The Sixth Tribe of Tai Tokerau – Part Two – The Voyage On November 15th of this year, Hokule’a and Hikianalia (replicas of ancient Polynesian voyaging canoes) will return to Waitangi in Aotearoa (New Zealand) to celebrate the joining of two seafaring tribes. What follows is the story of the first voyage to Waitangi and how the Hawaiian crew came to be the sixth tribe of Tai Tokerau, as told by Hokule’a’s navigator Nainoa Thompson. “In 1985, we sailed down to Rarotonga from where we would depart for Aotearoa. We went to Muri, where there are seven stones representing seven canoes that left for Aotearoa. The navigator Kupe also left from there on his voyage of discovery to Aotearoa. A pod of whales helped him find his way. So we waited at Muri for the right weather conditions to go. We hoped to leave around November 15th. As we waited, a tropical cyclone roared up hurricane alley, out of season, with sixty knots of wind. Only three more knots and it would be classified a hurricane. Once a cyclone cuts through the atmosphere it tends to create a path for others to follow. We were looking at the possibility of an early hurricane season which would not allow us to go. Along with the tropical cyclone near Rarotonga, New Zealand was experiencing a late winter, with subtropical lows-the two worst conditions for sailing to Aotearoa. I was frankly afraid to go because the lives of so many people were at stake. I was in my early thirties, and I didnt have the confidence and the maturity to be handling that kind of pressure. I was panicking. I talked to my dad: What if we have to shut this thing down? What if the hurricane season starts early? He said, Just make the best choice. Take in all the information and make your choice. Whatever choice you make, we will support it. I went back and forth with the meteorologists, day after day. Now my father was beginning to get concerned because he saw how worried I was. He began to step back and be more conservative with his recommendations. We both started to lose our confidence. Then Hector arrived and heard about our uncertainty. The next morning he came into my room while I was trying to make a decision, and he said, You must go. You have to go. And you will get there because your ancestors will be with you. He would not discuss the possibility of not going. He reminded me, When we were studying the stars I told you that we would be with you all the way. He was powerfully adamant. That removed any question about not going. Hector changed the momentum from more and more doubt to a feeling that this was not a decision, it was fate. For him it was not an intellectual decision making process. He just said, You must go. And so we did. There was a break in the weather. Another storm came through, but behind it there was no sign of another one so off we went. It took about six hours for Rarotonga to sink below the horizon at our stern. We had an incredible crew, from all walks of life, bonded by a single vision. (The crew aboard Hokule’a on that voyage were: Navigator: Nainoa Thompson; Captain: Shorty Bertelmann; Crew: Dr. Patrick Aiu, Chad Baybayan, Bruce Blankenfeld, Stanley Conrad (New Zealand), Dr. Ben Finney, Harry Ho, Buddy McGuire, Billy Richards, James Shizuru, Leon Sterling, Tava Taupu, Michael Tongg) We sailed west south west - our initial target would be the Kermadeck Islands. If you sail too far south, you will run into westerly winds. If you are east of New Zealand and you get into westerlies, you will have to tack against them for days. But if you don’t sail far enough to the south and turn west too soon you run the risk of sailing past the Kermadecks, around the top of North Island, and ending up in the Tasman Sea - and not knowing it. So Finding the Kermadeck Islands would be like finding a beacon. Now you know where you are. You start your navigation all over again from a known point. But instead of being 1700 miles away from New Zealand, now you are only 450 miles away. We sailed down. When I thought we were nearing the Kermadecks it was very calm. It was absolutely clear. We were very close to the high pressure system so you have descending cold air and you can see extremely far - much farther than in Hawaii - because in Hawaii there is so much moisture. The Kermadeck Islands are at 29 degrees south latitude. Alpha Centauri is 29 degrees from the south celestial pole - so if you are at 29 degrees south latitude, you will see Alpha Centauri circle across the sky and touch the horizon when it reaches the bottom of the circle. It was so perfectly clear that I could watch the star rotate down into place. Normally, in Hawaii, when the stars get too close to the horizon there is too much moisture, too much salt in the air, and you cant see them. But here, I saw them right on the horizon. I woke up Ben Finney and I dragged him out of his compartment. I told him, “You have got to see this. Alpha Centauri was right on the horizon. Ben said, oh yeah. I said, “we are right on the latitude of the Kermadecks, they are directly to the west.” So that next day, very confident about our direction, we turned west. That was dangerous because if I was wrong about our position, we might sail right by the Kermadecks and on into the Tasman Sea. We would end up to the west of Aotearoa. We sail west. We keep going, we keep going. It’s kind of a dangerous move - but we were so confident because of that star line up. It’s the afternoon. The sun is getting low. We are still going west. We are steering into the setting sun. We are following Kupes sailing directions - “sail to the left of the setting sun.” The sun was shining in our eyes so we could not see a pod of whales right in front of us. They were sperm whales - pretty aggressive animals. They are carnivores. By the time we saw them, we were right on top of them. They were in a line - about eighteen of them. They were heading north and we were going west so we were going to cross the line. 1949 Jeep CJ 3A - Everyone ran for their cameras to get a picture of the whales. I remember Stanley Conrad, our Maori crew member, running for his camera on the back of the canoe. He grabs it, runs forward, and sees one whale turning around and coming right at the canoe. You know how heavy those animals are, but when this whale came at the canoe she was going so fast that her whole head was out of the water. Her wake was like a tugboat’s. She came right for the bow of the canoe. Stanley sees this, turns around, and runs back to the stern. The whale came blazing out of the north and turned slightly and the back of its tail just kind of nudged the canoe. She seemed to nudge us a little bit to the south. Later we figured out that she must have been a cow and we must have separated her from her calf. But there might be another explanation. Kupe had a similar experience. But at the time we didn’t think of that. Finally, we got our senses back and continued heading west. It was a clear day. At sunset, we saw the tips of cumulus clouds, surface wind clouds, coming over the northern horizon. It was a mirror image of a Hawaiian frontal system coming out of the south - a Kona system. They have the same thing in the southern hemisphere but it comes out of the north. We see the cloud tops coming up over the horizon. The sun gets lower. And then we see lightening – bolt lightening - right to the water. The sun gets lower still and the clouds get higher. We can see forks of lightening strike down right to the water. We are the highest thing out there. Spooky. I said, forget the Kermadecks, turn south and see if we can outrun this frontal system. I dont know if it was a good choice or not. It was out of fear. When the clouds came and enveloped us we found ourselves sailing in a very thin, thin mist. We could see the escort boat. We could still see all around us, but it was misty. We sailed in that mist all night - just trying to keep the canoe on track, trying to steer. I will always remember that night - you could not see the stars, but you could see Venus and Jupiter through the mist. We sailed on. Lightening all around us. When the first light of dawn came, I was exhausted. The first light of dawn is always a time when I feel a sense of relaxation because now we can see what we’re doing. I just collapsed. I was out. I slept through sunrise. I awoke to a commotion among the crew. I looked up and saw Stanley Conrad shaking Shorty Bertelmann awake; Stanley was so excited he couldnt talk, he was just pointing. The Kermadecs were right there. We had already passed one island and another one was ahead of us. After we found the Kermadecks, I began to think about what had happened. The whale had come right at us, and when she went under us her tail bumped the canoe – toward the south. I was sailing west, but the whale bumped us to the south. We thought the whale might have been a cow who we had separated from her calf. But there might be another explanation-it may have been a sign from our ancestors. Kupe had a similar experience on his voyage to Aotearoa. Then the storm came and forced us even further south. If we had not sailed south, we might have missed the Kermadecks completely. Was that coincidence? I dont know. But at some deeper level we were not navigating the canoe - the canoe was going where it was supposed to go. It goes back to Hector saying, go, because your ancestors will be with you. I’m not going to make any kind of judgment about it - but that’s what happened - thats a fact. The Kermadecks were right there. For me, being very mathematically and scientifically grounded, it was a brand new experience. It was a gift. Sometimes navigation is far out of our own hands. The frontal passage went through. It was very predictable. Southeast winds came - blowing 25 knots. We sighted New Zealand in four days. During this voyage, we wore survival gear, and, throughout the whole voyage, we talked about the incredible strength and endurance of the Maori people. Consider that they occupied islands below Aotearoa at 60 degrees South. Thats equivalent to us sailing to Alaska, without foul weather gear. Thats not something that we could do. I tried my hardest one night to experience the cold, and we were only halfway there, at 30 degrees south. We know of chants, legends and genealogies that tell of white floating islands and birds that fly through the water-icebergs and penguins. We were in awe of the strength and courage of our ancestors.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Nov 2014 13:10:40 +0000