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.