On the Ground in Maui: A Reporter's First-Hand Experience of the Disaster and the Unanswered Questions

West Maui, HAWAII — I arrived in Maui last Monday, August 7, ready for a week of snorkeling, surfing lessons, and relaxation.

The first sign of trouble was our plane hitting rough turbulence as we were descending. Kids screamed — some in fear and some in delight — as the plane swerved up and down. The pilot joked over the loudspeaker that it was a good thing we had seatbelts.

I had read that Hurricane Dora would be passing by the island that week and that winds were expected to be high and could drive waves up to 15 feet high. I had made a mental note to be careful while in the ocean, but I never thought the threat would come from land.

Nothing seemed amiss at our hotel at Kaanapali, just about three miles north of Lahaina.

Another sign of trouble came from a friend from high-school who happened to be on Maui. We chatted via social media how bad the winds were. He said he and his wife had been scheduled to fly out of Maui two days ago, but their flight was canceled twice.

Jet-lagged, I went to sleep around 9:30 p.m. local time. I woke up sometime in the middle of night. I remember picking up my phone and thinking it was way too early to have woken up. I think it was sometime before 3 a.m.

I tried to turn on lights as I made my way to the bathroom in pitch black, but nothing would turn on. I thought perhaps the lights required the insertion of a key card somewhere in the room. However, when I glanced at my phone again and saw that it had not charged, I realized that the power had gone out and assumed that the winds had knocked out the power lines, and I went back to sleep.

I woke up later around 5:30 a.m. and headed for the hotel gym. On the way I stopped at the hotel Starbucks. They had also lost power and were only serving cold drinks and pre-made food. There was power at the gym, but it went out a few minutes after I arrived.

My husband and I walked down to a nearby mall called Whaler’s Village to look for breakfast. Everything was closed, except for a boba tea cafe that had their grand opening that day. Dozens lined up because it was the only place open. Back at our hotel, there was one small store open, which had basic toiletries, souvenirs, and snacks. We grabbed a few things for breakfast. We were told power would be restored by midnight.

Like other hotel guests, we spent most of Tuesday sitting around the now-closed pools or at the beach. The winds were so severe, anything not secured — towels, bags, sandals — would blow away, and the sand felt like tiny needles penetrating any exposed skin. Palm trees whipped back and forth, with fronds occasionally snapping and flying to the ground. In the afternoon, we were told there were four wildfires, most likely caused by downed power lines from the wind.

We walked to a beach farther down from our hotel, where some people were able to get cell phone service. I tried texting my parents in case they were worried, but was unable to send anything out. I then received a text message from my friend Eric asking if we were okay. Since he lived on the East Coast, I assumed the fires had made national news. I let him know we were fine and asked if he could let my parents know we were okay. I tried posting on social media, but Internet service was still nonexistent.

Back at the hotel, food and water were becoming scarce.

Hundreds of guests waited in line for over an hour for lunch and dinner, which were being prepared at makeshift outdoor grilling stations. Some guests, unaware of meal service times, missed the meals entirely or did not get in line before the food ran out.

The sun went down as I waited in line for dinner. It was then that I saw the giant orange wall of flames towering over Lahaina, shockingly close to us.

A woman from Texas I met earlier in line looked at me with her eyes widened. She gestured towards the fire. “Did you see that?” she said. I nodded and smiled wearily, figuring that if hotel staffers weren’t panicking yet, we must be okay.

I could see the silhouette of Lahaina against the flames — mostly palm trees and buildings, but I could not see anything in detail. I assumed people had evacuated. I was wrong, but I didn’t know that at the time. Instead, I felt lucky to have received one of the 12 hotdogs left for dinner, with dozens of hungry people still in line.

On Wednesday morning, I got a sense of how bad things were. Like dozens of other guests, my husband and I were at the hotel’s front desk, pressing for updates on when the power would be back up.

A bit exasperated, a hotel worker told us, “We don’t have phone or Internet access, either. The only time we get updates is when our manager goes to the command center.”

Then he said, “Our main town is gone. The National Guard is pulling bodies from cars. People are melted on the sidewalk.”

I left the counter in horror.

Later that day, the winds died down a little, and the raging fire over Lahaina turned to thick plumes of smoke as helicopters ferried back and forth the skies, dumping water on the remaining fires.

The mood was dark and tempers flared among guests. People were scared, tired, and hungry and trying to leave. A tree had fallen outside the hotel, blocking the road, and people exchanged stories of trying to drive to the airport on their own and getting lost or stuck somewhere. One woman said her children had driven to the other side of the island, and she hadn’t heard from them since.

Hundreds of people lined up to buy whatever food was left at the hotel’s one open store. People were taking the coffee pots in their rooms and trying to fill them up at clean water stations set up in the lobby. We had another night of darkness — and silence.

On Thursday morning, there was finally a plan in place to evacuate hotel guests via buses to the airport and fly us to Oahu to a FEMA staging point at a convention center where we could either find nearby lodging or be flown home. Hotels in the area were either requiring departure or strongly recommending it because of the dwindling supplies of food and clean water on the island.

Hundreds of us packed up our suitcases and waited in a messy line for the buses to arrive before being told the buses were actually stopping at a different place a quarter mile away. As word spread, people made a mad dash to the new location, with some leaving their families behind in an attempt to get a good place in line.

We waited for another hour or so in the sweltering heat, as others drove by, sometimes snapping pictures or filming us.

Finally, two yellow school buses arrived. People burst into cheers at the sight of the buses, but with more than an estimated 1,000 people in line, the good mood soon evaporated.

About an hour and a half later, three more coach buses finally arrived. My husband and I were able to board the second. The buses drove us past Lahaina, where we saw the devastation for ourselves.

The entire town was reduced to rubble, with only the skeletons of trees, cars, and building frames left.

<p><img src=

The Unanswered Questions

As of Wednesday, August 16, at least 106 people have been confirmed dead, with over 1,000 unaccounted for.

The death toll is expected to rise, with only a fraction of Lahaina searched. Many of the dead are feared to be children.

It has already become the deadliest fire in the United States in more than 100 years.

I’ve replayed the week over and over in my head, trying to figure out what happened.

I’ve searched for answers but remain puzzled. The timeline, according to news and official sources, has left me with many questions.

The power outages in Maui began as early as 6:45 p.m. on Monday, August 7, according to Hawaiian Electric for Maui County.

The first brush fire, in Kula, would not begin until about six hours later, around 12:30 a.m.

About five hours later, around 5 a.m., crews were responding to power outages around Lahaina, according to Hawaiian Electric.

About an hour after that, around 6:30 a.m., a brush fire would break out in Lahaina, according to the County of Maui Facebook page.

Several hours later, the County of Maui would post on its Facebook page that the Lahaina fire had been “100% contained” shortly before 9 a.m.

However, eight hours later, around 4:45 p.m., Maui County posted there was “an apparent flareup” of the Lahaina fire.

I want to know why people weren’t evacuated before the fires began, just due because of the strong winds and the likelihood of downed power lines and the high risk of fires.

I also want to know why the downed power lines weren’t deenergized, as alleged in a lawsuit.

I want to know why, after the power went out beginning on Monday, more people weren’t evacuated.

I want to know if and how Lahaina residents — if they had lost power and cell phone access as I did — were being warned about the encroaching fires.

I want to know what did authorities do between when the Lahaina fire first began that morning and when it flared up many hours later that afternoon.

I want to know why the island’s warning sirens were never activated.

I want to know why authorities did not do more to prevent what seems like an entirely predictable and avoidable tragedy.

I want to know how a whole town was able to be wiped out in a single day.

I want to know who is responsible for this.

I will be thinking of last week for days and months — possibly years — to come.

Hopefully soon, there will be answers.

Places you can donate:

Maui Strong Fund

American Red Cross in Hawaii

Aloha United Way — Maui Fire Relief Fund

Maui Food Bank

Maui Humane Society

Follow Breitbart News’s Kristina Wong on Twitter, Truth Social, or on Facebook.