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When we got to shore, he paddled us back to the beach in front of his house and
got a pole (tokotoko) to add to the paddle for propulsion, as well as a plastic
bottle with the bottom cut off to serve as a bailer. He asked if I'd like to
hold the steering paddle, to which I readily agreed. He poled us to the point
between Kahula and Niukkili valleys; we bailed the water that had accumulated
in the bilge; and we positioned ourselves with me in the stern and him a few
feet in front of me. He handed me the paddle, while he grabbed the bailer and
sheet; and we started back, working our way clockwise around the island and
toward the surf line.
At first we had a little trouble catching much wind, since we were in a large
shadow cast by the point between the two valleys and by Tohua, a small island a
hundred yards from the beach. But once we passed Tohua, we caught the full
force of the wind. It took all my strength and leverage, bracing the paddle
against the gunwale, to keep us going straight, with the wind coming from port
and my paddle to starboard. I was impressed at how well the canoe tracked and
how little leeway there was, considering that we had neither a keel nor an
outrigger. And with both of us sitting toward the stern, the bow rode higher,
which meant we didn't ship as much water. Tavake did a great job of handling
the sheet and helping to steer from his position; but he also gave me pretty
clear instructions about where he wanted me to direct the canoe and when to
turn. We sailed past Te Veni (a huge hole in the reef, perhaps 100 yards in
diameter) and reached the edge of the surf line. This was definitely the
scariest part of the trip, since it wouldn't have taken long to allow ourselves
to get blown into the meat of the surf, where we would certainly have swamped
in the powerful four- to six-foot breakers. But at the last minute he had me
jibe to starboard and switch the paddle to the port side. Although I use a
left-handed kayak paddle, my right side is a little stronger, and my left
shoulder is still sore from an old biking injury; so it took a while to find a
position where I could comfortably steer with the paddle to port. Once I got
that sorted out, we maintained a course pretty much straight toward the next
point-Miango-which juts out onto the reef, then headed up onto the beach. There
we bailed the water that Tavake was unable to get while we were underway, and
he poled us back to Lokakehu at the north end of Kahula, where we made one more
pass. We didn't go around the point to Niukkili because the waves were too big
on that side of the island, and we didn't go around Miango point to Ngauta
because that would have put us in the shadow of the island and made it
difficult to catch a good wind. So we had three wild rides along the
southeastern coast, from Lokakehu to the end of Hapapa. Although we were
constantly in danger of swamping and always had some water accumulated in the
bilge, it never interfered with our ability to handle the canoe. At one point,
as we were approaching the beach, Tavake leaned the wrong way while the wind
changed, and we had about three inches in the vessel when we reached shore; but
by that time we were over a sandy bottom, close to land, and out of the
strongest winds. The wettest we got was actually pulling the canoe onto the
beach back at Vangahala (the section of Kahula where I was living), when a
breaker crashed over the canoe and into my face. This was the most exhilarating
day I've had since paddling the New River Gorge at two feet back in August!
Introducing a new generation to the pleasures of sailing
More relevant to my ostensible reason for being here: I learned some useful
lessons about Taumako sailing. Obviously, we were not in a voyaging canoe-or
anything even close. And this was not an inter-island voyage. In fact, we
didn't even get outside of the fringing reef. But many of the attitudes and
skills that Tavake demonstrated are the same ones that have enabled his
ancestors to develop their fine canoes and become renowned sailors and
navigators. This can be seen in Tavake's interest in testing his skills under
challenging and potentially even risky conditions, loving every minute of it;
and his understanding the behavior of the wind and the reaction of the boat and
sail to different wind conditions. His ability to deal with wind that was
swirling and not coming steadily from one direction is something a skilled
navigator and captain must have in dealing with emergencies caused by
suddenly-inclement weather on the high seas-as was his understanding of how to
modify the sail to handle changing wind conditions. His ability to deal with
one of the prongs breaking on the fork that connected the boom to the mast and
not let it interfere with the canoe's performance is an indication of the
resourcefulness that would be important on an inter-island voyage. And his
ability to remain enthusiastic but under control should serve him well under a
variety of circumstances. He has never made an inter-island journey on a
voyaging canoe but loves to fish and to be at sea. He sees it as a challenge
and almost a game, although it is a game with potentially large stakes-whether
putting food on the table (actually on the floor mat) or safely reaching the
destination island. He indicated that he would like to make a voyage sometime
on a proper voyaging canoe (te puke or te alo lili). But until that happens,
he's content to enjoy himself with more local challenges, sailing his canoe
around Taumako and learning the skills that may, one day, put him on the same
path as his namesake, Basil Tavake, the great Pileni navigator of the middle
portion of the past century.
At least one of the large canoes is now ready for a lengthy voyage, and another
is suitable for local voyages in the vicinity of Taumako, so I'm optimistic
about getting some quality time at sea when I go back. In the meantime, I hope
to hear from-and maybe see-many of you over the coming months while I'm in the US.
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