The end...and the beginning

Aloha kakou -

I am sitting in a warm firelit house in Whatawhata, Aotearoa, as the rain beats down outside.  There's a pretty good low developing out there, and we should be pretty well inundated for a few days.  My friends (and possible cousins) Hoturoa and Kim Barclay-Kerr are kindly alowing me to stay at their halfway house for hopeless waka addicts.  I am very grateful to be in a house of love and light for a while.  Leaving the wakas in Espiritu Santo tore a hole in my heart.  I am so used to the life of adventure, the sound of the sea, the feel of the deck under my feet...so hard to go.  My fellow holomoana, I know you understand.  Yesterday, I was at Kirikiriroa Marae, helping prepare food and clean as Hotu held a seminar.  He brought Faumuina and I in to be introduced, and then showed the latest "Our Blue Canoe" trailer.  I remember when I first saw a trailer in Hawai'i last year, and the magnitude of the project touched me.  BUT...I just saw random faces.  Seeing the trailers since then, I saw family: brothers and sisters.  I saw faces I love and may not see for a while.  So I cried. 

Making voyaging a way of life is extremely difficult; there's little money in it, except for certain very specific positions.  Mostly, it is a labor of love so great that it requires life-changing sacrifices.  Many of the holomoana have left families for months and even years.  Many have left jobs and projects behind. I am lucky to have both to come back to.  Many are homesick and tired, but are finally seeing the light at the end of the journey.  The Facebook chatter has died down, indicating that the wakas have finally gone on their way from Santo.  Uto Ni Yalo, Hinemoana, Okeanos and now Marumaru Atua are on their way to Port Vila, and then to Tonga.  Haunui, Te Matau A Maui and Faafaite are going to Port Vila and then on to Noumea.  From there, they will make their way here to Aotearoa.  The chatter was going strong through about 2:30 this afternoon, as we said our last goodbyes and sent thought and prayers with the voyagers.  I was on Facebook until 1 am myself, catching up and letting go. 

And so the next journey begins for me...how do I translate the enormity of this experience for my students, family and peers?  How do I keep myself involved in the waka projects?  How can I help to further the purpose of these voyagers?  How do I NOT lose this family?  Soon all the voyagers will face these same questions as individuals and as voyaging entities.  I can see that living the new dream will entail new sacrifices and new hardships, but the possibilities are endless...and the stars are shining bright.

Patience IS a Virtue

Aloha from offshore of the southwestern tip of Espiritu Santo Island. For those of you following the blog, this may sound familiar...yes, because we've been here before.  In our quest to reach new Caledonia from Honiara, we have traveled two weeks and over 1000 miles, seen Rennell Island, and we're still only back in Vanuatu. There are still 300 miles to go to New Caledonia, and 500 miles to Noumea.  This has truly been a test of patience; something I usually have very little of.  We have been pinching hard into the wind the whole way, sailing as close as we can to gain the proper angle on our tacks, rather than speed.  I sleep in the forward most section of the starboard bow, which means that, as the waka plows through the seas, I feel every bump, and sometimes get launched out of my bunk.  It sounds much worse down there than it usually is up top, but waking up to the sounds of waves bashing into the hull doesn't really make night watch a joy.  I should say, however, that I am really enjoying my watch on this leg: Hiapo, Rere, Tasia, Murray and I all get along and help each other out.  Murray is our comedian, and he especially likes to pick on Rere, who is officially the watch captain, although Murray is our decision maker.  He is so positive and willing to teach and explain, that I come away from watch having enjoyed the experience.  After my fingernail incident, Murray's gentle encouragement got me back steering again to the point that I feel fairly proficient at the technical aspects.  Watches are the highlight of the day, as the weather has been squally, cold, and windy.  Makes sense when you're going into the weather.  As Greg says, all the bumping means that we're holding our course.  It has been an uncomfortable trip, to say the least, and we all exercise patience as we wait to see what each day's weather will be like. Greg subscribes to a weather service that provides general wind forecasts, but not much else.  We've determined that these are fairly unreliable and usually off by a day, but they do give a general picture of what's going on.  What the crew would really like are easterlies, northerlies or westerlies, any of which would give a straight 3 day run into Noumea.  Unfortunately, the half of the fleet that stayed at Guadalcanal decided to come into Luganville (Espiritu Santo) for a break from the pounding.  The Rennell vacation group is slowly working its way in.  We should be there late tonight, having spent the last 24 hours tacking down the west coast of the island. Faafaite and Hine Moana, planning on sailing down the east coast, got caught in a lull and are stuck northwest of Santa Maria Island, waiting for a tow in from Evohe, our escort boat.  Frustration has led to several desperate and comical e-mails among the captains as some express their desire to scream at the sky.  The window of opportunity to sail to Noumea appears to be July 26 and 27, when the winds are forecast to go more to the east.  The exact dates of the Luganville stop.  Greg really wants to skip the stop altogether and sail for Noumea, but we have come this far as a fleet, and need to finish the journey as a fleet.  And so the wakas will be docked in Luganville for at least 4 days, unless plans change (as they have several times in the last few days).  Despite groundwork being laid for the New Caledonia stop, rumors are rampant that New Caledonia might be out of the picture altogether, in favor of shooting straight to New Zealand.  There will be some heavy discussion among the captains over the next couple of days.

As for myself, seeing as how my time is reaching it's limit, I have decided to fly to New Zealand on Saturday to spend some time there and to connect with my flight on the 8th.  I will be flying to Kentucky for my grandmother's 101st birthday.  It will also give me a chance to decompress and process the enormity of the journey I have been on, as well as to visit friends and experience WINTER!  I reached the decision to fly out because there were too many variables: weather, wind, to stop or not to stop...and so on.  This seemed to be the window of opportunity for me, and so, rather suddenly, my trip will come to an end, or rather move into another phase.  From here I will be able to move forward with friendships on another level (Facebook!  Skype!) and to see which ones stack up against the test of time.  I also look forward to seeing how each of the voyaging societies grows and evolves...and sails.  I certainly hope to be considered a part of the Te Mana O Te Moana family for a long time to come.  While I am looking forward to New Zealand, I am not looking forward to goodbyes...and I anticipate Friday will be a hard day.  I am hoping our two northern canoes make it in on time so that I can spend a last day with my voyaging family and  loved ones.

More from cold and wintery New Zealand later...

Murray and the Game of Inches

One of the featured entertainments for the crew, especially on late nights on anchor watch, was to watch the series "Game of Thrones". Haven't seen too many of the episodes myself, although I've read most of the books. Started the 5th book, but something happened to my Kindle, and the screen doesn't work right anymore. On watch with Murray Bright, we play the "Game of Inches." Murray is an expert with the sails, and is constantly checking and rechecking sail set to maximize our performance and stay with the course line. Often, his adjustments are a matter of inches, sometimes it requires changing the head sail to change our angle. Lately, as we haven't been able to sail our course line, we have been tacking to the the southwest and to the east to make our way towards New Caledonia. Steering on watch, we play the game of inches by steering as close to the wind as possible without luffing and inadvertently tacking. It's a challenge, especially in the black of a cloudy night to sense the moment when your speed drops...right before the luff. We listen for the flutter of the sails and the jingling of the reefing rings in the mizzen. It's been a challenge, when heading east, to break the 90 degree mark. Going east is great, and when our captain Greg woke up this morning and saw that we'd been holding 110 degrees, he felt like it was Christmas morning. Every inch of southeasting we squeeze out saves us time and distance in the long run. Murray has been exceptionally encouraging, noting our efforts to better the mark. Someone dropped a small coin on the mat under the sweep this morning, and if we were doing well, Murray tossed the coin back at us. Last night, our reward was a second round of hot Milo and a sizzzling fried malolo that was unlucky enough to land on the deck. This leg will most likely turn out to be the most difficult of my time on the waka, and will determine the fate of some of us as to whether we sail or fly. Those who are for sure sailing into New Zealand are praying for a fast run. If Tawhirimatea (wind god) is with them, they might actually arrive before I depart. A hui hou from the Coral Sea...

Things I will miss when this is over:
smooth night with lots of stars
Murray and Brendan, my builder buddies
fresh fish
seeing new places
the Faafaite girls
the Marumaru Atua men
night watch and hot Milo
the game of inches
Ikaika's hoe dance

Things I won't miss:
peeling dead malolo and squid off the deck
using my head in the corner of the bathroom to balance while I pull up my pants in rough seas
pulling buckets in rough seas or at high speed
bathing in cold, rough weather
the constant film of salt on everything all the time
being tossed airborne in my bunk as we bump along upwind
wearing foul weather gear constantly to be dry inside
getting wet INSIDE the wet weather gear

Kanggava Bay, Rennell Island

Aloha from Kanggava Bay, Rennell Island! We have moved down to the "big bay" on the island to await our brothers and sisters. Where Lughughi was small, sheltered and deep, with heavily wooded cliff faces, this bay is big, with pristine white sandy beaches along the shoreline. Coconut trees beckon from the foot of sheer white cliffs that peek out from the greenery...and each of us has pretty much picked the beach we want. Under the cover of the starry night sky, phosphorescence twinkles accordingly in the calm sea. We are all anchored close to each other, nearly close enough to hear the conversations on the other vessels. We were twice gifted today, once by Tangaroa...a lovely ono that bit our line. We were also given some nice ahi chunks by the Faafaite crew - the ladies of Faafaite came delivering smiles, good will and fish in their dinghy just before sunset. We thought about inviting them for cocoa and cookies, but the shortbread takes an hour to bake, so I think I will be doing a breakfast run in the morning to all the canoes. Sounds like we will be able to take a trip to the lake tomorrow, which, apparently will be one of the many treats of this paradise. Just going ashore to the beautiful beaches will be a treat, as will snorkeling among the coral heads in the clear water. We did some snorkeling at Lughughi in a sheltered lagoon...amazing corals and fish in every shade of the rainbow, and especially the rare shades of blue, purple and even teal. I am looking forward to similar sights tomorrow. We have discovered paradise, rather unexpectedly, on a Polynesian island far from home. You guys are not going to believe the pictures.

Tonight Haunui rests under the stars, watching videos, drinking very chocolatey Nesquik and munching on shortbread hot out of the oven. I think that before I sleep (I am on watch for a while), I will take a quick bath under the stars. We will see what wonders tomorrow brings, including the possibility of Marumaru Atua, Te Matau A Maui and Uto Ni Yalo joining us. We will also finally get to meet more of the local population, other than the few that made the trek to the other bay. Although it is odd to be away from the rest of the family, it is peaceful here with our little group.

Po marie whanau

Safe Haven at Rennell Island

We left Honiara full intending to make our way to New Caledonia, despite the prevalence of southeasterly winds. Basically the winds were blowing from the direction we wanted to go, so our thought was to tack back and forth across them. The first night out was ridiculously calm, with the winds shifting dramatically among all four quarters. During our shift, the canoe nearly spun itself in circles, despite concentrated efforts with the steering. The calm, proverbially, came before the storm, as we then ran through a series of 35-40 kt wind squalls, drenching ourselves and the canoe in both waves and heavy rains. That night was near to being one of the roughest I've ever sailed in. It is a testament to our crew's skills and commitment that we made it through with very little damage. After that night, Marumaru Atua, Uto Ni Yalo, and Te Matau A Maui decided to turn back to Guadalcanal Island to assess damage and weather. They are still anchored in Wanderer's Bay waiting for the winds to shift. Okeanos, Faafaite, Hinemoana, Evohe and ourselves decided to push through. After three and a half days, we decided to tack back to the north and seek shelter in Lughlughi Bay, Rennell Island. The relative quiet at anchor here is needed, as the Haunui crew is decidedly beat up. Rere slammed the hatch cover on her thumb, my tattoo is healing slowly and has developed a staph infection, Greg, Kalei, Ema and Faumuina are feeling sick. Kalei also got a fish spine in his finger that required minor surgery. 

Rennell and Bellona islands are Polynesian outliers, meaning that their inhabitants are Polynesian, but they are outside of the Polynesian Triangle. We are on the uninhabited side, but some of us managed to get ashore yesterday to wander about. This side is pretty much pure jungle, although there's a track that leads 7 km to the village. Some of the Okeanos crew went to the village and brought back two locals, including Barnabas, who speaks very good English. They were excited that we were here and came out to see the canoes for themselves. Tomorrow morning, we will motor (hopefully sail) 10 hours down the coast to another bay closer to the village. Barnabas promises a white sandy beach. The bay we are in, by contrast, is relatively deep, with a good fish population, including a meter long tiger shark that got entangled in Hinemoana's fishing lines. The Faafaite boys, true to form, were in the water as soon as they could be after anchoring yesterday morning, and speared a good haul of fish. it was all put to good use, as the crews of all the vessels had a potluck dinner last night on Hinemoana. Our time is short together, as the Te Mana o te Moana project is officially over, and so it was a good opportunity to cherish each other's company and have some kava, laughs, music and of course, the good food. It is ironic out here, as well, that as close as we are to each other, we are still limited in our time together by single dinghies per waka and swimming ability in somewhat polluted water. One benefit has been that we are taking the opportunity to wash and dry copious amounts of salty clothing and equipment.

It's funny...I have a lexicon from Rennell and Bellona at home, purely because I like to collect Polynesian dictionaries. I never, ever dreamed that I would be here. But - this is the silver lining, the serendipity in our journey. One aspect of Rennell that sets it apart is that it has an extremely large fresh water lake that we will see tomorrow. It is a World Heritage site, although we're not exactly sure why. We've been joking that we will pick up little Okeanos, our "toy waka" and sail her around in the lake. Not sure what her crew will think about that. There is an abundance of fresh water here, those who have gotten in the water to snorkel report brackish water near the cliff. One tidal pool area near us that has fresh water coming out is called Waikiki. Because of my staph infection, I have not been in the water, as much as I'd really like to be swimming. Maybe when the antibiotics have set in, or when we go to a cleaner area. The water here is pristine, of course, except for us. Okeanos, Hinemoana and Evohe have holding tanks for their bathrooms, but Faafaite and we do not, meaning that everything from the bathroom goes in the water. It is a sad, but necessary reality of sailing. The first night in, we were held to a promise to Kainoa that no one would use the bathroom for an hour so that everyone could shower in clean water. 

We are planning to wait here until the weather forecast is better...probably departing around the 19th, when the winds are expected to shift in our favor and give us following seas most of the way to New Caledonia. Once there, we will be spending a couple days in Yeggen (?), the former Kanak capitol, and then sail the 200 miles to Noumea, the final stop before the last run to Aotearoa. Because of time constraints, I will be flying out of New Caledonia to New Zealand to make my flight on the 8th. I plan to spend a few days in Aotearoa visiting friends, as I'm this far south already, and as my ticket is booked out of Auckland. It just seemed easier. It will be a good opportunity to reacclimatize to real life. I am hoping my canoe brother, Kalei, will decide to come too, as he is in need of a rest, having shouldered tremendous responsibilities over the last months. It would be nice to have a friend to hang out with. And so my journey is nearly at it's end. 

It will be tremendously difficult to leave, as this is the life I have known for the last three months. Some of the people on this canoe and on others have become my family, my close friends, and people I would regret not ever seeing again. With seven canoes out there on the water, I know there will be opportunity to sail again with some of them. In addition, my navigational skills, limited as they are, will provide opportunities for me to work with crews in different areas as well, and I hope I will be able to do some visiting over the next year. What has become clear to me throughout my involvement in this project is the importance of the Pacific family, and the tremendous need that exists for us to stick together, especially in the face of first world politics and environmental decisions. In rediscovering our waka heritage, we have discovered the strength in ourselves. In sailing together, we have discovered brotherhood and sisterhood...as Hinemoana's song says, "We are the nomads of the sea, the vikings of the sun, we are the people of the world, far away from home."

As a last note to this blog, I have to give my heartfelt thanks to Kalepa Baybayan, who has been my mentor for a number of years. He was given Pwo status by Mau Piailug a few years ago, and when I asked him what it meant to him, he told me that being Pwo meant being the light, the steward for your people. In the old days, being the navigator meant that you were responsible for finding food for your people. This journey has showed me the truth of that in terms of the knowledge we all have. If we hold on to knowledge and hoard it as belonging only to one culture, we lose out. It is our RESPONSIBILITY to share what we know, what we learn and what we discover within every culture with each other, or each of our individual cultures will not survive. So mahalo nui to Kalepa for being a light to me, and guiding me in my role in this journey. I have a lot to share with you.

Building a Pacific house

ALoha -

long time no blog, I know.  It's been exceptionally hectic here in the Solomons, with our commitments to the Festival of Pacific Arts.  I have to say the Festival is fabulous...people of all Pacific cultures come together to share crafts, dance, song, stories, tattoo and culture.  It is wonderful to wander through the booths and talk to the various islanders.  Everyone on the festival grounds feels free to smile and chat with each other.  It is a fitting culmination to our journey - one that was designed to bring Pacific Islanders together.  As we have developed into a large voyaging family, so, too, has this festival helped to bring Pacofc peoples to a better understanding of each other.  We have had assigned shifts at our Pacific VOyagers space to share our journey and kuleana with others, but I have spent entire days here, even when the rain was pouring down, just soaking up the atmosphere and the music.  The delegations that really stand out are GUam and of course Rapa Nui...the feathers are so cool, and we've all agreed that the Rapa Nui people are exceptionally beautiful.  One of the projects in conjunction with the Pacific Voyagers has been a Maori whare complete with carvings in part designed and carved by crew members.  Somehow we all got involved in the actual work, and it became a mission for us to have as many as possible get their hands on it.  I have been digging post holes in the ground, lugging and drilling timber, measuring and constructing a house with the help of a dedicated group of Solomon Islanders, as well as with Brendan and Murray from the Haunui crew.  It has been nice to get some real work done, and to feel like I"ve done something physical.  ALthough the majority of the HOniara population is friendly and helpful, it is not advisable for anyone to wander alone, especially off the main streets.  SO - no running as I was doing on other islands.  We're off to Noumea in New Caledonia next, so I'm hoping that the opportunity will exist for a little exercise.  It will be too cold in New Zealand, I'm sure, for anything outdoorsy.  We have our final performance in an hour...somehow the VOyagers became an entertainment group...it started with the wish for each waka to share their "mission" an of course, song is an easy and catchy medium.  SO now we have evolved into performers with our hakas, songs and dances.  This is the end, however, of our performing days.  Tomorrow, we all sail off to another island, not sure which one, for a day together before the canoes go their separate ways.  Faafaite, Marumaru Atua, Haunui and Te Matau A Maui will continue to Noumea and New Zealand.  Uto NI Yalo, Hine MOana and Gaualofa will sail off on their own agendas.  ANd so we've built a Pacific house, and we set out now from it's shelter to find ourselves...