I was ready to run a marathon, I managed to sleep again and re-awoke to the reality of the very scenic Hawaii.

Lanai, a smaller island situated about seven miles west of Maui, gradually appeared as a more typical Hawaiian day broke. Framed between the famous Cook pine trees of the islands, across a light blue channel of the tranquil Pacific I had caught my first glimpse of what I had imagined these volcanic islands would look like.

On my third day here I got to walk the Kapalua Plantation course. It was about 25 degrees Celsius, the sky was blue, there was a refreshing breeze concealing the humidity. Gorgeous. The course is not caddie friendly with some serious climbs and treks between tees. It will mean getting stuck straight back into the new year head first. I realised after the fourth hole why the obliging caddie master had offered me the use of a gas-cart. That was just a gentle yardage checking jaunt, I am not looking forward to the hike with the clubs on my back.

The Plantation course is spectacular. Built through pineapple fields, the holes that lead you back towards the water with the island of Molokai in the background are stunningly beautiful. I even caught sight of some humpback whales splashing about as I wandered down the 18th hole.

The north west part of Maui has maintained a relatively sympathetic attitude to the natural beauty of the place. The only bright lights I saw in the area were the traffic lights on the main road.

Neon lights and advertising are not permitted. This is not America.