LIHU’E — For the dedicated men who have worked for 10 years to build Kaua’i its own, traditionally designed voyaging canoe, the yearning to feel connected with their ancestors is strong. “Just to understand and feel and experience the cultural
LIHU’E — For the dedicated men who have worked for 10 years to build Kaua’i its own, traditionally designed voyaging canoe, the yearning to feel connected with their ancestors is strong.
“Just to understand and feel and experience the cultural background of how Hawaiians came to Hawai’i, and what the Polynesians in general as a culture accomplished throughout the Pacific,” is reason for building Kaua’i’s soon-to-sail voyaging canoe Namahoe, said Dennis Chun.
Chun, a Hawaiian studies instructor at Kaua’i Community College, is one of the “hard-core” group of men who have worked tirelessly for a decade to bring the Namahoe from dream to reality.
Though the Namahoe is being built using modern materials (fiberglass most prominent), it is of traditional sailing design, meaning no motor, no navigational aids like global-positioning satellites, and no cell phone.
Navigating is done using only elements found in the natural world, something some first-time crew members find disconcerting. There’s no safety net.
Non-instrumental navigation, also called wayfinding, is an integrated skill, requiring decisions to be made based upon a collection of data, not just one piece of information, Chun said.
“You don’t just say ‘I’m going to follow this star.’ What happens if you don’t see that star? What’s Plan B?” Chun asked. “Everything is integrated, so that if one clue is unavailable you have other clues that you have already oriented yourself to.”
Because the ocean and sky have remained virtually unchanged for 1,000 years, modern sailors on voyaging canoes face the same challenges as did the people who settled Polynesia, he observed.
The navigational tools also remain the same: stars, sun, moon, ocean swells, clouds, wind and weather patterns.
When sailing on a traditional canoe, “it’s a real eye-opening experience as to what really happened when the ancients went out to sea and voyaged and discovered new lands, and what that feeling is like,” said Chun.
“People feel that connection. It’s like ‘Wow! How did they figure this out?'”
It will be a mission for Chun and other sailors to make the Namahoe a place for Kaua’i children to learn traditional sailing skills, both on land and on water.
Building the vessel has already been a long journey. One of the many handwritten comments on Namahoe’s yet-to-be-completed hulls sums up the entire project: “I never said it would be easy. I only said it would be worth it.”
They are ready to voyage. Chun says ancient navigators were more skilled than even today’s traditionally trained sailors because they intuitively incorporated spiritual and emotional elements into their decision-making process.
In traditional times, people were attuned and open to such possibilities, he said.
About 10 or 11 years ago, Chun experienced an almost-mystical event aboard Hokule’a that awakened him to this understanding. Hokule’a is an O’ahu-based, double-hulled sailing canoe that has sailed the Polynesian triangle, from Hawai’i to Tahiti to Easter Island and back to Hawai’i.
After sailing on the open ocean for days, the crew found themselves completely socked in by clouds, Chun recalls. They had been steering based on the ocean swells, but those began to change, indicating a new weather system coming in.
As cloud cover blocked visibility, it was impossible to double-check assumptions. The wind was fickle, he said. It would start up, change direction then die out, repeatedly. No matter what course the navigator chose, the wind made it difficult to stay on track.
In frustration and exhaustion, the crew agreed to lift the steering paddle out of the water and wait it out. Talking and drinking coffee, they passed the time until 1 a.m. when they heard a “psssshhhh” sound near the boat. It was a small pod of four to six whales.
The animals repeatedly swam off to a 45 degree angle from the boat. Back and forth, back and forth several times, then eventually swam away. The crew didn’t know what to make of it, though the navigator mentioned in passing that the aumakua for Hokule’a is the whale.
Eventually the wind picked up in an entirely different direction than before, turning the boat around and allowing Hokule’a’s sails to fill. Suddenly the clouds opened up to reveal several recognizable constellations, confirming where the boat needed to go: the exact direction in which the whales had been swimming.
“You’re not going to believe this,” the navigator told Chun, “but those whales were telling us where to go.”
For Chun and others who have completed long voyages on Hokule’a, there’s power and purity in being completely dependent upon each other while at sea.
Focusing on the safety of the canoe, wayfinding, and making landfall, “you get really tight as a group,” Chun said.
Re-entry into the real world with all its myriad distractions and demands on time can be jarring. After safely making landfall, it feels more comforting to be back on the water. “It’s like, OK, we found it,” Chun said. “We can go back and sail some more.”
Pamela V. Brown is a freelance writer from Kapa’a. This is part two of a two-part feature.
