On Leg 26, Hōkūleʻa voyages south from Florida to Panama. In this update, Nakua Konohia-Lind narrates the days the crew spends waiting to pass through the Canal – and a field trip to ruins of Fort San Lorenzo.

January 7

Blog by Nakua Konohia-Lind

The sun rises and the day begins with the meal kuleana aboard the Wa’a being passed over to the 2-6 watch, led by watch captain Duane DeSoto and crew member Scientist Anushka Fauicci and of course ʻŌiwi TV’s own Justyn Ah Chong. With access to fresh food shopping while at dock during this period of waiting, the watch was able to whip up some fresh chorizo sausage, sautéed onions, fresh fruit salad, boiled and scrambled eggs with tortilla wraps – talk about five star dining.

We’ve been docked at Shelter Bay Marina for about five days now, so in that time we were able to get a lot of canoe work done and for once had nothing to do on the wa’a. With that being said, the crew and captain Bruce sat around on the decks of Hōkūleʻa with the shade cloth hovering just enjoying each other’s company playing some music and waiting for the call about our transit through the locks of the Panama Canal. Whenever the crew meets up, captain updates the crew on the weather thanks to Hans Rosenthal –  a retiree of the National Weather Service. ” If you look around you can see the clouds converging which is a sign that rain is already starting to roll in!” says captain Bruce “so the transit through the canal is gonna be a wet one.” With that update the Sun still finds its way through the clouds and heats up the land so the crew made their way to the air conditioned restaurant for some ice cream and lunch – a brilliant idea, I say.

The down time we have takes a toll on the crew and we miss our families even more because we’re not going anywhere. Instead just hoping and praying for good news from the canal authorities for the green light to go through the locks.  But this is what a voyage is all about. It’s like its own person, it tests your patience and it may stress you out but the voyage is about trying to overcome little obstacles like these which makes a person stronger in character. Just like everyday life as well, everyone goes through trials and tribulations but at the end of the day we’re all thankful for another breath of life and another day on this amazing Mālama Honua voyage.

January 8

Blog by Nakua Konohia-Lind

With the clouds rolling in early morning the crew rises to another day of waiting and minor waʻa cleaning. We all enjoy another simple and ʻonolicious breakfast made by the 2-6 watch – bacon and scrambled egg wraps. And must I say it again? It was fantastic. With a squall lurking offshore the crew awaits for some rain but as always Mother Nature has a mind of its own, so it still remains off shore taunting us.

Since the rainsquall doesn’t arrive, a question is asked by captain Bruce, “Did everyone wash and wipe down their entire bunk area?” Without hesitation the crewmembers that hadnʻt had a chance to clean their area starts jamming it out so we could go on a little excursion later in the afternoon. Fortunately I was able to finish all that cleaning during the first day of arrival so I was able to do some extra curricular activities like learn how to sew a hole in my shorts and whip the ends of a few frayed lines around the waʻa.

Our bus arrives and we hit the one-lane roads of countryside Colon on our excursion to Fort San Lorenzo in the Jungle. In hopes to see a few animals, we scan our surroundings looking for Tucan birds in the trees, pumas in the brush and possibly some monkeys on the lawn. We arrive and walk throughout the ruin in astonishment of the old walls, stairways and trenches leading to the ocean. Of course, with Paula Akana and her photographer Braddah Stuart there with us recording, everyone was on their best behavior. With the sun reaching its peak we wait for a few more crew members to finish the fort tour while our fellow crew member Darienne Dey takes us to look at an amazing work of nature – something so small but amazing. We approach the area and notice a tiny trail spanning across the entire lawn – a kind of trail that’s created from consistently walking on the grass. I think to myself  that it’s too small for a human trail. As we take a closer look we realize a colony of ants walking in both directions like a two lane road. Ants were carrying things in one direction and returning empty handed walking in the opposite direction.

After experiencing that act of nature and having the sun beam us up Scottie, we find a lovely piece of shade in the middle of the lawn. I take a seat on the grass with the boys, again waiting for the rest of the crew. The shade was so ʻono that we all slowly changed the shape of our bodies from vertical to horizontal. Sometime in the midst of all the madness you have take a step back and just take a chill pill and Mālama our own bodies, which itself is also a honua.

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On Leg 26, Hōkūleʻa voyages south from Florida to Panama. In this update, Lohiao Paoa explains some of the kuleana while in port and recounts a few crew funnies.

January 5

Blog by Lohiao Paoa

We are all individuals. Most of us on this current leg have never met prior. Even with our individual foibles and responsibilities, each and every crew member must help one another accomplish even the simplest tasks. From washing dishes to dropping the spar, Hōkūleʻa has the tendency of tying individuals into one crew, and it starts with knowing your role. Do what your supposed to, nothing more, nothing less.

One of the most important kuleana on Hōkūleʻa is the Quartermaster. The Quartermaster is in charge of knowing where everything is on board. Everything! I had the honor of helping Uncle Gary quartermaster for Leg 16, and was somewhat relieved to have canoe supplies, towing gear, and rescue swimmer second time around. Communication is key when being a Quartermaster because when captain needs something or when things can’t be found, weight will fall on the quartermaster. Just one of the pieces to the puzzle.

January 5th, 2017, consisted of sail repair, cleaning, and quartermastering for Leg 27. From Miami to Panama, jibs and genoa’s 7, 9, 13a, 15, 17a, 21, 24, and 26 were the sails used, coupled with the primary big boys, the 28 and 30 triangles and 28 and 32 crab claws. Typically, numbers of the sails correlate with the square footage of the sail. 7=70 square feet, 15=150 square feet, etc. The so called motors of our waʻa must be treated with tender loving care, soak um, lube um, and rub um down.

Like Ice Cube would say, “today was a good day.”

Funny story of the day: Nakua decided to start a conversation with Captain Bruce asking him “Uncle Bruce, how many stars do you know?” Cap proceeded by pulling out his star chart and pointed out over 200 stars on the spot, 219 to be exact. He knows more I’m sure.

January 5

Blog by Lohiao Paoa

Last night was open mic at the local marina bar. Hōkūleʻa crew stole the show as we sang songs of our homeland. The key is confidence.

This morning was an active morning. The Dugong watch (10-2) made some bacon, eggs, and French toast that was quickly devoured. We then turned the waʻa around to set up side tow with our potential escort, the DWS Linda. After about an hour of moving lines and fenders, we got the approval from the Canal officials. Mahalo to the DWS Linda. Estimated time of departure from Shelter Bay is still pending.

Hōkūleʻa is in pristine condition, so that allowed us to have a few hours of free time. Some of the crew went to San Lorenzo point, a scenic park that still had forts that were built in the 1500s and had views similar to ones in the movie Pirates of the Caribbean. Some crew had time to jump in the pool near the marina and others just enjoyed a peaceful nap. Our navigator, Brad Wong, lost his left slipper two days after leaving Key West. He was able to duct tape cardboard and some line together to protect his left foot from the Panamanian terrain.

Days are hot and winds are minimal. Everyone is healthy and excited to carry on through the canal. It is my nephews fourth birthday today, Happy Birthday Kolohe! I’ll be sure to eat a couple extra Oreos for you.

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On Leg 26, Hōkūleʻa voyages south from Florida to Panama. In this update, Dr. Colleen Finnegan describes a green flash, Hōkūleʻa’s approach to Panama and the crew’s thoughts on re-entering the Pacific.

January 1

Blog by Dr. Colleen Finnegan

HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone sharing this Worldwide Voyage with us! The crew received a package (hidden under Darienne’s bunk) of 2017 goodies – including 2017 sunglasses, treats, blow horns, and bottles of sparkling cider. At midnight, as determined by the position of the stars, pū (conch shells) were sounded and a short celebration ensued. We considered sending up a flare, but thought better of it given the possibility of misinterpretation.

Honestly, though, our first day of 2017 was a lot like the last 10 days of 2016. I awoke each day to see large, rolling waves with Hōkūleʻa easily riding over them, no land in sight.  I also enjoyed seeing malolo (flying fish) skimming from crest to crest. At any given time, if you look, you will see them – like looking up to the branches of a monkey pod tree, you would expect to see a bird.

Speaking of looking upwards, another delightful part of this passage has been moonless nights accentuating a bright canopy of stars, and in particular, shooting stars, some a pinpoint of light, others with a thin silver tail and not infrequently an orange ball of fire with a long trail of orange behind. If you look, you will see them. 😉

January 2

Blog by Dr. Colleen Finnegan

This afternoon we are sailing due South towards Panama, with less than 100 miles to Colon.  I asked my fellow crewmembers what this leg of the voyage meant to them, specifically, the planned transit through the Panama Canal. “A historic home coming”, “An ancestral home coming” “On my bucket list; a big one,” “A privilege, a kuleana to be on Hōkūleʻa during this epic moment in her life after 2 years, connecting into the Pacific” “Amazing,” “Beginning of the completion of the full cycle,” “Hōkūleʻa is the destination. Hōkūleʻa is home.” “Awesome, in the most reverent use of the word,” “A way to experience a place with an appreciation of a different form of transportation.” ʻThe minute the last lock is opened and a drop of the Pacific Ocean touches her hull—means a lot to me. She has not touched the Pacific in nearly 3 years.” “This is a way to experience a new part of the world. I thought the Caribbean would be calm, but it has been rough.”

You will undoubtedly hear more about this powerful and meaningful event in the next few days.

I am fortunate enough to serve as the Medical Officer for this leg of the Worldwide Voyage, and we are all fortunate that my job has largely consisted of applying Band-Aids, and preventing sea-sickness and constipation. The Hōkūleʻa is however, quite prepared to handle medical emergencies of all types, outfitted through the experience of many medical officers before me. This is an experienced crew, fit beyond all requirements, and they make safety a priority.

I just want to relate one last incident, especially for any non-believers out there. A few days ago we had a cloudless sunset, and watched intently for “the green flash.” As the sun dipped under the horizon, the Hōkūleʻa rose on top of a wave, giving us a second glimpse of the last, bright sliver of the sun. Duane then said, “awe, the wave ruined it!” at which time a plume of green rose from where the sun disappeared. The crew let out a collective “ahhh.”

At about 530pm this afternoon, we began to see the faint outline of Panama on the horizon.  Itʻs kind of incredible to realize that after 13 days at sea, our destination was now in sight.  Once our apprentice navigator, Brad Wong, spotted the island, we radioed to our escort vessel, the Gershon II, to come and pick up our towline.  As night came upon us, the lights from hundreds of large ships anchored offshore became visible.

We continue to make our way into our anchorage point where we will remain overnight.  At first light, the plan is to make our way to the marina where we will dock and clear customs, at which time the crew will set foot on land for the first time since leaving Key West, Florida two weeks ago.

Mahalo to all for your continued support, and continue to follow along as we bring Hōkūleʻa through the Panama canal and back into the Pacific.

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On Leg 26, Hōkūleʻa voyages south from Florida to Panama. In this update, Justyn Ah Chong describes listening in on star discussion by the navigators, observing a full sky of constellations and shooting stars, and receiving a 35-lbs New Year’s Eve present from Kanaloa.

December 30

Blog by Justyn Ah Chong

The crew was blessed with another clear night as we sailed under a moonless sky full of stars to guide our way South to Panama.  On nights like these, we lose count of the number of shooting stars we are blessed to see blazing their way across the night sky.  The wind and swells are almost directly behind us as we point just west of south in nice, comfortable 10-15 knot winds.  With the wind pushing us from behind, steering becomes a little trickier, requiring a bit more finesse so as to keep the waʻa from accidentally jibing.  This being our 10th day at sea now, this crew has become fine-tuned to the rhythm of the canoe and the touch of the hoe (steering paddle), keeping Hōkūleʻa balanced on her current course line.

As the sky begins to lighten with the anticipated arrival of the sun, my 2-6 watch hands the reigns over to the 6-10 watch, while Captain Bruce talks through various star lines with apprentice navigator, Brad Wong.  Instead of going back into my bunk to get some rest, I decide to stick around and capture some of this interaction.  As uncle Bruce continues, I canʻt help but be amazed at the vast depth of his knowledge, pointing out the faintest of stars and calling each one out by name.  It was a lecture that was so easy and enjoyable to get lost in.  Before I knew it, the horizon began to fill with the soft warm glow of an approaching sun as one by one, another star slowly faded into the brightening sky.

It truly is one of the most phenomenal things to witness at sea, especially from the lens of the photographer – the way the light and colors painted across an endless sky move and dance as the sun makes its morning climb up from the horizon, dips in and out of shape-shifting clouds, and then crawls back down below the horizon again at the end of the day.  The progression of colors and the cascading of light rays remind us that most times the simplest things in life are the ones we often take for granted, like the coming and going of the sun each day.  Yet these are often the most breathtakingly beautiful things we are blessed to witness.  It’s a beauty great enough to bring on the memory and presence of loved ones that have come and gone.  To remind us they are still here, always watching, always guiding, and in instances like these – smiling.  These simple beauties remind us how fortunate we are to be here in this moment in time, doing whatever it is that we do, with whomever we were meant to intertwine paths with, fulfilling the responsibilities we were put here to fulfill, and to enjoy and make the most of every moment of it in the process.

As another day passes aboard this waʻa kaulua, we welcome the night with a wonderful meal, the strumming of a guitar, light conversation, and a beautiful setting sun, taking us one day closer to our destination.  Our bow continues to point hema (south), and hokupaʻa (Polaris, North Star) sits behind us as we move quietly through another clear starry night to soon pull Panama from the sea.

December 31

Blog by Justyn Ah Chong

Tonight was definitely not as clear as the last few nights.  All throughout our 2am – 6am shift we were met with a series of long far-stretching squalls pelting heavy rains onto the waʻa.  Dressed head to toe in our foul weather gear we sailed on, learning how to keep on course when all the stars in the sky disappear.  The heaviest of the squalls came just after 6am after our shift change, bringing with it 30-35 knot winds, sending the canoe boosting forward.  It was a scramble on deck to readjust sails and regain control of the waʻa through the squall, but the crew managed tactfully.

This being the start of our new years eve, and also the last day of our 2016, these pelting rains, in a way, felt natural, felt right. It felt like a sort of cleansing; a washing away of the high’s and the lows, the good, the bad, and the ugly of another year gone by.  It brought about in the dark early morning hours a cool, fresh start to welcome a new year, and with it, a new energy.

Spirits amongst the crew remain high as we continue to head Hema toward Panama, sailing with beam reach winds and a beam swell on a port tack, gliding along at 6-8 knots.  Just before lunch, Kanaloa decided to bless our crew with a nice 35 lb New Years gift.  A glimmering ʻono hooked onto our line and made its way toward the waʻa as Uncle Bruce and Lohiao reeled in the catch.  Needless to say, everyone on board is stoked!

This is the last day of our 2-6 watch’s 3-day cooking rotation, so as Uncle Bruce cuts and cleans the ʻono, we gather the knives and bowls, the garlic, onions, and ginger, and start prepping for an ʻono New Years Eve lunch. On the menu is freshly sliced sashimi with wasabi-shoyu sauce and fried ʻono steaks with rice.

As we enjoy our amazingly ʻono lunch, folks can’t help but have thoughts pulled to family and loved ones back home.  As we continue to celebrate our New Years Eve on board Hōkūleʻa, we remember all those at home who are also ringing in the New Year; those that love and support us, those that allow us to be here sailing the Caribbean right now instead of being at home with each and every one of them this holiday season.  As the New Year brings about a new energy and the anticipation of new changes upon the horizon, one thing remains a solid and constant foundation – ʻohana.  Though we miss and think constantly about our loved ones and ʻohana at home, the canoe has a magical way of bringing a diverse group of individuals together and over time, over wind and waves, over the winding course of a voyage, make them family.  So today, in the absence of our family at home, we celebrate the coming of a new year with our canoe family, our ʻohana waʻa.

It’s a rare and special thing to ring in the New Year at sea aboard mama Hōkūleʻa, and for each and every one of us, we honor the privilege and the burden – the kuleana.  It’s definitely a New Year celebration that we won’t soon forget.

As the year changes, it’s clear from the look on everyone’s faces that there’s one more thing that still hasn’t changed – the kuleana of mālama honua and the mission to bring mama Hōkūleʻa back home.  Now just a few days out of Panama, we have come that much closer to bringing Hōkūleʻa back into her home waters of the Pacific Ocean; that much closer to bringing her back to our ʻohana throughout Oceania, and eventually to her birth sands of Hawaiʻi.  It’s an honor for each and every one of us on this leg of the Worldwide Voyage to wrap up our mama canoe’s travels around the globe through never-before sailed oceans, like tying up the loose ends of a fading year, and bringing her back into the waiting arms of the Pacific Ocean, full of new stories, new life, and new mana to share – just like the feeling of stepping boldly into a new year.

To all of our friends and ʻohana celebrating the New Year back at home, know that each one of us love you and miss you dearly.  But we will see each other again very soon, in the ebb and flow of a New Year.

Hauʻoli Makahiki Hou, Happy New Year 2017!

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On Leg 26, Hōkūleʻa voyages south from Florida to Panama. In this update, Bob Perkins describes Hōkūleʻa’s course and winds around Cuba.

December 28

Blog by Bob Perkins

Aloha from the deck of Hōkūleʻa, and greetings from the Caribbean.  Today is Hōkūleʻa’s eighth day since dropping the mooring line in Key West.  If you look at the route we have established on the tracker, it seems we are crossing in a rather haphazard way. There is a method to the madness. Hōkūleʻa’s course is dictated by the winds.  Because of the prevailing winds in this region, the leg was divided into 3 distinct sections.  The first section was from Key West to the west tip of Cuba.  We sailed this section for the first three days, as the winds were in our favor.  Once we rounded the western tip of Cuba, the wind direction was unfavorable, as we wanted to parallel the Cuban coast in order to get to the 80th Meridian before turning southerly for Panama.  Because of this, we picked up a tow from our escort vessel, Gershon II.  For the past five days or so, we have been towing, making sure to get as far east as possible before turning south.  Today, Captain Bruce, along with apprentice navigator Brad Wong, determined it was time to point our bows southerly for Panama.

So for the first time in 5 days we dropped tow and hoisted our sails! And boy did it feel great.  About an hour into sailing, we hooked up with our first fish of this voyage! A nice 7-pound aku, which Bruce reeled in.  Our science crewmember, Anuschka then measured and weighed the fish for our data collection, and then proceeded to dissect the stomach to see what it contained.  We were surprised to find so many undigested fish of all sorts of varieties.  And then, deeper into the stomach Anuschka discovered a plastic candy wrapper that seems to have been blocking the fish’s digestive system, because all the contents in the stomach after the wrapper were all fully digested.  It was a good reminder of the conditions of our oceans and the prevalence of human influence.  Also a reminder of the importance to mālama honua.

The whole crew waited in anxious anticipation as Kaniela’s watch, including Nakua and Doctor Colleen, prepared the aku for dinner.  Since the start of the voyage the watches have been rotating cooking kuleana every three days, and this was the 10-2 watch’s final night in the rotation.  They’ve become affectionately known as the Dugong Diner.  The trio proceeded to slice some of the aku up as sashimi, with wasabi shoyu sauce, while Nakua fried some of the aku meat and bones.  When all was said and done, it was a delicious meal every crewmember savored.

It feels great to be sailing again, and to add our first fish of the trip to it made it that much better.  Southward to Panama we continue.

December 29

Blog by Bob Perkins

The last 24 hours on Hōkūleʻa, in my mind, has been the type of voyaging dreams are made of.

This period of time started with us dropping tow for the first time in several days and letting the waʻa feel the wind in her sails and creating a movement with the swells much more natural and fluid than when having to be towed.  We were then able to turn our manu toward our ultimate, having reached favorable wind angles for Hōkūleʻa to deliver us to our final port in the Caribbean.  As the sun set, we were blessed with seas of rarely seen calm, mixed with winds of sufficient strength to propel us forward at estimated speeds of 5-6 knots, sometimes perhaps reaching 7.  As the final light of day disappeared, the absolute cloudless and moonless heavens provided those of us on watch with a spectacular display of nature’s pins of light cascading down and reflecting onto the almost mirror flat sea, creating a feeling of flying through a void of space with no up, no down; only a feeling of oneness with the waʻa and nothing else.  I have experienced this phenomenon very rarely in my sailing life.

As the day’s first light changed the night sky, and our fishing lures were put out, the morning routine of preparing breakfast was interrupted by the sound of “Hanapaʻa!” Fish on the line.  We were blessed with a 90-pound Marlin, which provided us with lunch and dinner for today and enough to share with our stalwart escort vessel crew on board Gershon II.

This type of day is one that makes me feel so blessed and so thankful to be a part of this special experience.  Tonight we sail through a series of small islands, then on to Panama.

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