Hōkūle'a is sailing for Palmyra and beyond with a new generation of Native navigators aboard. – Photo: Arna Johnson

Next generation
prepares to inherit the Hōkūle'a helm

Palmyra, other voyages
providing training for future captains

By Liza Simon / Ka Wai Ola Loa

COVER STORY: "Sand and varnish, sand and varnish. Hold the wood and love the canoe!" With this singsong phrase, Heather Nahaku Kalei laughingly described her introduction to the Hōkūle'a several years ago, when the iconic canoe was dry-docked in Honolulu and she worked on it as part of a class project at the University of Hawai'i. "It was great and I would have been fine if I never got past that," she recalled.

But she did. As you read this, the 23-year-old from Pana'ewa on Hawai'i Island might have already completed a sail on Hōkūle'a to Palmyra Atoll – a wildlife refuge 1,000 miles to the south that was recently included in a new national marine monument protected by The Nature Conservancy and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. While there, Kalei will conduct a scientific census of Palmyra's bird population – an endeavor she will undertake as a UH senior majoring in biological systems engineering.

Kalei, who has sailed the Atlantic Ocean, is thrilled to be aboard the Hōkūle'a, which helped launch the Hawaiian cultural renaissance three decades ago. Referring to Micronesian navigator Mau Piailug, known for mentoring Nainoa Thompson to become Hawai'i's first modern Polynesian navigator, Kalei said: "Mau shared knowledge that was taboo. He broke with tradition because so many came to him searching, hungry to learn. He helped revive more than traditional navigation, because Hōkūle'a is more than a craft. It's a leadership community."

Kalei's remarks are right on course with a new era of Hōkūle'a, embodied in the voyage to Palmyra, which left Sand Island on March 10.

Kaina Holomalia, 24, said the Hōkūle'a builds trust and values among crew members of different backgrounds. 'We live every day to the fullest – not knowing that in a couple of hours you (may) run into a storm you're not going to come out of.' – Photo: Liza Simon

"We need to pass on the tools of leadership, so a new generation can expand Hōkūle'a as a platform not only for navigation skills but also for education, science and aloha," said Bruce Blankenfeld, captain and navigator for the Hawai'i-Palmyra crew.

To pass on the tradition, Hōkūle'a's nonprofit Polynesian Voyaging Society is supporting 12 long-distance training voyages in which 40 percent of the crew must be younger than 30.

The voyaging society hopes to train the new generation of Hōkūle'a sailors to serve as modern ambassadors of mālama 'āina and sustainability and to eventually carry these values around the world in 2012, when Hōkūle'a is slated to begin a circumnavigation of the globe at tropical latitudes.

"For three and half decades, there has been a chain of mentorship allowing more and more people to step up to the experience of the Hōkūle'a," Blankenfeld added. "I personally owe so much to Nainoa Thompson. He started so much of this by sharing his wisdom. Now I'm one of the older guys ready to pass it on. By this, I don't just mean handing out information in a one-way flow. A big piece of traditional navigation is a constant interchange of communication. (With the Palmyra novices), I wait for them to come up with the important questions. And this happens. They have these great a-ha moments of understanding from a place that has true meaning in their experience. ... They are very committed to the vision of the canoe."

Twenty-three-year-old Heather Nahaku Kalei of Pana'ewa says it would be incredible to sail aboard the final leg of Hōkūle'a's planned circumnavigation of the globe – which would allow her to sail into Hawai'i Island as she imagines her ancestors did. – Photo: Liza Simon

Asked if he thought the planned circumnavigation is ambitious, Blankenfeld, said it is but it's also inevitable, given the propensity of those involved with Hōkūle'a to turn big dreams into stunning accomplishments. In the beginning, the dream was to demonstrate that ancient Polynesians traversed even the tiniest coral atolls in the world's largest ocean by developing a system of navigation based on knowledge of stars and other celestial bodies along with wind and wave patterns. Under European domination, the ancient knowledge was not only eclipsed, it was challenged by prevailing opinions that only Western charts and instruments could lead navigators across vast seaways, suggesting that the feat of pan-Pacific settlement was random and accidental.

Palmyra was selected as the first destination, because it lies at the end of a relatively easy southward seaway. It also offers both a scientific research station and an island wilderness similar to the remote environments settled by Polynesian sailors of antiquity, who knew how to thrive on the limited resources the small splits of land offered. In other words, it is a living classroom in the concept of mālama 'āina – or its modern counterpart – sustainable environmental practices.

In 1975, Hōkūle'a – a replica of an ancient sailing canoe, successfully retraced the ancient migration route from Hawai'i to Tahiti, thus beginning a turning back of the tides of erroneous assumptions. The rest is history – or rather a revival of history that has gripped the modern imagination with newfound respect for ancient Polynesian seafaring wisdom.

"In three-and-a-half decades, the Hōkūle'a has logged over 125,000 sea miles with well over 1,000 sailors – some of whom are no longer with us," said Blankenfeld, the captain. "We started raw with guys who were just great sailors. They expanded our skills, but we can always do it better if we keep to the mantra that the Hōkūle'a is all about opportunity for expanding knowledge."

Knowledge from the exploits of the Hōkūle'a, the Hawai'iloa and other ancient canoe replicas has become systemized, making possible the academic courses within the University Hawai'i system, including the Honolulu Community College Marine Education Training Center at Sand Island. Some on the Palmyra voyage have been trained at the center; others are quite green. The common denominator, said Blankenfeld, is that they've demonstrated qualities of kindness, respect and hospitality. With self-deprecating humor, Kalei explains that in lieu of a formal selection process: "They figure out if they can live with you at sea. You work hard, keep your ears open and your mouth closed. Not that anyone is mean to you. Everyone is amazing."

In turn, Blankenfield says of the young sailors: "The new generation has grown up around the vision of the canoe. They've been inspired by it. They grasp life is a voyage: you map it out, find the strength to weather the pitfalls and get past the storms. They also have a lot to teach us."

Captain and navigator Bruce Blankenfeld explains to novice crew members how traditional Polynesian navigators were able to estimate longitude based upon knowledge of currents and other clues from nature. The class took place aboard the Hōkūle'a before it set sail March 10 for Palmyra Atoll, 1,000 miles to the south. – Photo: Liza Simon

Preparing to set sail

On a windy morning in early March, when storm conditions once again trumped a planned departure for Palmyra, Blankenfeld was on the deck of the Hōkūle'a fielding crew members' questions on everything from the rigging of lines to the ancient reckoning of longitude – not an easy matter, it turns out, but still do-able according a system developed by Polynesians. Somewhere in the discussion, he finds a way to reinforce one of his pet themes, professionalism: "If you see anything out of place … make a note in your captain's log in a quiet, humble way, because these are the kind of things we use in the end to remind ourselves how well we did and how much better we can do," he tells the crew.

"Uncle Bruce teaches with aloha. He corrects out of deep love and you never feel bad about yourself," said Kaleo Wong. A master's candidate in Hawaiian language at UH, Wong has sailed on previous PVS journeys. The experience heightened his respect for his Hawaiian ancestors, he said. He admires them for being able to read the sky for signs of storms before departure – not relying on the green light from the National Weather Service, as is done nowadays.

While the ancients may have had it tougher, most would agree that life is as Spartan as it gets aboard the Hōkūle'a. Sleeping spaces are above storage holds and beneath nothing more than canvas cover. There is constant rocking, and for many, seasickness. IPods are permitted but, sorry, no radios or watches are allowed aboard, since time must be inferred – as ancient wayfarers did, by keenly observing signs in the sky. Meals consist of nutritious but little fresh fare, carefully planned by UH nutrition experts. Then there is the daily grind of four-hour watches, when a crew member is responsible for everything from checking the steering to reporting on crew morale. To simulate life in the open ocean, the Palmyra crew spent several months making practice runs to neighbor islands.

"The real challenge is becoming attuned to the open ocean," said Kalei, quoting Hōkūle'a voyaging alumnus Carlos Andrade, who also taught her navigation at UH. "He used to say that on land, we get in our little 'box' cars and drive to our 'box' offices and back to our 'box' homes." Compared to this, voyaging on the open ocean offers a chance to rejuvenate the senses, making the limitations of life on board a small sacrifice to pay.

Captain and navigator Bruce Blankenfeld trains novice crew members in traditional Polynesian navigation. – Photo: Liza Simon

Hōkūle'a has taught hard lessons also, like through 1978 disappearance of Eddie Aikau, who vanished at sea in an attempt to get help for this crew mates, after the Hōkūle'a capsized south of Moloka'i. Safety precautions were bumped up after the tragedy, though for many of the 20-somethings on the Palmyra voyage, Aikau's story holds great resonance and sets the bar for selfless determination that makes traditional seafaring well worth so many challenges.

"When you stay out on the middle of the ocean and not seeing any land you get a sense of how small you are in this big earth and you feel humbled at being at the mercy of nature," said 24-year-old Kaina Holomalia, one of the more experienced crew members on the Honolulu-to-Palmyra journey. "It builds trust and family values. We all from different backgrounds, but we live every day to the fullest – not knowing that in a couple of hours you (may) run into a storm you're not going to come out of."

Holomalia, who also serves as watch captain, grew up in Wai'anae, where he said he gave in to temptations of drugs and dropped out of school in the ninth grade. "But lucky my grandfather them was real deep into fishing, diving for tako," he said. "They make net, patch net, fish. So I learned plenty as a kid. Not like at school with them telling me George Washington was my history."

When the Myron B. Thompson School opened an ocean-focused learning program in conjunction with the Polynesian Voyaging Society, Holomalia said he "jumped on it." Now enrolled in HCC's Marine Education Training Center and employed in a commercial maritime business, Holomalia thanks Hōkūle'a for showing him latitudes that once and for all changed his attitude.

"One lesson Hōkūle'a taught to me is that the ocean connects us. In Yap (after the 2006 Hōkūle'a journey between Japan and Micronesia), the captain said, 'When you guys get back to Hawai'i think of us on the canoe; put your feet in the water and we're just on the other side,' " recalled Holomalia, adding that this also opened his eyes to the need to mālama the ocean. "It makes me mad to see 'ōpala in the water. I go pick it up now."

Kalei, the 23-year-old from Pana'ewa, echoes the sentiments of crew mates when she says Holomalia seems primed to take the helm at some point in the vessel's global jaunt. Kalei might not be ready just yet for a worldwide voyage, but it's crossed her mind how incredible it would be on the final leg to return home Hawai'i Island and bask in the red glow of Kīlauea, as she imagines her ancestors did on their first voyage from Tahiti. She, too, has felt the tug of the mentorship role, since becoming involved with the Hōkūle'a. All those tapped for the training mission have "adopted" elementary school classes, making presentations about the Hōkūle'a vision to youngsters. "The knowledge is being perpetuated," said Kalei, who mentored students at Hālau Kū Māna charter school. "You can see this from the questions kids ask. The kids are so on it."