Checking In: Slowing Down & Horseback Riding in O’ahu

Every year, my sister and I take a girls’ trip to Hawaii with our daughters. The tradition started when my niece, now 17, was a toddler. Over the years, we have gone to Kaua’i, Honolulu, and Maui multiple times. 

This year, we chose a different side of O’ahu—the North Shore—where we stayed at The Ritz-Carlton O’ahu, Turtle Bay. The North Shore is the opposite of Waikiki in both location and style. Instead of designer shopping, high-rise hotels, and nightlife, the North Shore is defined by local food trucks, farm stands, and surf shops. The magic of The Ritz-Carlton O’ahu, Turtle Bay, is that it feels like an island within an island.

Ahead, learn more about the hotel and how my visit there transformed my perspective on traveling with my daughters.

Long known as Turtle Bay Resort, the property is set across 1,300 acres and offers space and seclusion more commonly found in the countryside. While the low-rise, three-winged architecture remained untouched, Los Angeles-based interior designer Dianna Wong re-envisioned the resort's 408 ocean-view guest rooms and suites, 42 oceanfront bungalows, and public spaces.

When we first arrived, I was struck by the resort’s earthy design. It reminded me of 1 Hotel Hanalei Bay on Kaua’i, where natural materials, organic textures, and connection to the landscape created a serene environment. Rather than competing with its surroundings, the design blended seamlessly into them. For instance, in the lobby, a handcrafted, live-edge wood communal table served as the gathering place for experiences like lei making. 

The guest rooms carried the same earthy aesthetic, mostly adorned in natural tones with a wall-to-wall image of a breaking wave by renowned surf photographer Brian Bielmann. My sister and I had connecting rooms, which was our strategy for handling toddlers. Throughout the trip, there were 5 AM wake-ups, which on Los Angeles time was a far more reasonable 7 AM. In the lobby, I'd exchange knowing good mornings with other guests, followed almost always by the same question: “Visiting from California? "5 AM isn’t bad," one dad told me. He had been up since 4 AM.

The morning of our horseback riding excursion began as the rest of our week had. Ysabelle, Ella, and I headed to breakfast at 6:30 AM when Alaia, the restaurant, opened. My sister went for a run, and my niece slept until a more suitable hour for vacation. Ysabelle loved the autonomy of choosing her breakfast from the buffet—a ritual she had perfected on our previous trips to Hawaii and looked forward to every morning. 

After breakfast, I changed into my cowgirl denim tuxedo as I had planned. I didn’t have a chance to brush my hair, though, and thought a hat would have made sense to pack.

Once we began the ride, it became clear to me what the real firsts were. It was fastening a helmet beneath Ella’s teeny, soft chin and watching Ysabelle gently groom Lililkoi, one of the resort’s miniature horses. Lilikoi is part of the keiki program that introduces children to horses through hand-led rides and beginner horsemanship experiences. The stables also offer guided trail rides, pony rides like the one we did, and carriage and wagon rides, as well as a weekly Paniolo Hawaiian Cowboy Lūʻau, set against the backdrop of the ocean. 

Horseback riding ended up being Ysabelle’s highlight (and mine). Before the experience was even over, she was already asking how old she had to be to ride one of the bigger horses. The answer was 7. Later, in the gift shop, we bought a plush horse she named Lililkoi.

Alaia, the resort’s signature restaurant, quickly became one of our favorite dining spots. While we enjoyed breakfast there each morning, it was also the setting for one of our best dinners during our stay. The menu celebrates Hawaiian comfort fare with ingredients sourced from local farmers, ranchers, and fishermen. Standout dishes included the mushroom tagliatelle with jumbo prawns, steamed clams in garlic butter, and Kona Kampachi sashimi served with citrus ponzu and topped with crispy garlic. 

Our beach days revolved around lounge-chair beach service from Beach House by Roy Yamaguchi. Every afternoon, we’d order the Hurricane Fries topped with furikake, kabayaki sauce, and firecracker aioli, along with HI Style Poke bowls with fresh ahi, inamona (a blend of roasted kukui nuts and sea salt), smoked onion, and nori purée over rice. The girls’ standing order was alcohol-free piña coladas. Whenever they order them on vacation, I’m reminded of Kat’s childhood backstory in Euphoria—minus the existential crisis. 

Days by the pool and adventures down one of the hotel’s two waterslides were another highlight, and some of the most fun moments of the vacation. The resort’s pools were designed for families, with space for relaxation and all-day play. There are two family pools; one features two waterslides, while the other lends itself to more relaxation. There is also an adult-only infinity pool just above the main resort pool deck. 

Though I didn't get into the saddle myself, one afternoon while my sister and niece took the girls to the beach to build sand castles and chase waves, I slipped away for a custom 60-minute massage. The treatment rooms were open-air, tucked among lush tropical gardens with the option of an outdoor cabana to be closer to the sound of waves crashing. My therapist tailored the massage to my needs, incorporating CBD-infused oil and deep-tissue techniques to work out the tension that had built up from the flight, hauling luggage, and folding Ella’s Doona in and out of the rental car. 

While watching the girls light up during their pony rides remained my highlight, being tucked away in an open-air room listening to the palm leaves rustle overhead was exactly the reset I needed. Had my body not been begging for a deep tissue massage, I would have opted for the spa’s signature Lomilomi massage, a Polynesian healing practice that connects physical bodywork with emotional and spiritual wellbeing. The treatment begins with setting a specific intention for the massage. Had I chosen the Lomilomi massage, my intention in hindsight would have been to be more present in the moments I was eager to preserve. I would have set the intention of stepping out from behind the camera and into the frame with my girls. When they look back at the memories someday, I want them to know I was right there alongside them, not just capturing the moment. And truthfully, if a bad hair day is what kept me from getting in the photo, then that is something I could have fixed. As I write this, I’m reminded that the gift shop has hats, after all. 

Before having my daughters, luxury travel writing was my only job. I would travel to the Maldives and Taiwan in the same month. Then, in 2020, I became pregnant with my daughter and began building my family. Three years later, I was expecting my second. This season of life centered on creating a home—literally—and travel became more local and less professional. 

Now, motherhood is inseparable from the way I experience everything around me. It has become the lens through which I see the world and shape each narrative. 

Briefly, I thought this story might be called “First Time in the Saddle.” But it wasn’t just their first. As their mom, it was my first time witnessing their wonder and willingness to meet something unfamiliar. What I learned on this trip was that there was no saddle for me to return to—not literally and not metaphorically. Motherhood hadn’t taken me away from travel writing. It had slowed the pace and changed the way I saw the story. What I left with was the memory of Ella’s face as she studied this unfamiliar animal and greeted it in the only language she had for it so far: “Huff-huff,” she said in a breathy tone. 

On the flight home, with Ella asleep in my arms and Ysabelle asleep in the seat next to us, the man catty-cornered in a row behind me tapped my knee and passed me a folded United Airlines napkin. Inside, it read, “You are a good mom.” I folded the napkin and kept it.