Kealaikahiki Voyage – Hōkūleʻa Crew

In the dark early morning hours of Day 5 on our Kealaikahiki voyage, Lehua quietly walked around the waʻa, waking up our crew one by one. Our mizzen (back) sail had suddenly ripped near the top tricing line and needed to be changed, slowing our speed and taking our course downwind until we could get it replaced. Everyone moved swiftly around with red headlamps in the dark as Lehua confidently directed the sail change, maintaining calm though urgent pace. We carefully lowered the 40 foot spar holding the sail down to the deck; Lehua walked along the spar leading the crew in removing sail ties, and in a moment, we had removed the torn sail and were securing the replacement sail. 

As dawn began to color the sky and small squalls passed over us with light rains and gusts, we tied the sail tight to the spar and raised it again. We also took the opportunity of our slower speed to make a few adjustments on our main sail and head sail, always trying to increase efficiency. By the time the sun spilled over the clouds, Hōkūleʻa was running with full sails in her previous direction of Manu Malanai (southeast) at a pace of 7 knots. Looking to the back of the waʻa where Lehua was standing, a brilliant rainbow took shape, suggesting to all of us that we had done well.

Changing a ripped sail would have been more than enough to make this a notable day on waʻa, but Day 5 was far from over.  I had a cooking adventure in front of me – poi pancakes at 7 knots. 

Amongst our provisions is 6 pounds of poi from Hoʻokuaʻāina, a nonprofit in Kapalai, Kailua, O’ahu, which is a special organization to me. I have spent several years now volunteering at their lo’i, getting to know their staff and the Wilhelm family (the organization’s founders), and writing about the amazing impacts of their work on people and place. We had been eating poi on the waʻa along with some of our meals, but this morning I was making poi pancakes. I mixed our poi along with two bags of dry taro pancake mix that we had packed, which was not a small accomplishment while going 7 knots with wind rushing past. Pancake mix covered my arms and face as I tried to add the dry mix to the poi inside of our propane cooking box on deck. 

I heated some oil and began to make the pancakes, one by one, carefully holding the cooking box slightly open to prevent the wind from blowing out the flame. I began to hand out the purple pancakes to the awaiting crew, and the critics were raving—“No even need syrup!” There are few feelings more satisfying than feeding the crew a good meal, and this was one of my first meals taking the lead (I am often the sous chef to Nālamakū). The feeling was enough to sustain me through several hours of cooking dozens and dozens of pancakes one by one to use up the big bowl of pancake mix that I had made (perhaps more than we needed, but all of the pancakes were definitely eaten).

After a nap, I was back on deck. The afternoon was sunny, and we were sailing well. Suddenly, Archie pointed: “Look, dolphins!” A pod of at least 30 small dolphins were surfing and jumping about 100 feet from our port side. We were close enough to see them beneath the water. I ran over and grabbed one of our pū kani on deck. I blew the conch a number of times as the dolphins swam past us, across our bow, and onto our starboard side towards the setting sun. A few people came up quickly to close our head sail, and I figured that we might be slowing down for the dolphins. It turned out that as I began to blow the pū for the dolphins, we hooked up two big ahi on our two fishing lines running from the back of the waʻa. From the back of the starboard hull, Timi and Kamu worked to pull in a beautiful 70 pound ahi. On the port side, Archie and Nālamakū were pulling in another ahi, perhaps twice as big, before the ahi wrestled itself off the hook. But one ahi was more than enough. We even sent half of the fish over to Hikianalia with a bucket and floating line so that they could share in the bounty. For dinner, we had chicken long rice soup and fresh ahi sashimi.

Still, the day was not over. As the sun set, Archie, Kana, and I set up for our 6-10pm evening watch, and the most beautiful starry sky that we had seen throughout our trip opened up above us. We radio-called Hikianalia and turned off our anchor light for a moment to appreciate the full brilliance of the stars. I stood in awe as I saw the brightest shooting star that I had ever seen streak across the sky. Lightning flashed on the horizon from a distant, passing storm (luckily far away from us). In every direction, there were stars guiding the way to Tahiti, affirming for Lehua and our crew that we were on the right path, the same path that was well-traveled by the ancestors of our islands. A heritage corridor. An ancestral pathway. A pathway to that which lies beyond the horizon. Kealaikahiki. Home.

As Nainoa has pointed out in conversations with our group: Who drew circles around our Pacific islands and decided that these were our territories? Perhaps not the Native peoples of our own islands. Are our ancestral voyaging pathways not also our homelands, extensions and connections of our vast ocean nations? Nainoa tells us that when he asked a group of Tahitian leaders recently about why Hōkūleʻa matters to them, they said that the success of Hōkūleʻa in Hawai’i was felt as a success for Tahiti. Hōkūleʻa has reminded us that there may be many diverse islands throughout Moananuiākea, our vast global ocean, but at our core, we are one.  This is the truth that we keep returning to as we sail Kealaikahiki. Unity is our inevitable reality as well as our goal. Our crew must act as one to reach our destination. Our nations must act as one if we are to see the change that we need in our world. 

On Hōkūleʻa, we are able to better tune-in to the signs of our ancestors, from rainbows to dolphins to ahi to shooting stars, guiding us towards deeper truths, ancestral pathways of the future, well-traveled roads of abundance that lie in Kahiki, those places that hold our potential for becoming the ancestors that our descendants need. Our Kealaikahiki voyage is teaching me how to listen, and I am humbled to be learning with an amazing crew on Kealaikahiki, one of the best classrooms on Earth.

Vance Kaleohano Kahahawai Farrant

To follow the journey to Tahiti, please visit the voyaging dashboard at www.WaaHonua.com.

One of the most valuable parts of catching a fish on a voyage is not only the delicious food that our crew gets to eat, but a sign that we are on the right path.

In the morning on Day 7 of our Kealaikahiki voyage from Tahiti to Hawaiʻi, our crew was gathered around the rear of the waʻa (canoe), enjoying a nice breakfast of oatmeal and scrambled eggs. We had our hoe uli (large steering paddle) in the water to guide our waʻa further into the windward direction. I was on the hoe uli when the conversation turned to high school graduation. Chris, whom Nālamakū and I had as a teacher for a Papa Kilo Hōkū (Celestial Navigation) class during our senior year, recalled a speech that I had given at our 2017 Kamehameha Schools Kapālama graduation ceremony, and suddenly Maui was busting out a microphone and I was being asked to recount the speech to the crew on the spot. I playfully accepted the challenge. As I began to recite the speech (with some freestyle omissions and additions), I remembered just how appropriate its focus was for this moment. Back in high school, I had been inspired by the same themes of Hōkūleʻa, oceans, and fish that are inspiring me right now as we voyage to Tahiti.

I talked about the ways that, as we voyage through life, we can enjoy the many ‘ono (tastes, delicacies) of the sea. One of the main themes I discussed was the importance of returning home after our journeys and sharing our diverse bounty with each other. I highlighted how Hōkūleʻa was one of the best examples of this. This waʻa had left on her Mālama Honua Voyage in 2014, returning after 3 years to a homecoming like no other. She traveled the world, brought the gifts of Hawaiʻi to other lands, and just a few weeks from the day I gave that speech, she would be coming home again to share the many gifts received in her travels. 

I ended my recounting of the speech in the same way that I had at graduation – we all held hands and sang Hawaiʻi Aloha. A few moments after we finished singing, the rubber band on our starboard-side fishing line snapped, and we had hooked a fish. In a few minutes, Timi and Archie pulled a 40-pound ‘ono onto the deck, a favorite fish of our captain and navigator, Lehua. I couldn’t help but laugh as we enjoyed the ‘ono, a fitting fish that came at the perfect time, a sign that we were doing well.

A few days later on Day 10, our crew woke up early for a small ceremony at sunrise to honor our crossing of Ka Piko o Wākea (the celestial equator) and Ka Piko o ka Honua (the Earth’s equator) as we moved from the Northern to the Southern Hemisphere. We stood in a circle at the back of the waʻa and began by sharing thoughts that were on our mind. After everyone had the chance to share, we blew our pū kani (conch shells) and offered several mele (song, poetic text) and pule (prayer) together as a crew. We shared ‘awa, and those who brought pōhaku (stone) from our homes or other special places offered them to the ocean. We closed with a pule as a crew and another sounding of the pū kani to signify closure.

Soon after the ceremony, a fish jumped onto each of our two fishing lines – we pulled in two big aku! We prepped a bucket to float over to Hikianalia so they could enjoy some fresh aku, too; as the bucket was crossing over, another big aku jumped on the lure, so we ended up with two aku again! That night for dinner, Kana seared aku fillets that she laid upon special sushi rice with scrambled egg, a celebratory dish she had been hoping to make. Kamu prepared poke with Hawaiian salt, onion, and inamona (crushed kukui nut), and Kamu and Nālamakū cut sashimi. For dessert, Tamiko baked two cakes, a crazy accomplishment using a pot, steamer basket, and foil. Later that night, after we changed our mizzen (back) sail, Timi made “Aku Skin Madness” using thinly sliced aku skin and potato peels fried crispy in butter, and made fish head soup. The evening had the excitement of a big family party! I took the three aku as another sign that our voyage was on the right track.

Eating fresh fish always fills our crew with immense gratitude for the ocean, and as we gather together and share food, we are also overwhelmed by gratitude for one another. Every day, we offer the best of our gifts to each other and the waʻa because of our aloha for one another. Because this is what Hōkūleʻa, the ocean, and our ancestors ask of us, unspoken but understood. Because we have tasted the unparalleled ‘ono of heartfelt service with a common purpose, and we can’t help ourselves. We keep coming back for more.

Vance Kaleohano Kahahawai Farrant

To follow the journey to Tahiti, please visit the voyaging dashboard at www.WaaHonua.com.

Hawaiʻi’s voyaging canoes Hōkūleʻa and Hikianalia sailed into Papeete, Tahiti and received a large royal welcome from the Tahitian community, including French Polynesia President Édouard Fritch and other dignitaries. Once the canoes were moored at Hōkūleʻa beach, the crew were greeted with a traditional cultural ceremony followed by speeches and tributes honoring the crew for their successful voyage from Hawaiʻi to Tahiti.

The afternoon celebration commemorated the special relationship between Hōkūleʻa and Tahiti that began with the canoe’s maiden voyage to French Polynesia 46 years ago. It also marked the important precursor to the upcoming Moananuiākea Voyage, a circumnavigation of the Pacific Ocean that launches in the spring of 2023.

“We are about to embark on the largest voyage ever done, Moananuiākea, which will focus on bringing together the Pacific islands for the oceans,” said Polynesian Voyaging Society CEO Nainoa Thompson. “I can’t think of a better place to start this voyage than in this place of our ancestors where the relationship to nature, oceans and culture is so strong,” he added.

With the arrival of Hōkūleʻa and Hikianalia, “we are reviving the spirit of unity of the Polynesian peoples,” declared President Fritch.

Following the stop in Papeete, the canoes will sail to the ancient voyaging marae of Taputapuatea in Raiatea to follow ancient cultural protocol and ask permission to launch the Moananuiākea Voyage. Thompson and fellow Pwo Navigator Bruce Blankenfeld will also participate in the Blue Climate Summit, May 14-20, an event focused on accelerating ocean-related solutions to climate change.

Hōkūleʻa and Hikianalia are expected to depart Tahiti on May 20, 2022, and return to Hawaiʻi in mid-June.

To follow the journey to Tahiti, please visit the voyaging dashboard at www.WaaHonua.com.