Voyaging is a way of life that perpetuates the aloha spirit and inspires meaningful connections across the Pacific and in the next three years across the planet. But the voyagers all know that they wouldn’t be standing on the deck of the canoe without their community crew. Chadd Paishon sums it up,
    “We had a fantastic voyage and the voyage continues and there's still more legs ahead. For each of us that stands on the deck of the canoe, there's at least a hundred people standing behind and beside us. When we were on the voyage there was this overwhelming feeling that we needed to come home and share with our community what we did with our gift of aloha.”
    It was a noisy talk story session with the youngest crew flowing in front of the stage and at times, tsunami like up on the stage. But at the closing, rather than being considered a distraction, they were acknowledged by Pomai Bertelmann with, “This is what we do this for.”

    When Papa Mau, who came to Hawai'i from Satawal in the west Pacific, guided the Hōkūleʽa on her first voyage to Tahiti, the ancestors had his back; he was navigating in unfamiliar waters, yet his trust in the knowledge of his ancestors never waivered.
    All successful voyages, whether on water or land, are guided through a connection to forces we cannot control, but that we can connect with.  When we reach out for the ancestors, we also reach back to find the wisdom to navigate our own seas.  
    “He waʽa he moku, he moku he waʽa.” There is no experience more powerful than being on a vessel in the middle of the ocean and realizing that control is an illusion and that the way forward lies in connection; connection to the elements, to the vessel and to the ʽohana gathered on the deck. The voyaging canoes provided a spark that ignited practitioners to action and they continue to be a guiding star and a floating classroom for the re-connection with cultural values and practices of the ancestors. 

      One of those practices is kite flying and this year kites have taken flight at Waimea Middle School and Kanu o ka ʽĀina.  About two years ago, Pomai Bertelmann, seeming to channel the ancient spirits, drew the image of a kite as part of a design she was creating; it caused a spark that inspired her brother Kealiʽi, Pua Case and other members of the ʽohana waʽa to research the kite. According to Hawaiian spiritual beliefs, there are three kite forms: in the water, it is the sting ray; on top of the water the sail of the canoe and above the ocean the kite soars up to the inverted dome of the sky to navigate through the stars. 
     They also discovered that kites have made appearances in Hawaiian historical events;  Pua Case, citing the kite flying protest organized by Kauikeaouli (King Kamehameha III) on seeing the erosion of traditional Hawaiian practices, commented, “I was not aware of the kite as a symbol of protest until we began to revive it.  It’s active, but not intrusive or aggressive.  I don’t agree with this, so I will fly a kite.”
     Kealiʽi expanded on that manaʽo and described another dimension to Kauikeaouli’s kite flying demonstration:
I think that when they flew kites in mass, and there is one moʽolelo that says I think there were over 200, that they were flying it as a symbol of their commitment to certain traditions and things that were important to them. So when we started teaching the kite making for this time now as part of the voyage of the Hōkūle`a, we started teaching it, as a recommitment and a symbol of our continuation of the voyaging traditions now but also for our community to show their support for the voyage, when the canoe leaves in June.  

    This year Kealiʽi Bertelmann created a very special kite for the annual untitled piece project at Waimea Middle School, where the artist brings in the piece and then the students get the opportunity to name it. Kealiʽi describes his kite, which was named Poʽai Pili Aloha (circle of unbroken love):
The reason I did the kite as a circle or the lupe lā is because I wanted to make sure, it was a way to honor Kanehoalani, the god of the sun.  Kanehoalani, in some geneaologies is the father of Pele.  The mother in that geneaology is Kaikahinaliʽi. It has to do with their function in the environment. That genealogy has to do with the sun and how the sun affects the earth at certain times. So that’s how I explained it to the kids. So it’s dyed, the base color is yellow; I dyed it with olena. There’s red stripes…. that’s the lava flows of Pele and acknowledging her father and her connection to Kanehoalani.  Some of the symbols represent my family. Seven iwa birds that represent my seven nieces and nephews. There’s black lines that look like they don’t have a beginning and an end. I did that on purpose because that represents genealogies and for Hawaiians, we actually trace our genealogies, not just back to people, but to the gods.  

  And those gods are alive in the mysterious forces around us as they always have been. Before humans ventured out into the Pacific, before kites, before sails, there was the wind, an invisible presence of swirling change.  Did early humans stand on the western edge of the Pacific and gaze at the sky, observing bird flight and the lift of the updrafts? Or perhaps they were caught in a storm, watching as trees fell and shelters were lifted.  Would it be any wonder that early humans would have seen that power as a spiritual presence.  
     Kites were used by early voyagers to read their world and make contact with the beyond. The great power of human intelligence rests in observation, to really sense the objects and processes of their world as ideas and make unique connections between them.  In this sense, the kite became the first sail, eventually evolving into a way of capturing the wind and pushing voyagers out onto an ocean, untouched by human contrivances. 
     We can no longer venture out on an untouched ocean, but it makes the voyage of Hōkūleʽa  that much more poignant. When Hōkūleʽa departs for her worldwide sail, there will be a quiver of kites waving her off, soaring aloft and inviting the power and protection of the ancestors to sustain and guide the voyagers along their journey.  The image of the kite being drawn up into the ocean of planets and stars by cosmic winds is a portal to timelessness and hope.

By Jan Wizinowich

    Like a dreamscape, Hikianalia glides on the horizon this early Sunday morning, the only color in an ancient pearl landscape. The one partly furled sail and the swift movement of the wa’a brings us back to local time with the realization that it is the solar powered motors and not the wind that is propelling the wa’a westward to come about on a broad
southeast reach into port to clear customs. 
    Hikianalia, the latest addition to the 'ohana waʽa, has just made her maiden voyage from Aotearoa, where she was constructed, to Tahiti and from Tahiti to Hilo. The hulls, fiberglass covered  foam, with sweeping lines are a thing of beauty as well as providing swift  sailing with the teak deck lending another kind of practical beauty.  Slated to be the escort for  Hōkūleʻa on her world voyage, which is scheduled to depart in June, Hikianalia is outfitted with 8 solar panels and 3 motors, making her the ideal escort craft. 

    The waʽa comes about for her broad reach just off Honoliʽi,  which is carpeted with surfers who may have gotten a glimpse of the ghostly  visage in between rides, while we all wait at a Keaukaha Beach Park, just east of the Matson compound. 
​    The shoreline here is a jetty of ancient volcanic stones rooted in places by ironwood trees and stumps. The stones are of Kamehameha proportions, but were  probably placed by manmade contraptions. I stand on the tail of this sinuous formation that extends out into Hilo Bay like a rectangular, angling snake.  A lone fisherman stands on the wall, clutching his throw net, watching for the right moment. This shore, formed from ancient lava flows and reef, must have looked very different before human hands began rearranging it.  The  village hale set back from a shore with Pele at their backs and Kanaloa at its front, was probably inhabited by ʽohana who were both calm and mobile.

    Preparations are underway for a feast to welcome the crew while Aunty Deedee Bertelmann and Aunty Patty Ann Soloman talk story and make lei.  Ray and others arrange large pans of delectable food along a square of 4 long tables. A small cluster of people watch from the jetty as Hikianalia makes her way into the port; the shoreline is stacked with containers, lined with hotels and busy with the regular activities of Sunday morning Hilo. Seated on the shore, we wait along with Hilo’s waʽa, Hokualakaʽi who awaits her sister  waʽa. 
    Kolomoa Shintari and Bruce Blankenfeld are ferried off round the pier into port in a small zodiac.  Meanwhile, Matson grinds to life for the work day to replace the warehouse roof.  I’m treated to stories of these waters by two young companions who sit with me on the shore:  Lurking tiger sharks, favorite eating fish and techniques for cooking and eating fish eyeballs.  Another  keiki tosses handfuls of small rocks into the water to scare the fish as he eats  a spam musubi and is greatly amused to discover that the “fish” was only a  stick. 

    Finally we see the masts moving behind the port pier. As the waʽa rounds the pier from customs, Pua Case brings the pahu and is  surrounded by welcoming ʽohana from Waimea and her two daughters.  Pua’s husband, Kalani Flores stands on the right in a small cluster of trees, pu in hand, ready to signal welcome. The Keaukaha ʽOhana stands in preparation, kīhei draped and tied above the shoulder. As Hikianalia enters the small bay, Pua sounds the pahu. The pu is sounded from the deck of Hokualakaʽi and from  Kalani onshore. 
    Watching as three of the crew churn the water with the giant size steering paddle, one can almost imagine a majestic spirit gazing down in amusement. The paddle is pushed and pulled in rhythmic elliptical  movements to turn the canoe astern to the shore, and a child nearby  comments,  “There’s solar panels on  that boat”; such awareness.
    Indeed one would think that the waʽa was an  enchanted vessel powered by magic, the motors run so quietly.  Once the waʽa is turned there is still much to do, requiring a  “try wait” attitude; there is a pensive quietude in the crowd that has gathered, as all concentrate on reaching out with piko energy, just as ancient voyagers  traveling across the vast Pacific were tethered to shore by those who waited for  their return. 
    But now the waʽa is safely in port and the crew is anchoring her with tangible tethers extended out  in four directions and tied to sturdy ironwood trees.  The deck is set to rights and the crew gathers in a circle with Captain  Bob Perkins, meditating on their journey and giving thanks to nā Akua. Clapping  three times, the crew clusters, facing the shore, beginning a series of  exchanged chants. The crew chants and many onshore join in. Next Chadd Paishon calls out across the water, requesting permission with the crew adding their  voices. This is followed by a series of questions and requests from the  crew,  answered by many voices  onshore.  “Aloha e”, begin the  Keaukaha ʽOhana and Pua turns to them, her already radiant face is enveloped in  a sudden glow of sunlight.

    When Keaukaha  moves back, the crew do a haka to honor  Hikianalia’s Atearoa origins. This is answered by the Waimea ʽOhana, led by Pua and including: her daughters, Hawane and Kapulei, Kealiʽi Bertelmann, Keala Kehuanui, Kala Akima,  Pomai Bertelmann and Patty Ann Soloman.   
    The  previous night, Hawane and Kealiʽi Bertelmann were working their magic out under the stars, on stage at the Kawaihae Canoe Club. “No hana hou. Hawane your mom is here and she says you got to go to Hilo to greet Hikianalia; she coming in the morning.” But they did manage a touching hana hou,  which was a song written by Hawane for Pua on her 50th birthday, joined onstage by Pua doing a  graceful hula. In the morning, although Pua and her ʽohana had driven from Waimea  the previous night, arriving around midnight, their faces are alight with sheer joy.

     E o!! is called  out in gratitude as the first of the crew, Chadd and two others, touch  shore. Chadd stands before the  gathering, and is approached in quiet respect, gathering each person in his
all-encompassing embrace. Kealiʽi Maielua and Pualani Lincoln Maielua approach with their two keiki, Kumano clinging to his Uncle Chadd in amazement, a powerful memory being sealed in his heart.  Rod Floro, teacher from Kea'au and waʽa  crew, brings his son to be touched with aloha, followed by Pomai Bertelmann and old friend and cultural practitioner Keoni Aweau Turalde, who had spotted the  waʽa from his lanai. 

By Jan Wizinowich

    My son Wynton and I spent the day witnessing the preparation and re-launch of Makaliʽi.  Although intellectually, I’m asking myself why we were spending the whole day watching this slow process, in my heart, it was what Makaliʽi commanded, presence and mindfulness. Whether on the ocean or in drydock, the waʽa  is about presence and mindfulness.  

    The crew are making final preparations, all locked together by their strong desire and the knowledge that the waʽa demands the blending of hearts, hands and minds. Even before the waʽa is in the water, the crew is tightening their inner control, every move a conscious one. Like aikido masters, they are firmly grounded yet always aware of the potential energies surrounding them.  The constantly swirling, gusting punch of the winds reminds them that the only control they have is their own center of gravity, so that they can work amidst the possible chaos that awaits them, and maintain the balance of survival.

    The keiki and teachers from Aha Punanaleo ʽo Waimea Pre-school arrive and gather beside the waʽa.  “Isn’t the wind blowing in the wrong direction?” asks one of the teachers. Perhaps they too are getting a glimpse into the nature of a world without apparent boundaries, borders, laws or rules.  How many of these young ones will venture out into this world of their ancestors?  
    There is a procession to the finger pier where the Makaliʽi will be launched using a crane.  The truck pulls the flatbed atop which sits the restless waʽa. The procession is led by Kealiʽi, who along with his wife Pua, anchored the drydock effort and Sonny acting as pilots.  Just behind three exuberant youth frolic, running up to hitch a ride, then falling away to continue their dance of delight.  Behind them is a pilgrimage and like many pilgrims, they are led by their hopes for the future and a need to reconnect with the past. For the Hawaiian culture, it all began with the waʽa.  

    The winds are alternating between cooing caresses and angry jackhammer blows, offended that this plaything of theirs is being kept from them still, wanting to sweep it away into the sea. ​Indeed, out of her element, she looks hulking and in deep contrast to the graceful sweeping mountains that are ka makani’s plaything, a slide down which the wind flies, picking up speed and colliding with great joy and exuberance to land another blow to the waʽa. 
​    As she weaves her way through the commercial pier, she takes on a look of grace, passing brightly colored containers that possibly hold the detritus of what we think of as necessary to our lives. With the exception of a few yachts, the harbor and peer no longer hold a sense of excitement, the potential for adventure. It is disguised as a small undistinguished village of oversized building blocks stacked in various arrays.  In contrast, the Makaliʽi is a bird, among the rocks and poised for flight. 

    Now poised on the peer and undergoing more preparations, we all gather as if before an altar of worship, to lend our own spirit energies to the efforts.  A circle of life is created with the keiki watching patiently and playfully, while the crew, some of whom grew out of Pūnana Leo School, steadily complete the remaining tasks.  The mast is lifted by the crane and stepped into the heiau, trailing many lines like a maypole, with one or two crew members poised at each end.  Each adding their own tension to a line, they wait for the call to tighten or loosen that will make the mast come true.  Laulima. 
    The watchers are called on to bring water, add weight to a line. Kaleihinano, Punanaleo teacher gazes at her beautiful son and daughter, who are self-assured members of the crew.  Then finally the keiki have to leave, but rather than break the connections, they seal it with chant.  Stepping forward in a respectful line, they call out.  The crew pauses in stilled respect and when the keiki have finished, they give an answering chant, the lead voice being passed between crew members.  

    Throughout this process, the two captains present, Shorty Bertelmann and Chadd Paishon, observe from the shadows cast by the dock warehouses, letting the young crew find their way and test what they have learned from these wise men. They are witnesses of a different sort.  By the time that Makaliʽi is finally lifted into the water, my son and I are the only two witnesses left on the peer.  Hulo, hulo!  Kealiʽi makes the call and soon a boat will come to tow her back to her home berth, this time in the water though and soon to be a frolicking interface between humans and the winds.

By Jan Wizinowich

    Trust in the knowledge and wisdom of the ancestors, which is what made it possible for Papa Mau to guide Hōkūle`a to Tahiti through unknown waters. Spiritual wisdom is available to us if we are open to the signs. This was the case for Gail Loofbourrow,  a labor and delivery nurse, who experienced the power of aumakua during a difficult birth:
Many years ago, in my role as a labor and delivery nurse, I cared for a Hawaiian woman who was preparing for the birth of her first child. Things were not going as anticipated; as time passed it became apparent serious interventions might be necessary. During this time the many local family members prayed and requested the powers of their aumakua, the owl. I must admit I lacked a full understanding of the aumakua. Prayers were answered; the precious baby came into this side of his world full of vigor and a healthy cry. I thought no more about the aumakua until my ride home. For there on my way through Pu`uanahulu sitting above the highway was an owl staring at me with intensity...There is no doubt in my mind the owl was acknowledging my role in the birth and providing me with proof there was much I needed to learn about the culture of Hawaii. Even if I do not understand a word or belief at the moment I need to respect what I hear and know that it is true.
    We did not arrive to this moment alone, through our own efforts, but through the grace of those who traveled before us. When the Polynesian voyaging canoes embarked on their journey of circumnavigation, they were really  traveling backwards at the same time as they are moving forward--back across the centuries when voyagers found their way here, but also forward to show the path of survival and human sustainability. They are an example of what can be accomplished by returning to and living the traditional values of Aloha: 

A: Ahonui---Patience, perseverance

L: Lokahi---Harmony, agreement

O: ʽOhana---Working together for a common goal. 

H:  Haʽahaʽa---Humility

A: Akahai---Grace, gentleness

    The Makaliʽi, this island’s voyaging canoe, was built because a core group of people, led by Clay Bertelmann and the Bertelmann ʽOhana, persevered with quiet patience.  With ego on hold, a hana nui attitude and an atmosphere of harmony focused on a common goal the Makaliʽi was born.  Even in the face of their amazing accomplishment, the extended canoe ʽohana maintains an attitude of humility and grace.  Aloha continues to work miracles every Saturday as many hands work together to ready Makaliʽi for her next big voyage, with every volunteer, no matter how humble their contribution, being acknowledged with appreciation.  
    It has been suggested that the impetus for the original voyaging canoe was an insufficiency of resources and that the island worked together to create a vessel that would journey to find a place for the people to thrive and grow.  No one knows how many attempted voyages there were, but Hawai'i was born.
    The first Polynesians here made use of the abundant resources to flourish and maintain a life that was grounded in sustainability practices, while at the same time European culture was making its way from the East.  Unlike the finite world of island living, the vast North American continent with seemingly vast resources did not require conservation practices.  These two worlds met in Hawai'i and now we are seeing the results of a mindset of endless resources to be exploited. 
    The sustainable practices of the first Hawaiians are being slowly reclaimed as we prepare to face water and food shortages that threaten our survival. “He waʽa he moku,  he moku he waʽa,” (The canoe is an island and the island is the canoe) are words at the core of master navigator, Clay Bertelmann.  The voyaging canoes are a practical lesson in sustainability.
    But what about our daily lives? What do sustainable island practices look like and what are the lessons of the old wisdom that sustained island populations? Like Gail Loofbourrow, are we seeing and acknowledging the signs of wisdom that are there? 

By Jan Wizinowich

    When the conditions are right and the captains and navigators concur, Maisu, Hokulea and their escort yachts will begin their journey to Papa Mau. It's Monday morning, January 15, following Sunday’s ceremony, a gathering of friends and family to release the canoes.  Mahukona is quiet and peaceful.  The day is clear with light Northeast winds fussing the water beyond the shadow of the island.  On a small grassy knoll, oriented Southwest, is a ring of stones that form a navigational heiau providing guidance to voyagers past and present.  Beyond, whales breach and sound as if in invitation to the voyagers to share their ocean highway.  
    The canoe, Maisu is the latest effort in an odyssey to reestablish traditional ocean voyaging using the art and science of wayfinding practiced by the ancient Polynesians. The inception of the Polynesian Voyaging Society in 1973, began the process of reconnecting with the lost art of wayfinding practiced more than 800 years ago by Polynesian voyagers.  
​    Hokule’a’s first voyage in 1976, navigated by master navigator Mau Piailug, provided the inspiration for the building of canoes throughout Polynesia, the training of successive generations of navigators and many historic voyages.  But none of this would have been possible without Mau’s generous gift of the knowledge of traditional navigation. The ocean voyagers of Hawaii wanted to give something back to Mau and to the younger generations in Micronesia; Maisu was the result.

    According to Maisu’s navigator, Chadd Paishon, “The idea of the canoe was to help him help his people. Every canoe is born for a specific purpose and every voyage has a theme.” The name Maisu derives from a Satawalese word for breadfruit that falls to the ground during a high wind and feeds all the people.  Mau’s mission is to help his people  not be dependent on western contrivances such as motors and gasoline. “Mau thinks it’s crazy that so many people are buying motors when they don’t even have gas,” shared Paishon.
    Planning for Maisu began in 2001 when Mau met with several members of the Hawai'i Voyaging community. Maisu, a Big Island grassroots effort, coordinated by Na Kalai Wa’a Moku O Hawaii (The Canoe Builders of the District of Hawaii) began its life on Oahu, where the friends of Hokule’a and Hawai’iloa constructed the twin hulls. Young Brothers then shipped the hulls without charge, from O’ahu to Kawaihae, in September 2003, where the majority of the work to build the canoe began.  
    This involved a core group of people headed by the late master navigator, Clay and his brother Shorty, as well as Steve Garrett (master boat builder) and scores of volunteers who gave what they could.  “Clay’s daughter Pomai Bertelmann of Nā Kalai Wa’a Moku O Hawai’i pointed out "We had people from New Zealand, Argentina, South Africa, Japan, Hawai’i, California, we had people from all over the world working on this canoe. We couldn’t have asked for more.” (Mālama Hawai'i News)
    Rather than being constructed from blueprints, the design was created based on her purpose and available materials.  Weaving all the factors together, Maisu evolved in what seemed to be a dialogue between the spirit of the canoe and her builders.  
    First they looked at Makali’i to evaluate what worked about the design and what didn’t work. “We also had to look at the waters where Mau lives. The traditional Micronesian canoe has a much sharper hull because they need to sail more to the windward. But Hawaiian sailing canoes have much more rounded hulls because there is much more of a lee drift.” said Paishon. However, because Mau’s plan is to teach as many people as he can while his health permits, he requested a large Hawaiian voyaging canoe to accommodate larger groups. 
    The mast and the sails, however, needed to work for the wind conditions it would encounter in the various Micronesian island groups. “Normal windspeed in Micronesia is 5-10 knots, which means they need to use very large sails and need taller masts to support them.” (Paishon) Recent sea trials in much windier Hawaiian waters have sent Maisu flying, proving the effectiveness of the rigging.
    The electrical system also had to work in Micronesian waters. This was designed and installed by Robert Harbison, who was at the recent launching of Maisu. Pointing out a sealed metal rectangular box about 1’x3’x2’, securely attached to the deck, he explained that it contained the electrical system that will be used to charge and power any onboard electronics such as radios. A self-contained modular system perfect for the Micronesian islands, as it can be shipped back to Hawaii for repairs or replacement parts.
    Maisu is comprised of two 57 foot hulls, the top sections of which are painted yellow and the bottom sections black. Launched on Dec. 16th at Kawaihae Harbor, captained by Shorty Bertelmann,  Maisu will soon begin the first leg of the voyage, crewed by five Micronesians and one Maori and seven Hawaiians. It will take Maisu to Majuro in the Marshal Islands, where there will be a crew rotation. From there Maisu sails to Ponape and Truk, in the Truk Islands, continuing to exchange crew members along the way.  The final destination in the Carolines includes stops on Pulap, Satawal (Mau’s home island), Woleai, Ulithi and Yap.
    Mau returned to Satawal last June, but is in regular contact with Chadd.  Although, due to failing health, Mau has limited time to carry out his mission,  “… every navigator has a backup plan.” His son, Sesario, has decided to carry on Mau’s work and  Mau also feels secure in the knowledge that, “…he has planted the seed in Hawai'i.” The voyage has come full circle.  The breadfruit that came to Hawai'i and fed the travelers who found their way through the mysterious ocean forces will, through Mau’s gift of wayfinding, return to the source.   
**Name given by Pua Kanaka’ole

By Jan Wizinowich

    Hoku’lea’s 1976 voyage to Tahiti inspired a renaissance of Hawaiian Culture that continues to gather strength like a tsunami sweeping the Pacific.  The wa’a or canoe is at the center of that wave, a source of freedom, discovery and sustenance, forming a link to the  ancient wisdom born from a knowledge of and deep connection to the natural world. The whole process of building a canoe is a unifying one that connects the forest to the ocean and requires that people pull together.
    Finding the right tree, following the protocol for cutting and preparing it, working together to bring it on its first journey from forest to the ocean shore, the canoe emerges.  The canoe builder has ancient knowledge that allows him to enter into a dialogue with the spirit waiting within the log to take shape. The ‘ohana becomes attuned to that voice and is drawn into the anticipation of discovery, like waiting for the birth of a child. 
    The recent arrival of seven voyaging canoes from the South Pacific, (see: http://pvs.kcc.hawaii.edu), highlights this increasing reconnection with ancient knowledge and wisdom and a new solidarity between Pacific Islanders. This tremendous effort was made possible through many smaller efforts, just as the renaissance of Hawaiian Culture has come about through the efforts of many individuals joining their energies to perpetuate a path that will sustain future generations. 

    One such small, but significant effort at Hawaii Academy of Arts and Sciences (HAAS) in Pahoa, has reached completion this year.  Arriving at HAAS to meet Kimo Peleiholani-Blankenfeld , the canoe builder, we walk through the rain to the back of the school where the canoe rests under an open sided work area. Beyond, there is an expansive school garden, lush with food. Kimo and his wife, Mahealani arrive with big aloha smiles, offering a grounded, clear-eyed presence.
    The story of this canoe began in New Zealand, the point of origination of 8 rare New Zealand or Kauri pine seedlings planted at the state arboretum in Hilo and also the point of origin of one of the seven recently arrived voyaging canoes. The source of the log for the canoe is owed to the serendipitous aloha forces always at work here.  Just as characters can sometimes be in search of an author, a very special log was in search of a canoe builder.  
    “Three years ago just before I started this they had a storm and one of the trees fell over and they said it was termite eaten…. so they had this one guy cut all the trees down and the last one they cut down was this one, didn’t have termites.  And just so happened they had something for Obama, a rally in Hilo and Steve went, Hirakami he’s the head master of the Hawai'i Academy of Arts and Sciences (HAAS) charter school.  When he went he met the guy who cut em down, that’s his good friend. So they was talking and by the time they left there he told him that they had this log sitting over there and he told him that if he wanted they were going to donate it to the school and he called me the next day and he asked me if I wanted to work the canoe. I said, 'Sure!'” 
    Kimo’s canoe building life began on O’ahu, but was soon to take him all over the Pacific and the Hawaiian Islands. Kimo and his five siblings grew up in Honolulu, “Right there on the ocean in Kulio’o. So we always surfing, paddling canoe from 9 year-old, 10 year-old.”  His early experience with canoe building was with master builder, Wright Bowman.
​    “I knew Mr. Bowman from when I was 9 or 10. He was always a canoe builder from when I was a small kid.” Then at the age of 15 Kimo met his destiny when Puaniho Tauotaha entered his life.  “I learned to make canoes from my hanai father from Tahiti. From when I was 15 I started working. From then on I just chucked it all in and worked on canoes.” This began an odyssey throughout the Hawaiian Islands and Tahiti.  “From then on I traveled all around the Islands with him and Tahiti building canoes...He told me he built over three or four hundred canoes.”

   In the case of the HAAS canoe the log came to Kimo, but the building process usually  begins in the forest. “When looking in the forest for a canoe log, my father told me, ‘When you pick the canoe [log] in the forest and we’re standing up where the sun hits every day from the morning.'  In reality this side is like the hardest side already because it’s being baked everyday, everyday. He would make an X on the tree so when it fell down you would know exactly which side we going to use.” After the log is found and cut,“… we would work em up in the valley or wherever we found them in the mountains.  Carve em pretty much for a couple of days and then drag em out with the family, then trailer them home and work on em inside the canoe shed.”
    Ancient knowledge handed down through the generations was closely guarded. Kimo was the only person outside the ‘ohana to which Tauotaha passed on canoe building knowledge.  “He didn’t teach anybody outside of his family besides me for building canoes.  Lot of times we would be working and people would come around to see how he was doing stuff, he’d stop working and we’d just sit there and talk story until they left. Then we go back to work.”

    In the Hawaiian Islands, Kimo and Puaniho built racing canoes for various island clubs. “Mostly we did all racing canoes in Hawaii. Kauai, Lanai, up on the Big Island, we did for Kaupua, Hui Nalu in Honolulu. We did canoes up for Kalapana. Then we went to Maui.  So pretty much all the islands we touched and went around.” 
    The project on Maui proved to be a bit more challenging. “The one in Maui was an old canoe John Lake built in the 30’s.  By the time we went over there in the 80’s it was in disrepair. Had only like the bottom part of the canoe.  Everything else was all rotten and we went and built it back up from scratch. It only looked like one feed trough when we started. From there we finished it just like this to the end and they’re racing it today for Maui for the Hawaiian Canoe Club.”
​    The challenge was patching together the sides and the bottom. “All glues, just glue. We got one patching machine. I swear one side had about 200 patches.  But when we finished was all good. The manu (the piece that covers the front and back of the canoe) for the canoe, the front and back manu comes from Kalapana, from the log we used to build the canoe for Kalapana. We brought em over there and we put em on. Was nice.”

    Kimo moved to Kalapana about 30 years ago when he was twenty and married into the Peleiholani family, whose residence in Kalapana traces back to the early 1800’s when Chief Peleiholani moved the ‘ohana from O’ahu.  Kimo and Mahealani have seven children, six girls and one boy and they are all involved with the canoe. “Everyone from baby all the way up work on the canoe.”
    Because the log was already in place, Kimo’s first task was to examine it to decide which side would be the bottom. After the bottom of the canoe is identified, a sort of sculpting process begins. “The first thing we did was the top. We cut off the top. And then we drew the lines for the sides. Then as soon as we got the lines for the side that was the second thing to come off. Once we got the sides off we tip it on the side and we did the bottom to get the shape we wanted.  We shaped the bottom with hand planers, electric planers.”

     There is a protocol for the order in which the work is done. “We do the outside first then we do the inside.  Because we got to finish the outside first cause if you take the inside, could make it too thin.  You got to get the whole shape done on the outside, then once you finish the whole shape you go in and jam the inside.”
​    This is done using a chain saw; several grooves are cut along the log and then an adze is used to finish carving it out. Getting the inside shaped right takes experience and is done, “Pretty much by feel…… So mostly, when we working on the inside, when we finished, usually we come down to one inch, maybe ¾ inch. Pretty much from tapping on the bottom of the hull you can see dust or whatever jumping on the inside.  I knew this thing would be light so I left if thick. Leaving it thick makes the boat more strong. I swear maybe two guys can lift it.”

    After the shaping, the manu are constructed and fitted on the canoe. Then the iako (the arms that reach out from the side) and the ama (the piece that is held by the iako) is attached. “The ama and the iako are made out of hao. Even in Tahiti the ama is made out of hao.” At various stages there is much sanding and finishing to be done, for which Kimo was assisted by HAAS students. “The group that was helping me was working the fish ponds in Kapoho and they working the fish ponds in Keaukaha. The days they weren’t traveling back and forth they were coming and helping me work on the canoe.”
    Kimo wanted the canoe to be one solid piece so he had to work with the dimensions of the log. It’s “not actually a racing canoe. It was short yeah.  Usually for a racing canoe it’s 45 feet long. This one is 32 feet [so] I only made it for 5 man.” That way the paddlers have room and will avoid hitting each other and there will be room for an extra paddle. Number 5 has room for seating and then they can put an extra steering paddle in back. Cause usually if the paddle breaks the steersman has an extra paddle in back or either that or he gonna take the one in front of him.  Somebody got to steer.  If they’re racing or doing long distance they got extra paddles one on each of the iako.”

    However it is possible to lengthen a canoe by setting another piece in the center, which is perhaps becoming more necessary with the dwindling supply of canoe logs of sufficient length. “One of the canoes we did [in Honolulu] we had to add on another 9 feet.  We took it to Mr. Bowman. He was the master canoe builder in Hawai'i.  We learned from him plenty.  We went to him and took the template from one of the canoes we built in Honolulu.  We took it up to his house and he figured out all the designs, all the cuts. He cut it out for us one night and we went in the morning and glued it all together. Next we went back, took the whole piece to the canoe we was working on. We set it right next to the canoe and it was exactly the same shape. The canoe is now at “...the Hui Nalu Canoe Club, that’s one of the fastest boats they got over there.”
    The name for the HAAS canoe, Hana Ka Naia (working dolphin), seemed to be a whisper from the canoe itself and the magic surrounding its creation.  “You just talk to the tutus and talk to the spirits.  I just asked my tutus and that name came to me. I went to talk to Steve and I said, ‘Hey Steve, when I finished the manu, I’m going to put the 'iwa birds on the back and on the front manu I’m going to put a couple dolphins.’ Every time you’re on the ocean in boats, dolphins are always in front and if you look in the sky you always got the 'iwa above.”
    The vital tradition of the canoe is being kept alive and growing throughout the Pacific, through the efforts of people like Kimo who give of themselves to the keiki, the ‘aina and the Akua, whose presence preserves and protects the culture that connects all the islands of the Pacific. “I’ve been doing other things for awhile but first was the canoes. I want to get back to the canoe.  I want to try and make a project and go to the schools and teach all the kids how to build them. If they want to learn our culture, that’s our culture, was based on the canoe. How we came to Hawaii was the canoe.  For our whole culture the canoe was the first.”  

By Jan Wizinowich

Kala Thomas, like the young kalo, has been nourished by strong Hawaiian traditions, as well as unique educational experiences. The culmination of those experiences has been the opportunity to work on the latest sailing canoe, Alingano Maisu. Stepping from the shadows of the work-shed used to construct Maisu, I am greeted by a shy and self-contained young man. We drive to the south end of Kawaihae Harbor, where Maisu peacefully awaits her first voyage. 
 
Finding a place in the shade, we sit and “talk story”. Like a canoe being pushed along by subtle ocean currents, eventually finding harbor, Kala has made his way to this place. After finishing eighth grade at Waimea School, Kala was home-schooled for two years, which involved extracurricular activities. Living in view of Mauna Kea, he’d been curious about Keck and what went on at the observatory, so Keck was his first choice. His offer to volunteer was soon turned into a job offer, working in the automotive shop with Bart McDonald a few hours each morning. He maintained this job throughout his high school career. 

During the second year of his home-schooling he became involved in a marine studies program called Kula Nai’a with Dr. Jan Östman-Lind and his wife Ania Driscoll-Lind that involved a combination of class-work and field studies. The students learned strategies for collecting data such as the use of a theotilite to measure the off-shore location of whales, and did counts of certain types of fish in various coastal areas. 

The summer following his sophomore year, Kala was selected with a group of 10 other students from Hawaii and 6 students from Alaska to participate in a program at Oregon State University called B.E.S.T. (Bridging Excellence in Science and Tradition). While doing more science field activities, he also got a taste of the native culture of the Pacific Northwest, as well as the chance to interact with people his own age. “Because I had been home-schooled, I hadn’t had a chance to be with people my own age. So for me the program was really good.”

 His need to be with a peer group led Kala to join Kanu O’ Ka Aina, a Hawaiian charter school established in 2000. There, he experienced learning in an o’hana, and traditional agricultural techniques while completing the classes needed for graduation, learning photography and videography. There were four different project groups and Kala was chosen to farm at Pu’u Pa Lehu. “When we got there, there was just a grove of eucalyptus trees. We cleared the land and grew taro, sweet potatoes, sugar cane, and bananas.” He worked with Kumu Nalei Kahakalau, to learn traditional methods of growing food. 

Kala was especially fascinated with the symbol of the taro plant. “Taro is a major component of the Hawaiian Culture. The taro plant has shoots on the side called oha, which is the root for the word ‘ohana. Also there can be successive generations on one plant. I found that interesting.” They also grew varieties of sugar cane whose origins could be traced back to ancient Hawaiians.

Rather than do performing arts, Kala was given the opportunity to learn both still and video photography. He was provided with the equipment through which he was able to learn a skill while at the same time providing Kanu with documentation of their program.

 The summer before 12th grade, Kala got the opportunity to again broaden his cultural and academic horizons by going to New Mexico with the Earth Watch program. “This was a really good project. The first day they took us to the Natural History Museum. I was amazed when I found out that the desert was at one time an ocean.” There was a dual focus of astrophysics and local native cultures. They visited Bandelier Monument and viewed the village sites of such ancient peoples as the Anasasi . The astronomy program involved students in finding specific objects and recording the time and position of that object. “I thought it was interesting but too much math.” The students were also able to visit the radio telescope array and actually got to climb up to the control room and stand on the edge of the dish.

 While all these experiences provided Kala with a broad foundation of knowledge and experiences, at his heart was the canoe. “Canoes and me are a long story. When I was growing up, I’m always seeing canoes. They were always in my awareness.” Kala was in 2nd and 3rd grades when the Hokule’a was being built. The students learned about the construction of the canoe and the history of voyaging canoes. When the Hokule’a embarked on her first voyage the students tracked and recorded its route. The intent of the voyage was to pass on the old knowledge to the next generation and so was named Na Mamo (“For the Children”). 

Kala was able to witness the building of the next canoe, Hawai’ loa, through visits to the Bishop Museum during different stages of construction. “There were huge logs and then every time we visited, they had changed shape. I have a vivid memory of walking under the two hulls. I was so small and looking up I could see the cross pieces with all the lines hanging down.” It wasn’t until Hawaii Loa returned from its voyage, that Kala got a look at the finished canoe. “I really wanted to get involved, but I just didn’t know how.” 

While in 7th grade at Waimea School, Kala got an opportunity to participate in the construction of a 16 foot training canoe, Hoku Li’i Li’i. One of the crew members of the Makali’i supervising the building of the canoe was Chadd Paishon (see Maisu article). The students were given classroom instruction on the parts and structure of the canoe and worked doing sanding and other tasks. While he was unable to complete the whole project it gave Kala another line to the canoe. 

After graduating from Kanu O Ka Aina and completing two video projects he’d been hired to do, Kala enrolled at H.C.C. in Hilo. In the summer he also took a forestry class at U.H. Hilo. He really liked the class, even though it was a 400 level class and he didn’t understand some aspects of it. However he did grasp the tangible aspects of forestry. It made sense following closely to his experience of traditional farming while at Kanu. They went out into the native forests, visiting upcountry Pa’auilo, Pu’u Wa’a Wa’a, and Hakalau wildlife refuge. It became clear to him that “…a forest is not just trees, but an entire ecosystem. Just because there are trees, it doesn’t mean there is a forest.”

While attending classes at H.C.C., Kala heard about Maisu through his friend Keili’i Bertelmann, who is the son of navigator Clay Bertelmann. “I thought about it a lot and I decided I wanted to be involved. So when the hulls came there was a blessing and I made a commitment then in front of the group.” While Kala was waiting for construction to start, he attended Hawaiian Studies classes and dreamt of the canoe. “I would be sitting in class and look down at my notebook and the page would be covered with pictures of canoes.” 

The Hawaiian Studies classes were interesting enough to break through his canoe dreams though. Studying myths and legends gave him a deeper understanding of the history and the ancient culture of the Hawaiians. And of course there were navigation stories to add to his knowledge of seafaring. His teachers were inspiring because, “The old practices are in use with them. They didn’t just teach about them they really live it.” 

When construction began in earnest Kala got the opportunity to live the life of the canoe builder. “We lived together, worked together. Eat, sleep and build canoe.” At first Kala was a little worried. “I don’t think I really understood the meaning of the commitment I made. There were times when I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m not really a woodworker and I felt kind of stupid. But I got comfort because I was around people who had more experience. I may not know what I’m doing, but others do and you can ask them and they’ll help you.” 

Then one day Papa Mau decided it was time for Kala to learn navigation. “He’d use rocks to show the navigational stars. Then he’d say: ‘Memorize that and come back and I’ll teach you some more.’” And on it went from March until Papa Mau’s departure in June. This pinnacle experience has changed him in many ways, but mostly Kala is more patient with himself and other people. “I found strength I didn’t know I had.” 

The kalo has been nourished and cultivated and now it is time to give back. Kala has been doing this with his involvement in the Makali’i education program. Through this program, where students sail aboard the Makali’i for a week at a time, he shares his knowledge and experience. He tries to impart to the students what he has learned from his teachers,that sailing is about living and working as a family. “It builds character and teaches you to follow through with commitments and then you gain confidence. You don’t just learn stuff and spit it out, you have to live it everyday. Aloha ka kahi.” 

The next phase is the voyage. “We’re all feeling a little sad now that the building is done. It’s taken so long and the commitment was so strong that I feel a little lost.” Although that feeling didn’t last for long; when all was completed except final preparations, Kala had the opportunity to go to O’ahu to teach Hawaiian studies.

Kala’s hard work and commitment paid off when his dream of sailing to his teacher, Papa Mau, came true.  He was able to sail on the last leg of the journey and was present on Alingano Maisu when she arrived on Satawal.  It was a lifetime, unforgettable experience and hopefully the first of many more blue water sails for Kala.