Harvest at Honolua
story by Ariella Nardizzi
From the West Maui ridges of Mauna Kahālāwai to the waters of Honolua Bay, the land flows mauka to makai. Nestled inland, John Carty, his wife, Josephine, and their two children, Wailani and Makani’olu, tend three acres they call Honolua Farms – an orchard heavy with bananas, papaya, lilikoʻi, coconut, noni, avocado, mango, soursop and ʻulu, or breadfruit. Sweet scents of ripe fruit mingle with the salt air, a reminder of how closely the farm is tied to the bay below.
For the Cartys, farming is inseparable from stewardship. Honolua Farms provides food, sustains a beloved banana bread stand and gives John the freedom to devote time to Save Honolua Coalition, the grassroots group he helped found to protect the bay. What began as an orchard has become a model for how land, culture and community health can thrive together.
As a founding member of Save Honolua Coalition, Carty has helped stop commercial development, rally protests and testify before lawmakers. In 2014, hundreds gathered on the bluffs overlooking the bay with signs and chants, pressing legislators to safeguard Honolua. Their victory secured state protection for the area, and the coalition later pushed for a $1.8 million fine after the grounding of the yacht Nakoa. That penalty acknowledged community pain and helped fund restoration.
Today, the group’s presence is steady. Volunteers set up a folding table, called Makai Watch, near the trailhead on weekends, offering reef-safe sunscreen, answering visitor questions and reminding newcomers that Honolua is more than a playground – it’s a cultural preserve in the making.
At Honolua Farms, the Carty family grows fresh food for their farm stand. Visitors come from all over to try their banana bread and lemonade. John Carty is also a founding member of Save Honolua Coalition.
photograph by Kelsey McClellan
“Our family is very blessed to be able to live in Honolua, and that comes with great responsibility to take care of it,” Carty said. “Honolua is incredibly important to different segments of our community, and with Save Honolua we have tried to channel this passion into political effectiveness. This farm stand is so important because it enables me to donate my time to Save Honolua.”
On the land, mālama ʻāina means pulling invasives, planting medicine and food, and sharing what grows. Bananas fuel the family’s banana bread business. In 2016, they opened a bright purple, solar-powered food truck that evolved into today’s wooden roadside stand, Honolua Farms Kitchen, where fruit picked that morning moves from tree to customer within hours. Visitors are greeted with warm bread or muffins dusted with coconut, handed across the counter with a smile.
In the orchard, Carty plucks lilikoʻi blossoms from tangled vines while his daughter waters a young banana shoot beneath broad green leaves. “Our dream has always been to grow enough for our family, some to sell at our farm stand and enough left over to share with our community,” he said. “The highest calling for this land is for it to help inspire people and support our local community.”
Looking ahead, Carty hopes to restart egg production, build a hydroponic garden and finish water-catchment and drip-irrigation systems within five years. Each project, he says, is about proving that a family can live off the land and give back at the same time.
“Honolua is so sacred and special; it touches people’s hearts and inspires,” he said. “We must be good stewards and advocate for this land and culture with future generations in mind.”
For Carty, the farm and the Coalition are inseparable – one feeds his family, the other defends the bay. Together, they are his way of giving back to Honolua.
