Maui: Waterfall Hike, Rainforest Walk & Chocolate Tasting Tour

4.54

(170 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

“If you listen close, you’ll hear the water before you see it,” our guide Keahi said, pausing under a breadfruit tree with leaves bigger than my head. He was right—the waterfall was just a soft rush at first, somewhere behind the green tangle. I could smell wet earth and something sweet, almost floral. The path was muddy in places but easy enough; we kept stopping because Keahi kept pointing out things—giant ferns he called ‘dinosaur plants,’ or a patch of cacao pods hanging low like lanterns. I tried to pronounce their Hawaiian names (not well), and Keahi just grinned.

We reached the waterfall after maybe fifteen minutes—nothing huge or dramatic, but honestly that made it better. It felt private. The air was cool there, misty on my face. Someone in our group dipped their toes in; I just stood still for a second listening to the water hit rocks. After that we wandered into what they called a “micro Amazon” rainforest—dense, green, kind of humming with birds and bugs. There were old stone paths from when this place belonged to Hawaii’s last king (Keahi told us stories about him that made me wish I’d paid more attention in school). I touched one of those giant ferns and it felt rougher than I expected—almost prehistoric.

The chocolate part surprised me most. We sat at a table under a canopy while the rain started up again (soft at first, then louder). They showed us how cacao goes from bitter pulp to actual chocolate—I even got to crack open a pod myself. We tasted different chocolates like it was wine tasting: slow bites, letting it melt on your tongue so you could actually tell the difference between fruity or earthy flavors. I never thought much about where chocolate came from before this tour.

I left with mud on my shoes and way too many photos of ferns—but also this weird feeling of having stepped into someone else’s story for an afternoon. The fact that our visit helps preserve these gardens made it feel less touristy somehow. I still think about that moment by the waterfall when everything else went quiet except for water and wind through leaves—you know?