Ono

Climbing Ono's sacred volcano isn't just a hike-it's an oddly spiritual, thigh-burning pilgrimage sprinkled with enough ancient myths to keep your inner Indiana Jones humming. Plan to roll out of bed painfully early (think predawn darkness and cranky roosters) to make it to Volcano Ridge by sunrise; trust me, the view from the summit-sun slicing through misty valleys below-is worth sacrificing your sleep and dignity for. Historically revered by locals as the fiery home of temperamental deities, the trek winds you past quirky shrines and folk-art offerings that look suspiciously fresh-best to leave your skepticism behind or at least keep it politely quiet. Book your guide a solid week in advance, budget around $80 per person (guides double as storytellers and therapists), and don't skimp on essentials: sturdy boots, water, snacks, and, if you're feeling extra authentic, a small token of respect for the gods (whiskey minis tend to appease all manner of spirits). Even if you finish sweaty, exhausted, and subtly questioning your life choices, scaling Ono's volcano is the kind of trip that's worth attempting just to tell the story-and to casually drop into conversation that you once hiked to the gods' front porch for no reason other than sheer curiosity and questionable judgment.

Descending into Lava Glow Caverns feels like stepping into Jules Verne's fever dream after he's knocked back one too many absinthes with Salvador Dali. Nestled beneath Ono's Lava Hills-an area historically best known for being the island's geological troublemaker-this subterranean adventure offers stunning corridors lit by glowing molten formations, pulsating with a lurid orange-red that makes even Vegas neon look subtle. Arrive late in the afternoon, when the lava glow peaks dramatically against the encroaching shadows, and book at least two days ahead or risk spending your trip exchanging awkward shrugs with other disappointed procrastinators. Budget a solid forty bucks per person, and do yourself a favor: wear sturdy shoes and bring a bottle of water-you don't want dehydration and footwear mishaps to become part of your travel horror story. Sure, voluntarily entering volcanic chambers sounds like a solidly terrible life decision, but when else will you have the chance to casually drop the phrase, "When I wandered through lava-lit caverns," into your dinner party conversation?

Forget cozy planetariums and smartphone constellation apps-if you truly want the cosmos to kick you square in the existential shins, venture to the Ancient Star Gazing Fort perched atop Starlight Terrace. Once upon a distant century, intrepid islanders navigated oceans, forecasted harvests, and probably decided whether cousin Einar should marry the baker's daughter-all by squinting upwards from these venerable ramparts. Today, when darkness spills across the horizon and modern streetlights are refreshingly sparse, visitors armed with flasks of strong coffee (whiskey optional but recommended) can marvel as the night sky unfurls above with brazen disregard for human ego. Aim to arrive just before dusk; you'll snag prime stargazing real estate and witness the sun's reluctant surrender, casting surreal shadows on walls older than your great-great-grandfather's pocket watch. Book a week ahead in peak season, pack a warm jacket, binoculars, and at least $20 for the charmingly arbitrary "heritage maintenance" fee collected by a sleepy attendant who may or may not actually work there. Worth your time and effort? Absolutely-the spectacle is superb, the history absorbing, and at minimum, your next dinner-party anecdote just got infinitely more impressive.

Only in this mildly eccentric pocket of vinicultural bravado at Harbor Vineyards could you find someone mad enough-or brilliant enough, depending on how many glasses deep you are-to store wine underwater, letting bottles nap among oysters and octopi to produce something enchantingly salty, mineral-rich, and undeniably peculiar. Ocean wine tasting is best approached around late afternoon, when the sun dips low enough to cast dramatic, Instagram-friendly lighting across the water, but before you're too famished or tipsy to appreciate an oaky Sauvignon that's spent months swaying in currents. Definitely book this quirky escapade at least two weeks ahead, as word has gotten around about this aquatic method, and pack a sturdy pair of shoes-nothing kills the mood quicker than losing your grip on a slick pier after the second Chardonnay. Expect to shell out roughly $50 to $100 per person, but consider it a small price for bragging rights and the privilege of telling coworkers you drank something that once chilled out with a school of sardines. Even if you leave this tasting skeptical, sunburned, and a little sea-salty yourself, you'll have plunged headfirst into a delightfully odd chapter of Oceania's liquid history-and isn't that alone worth raising a glass to?