Five fellow visitors from the mainland and I were deep in lush Halawa Valley, admiring a large, sloping rock shaped something like a recliner chair.
Rider said that, according to legend, native women used it for giving birth 1000 years ago.
Trace his lineage back, he said, and his ancestors likely entered the world there.
The helicopter buzzed away, and we continued down the dirt trail, the only noise once again our shuffling boots and the birds chirping unseen in the trees above.
We were headed to a waterfall for lunch and relaxation in Molokai's quiet splendour.
To visit big resorts and drink colourful, umbrella-capped drinks, there are five other Hawaiian islands appropriate for that.
For a taste of a Hawaii barely touched by tourism, there is Molokai.
The breezes are just as sweet and the palms sway just as gently, but it is a Hawaii free of cliche: no 18-hole golf courses, no beachfront resorts and few, if any, surf lessons.
The island doesn't even have a stoplight.
With the fewest annual visitors of the major Hawaiian islands, Molokai is home to just a few hotels and a handful of restaurants.
There is very little night life and even less luxury.
The lack of development leads to some sacrifices, such as astronomical prices and a less-than-scintillating restaurant scene.
But it's a more-than-worthy trade-off for the traveller who relishes long, quiet highways and unspoiled beauty.
Molokai's simplicity leads some to suggest that the island can be experienced as a day trip. That's a sad misconception. Molokai's pristine vistas deserve more time for exploration, not less.
Oahu and Molokai share a history and a flag, but that's about it.
According to the Hawaii Tourism Authority, Oahu draws 3.2 million visitors per year. Molokai, a little less than half Oahu's size, gets 17,500.
Like much of Hawaii, Molokai offers several landscapes in one tidy land mass.
The eastern edge is rolling, mountainous and thick with jungle valleys.
The western shore is an array of impossibly wide, quiet beaches interspersed with rocky outcroppings.
North is the Kalaupapa Peninsula, a fascinating, historic leprosy colony. And, in all directions, is the swaying Pacific Ocean.
What little action that can be found lives in the sleepy town of Kaunakakai, on the southern coast.
On a 26C afternoon (which describes most Molokai afternoons), locals filled the downtown, shuffling into and out of modest shops, restaurants and supermarkets.
On the footpath, sitting in the shade and strumming an acoustic guitar, was Butch Mahiai, known by everyone as Uncle Butch.
A cynic might expect an upturned hat full of change at his feet, but there was none. He was playing just to play.
"I play at home, and when I get tired of doing that, I come down here," Mahiai said. "It makes the day go by faster."
He laughed and continued strumming as a white-haired local took a seat to listen.
When that man moved on, another local, a young woman named Kealoha Laemoa, took his place.
We listened for a few minutes. Laemoa asked if it was my first time in Molokai.
Yes, I told her.
"The thing about this island is you get a lot of aloha spirit," Laemoa said.
"Which is what?" I asked.
"Everybody cares for one another," she said. "Aloha for everybody."
CHECKLIST
Getting there: Hawaiian Airlines flies from Auckland to Molokai via Honolulu.
For more information: Visit DiscoverAmerica.com
- AAP
