Solar in Honolulu has to live on metal and low-slope roofs in salt air, with trade winds trying to get under the rails. The roof has to carry the array. Someone owns the panels. Someone gets called when the inverter goes quiet. Those three facts are the call. Sun on the south shore is not a substitute for them, and a valley roof with more cloud is not an excuse to skip the structure.
Rusted screws and termite-thinned wood are not a base. A low-slope penetration in this city holds water that salt keeps chewing. Ask how the mounts are flashed and how a later roof replacement gets done without ripping the whole plan apart. The main house and the ohana may both look eligible and only one of them can take the load. Say which roof you mean. Someone has to get on the roof.
Get the ownership answer in plain language. If you do not own the panels, you still need the name that answers when the inverter is quiet. Put that equipment where salt spray can be washed and seen, not in a boxed corner of a house that no longer breathes. Name the inverter. Shade from a neighbor tree or your own still cuts the day, including on a street that looks wide open.
Do the roof first if it is rusted or leaking. Rails on a failing Honolulu covering become the obstacle to the repair. Older service equipment in single-wall houses can be small. Newer houses and ohana circuits can be full. Say what is in the panel if you have looked. Uplift from the trades is a weekly fact, and the mounts have to be honest about it. A tired covering is not a detail to skip.
Say south shore or valley, metal or low-slope, and whether rust or soft wood is already there. Say who owns the panels if you know the answer. If the inverter has already gone quiet, say that first. Call the number on this page.