Dave Ewing says a little bit of optimism goes a long way in Hawaii; but then you should see his front yard. "A pessimist might go crazy round here," he says with a long, slow shake of his head.

One night four years ago, molten lava surrounded Ewing's home in the eclectic alternative community in which he lives (think: rainbow flags, peace sign murals, home-made wind generators).

While volcanic eruptions are just a part of life for people living on Hawaii's "Big Island", this one got close ... really close. "I was thinking ... stop, man, stop; that's far enough now, OK?" he says, re-enacting his telepathic last-ditch efforts to halt the lava flow.

"I was in bed and we got surrounded by red-hot lava; it was, like, 30 metres away. But that's the cool thing with living here, man, we could be OK for 100 years, or it could all come down on us tomorrow."

We tread carefully across Ewing's yard. It is covered by a 1.5-metre-deep layer of crusted black lava that cracks like sheet glass as we cross; spread out underneath it somewhere are 80 homes that were buried in 1990.

In seven years of living here, Ewing has seen 16 lava flows, but nothing that has swayed him enough to pack up his belongings and get the hell out.

A few hundred metres east, waves that have travelled thousands of kilometres across the North Pacific to get here crash with such force on to the craggy coastline that it shakes the lava field around us. Surely there is nowhere on Earth where two natural forces connect quite so powerfully - or scenically.

"It takes you out of yourself," Ewing says. "Puts us back at the beginning of everything on this planet."

Hawaii is home to the world's most remarkable landscape. More than 50 volcanoes - some active, some long extinct - lie spread out across a 2500-kilometre-long string of shield volcanoes that move on a real-life conveyor belt across a hot spot in the Earth's mantle. As a result of this seismic activity, Hawaii is host to the planet's tallest mountain range (much of which is under the sea) and Hawaii has the highest concentration of ecological zones on Earth.

Remarkable, sure; but how do we, as short-term visitors, even begin to try to see it all?

Each year, 7 million tourists - more than five times the number of locals who live here - descend on Hawaii. Should you want to see the "real" Hawaii - one far from 14 million eyes and 7 million digital cameras - then you have to be prepared to make some sacrifices.

And that is why I am sharing the last scrapings of avocado with a van full of strangers; spreading it thinly across hastily constructed sandwiches prepared in the car park of my hotel. Although at times I feel as though I am reverting to my childhood - even jostling each morning for the best seat in the crowded van - I will happily forgo the odd restaurant meal to go deep into the wilderness.

Last year, World Expeditions became the first company to offer a hiking-based adventure across the Hawaiian archipelago - in 14 days they will take me to the islands of Hawaii, Kauai and Maui.

The tour is not entirely no-frills - some nights are spent in four-star hotels by the ocean - but the itinerary moves along at a pace that does not allow for pampering; or for stragglers.

My journey begins in Kona, on the "Big Island" of Hawaii.

We ride the highway north past steep, sharp lava fields where hardy farmers hang on for dear life, and onwards to one of Hawaii's most sacred locations. The Waipio Valley is the Hawaii of our imaginations: a gargantuan, plunging green valley of taro fields, unkempt forest, tiered waterfalls and meandering rivers that empty on to an empty black-sand beach plundered by mammoth waves.

We walk down a narrow bitumen path too steep for vehicles where our guide offers a choice: stay at the beach where a sign outlines the "Rules of Enjoyment" (we are, of course, in the US); or journey stealthily with her, up a winding stream; chancing the wrath of territorial pit-bulls to make our own trail to the base of a 600-metre-high waterfall.

We opt to investigate, passing through a quiet village of dirt roads and bulging fruit trees, stopping at a river crossing to create our own trail through thick undergrowth.

We journey slowly, choking on the stench of rotting noni fruit, mindful of dogs and wild pigs.

We teeter along slippery boulders to an empty waterhole where a waterfall cascades. We have found our own piece of Hawaii and not one single camera-wielding tourist will ask me to move out of their shot.

It goes like this for a week as we circumnavigate the Big Island. Although we cannot ignore some of the world's most famous natural attractions - like Volcano National Park at the foot of Mauna Loa, the world's largest shield volcano - it is always when we venture off the well-beaten-track that the real rewards come.

Just a few kilometres from Volcano National Park and its hordes of visitors, Dave Ewing's tiny community receives no visitors at all; but as our guide knows Ewing, we are invited into his private world to comprehend first-hand a life lived on lava.

It is these insightful, off-beat moments that teach me more about life in the Hawaiian islands than a park ranger ever could.

I leave the Big Island and fly 500 kilometres west to the least populated of Hawaii's major islands. Kauai is regarded as the prettiest island of the archipelago: gaping valleys and billiard-table-green thick vegetation cover extinct volcanoes that reach to the heavens (Kauai is 5 million years older than Hawaii).

But my first observations are less wholesome: chubby teens mill around malls and loud, leather-skinned mainland US tourists drain half-priced happy-hour cocktails around the swimming pools of 1980s-era hotels.

We brave the snarl of traffic northwards and suddenly the traffic disperses till we're the only vehicle left on the road.

Highways are replaced by tiny narrow roads that cut through thick rainforest and banana and taro plantations; rivers flow in and out and above us huge mountain ranges encircle us entirely, some with multi-tiered waterfalls that reach skyward for a kilometre or more (in one valley alone there are an estimated 400 waterfalls).

The narrow bitumen road ends and we walk along a steep coastal trail to the Na Pali Coast, part of one of the world's top 10 coastal hikes. The path takes us high above a swirling ocean; around each corner, we are given glimpses of a green-covered caldera raising a kilometre into the sky.

The track is dangerously slippery in places and we are forced to hop across gushing streams to descend on to a majestic sandy bay - Hanakapi'ai Beach - where signs warn of 82 lives lost by swimmers who trusted these deceptively pretty waters.

A day later, opting for a far more private viewing of the coast, we drive to Kauai's south coast, past Waimea Canyon - which Mark Twain dubbed the "Grand Canyon of the Pacific" - to a narrow trail through coastal forest. We walk for 1½ hours and come to a clifftop covered entirely by cloud. We wait almost an hour for it to clear, then suddenly there is a gap in the mist and we peer down 600 metres on to a lush carpet covering spiral-shaped volcanic rock faces, all beside a royal-blue ocean.

Two minutes later, it is covered again entirely, but the glimpse is worth the trek.

Our last port of call lies 360 kilometres back east towards the Big Island. We drive the world-renowned "Road to Hana" on Maui's remote north-east coast; virgin rainforest grows up into cathedral ceilings above us and waves crash below as we travel slowly on roadways built on steep cliffs hundreds of metres above the Pacific Ocean.

At Hana, we barge our way through undergrowth by the edge of town, then climb carefully past amused local fishermen around a rocky coastline. The path appears to end completely, but we push on, balancing precariously on a cliff edge. Just around the corner, we find an empty, orange-sand bay hidden from the outside world and swim inside a blue swimming hole protected from the powerful sea by a reef.

There are days when I do not feel at all like squeezing into a van, and I grow tired of my travelling companions, but each time we venture further into a Hawaii I can savour almost entirely by myself, I take my sandwich from its plastic wrap and luxuriate in the kind of surroundings even the finest five-star resorts can never hope to deliver.

The writer travelled courtesy of World Expeditions and Hawaiian Airlines.

GETTING THERE

Hawaiian Airlines fly daily from Sydney to Honolulu and onward to Kauai, Hawaii and Maui. See hawaiianairlines.com.au.

WALKING THERE

World Expeditions operates the 14-day Hawaii Hiking the Aloha Isles Adventure, which costs $4040 a person, including internal airfares. Phone 1300 720 000 or see worldexpeditions.com.

STAYING THERE

On Hawaii, stay right beside the sea at Royal Kona; see royalkona.com.

In Maui, stay on a six-hectare property beside Kihei's best beach; see kamaolesands.com.

TRIP NOTES MORE

INFORMATION

gohawaii.com.au.