Comeback time in Hawaii

When a magnitude-6.7 earthquake rumbled across the Big Island in 2006, it almost ended the reign of one of Hawaii's more storied resorts.

The Mauna Kea Beach Hotel was rattled by the quake, but seemed to hold its own. Only later did engineers find cracks in its signature concrete trellis that forced the hotel to close. It was highly questionable whether the modernist architecture icon would open again.

Two years and $150 million later, the Mauna Kea has come back. It hasn't looked this good since it opened in 1965.

The hotel was developed by Laurance S. Rockefeller, who sailed up and down the west coast of the Big Island before picking the site. His choice: a bluff overlooking one of the few outstanding beaches on the lava-rock-rimmed island.

He brought in the Chicago architectural firm of Skidmore Owings & Merrill, best known at the time for its Lever House in New York, a classic internationalist-style box steel and glass skyscraper.

When it opened in 1965, the Mauna Kea was an instant landmark. Using steel encased in concrete, the hotel served as a giant frame to the tropical surroundings, with a sweeping, open lobby inset with blue tile.

The atrium of the main building created a water garden setting. Rockefeller sprinkled the grounds with pieces of his vast Asian art collection, most notably a large sitting Buddha at the top of a long exterior staircase. A later addition echoed the original design.

The understated modernist design was given a splash of tropical color -- signature orange, which showed up in towels, elevator doors and a few other trappings.

The Mauna Kea wasn't the first resort in the area -- Kona Village, a Polynesian-inspired collection of huts, was already there. But the Rockefeller cachet brought the area new attention. Until the mid-1960s, visitors to the Big Island pretty much stayed in rainy Hilo.

Then came Rockefeller and his $15 million baby (about $100 million in today's dollars). Now there was a serene resort for the wealthy on the best beach along the arid west coast. It ignited the resort building boom that is still going on.

Renovations bring upgrades

When I first visited in the early 1990s, the hotel was showing its age. The louver-topped wooden doors let in too much noise. Rockefeller's dictum that no TVs should pollute the environment was still being followed -- housekeeping would bring a small portable set if you asked. The luxury market had been captured by newer resorts, notably the Four Seasons Hualalai.

When the earthquake hit, I worried that the Mauna Kea, operated by Prince Hotels of Japan, would be torn down or subjected to a makeover that would reflect the design of its sister property, the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel. The Hapuna has a generic marble-soaked upscale ambience that could be found at dozens of hotels around the world. The Mauna Kea's rooms were too small, the amenities too retro, to survive. Or so I thought.

When I arrived in January, I was pleased to see how little had changed. Gone were the nicks and scrapes in the wood and concrete. Everything was freshly painted, the orange elevator doors glistening. My room in the newer Beach Club wing was familiar from earlier visits, with pretty, orange-and-white quilted pillows on the bed. But it now came with iPod docking station and, sorry Mr. Rockefeller, a flat-screen TV.

Outside, guests were heading up the hill to the golf course originally designed by Robert Trent Jones and redesigned by his son, Rees, to bring it back to tournament play standards.

The few major changes were mostly out of public view. In a nod to modern times, the renovation had reduced the number of rooms in the main building. For every three rooms there were now two.

The major change in one room I visited was an upgraded bathroom, with a soaking tub, separate shower and its own private balcony.

I had planned to spend one of my days here, driving up to the North Kohala coast.

But I found myself instead lingering at the Mauna Kea, bodysurfing in the forgiving waves and lying in the sand, my bright orange towel draped over the beach chair. Later, I read on the lava-rock-sided balcony of my room.

The final morning I allowed myself the indulgence of room service, enjoying a fresh papaya, macadamia nut pancakes with coconut syrup and Kona coffee as small redheaded birds flittered about, hoping to nab some of my breakfast when I wasn't looking.

The Mauna Kea took a tough hit from the earthquake. But it's back.

I will be, too.