A tall tale of stupidity, a sea turtle spirit guide, and survival at Kāʻanapali Beach
(and how you can stay safe snorkeling here)

Written by Lauren

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By now, it’s no secret that Black Rock/Kāʻanapali beach in West Maui is one of my favorite beaches on Maui—it’s got all my favorite things: soft sand, crystal clear waters, stunning sunset views, and great snorkeling!

And given by the amount of yellow snorkeling tubes you’ll see bobbing around in the waters around Black Rock, I’m not the only one who thinks so. The area around the coral reef surrounding the rocky outcrop is rich with marine life like Moorish idol, butterfly fish, and even spotted eagle rays and Hawaiian green sea turtles.

It’s a beautiful beach with great snorkeling, no doubt. But danger lurks beneath.

Black Rock beach is a popular snorkeling spot. And also one of the most dangerous places to snorkel on Maui.

Below is the tale of my experience snorkeling at Black Rock Kāʻanapali, how you can stay safe while snorkeling at Black Rock Kāʻanapali, and frequently asked questions about snorkeling at Black Rock Kāʻanapali—like where to park and other essential info about Black Rock and Kāʻanapali beach.

A tall tale: my experience snorkeling Black Rock Kāʻanapali

Sea foam splashed around my ankles as I entered the Pacific, fins in hand.

The water was calm and crystal clear as I made my way toward Black Rock, a large rocky outcrop great for jumping off and snorkeling around. I took my time, leisurely propelling myself through the rays of sun slanting through the water down to the tide-rippled sandy bottom four feet beneath me.

There wasn’t much to see here, a ten minutes swim from Black Rock. At least, not in the way of colorful fish, but I was mesmerized. With the warmth of the sun on my back, the coolness of the water around me, the power in my muscles as I kicked, moving myself through the water, and the sound of my breath and the waves blocking out all other noise, I felt like I’d gained access to a secret world. A world always there, but hidden beneath the surface. Blue and serene, and for the moment, peaceful.

Perhaps, it was chasing that feeling that kept me swimming on.

I’d like to pause here and state, for the record, that my attitude towards the ocean comes down to one word: respect.

Awe-induced respect
and fear.

As beautiful as she is, Moana is a mighty and tempestuous force, not to be taken lightly. She is large and in charge.
And we (as artificially-enhanced and bipedal as we are) are very, very small and very, very powerless against her. She will always win.

I try to never forget this.

But, even when you think you’re prepared, she can still catch you unawares.

It’s easy to lose track of yourself down there in that blue world. Every few minutes, I’d pop my head out of the water, like an aquatic gopher, and assess my location: how far I’d swam, how far I was from notable landmarks (like the shore, for instance), the proximity of the other snorkelers around me, the weather, you know sailor-y kinds of things.

Along the rocky coastline of Black Rock, I swam amongst schools of silver needlefish skittering along the surface and spotted some yellow tang, black triggerfish, and striped, black face moorish idol (kihikihi — you know him as Gill from Finding Nemo).

And then, I just . . . kept swimming.

Turns out, “just keep swimming” is not always the most sage advice. (Damnit, Dory.)

I am, by no means, an experienced snorkeler. Though I was racking up the fin-time while on the island (this was my fourth expedition on this trip), the only other time I’d snorkeled was decades ago in the Virgin Islands during a Disney Cruise excursion when I was eleven years old. And that had been on a guided tour, with life jackets and, you know, people who actually knew what they were doing.

Snorkel Safety

Don’t snorkel alone.

But if you have to, make sure to check in with someone and let them know where you’re at, when you’re going in, and when you’re out. I also recommend wearing an Apple watch so you can send out an SOS from the water if you find yourself in a situation.

Always, always remember: better safe than sorry. When in doubt, don’t go out. 

So perhaps I was naive. Caught up in the childlike wonder of enjoying being in the water so much, living my best mermaid life, that I was almost all the way around the tip of Black Rock before I even realized I was the only snorkeler out that far (though I did see a few divers beneath me, which was equal parts comforting and terrifying).

My instincts, starting to tingle now, were telling me to turn around, but I didn’t see any signs warning me not go all the way around, and did not come across anything in my research prior that warned against it, so I just kept going.

That being said, if I’d just stopped for a moment and used a little common sense, I probably could’ve figured out it was not a good idea.

For a few minutes there, it was actually pretty serene.

Beneath me, swimming through rays of sunshine, was a sea turtle. It was just me and him (or her) out there, floating along in the sea together, the whales singing in the background (unbeknownst to me at the time because I couldn’t hear them at the time over my breathing).

As I kept swimming along, following the sea turtle along the coastline, the water kept getting deeper, and somehow bluer.

I was a good half-hour into my swim, and I started to get tired.

I moved closer to the rocky coastline, pulling myself along with my hands. Water kept getting into my goggles and breathing tube, disorienting me.

And that’s when I saw it.

The tell-tale murky haze of a rip current. And I was right in the thick of it.

My heart galloped inside my chest, beating against my rib cage.

I was very aware, right then, how very small I was, and how very big and powerful the ocean is.

I stopped, trying to access the power and direction of the current. It didn’t feel too forceful (but wtf do I know about rip currents?), and I could still see my sea turtle spirit guide.

A note about riptides

Rip currents pull you out, not under.

The most important thing to do is stay calm. The danger comes when you panic and exhaust yourself trying to fight it. You will not win, so don’t even try. Swim parallel to shore until you no longer feel the rip current. 

When you’re in the water, rip currents will sometimes appear cloudier or hazier than the water around it. 

I continued on, holding on to the rocks and the belief that my sea turtle guide would not lead me astray.

I was so close. I could see the beach on the other side—people, buildings, civilization!—I just had to get there.

Of course, that’s when I encountered the sea cave along the side of the cliff. You know, the one with the giant waves crashing into it? The one that I was never going to get out of if I got swept into it? Good times.

I wanted to panic. But I was becoming alarmingly, clarifyingly aware of just how bad things could get if I didn’t keep it together.

I stopped. Took a beat, holding on to the side of the cliff as waves crashed into me. I knew that the next decisions I made would be the difference between getting to the shore safely or not.

Heart racing, I did my best to steady my breathing as I surveyed my options.

Well, option. The only real option I had was to kick off from the rock, parallel to shore, and get as far away from the sea cave as I could.

The only actual thing I thought I knew about navigating rip currents is to swim parallel to shore (I’ve checked, post ordeal, it’s true) until you’re out of it, and then you can head in towards shore.

So, that’s what I did.

I took a deep breath, said a prayer, thanked my sea turtle guide, and off I went.

It actually didn’t take long for me to make it into clear waters again, away from the cliff, away from the current. I thanked my lucky stars and headed in towards shore.

I washed up like a shipwrecked castaway, crawling out of the tide on hands and knees, flippers and gear in hand. I dragged myself through the sand, past the beach goers with nary a care nor concern about the oceanic ordeal I’d just survived, and made my way through the sprawling grounds of the Sheraton. Ten minutes later, I plopped down next to an unsuspecting Ashley (who was very confused as to why I was coming from land and not the water), shook and gasping for breath.

I wasn’t trying to be reckless or stupid.

And yet.

I felt so stupid, and so unprepared.

That’s also when we made the collective traveling-buddy decision that I needed to invest in an Apple Watch to have the ability to send an SOS her way, if needed. She wasn’t more than ten minutes from me at any point, and yet, she had no clue I was over there fighting for my life while she searched for condos in Florida on her phone. And by the time she would have started to worry and gotten help, it might have been too late.

Moral of the story?

Don’t snorkel all the way around Black Rock. And amen.

Guided Snorkeling Tours

X marks the spot

Frequently Asked Questions

Kāʻanapali Beach is one of my favorite beaches on Maui. With soft sand and crystal clear water, it’s the perfect spot to post up for a day of sunning, swimming, and snorkeling. If you’re lucky, you might even catch a peep of humpback whales spouting and breaching out in the distance (during calving season November – May).

However, due to strong currents, Kāʻanapali beach is one of the most dangerous places to snorkel on the island (though you wouldn’t know it by its serene surface and distinct lack of signage and lifeguards). It’s the sight of the most (snorkel-related) drownings in Hawaii, so beware and be safe.

That shouldn’t keep you out of the water though! Grab your snorkel gear, follow the safety tips above, stick to the right spots, listen to your body, take heed from my tale (do as I say, not as I do), and you might just find yourself surrounded in an underwater world of whale song and colorful tropical fish while snorkeling Black Rock Kāʻanapali.

Mahalo!