It seems as though every lobby, restaurant and shopping center flaunts racks of tour brochures, each promising a novel piece of paradise. Bike faster! Dive deeper! Fly higher! It all looks so exciting and fun--exclamation mark!

But where do you start? Is a $60 kayak tour better than a $75 snorkeling cruise? And is either better than renting a mask and fins for $7 and diving into a free public bay? With so many tour operators, how do you distinguish a good catch from a bottom feeder? Last month, I went to Maui fishing for answers. The goal: to see as much of the island as possible in as many ways as possible. With 101 options and only five days, I just scratched the surface. But I did my best, snorkeling with green sea turtles in Makena, snuba diving (a variant of scuba diving) to see moray eels at Molokini, parasailing 900 feet above Maui's western shore and riding horseback from the cliffs of the Hana Highway to the cool Koolau Forest Reserve.

When I wasn't on one of these faster-deeper-higher tours, I passed the time with free or low-cost alternatives: swimming among orange-spine unicorn fish at Olowalu, a beach near Lahaina favored by locals; driving the little-traveled Kahekili Highway, which yielded some of the best views of the trip; and hiking the Waihee Ridge Trail, whose panoramas and steep ascent left me breathless.

In the end, I had seen Maui by land, sea and air. Were most of the fancy tours I tried worth their expense? To my surprise, yes.

Must every traveler spend a tidy sum, as I often did, to see the best Maui has to offer? The answer, I'm happy to say, is no.

Visitors spent $583 million last year on recreation and entertainment in the state--61% more than they spent on souvenirs, according to the Hawaii Department of Business, Economic Development and Tourism.

T-shirts and puka-shell necklaces are easy buys; you see what you're getting. But tours are tougher. Many visitors plunk down $44 for a sunset cruise or $170 for a helicopter ride, cross their fingers and hope they don't feel ripped off in the end.

I stuck to a coastal itinerary that started near the grand resorts of Wailea in the west, continued north toward Lahaina and Kaanapali, rounded the northwest corner of Maui and ended in rural Huelo in the north.

With so much idyllic coastline, it seemed natural to start in the water. Wailea is one of the most popular destinations, with manicured resorts such as the Fairmont Kea Lani, the Four Seasons and the Outrigger Wailea, which completed a $25-million makeover last year. But a few minutes south is a natural beauty called Makena, where the wide, sandy state beach has views unimpeded by high-rise hotels.

I checked into Makena's only resort, the comfortable Maui Prince, full of Asian-influenced simplicity and less ostentatious than its neighbors (and at $179 a night for a spacious double with partial ocean view, about half the price). The low-key, pleasant ambience was a fitting precursor to my first tour: a low-key, pleasant kayak ride.

Many companies rent gear and send customers on their merry way. Kelii's Kayak Tours was appealing because of its guides, who lead small groups of paddlers into prime waters.

For half an hour, a honeymooning couple, a mother-daughter pair and I paddled along Makena with Ted Lyau, who showed us how to slide into the water without tipping the kayaks.

Fish were few, but we did get a warm aloha from a half-dozen laid-back locals: green sea turtles swimming in slow motion--on Maui time, as islanders might say. Because sea turtles can't tuck their head and legs under their shell for protection, speed is their best defense. They can swim 20 mph, but the turtles were in no hurry. They glided with grace, their water dance a hula, not a jitterbug. I played the wallflower, remaining motionless as one giant came up for air, his flippers passing within a few feet of mine.

The tour was $61.50 well spent, not only for the turtles but also for the services of a helpful, ecologically minded guide. Lyau dove to the ocean floor and made sure our anchor was hooked on common rock, not coral. Later, when the bumpy water left the mother too queasy to paddle with the daughter, Lyau hooked his kayak to theirs and towed both back to shore.