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Kauai has all the sun, sand and surf you'd expect to find on a Hawaiian island-and blissfully little else.

Empty beaches, lagoons full of colorful fish, sleepy surf towns… this is what my new husband, Chris, and I look for when planning an island vacation. We had heard that Kauai was perfect for this sort of trip, as it's the most unspoiled of the developed Hawaiian Islands, which are filled with pricey restaurants, crowded shores and lots of tourists. One winter day, we boarded a plane in New York and set off in search of rural Hawai'i. Our goal: to see plenty of wildlife in a pristine environment, visit pretty villages and spread our towels on beaches with nobody else in sight. We planned to stay at hotels in several different areas during our trip, in order to see as much of the island as possible.

Morning Glory

We arrived at the Kauai Marriott Resort and Beach Club late at night, so it wasn't until the next day that we got a good look at the place. I awoke with the sun and, feeling like a country girl already, stepped out onto the balcony of our comfortable room. I breathed in the soothingly fresh, salty air and looked out over the railing. There, just a few feet away, sat a ridiculously large pool shaped like a hibiscus flower, surrounded by fish-shaped fountains and hot tubs and casitas. Beyond wasthe palm-tree-lined beach; I could see the surf crashing as it came in.

As I eased into a deck chair, I heard a rooster's morning wake-up call. I stood up, peered over the railing, and saw a pair of roosters on the patio below me, strutting along the deck with their heads held high. I had heard that a hurricane destroyed the island's hen houses years ago, setting the chickens and roosters free to live wild on the island, but I never expected to see them wandering around by a hotel pool, proud as pigeons on the sidewalks of New York. Already, Kauai seemed more "country" than her Hawaiian sister islands—and I had only been there a few hours.

Chris and I decided to get breakfast at a little café called the Ono Family Restaurant, just north of the hotel, in the town of Kapaa. The short drive took us past fruit stands selling the produce of the isle—large golden pineapples with sweet yellow middles and oblong papayas with fleshy orange fruit. The restaurant itself is nothing fancy—it's really the Hawaiian version of a diner, with wooden booths and an extensive menu of breakfast items. We passed on the Spam omelet, a local favorite, and tucked into plates of coconut-banana-macadamia-nut pancakes. We drank Hawai'i's famous Kona coffee and quickly began to feel our jet lag melt away.

Later that afternoon, by the hotel pool, we basked happily in another of Hawai'i's incredible natural offerings: golden sunshine. Children splashed about and played "Marco Polo" while their parents relaxed and sipped pineapple-laced frozen drinks—and we were glad the pool was big enough that we could have some space to ourselves. Chris and I swam over to a waterfall and let its roar drown out the sound of the other hotel guests.

Jungle Love

The next day, we drove up the highway to the northern town of Kilauea and checked into the Kilauea Lakeside Estate, a two-story, three-bedroom private home that you can rent for your vacation. The property is stunning, strewn about with palm trees, lush ferns and fruit trees. One of the home's breezy porches overlooks a private lake. Inside the house there's a whirlpool tub, which we made a mental note to try out later in the evening.

We decided to wander across the road to the little shore town of Kilauea. There, next to a tiny, single-screen movie theater, we found a country-style farmer's market where local growers were selling their small-crop produce out of the back of their trucks. Even if you're not staying at a house with a kitchen, the outdoor market is a good place to buy fresh bananas and admire homemade lei, those necklaces made of flowers that the "Aloha State" is famous for. We picked up some avocados, onions and limes, intending to whip up a batch of guacamole back at the house.

By the time we returned to the estate, the sun had set behind the lake and little green gecko lizards—dozens of them—had gathered on many of the windows. Stunned by their sheer number, Chris and I took turns taking pictures of them as we mashed avocados. We settled into the hammock on the porch together with our bowl of guacamole and some chips. Later, with big grins on our faces, we fell contentedly asleep in the moonlight.

Seashells by the Seashore

In the morning, we got up with the sun again and took a day trip to the Lawai cove, in the beach town of Poipu, for a snorkeling lesson with Aloha Kauai Tours. Poipu is known for being the sunniest spot on Kauai. Even though the water wasn't cold, our guide provided us with wet suits so that we could stay in the sea for hours without feeling a chill. Then he led us around the lagoon, letting us hold on to his surfboard when we needed help getting our footing.

The Lawai cove looked empty—until we ducked under the water's surface. We marveled at the dozens of different types of fish swimming between us. At one point, Chris waved to a rainbow fish as it circled around, and I made the mistake of laughing—if you change your facial expression when you're snorkeling, water leaks into your mask. I raised my head out of the water, drained my mask, and then slipped under the sea again. Just then, our guide dived down to the sea bottom and pulled something out from under a rock. A black cloud filled the water around his find. When it cleared, I could see an octopus gripping his arm, bobbing and weaving as the guide stroked it and then reached his arm out for the rest of the group to feel. Chris' eyes widened in amazement as he touched the creature's soft, fuzzy body. I kept my distance, deciding that if I were ever again going to enjoy the tako on my neighborhood sushi restaurant's sashimi plate, I would have to forgo making friends with the octopus.

After a couple of hours of swimming around the lagoon, we got out of the water and walked down the road a ways to an inlet called Prince Kuhio's Lagoon: Here, we would swim with sea turtles—or so we hoped. (Our guide said that he couldn't promise they would be there, as they move in and out of the lagoon on a whim.) We swam away from the rocky shoreline and there, to our amazement, just a few feet away from the water's edge, were a half-dozen turtles, some as long as four feet. These peaceful creatures moved about the ocean as if in slow motion, lifting themselves up and down with graceful, doggy-paddle-style movements. They watched us as we treaded water, wondering at their lovely bottle-green color.

Next, we stopped for a hot-dog lunch at Puka Dog. We learned that these dogs are actually Polish sausages, served in sweet buns and topped with tropical fruit relishes, a mustard made with the local passion fruit called lilikoi, and a garlic-lemon sauce. I ordered mine with pineapple relish and Chris ordered his with coconut and lots of hot sauce, ignoring my grimace. They were delicious and we finished them quickly, along with glasses of house-made lemonade.

We ended our day on the lovely—and practically deserted—Anahola Beach, located about 45 minutes north on Kuhio Highway, off an innocuous residential street. To be sure, it wasn't as picture-perfect as pretty Poipu—the sand was dotted with rows of seashells that the tide had brought, and there were some scrubby-looking trees along the edge near the parking lot—but, unlike popular Poipu, it was as empty as a cornfield, save one man who was snorkeling along the reef. Having been warned by a hotel manager about the dangerous undercurrents off many of Kauai's beaches, I waved down the man and asked him if the water was safe to swim in. He said yes, but warned us not to go past the reef, where the bottom sank to lower depths and the waves started to form. Chris and I spent the afternoon swimming, sunning and collecting seashells along the water's edge. For the rest of the day it was just the two of us, the snorkeler and a couple of roosters on the beach—and it was perfect.