I’ve never been warned that I would die so many times in a single week.

Here’s the text of a typical warning sign I saw during a trip to Maui.

Warning Stay Clear of Blowhole. You can be sucked in and killed. It’s Not a WaterPark.

In this case it was hand-scrawled on a weathered green piece of plywood up the hill from the Nakalele Blowhole. To get to the blowhole, visitors clamber over boulders the size of a car, down a path made slick and muddy by the light rain that was falling, along the edge of a cliff to finally view the geyser-like sight.

If that’s not enough of a death sport, visitors could walk right up to the blowhole and stick their head into it. If they wanted to, you know, die.

That’s pretty much how most of the amazing sites on the island are: Hard to find, and once you get there, potentially lethal. Want to tour a lava tube? Pay $12, get a flashlight and then the guide points toward a hole in the ground.

Want to see a spectacular waterfall? Climb down a slippery, homemade ladder, across boulders the size of a sofa, cling to a muddy path along the stream and then stumble and bumble 50 yards down a streambed filled with slimy, round rocks.

It’s a marked change from the swaddling over-security of Boston, where they seem to make up dangers just some they can pass laws against them. Warning: The cranberry nut muffins might contain nuts.

If Maui was somehow relocated to Boston, the blowhole would have a ramp, an elevator, walkways, canopies, lighting, signage and railings. No one would be allowed to approach it until listening to a safety lecture and donning protective gear.

Warning: Seawater in the blowhole may contain salt. Those on a low-sodium diet are advised to stand upwind.

Things that make life safer make nature worse. And the whole point is enjoying nature.