New Wave: The world champion waterman nurturing the next gen of Hawaiian ocean advocates

As the honu (turtle) surfaces beside the boat in a flash of green, I hear Zane Kekoa Schweitzer shout—his voice both laughing and breaking—“There he goes! There’s my grandpa!”

Zane’s family has called this Upper Westside stretch of Maui coastline home for decades. But only two weeks ago they lost their patriarch: Hoyle Schweitzer, Zane’s grandfather—a legendary waterman and inventor of windsurfing.

“My grandpa connected millions of people to the ocean,” says Zane, catching a few tears with the hem of his black t-shirt. “And for us, the ocean is not just something that we see as a playground. It truly is a church; it’s a place of refuge.”

Today we’re taking a catamaran, a traditional sailing canoe and a hydrofoil on a round-trip sea convoy from Lahaina, the Hawaiian Kingdom’s ancient capital on Maui’s west side, up to the serene Honolua Bay, where the famous Hōkūleʻa sailing canoe departed on its 1976 maiden voyage to Tahiti. 

We’re only an hour into the day’s journey, but this is what I’ve learned about Zane so far: He is exceptionally self-motivated, in the way that only a fifteen-time world champion waterman can be; but he’s also a selfless team player, evident in the youth non-profit he’s founded—the Kahākūkahi Ocean Academy (K.O.A). He’s super stokey, just as you’d expect from a 32-year-old Hawaiian guy who lives for ocean sports; but he also feels deeply responsible for his community, his family and his environment.

“I feel really grateful that people like my grandfather were always adamant about taking pride in our actions,” says Zane. “You want to make sure that every action has a positive reaction.”

Zane put this lesson into practice at a young age. He was just 12 years old and visiting Japan for a Junior World Championship when he organized his first youth beach clean up and windsurf clinic. “The highlight of that trip was not the competitive success, but being able to connect with other kids my age,” he says. “Then it became a thing. On every tour my coaches and team managers would get mad at me because in between heats I’d be organizing kids events. But it’s part of my spirit to do this.” 

The way Zane sees it, if he’s not balanced in mind and spirit, then his body isn’t going to respond with the results. It’s a practice in alignment that’s led, 15 years later, to the very boat we’re standing on—K.O.A’s floating classroom.

“Whether it’s awareness, whether it’s our ability to adapt, whether it’s being able to work together as a team or to recognize when something needs care—you’re all of that as a waterman.”

“It’s a dream I’ve always had to create a community that provides opportunities for the kids,” says Zane. “Our mission is to uplift youth through free mentorship, rooted in ocean safety, cultural connection, and environmental stewardship. Now we’re running programs almost every day of the week.”

In between briefing our captain Niko and connecting over radio with the crew on the sailing canoe behind us, Zane shares a surprising statistic: Drowning is the number one cause of deaths in youth aged between one and 15 across Hawai’i. “There are a lot of kids throughout the islands who might not necessarily have the opportunity to see the ocean as a safe environment,” says Zane. “Maybe their parents didn’t have that connection themselves, or maybe the demands of life have made those opportunities harder for families to prioritize. Over generations, that connection to the ocean can slowly become more distant.”

K.O.A has worked with roughly 3,000 keiki (children) in the recent  years, running everything from junior lifeguard activities to paddling camps and marine science lessons. Of those kids, Zane believes up to 70 percent lacked either a connection to the water or a safe ability to swim. 

“And that’s kids from Maui, from this community,” he says, leaning against the side of the boat. Teaching the next generation of Hawaiians adequate ocean safety is, quite literally, life-saving work. But Zane’s also of the opinion that the lessons you learn on the water roll over into the rest of your life. “Whether it’s awareness, whether it’s our ability to adapt, whether it’s being able to work together as a team or to recognize when something needs care—you’re all of that as a waterman,” he says. 

Zane himself hails from waterman royalty—his dad is an eighteen-time world champion and his mother’s family, from the Azores, are also legacy watermen. He grew up with iconic surfers like Dave Kalama and Laird Hamilton not only as idols, but as family friends. But he doesn’t take his upbringing, or his connection to the coast, for granted.

“When you’re out on the water, you look up, and it’s like—that’s our home,” he says, signaling to a more heavily developed stretch of coast. “And as above, so below. I think we need to start to connect that our actions have a repercussion on land, to the ocean and vice versa.”

From an environmental standpoint, one of the bigger issues facing Maui today is coastal erosion, largely due to overdevelopment and the construction of seawalls. When seawalls are erected, often to protect properties from water damage or to stabilize land, the energy from the waves hitting a hard surface is redirected, intensifying erosion and blocking the natural movement of sand. 

“In my short life, I’ve seen so much change,” says Zane as we pull into Keonenui, the bay where his grandparents used to live. “Keonenui translates to ‘a lot of sand’ or ‘the Big Sand’, but you come across this bay and you don’t see any sand anymore.”

As a kid, Zane used to run across the beach in front of his grandparents house and jump off a small rock wall into the ocean. Today, it’s at least a 30-foot drop into the water and there’s not a beach in sight.

“Would any of this happen naturally with sea level rise? Not like this,” says Zane. “A lot of this erosion can be directly related to these band-aid fixes that we see up and down the coast. You look around Hawaiʻi from a lens of stewardship and you realize that this is only buying a few more years of profit for businesses.” 

He’s talking about hotels, and a side of the Hawaiian tourism industry which can place the “heads and beds” model above sustainability and community insight. “It’s emotional for sure,” says Zane. “And not just because my grandfather has left us in this physical life, but because it’s sad for me knowing that I won’t be able to take my son here. It’s now private…hotels and condominiums block off beach access too.”

It’s not that Zane disagrees with tourism as an industry, but he’s passionate about Maui moving to a more purpose-driven vacation style. “I know people want to come and drink their mai tai on the beach, and that’s cool,” he says. “But there’s so much more to Hawaiʻi than staying at a nice hotel. At K.O.A., we invite visitors to take part in volunteer opportunities where they could actually connect with and uplift the community they’re visiting.”

“I knew that the more success I had in my career, the more I’d be able to inspire the next generation of community leaders, environmental guardians, and hopefully see this place still beautiful for my son.”

Pulling out of Keonenui, I watch as the crowded coast gives rise to green expanse. To my left, the silhouette of Molokaʻi island balances on the horizon. Below us is blue, above us is blue and behind us Holopuni, the bright red sailing canoe, navigates the wind. 

Holopuni is a modern version of the canoes once used by early Polynesian voyagers. “Our sailing canoe hasn’t changed much for hundreds of years,” says Zane. “But this one right here, the one I’m going to be playing with, this is a hydrofoil paired with a hand kite, commonly known as ‘wingfoiling’… this is kinda the new generation of ocean sport evolution.” 

Zane is pulling a red board that can be fitted with a mount from a huge black bag. “It’s a really exciting time because we have this mecca of ocean sports here on Maui and it’s evolving,” he says. “We’re pushing the limits of everything we’re doing on the water right now. But it also feels good to be able to touch back to our roots with traditional canoe paddling and sailing.”

Our northernmost destination, Honolua Bay, lies within the Honolua–Mokulēʻia Marine Life Conservation District. From land, the path to access the cove winds through the Monkey Pod trees and magical hanging vines of Honolua Valley. 

Several boats bearing snorkelers are already on mooring in the bay, and tourists have spread out across the small strip of pebbled beach. But Honolua Bay is still stewarded by two families of lineal descent, so Zane lifts a pū (conch shell) to his lips and blows four times, as is custom, to alert the community to our arrival. Almost immediately, one man on a SUP and a young boy on a boogie board paddle out to greet us.

“I heard the kāhea (calling)!” Maika Lacio says to Zane as they touch noses and foreheads in a traditional honi ihu greeting. Maika and his nephew Mason are eighth and sixth generation descendants respectively, and both live within the forest where their ohana (family) provide 24/7 custodianship of the land and bay. 

“Respect is important. This ground holds a lot of mana (sacred life force),” Maika tells me, as he paddles over to my side of the boat. “We want more education for tourists who come, because they don’t know that our ancestors are buried here.”

I ask Maika if his ʻohana (family) even wants tourists crowding the bay—in peak season they can get up to 800 visitors per day—or if this is another example of tourism overstepping. “We want people to come,” he says. “But the bay also needs a day’s rest. The bay needs to heal.”

Just a few weeks ago, Zane and the K.O.A team, in collaboration with Dr. Cliff Kapono of MEGA Lab, an independent ocean science organization, and non-profit Save Honolua Coalition, brought a group of kids to the bay. Maika and his family helped them 3D map the reef as part of a marine science program. “This is my life’s calling purpose right here,” Maika says. “To steward and to educate.” 

Maika and his ʻohana don’t want tourism management, they want sovereignty and support. There are signs around the bay calling for visitors to act with mālama, a core Hawaiian value meaning to care for, protect, tend to and preserve. Zane echoes this sentiment when talking about stepping back from professional competition.

“At this time of my life, raising a three-year-old with baby number two on the way, there’s nothing more I’d rather do than contribute back to my own community,” he says. “I always knew that the more success I had in my career, the more I’d be able to inspire the next generation of community leaders, environmental guardians, and hopefully see this place still beautiful for my son.”

When it’s time to journey back down the coast, Mason is invited to jump into Holopuni for his first ever traditional sailing canoe experience. Zane and his team never overlook an opportunity to welcome the next generation to the water.

Learn more about Maui and start planning your journey here. 

Learn more about K.O.A, support its mission, volunteer, or make a donation, visit Kahākūkahi Ocean Academy.

To experience Maui through the ocean with Zane and his family, visit Maui Sports Adventures. A portion of proceeds supports K.O.A.

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