Tying the knot in paradise: The magic of a Hawaii beach wedding

Romance is an industry in Hawaii.

My daughter Karen recently decided to get married on a beach in a tropical island paradise. With just a few weeks’ notice. To a woman from New Zealand.

When I suggested that arrangements for a wedding in Hawaii really ought to be planned many months – or years – in advance, she replied, “It was easy, dad. We found a minister online in minutes. And we’ve already chosen our dresses.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, and invitations. We 3D-printed 50 postcards with the date and the name of the beach.”

“No hotels? No suggestions for where to stay?”

I could almost hear her eyes rolling, even over the phone. “People can figure stuff like that out for themselves. It’ll happen.”

What I saw happening was a huge hit to the bank account of the bride’s father. I doubted it would be easier with two brides.

A variety of Hawaiian wedding venues

Hawaii was one of the first states to welcome same-sex marriage. Today the state offers weddings in as many flavors as shaved ice. If you don’t want a beach setting for your nuptials, how about a volcano, a jungle or a cave? One goth minister here admits his services are “not for everybody.”

Entire sections of coastline have been declared off-limits for wedding companies because locals kept finding their beaches inundated by crowds in tuxedos.

On the day Janell and I arrived on Oahu we drove straight from Honolulu’s airport for a quick swim at Ala Moana, the city’s beachfront park. It’s more popular with locals than Waikiki. There we saw a wedding group in full bridal array, being photographed between a squadron of tai chi exercisers and a water polo competition. I asked the photographer if her pictures might look crowded.

She shrugged. “I’ll photoshop out everyone else.”

With some sleuthing I determined that my daughter would be staying, for some reason, on the opposite side of Oahu from the wedding beach, near Waimea Bay. This North Shore hangout was made famous by the Beach Boys’ hit, “Surfin’ USA.” Now the shore is lined with frighteningly expensive vacation rentals. If you’re staying at the beach, expect to pay $1,000 a day.

We had brought snorkel gear, but in winter the North Shore is pounded by gigantic breakers, some of them 50 feet tall. At night the crash of surf shook the house. Lifeguards patrolled the beaches on all-terrain vehicles, warning that swimming was forbidden – and snorkeling suicidal. Only professional surfers were allowed through the breakers. Thousands of onlookers came to watch these daredevils. Traffic backed up on the highway from Honolulu every morning, and again at sunset.

Mountains and blue sea make for a perfect wedding

On the day of the wedding we drove an hour and a half to the designated site, a sandy beach with the unimaginative name of Sandy Beach. Twenty-eight people from around the world had managed to assemble there, most of them whispering about my daughter’s mysteriously laconic instructions.

Karen and her bride, a 28-year-old biochemist, showed up in silver and aqua sequins. They had hired a native Hawaiian minister, a large woman in a flowery muumuu and leafy headdress. She herded us to a patch of sand, taking care not to disturb a monk seal that had hauled out to sleep nearby.

The minister blew a conch to the four directions, alerting the gods. Then she told us that, although Hawaiian tradition welcomes guests, we were intruders on sacred Indigenous land – which of course was true.

Ever since Sanford Dole, the pineapple baron, hired mercenaries in 1893 to overthrow the native Hawaiian monarchy, the islands have struggled to defend their culture against colonizers from the mainland.

Karen’s wedding included an exchange of leis, vows and rings. The setting was spectacular, with jungly mountains jabbing up beside a balmy blue sea.

Manoa Falls, Sharks Cove, Pearl Harbor among local sites to see

Afterward, this diverse crowd, who now found themselves on an island in the mid-Pacific, exchanged ideas about what they might do for the next few days of this sudden vacation. Should they hike through the rainforest to Manoa Falls, attempt to snorkel at Sharks Cove, or take the ferry to the sunken USS Arizona in Pearl Harbor?

As for beaches, there was some debate about how romantic they really are. Travel brochures show couples walking through the sand holding hands, but when you’re actually here, scenes like that are rare. Loose sand is a slog. Most people just wade in the waves or sun on a towel. Yes, there’s a lot of exposed skin – tiny fawn-colored suits don’t hide much – but Karen’s wedding was the first time I’d ever actually seen anyone kiss on a beach.

Personally, I think hiking is more romantic, although this is debatable too. It was raining by the time Janell and I went for a hike on a muddy, rocky track. We passed a 20ish couple who otherwise looked the romantic type. The young woman, wearing a white sundress and mud-splattered white sandals, told her partner, “You know, all this hiking we’ve been doing is just so – so disappointing.”

I’m guessing she had pictured spending her Hawaiian vacation beside the infinity pool of an oceanfront resort. And in fact, that’s where most tourists are. Janell and I investigated several of these four-star complexes, with their swim-up bars, fake waterfalls and fake rivers. The guests there rarely leave the thatched poolside cabanas to go down to the actual beach.

Each of these hotels has a beach nearby, but by Hawaiian law, the sand must be open to the public, with free parking spaces and a public trail. Locals go to these beaches to surf, sunbathe and let the kids build sand castles. Hotel guests, on the other hand, are more likely to ask their concierge to book a boat trip, zipline adventure or helicopter tour.

The evening after Karen’s wedding, at a relatively well-planned buffet reception at Tiki's Grill & Bar in Waikiki, I had to propose a toast. It’s one of the duties of the father of the bride.

I’m not much for ceremony. Janell and I have been happily married for 48 years, but we didn’t kick things off with Hawaiian hoopla. For us there were no vows on the beach, no rings, and no wedding toasts. Under pressure from our parents we signed a contract at a county courthouse. But that piece of paper was never what kept us together. What made our marriage a success was love – an unspoken pledge to respect and care for each other.

In the past 48 years Janell and I have attended a dozen weddings of other people. Nearly all of those marriages have failed. Too often people seem to focus on the trappings of romance, instead of what really matters - the hard part, about caring for each other and setting aside one’s own ego.

I think my daughter has taken that lesson to heart. She may have thrown her wedding plans together on the fly, but she laid the foundations for her marriage on firmer ground.

Karen has been together with Rhia for three full years. In that time I have watched their relationship strengthen and grow. They have learned to care, deeply and selflessly, about each other’s career, health and happiness.

There is a name for that kind of enduring bond. That word is love.

And so, at my daughter’s hugely expensive, quickly planned, and yet surprisingly fun Hawaiian wedding, I offered my toast not to the ceremony on the sand, but rather to the bond that proves to me her marriage may last as long and be as happy as my own.

I raised my glass to love.

William Sullivan is the author of 22 books, including “The Ship in the Woods” and the updated “100 Hikes” series for Oregon. Learn more at oregonhiking.com.

This article originally appeared on Register-Guard: The magic of a tropical island paradise wedding in Hawaii