That I was soaking wet wasn't surprising. Up the mountain, just over the ridge, resident storm clouds hung over one of the wettest spots on Earth, where more than 400 inches of rain falls each year. Down the mountain was the cinnamon-snowcone blue Pacific Ocean and some of the best snorkeling on the planet.

And here I stood, about 1,600 vertical feet up the south flank of the West Maui mountains in one of the driest spots imaginable, practically drowning in my own sweat.

I was about 30 minutes up the 5.5-mile long Lahaina Pali Trail looking for any excuse to take a break when I heard a dull thwop in the distance, like someone hitting a mattress with a broom. I turned to catch the aftereffect of a humpback whale breach, a ring of white froth echoing maybe a quarter mile offshore. I fingered the keychain thermometer on my backpack: it was 95 degrees. I rationed a sip from my meager liter of water (the guidebook suggested two quarts per person, which back in the condo seemed excessive).

It occurred to me that had I taken one of the ubiquitous guided eco-adventure hikes offered on the island, I would have a chilled beverage and snack awaiting at trail's end. Maybe a nifty commemorative T-shirt and photo (for a fee). And I likely would have had those two quarts of water.

But that wasn't what this trip was about.

DIY adventure

Maui is an adventurer's paradise. Name an activity and you'll find a superlative that applies. Snorkeling? At Molokini, the crescent rim of an extinct volcano exposed three miles offshore, you'll see 250 species of fish in crystal waters. Sea kayaking? A plethora of scalloped bays and coves are perfect for poking around. Cycling? One of the most famous rides on two wheels is the 38-mile cruise down 10,000-foot Haleakala, an extinct volcano, to sea level.

And yet, these are adventures in the most sterile sense. If you're into hand-holding, go for it. But if you crave the misadventure that often accompanies true adventure, you can't beat the do-it-yourself variety.

Two things persuaded me to go my own way.

The first occurred as I stopped to check out some tour brochures on Front Street in Lahaina. "Psst." The summons emanated from a tiny cubby behind the brochure rack. "I can get you the best rate on tours," said a guy who introduced himself as Steve. "And you won't even have to take a time-share tour."

The second occurred after we'd driven the Honoa PiLani Highway from our condo in Napili Bay on the northwest end of the island down through Lahaina to Ma'Alaea for the third time. It was the only way to get to the rest of the island and it reeked of the bumper-to-bumper we had come to Maui to escape.

The I-40 impersonation convinced me: It was time to find a bookstore.

Wanted: guidebooks

One thing you won't find lacking in paradise: guidebooks. At a Walden Express north of Lahaina, eight stacks were devoted to Hawaii guides of some sort: cultural, natural, historical, culinary.

First, I needed good maps. I found two.

"Franko's Dive & Surf Map of Maui" ($6, Franko's Maps), exceeded its name, identifying not only prime Maui dive and surf spots, but hiking trails, bike routes wind- and kite-surfing locales and good places to kayak. For confirmation, I got a $3.95 map of the island from the University of Hawaii Press that was more of a street map.

The Franko's map returned its investment immediately. Not only did it ID the bay outside our condo as a "great snorkeling spot" with a maximum depth of 30 feet, but I learned that the bay just to the north, Kapalua, had been voted World's Nicest Beach by Sunset Magazine. Molokini would have required a long drive to the south end of the island (and back) and a boat ride. Even then, the crowds didn't stop; nearly every brochure of Molokini shows at least a half dozen boats anchored in the dive zone. An entire day for maybe two hours, tops, of snorkeling.

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