Why regenerative travel is the trend that could change the world

My sons charged toward the turquoise waters of Waikiki Beach, Honolulu. Sun diamonds reflected off the cresting waves. Drake’s voice crooned through someone’s portable speaker; a young couple sang along as the sea licked their toes.

Fastening my bodyboard leash on my wrist, I noticed the water looked thicker than normal, less sudsy. I stepped closer only to realize someone’s Styrofoam cooler had fallen apart. Plastic pellets littered the sand, surfing into the ocean with each wave. My older son hollered for me to check out the leaping dolphins, but as much as I wanted to dive in, I detached my board, grabbed a bag and started cleaning up that beach.

As an environmental activist, I can’t ignore the trashing of a planet I love. Yet my itchy feet — I’m also a veteran travel journalist — make a stationary life impossible. I used to believe striving for sustainability was good enough, but after a trip to the Great Barrier Reef, I saw firsthand that climate change isn’t theoretical, and I (we) have to do better.

Going beyond sustainable travel

As a concept, sustainability refers to having a light footprint, or leaving a place as it was when we arrived. If I were simply being a sustainable traveller on that trip to Waikiki Beach, I wouldn’t have spent my day collecting plastic pellets. Scooping up someone else’s trash, on the other hand, fits a newer idea that’s gathering momentum: regenerative travel, which means leaving a place better than it was when we arrived.

For a journey to be truly regenerative, it must contribute to the well-being of the land, animal and humans of that place, according to Anna Pollock, founder of the social enterprise Conscious Travel and often dubbed the grandmother of the regenerative travel movement. This approach can encompass concepts like being zero-waste, following natural design principles, prioritizing restoration and ensuring that locals set (and enforce) the parameters.

Take Hawaii, for example. Pre-pandemic, many locals could barely afford to live in their homeland, or had to work three jobs educating visitors about, say, lei-making. Recently, the Hawaii Tourism Authority (HTA) appointed new Hawaiian leadership, president John De Fries and director of Hawaiian cultural affairs and natural resources Kalani Ka’ana’ana, who changed how they measured success: not by the number of people flying in, but whether resident sentiment toward tourism was generally positive.

In late 2020, the HTA and the Hawaii Visitors and Convention Bureau teamed up to launch the Malama Hawaii program, a partnership with hotels, outfitters and conservationists. With the goal of regenerative tourism, the statewide initiative provides visitors with wide-ranging volunteer opportunities, including tree-planting, beach cleanups and conservation projects, like clearing algae in ancient fish ponds. Select hotels offer special packages, with a free extra night, to volunteering travellers.

For Ka’ana’ana, a regenerative travel mindset is akin to being a gracious guest: “You don’t show up at someone’s house without something to offer — sometimes that’s time and talent, [and] sometimes that’s inquisitive, humble generosity.”

He adds, “If you’re a marketing expert, you could go to the fish truck you love and offer social media help, or volunteer at a fish farm to learn how Hawaiians have traditionally fed themselves.” Sure, this may not sound like a holiday, but being an ecoconscious global citizen requires us to act differently. “If you’re coming to be part of the community, know you have a role to play. It’s not about flying in, spending money and flying out,” says Ka’ana’ana. At its core, regenerative tourism functions like traditional Hawaiian culture, where first you give (aloha aku) to then receive (aloha mai).

How to put regenerative travel into practice

Instead of guilting yourself for what you’re not doing, start small: You could volunteer to clean up a beach, for example, or support Indigenous-owned and operated businesses. When you must fly, purchase carbon offsets — but don’t depend on just these. Consider how to double down on your positive impact elsewhere and offset carbon in your own ways: Maybe plant trees in the place you visit if you can, or explore by bike whenever possible instead of renting a car; for longer adventures, like taking the Road to Hana in Maui, hire a local driver.

Over time, you can build up to taking more ambitious action, like being selective about where you stay, eat and play based on thinking holistically about the environmental impact — like what kind of materials were used to construct a resort, or where the water comes from. Before you know it, you might feel motivated to offer your time, energy and skills to the places you love.

Changing my own thinking wasn’t so hard once I realized that bettering a place makes for more enriching travel. Maybe I miss out on a full day of surfing in perfect swells, but what if there’s a more impactful experience to be had? That day in Waikiki, when my sons got out of the water, they saw me bending and scooping up all that trash, tossed their boards into a pile and joined me. By treating Waikiki like home, we did our small part to help sustain a place we adore.

The Star understands the restrictions on travel during the coronavirus pandemic. But like you, we dream of travelling again, and we’re publishing this story with future trips in mind.