4 responses to “Pink Paddlers Bulletin Board”

1. 

   Mike Elam October 20th, 2009 at 15:39

   PADDLING FOR HOPE–Mana’olana: A Diary of a Journey

   October 17,18 2009

   Submitted by Pamela R. Miller

   Photos of this voyage can be viewed here.

   And here is a link to a short video clip of the 3 canoes as they paddle near the island of Lana’i.

   As the Maui News noted, the Mana’olana breast cancer survivors outrigger canoe paddling program started on Maui at the Maui Canoe Club Beach. With 54 paddlers, support crew, 3 escort boats following every stroke of the 41 miles, Ellen Federoff joined with Pacific Cancer Foundation and other sponsors such as Safeway Kihei, Maui Oil Company, Paddle Me Sportswear, Maui Neon, Four Seasons Resort Lana’I at Manele Bay, Canoes Restaurant, OluKai Slippers, and the Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary to organize and execute the very first Voyage for Hope.

   The group practiced weekly in the “tank” at Kihei Canoe Club Beach, then on the ocean, sometimes until dark. Workouts at the gym were rewarded with a convivial “soak” in Adele Rugg’s hot tub at Luana Kai.

   Most of the group are local, but a few of us admired the endeavor with envy and anticipation until we could join them on Maui for the BIG DAY! I arrived the 6th of October, and hit the “tank” to practice on form, and then the beach paddling until dusk. Paddling in the double hull canoe reminded me of riding a ferry. I admired the skill of the beautiful steerswoman, guiding us through the water from the right hull. Her serenity made her appear as an image of the Goddess of the Sea!

   The real “ordeal by fire” came upon me quite suddenly as we launched in the darkness of 5 am Saturday morning from from Hanakao’o (Canoe) Beach Park in Lahaina, when our steersman, Cliff, shouted, “GO!” I was in Seat 2 as we launched, behind Anita Anderson, one of the nurses on the crew. Suddenly a shore break drenched us up to our necks. It was quite wonderful! It wasn’t at all cold or unpleasant, but rather an auspicious beginning for the greatest adventure of my life.

   We paddled along in the dark, and I didn’t even know who else was in my canoe. All I knew was the canoe name was “Kalani O Nani”, my paddle was a “nani” model made by Kialoa Paddles, and my grandson calls me Nani. This voyage had my name written all over it!

   Gradually daylight made manifest the vast ocean before us, not yet our destination island of Lana’i. We could see the running lights of the two other escort boats and occasionally a glimpse of a canoe stern flashing in the swells. Then it would disappear from sight. Our escort boat hadn’t yet made its appearance, but “not to worry” it could be heard laboring along somewhere in the distance. We heard it long before we could see it: a WWII vintage LCD (Landing Craft) 85, a steel boat with a flat front that plopped into the ocean waves, inviting the fledgling paddlers aboard.

   This may sound quite simple, but we had just disembarked from our canoe into the rubber Zodiac masterfully skippered by Grant (I wish I knew his last name) who held each seat as we changed crews. The ride back to the LCD was very exciting and bouncy, but when the gaping mouth of the LCD opened to swallow us, our Zodiac slipped partway under the steel door! Yikes! Grant screamed at us to watch the door, and skillfully backed us away for another go. The trick was to manage the arrival of the Zodiac, catapult the paddler onto the steel door, at the exact time the chop rose and fell. Thanks to Grant’s skill and precision, we all made it onto the ramp, and there was Kimokeo Kapahulehua, the legend of the Hawaiian seas, lifting each of us to our feet, as we staggered into the massive hull of our “home away from the ocean” for a rest. I assume the change out crew had to meet this same ritual debarkation with the precision we had experienced.

   Once on board, the LCD had little to offer in the way of comfort. There was a spare rubber boat filled with our dry-bags and belongings, and we were not to sit on it, because it was inflated. There was an inflated mattress on the deck with a person lying face down on it clutching a towel, whom I presumed had succumbed to sea sickness. Other than the odd chain, steel tools, there were a few coolers filled with ice and quart-sized bottles of water. One of the coolers had Heed electrolyte replacement, which was most refreshing and replenishing. One cooler was filled completely with ice. One cooler had tubs of fresh fruit, a large box of fresh oranges, and a large subway-type sandwich on top of treasures beneath.

   We were all quite eager to view the ocean from atop the gunnels of this LCD craft, since the floor was a series of steel treads, presumably to keep the odd tank or truck from sliding around on a slippery deck. Not at all the kind of footing the barefoot paddler would find friendly. We scrambled up the ladders to have a look at the ocean, mountains whence we had departed, and the island of Lana’i. It was a glorious sight, sunlight everywhere, water sparkling on the cerulean Hawaiian blue, it was pure poetry embodied.

   Kimokeo was marching up and down the gunnels, surveying his crew and support auxiliaries, who were the real heroes of this venture. Kimokeo knew the sea, they knew what to do with his commands. They bustled around making sure we had what we might need in the way of refreshment, and enthusiasm flowed as freely as water.

   Then the LCD gave us an additional challenge: the fumes from its diesel engines. They made me nauseous, but Patricia Covici came to my rescue with a ginger “chew”, which settled me, and a crust of that subway-type sandwich was all I needed. We were ordered to be ready to change crews again and our paddling order.

   So the morning hours whizzed by. The flow was rudely interrupted when the LCD door became stuck in the open position, which sent the captain to the deck with horror in his eyes. Not to worry, something lurched, and he was able to raise the door again, and promptly ordered it latched and abandoned as a means of getting on and off this huge craft. He also ordered the tarp that had so lovingly been spread across the deck to offer us some shade from the by now blazing sun be removed at once. Safety is paramount, and it was in the captain’s line of vision.

   A new plan was devised for getting into the Zodiac for the trip to the canoe: Grant held the rubber boat next to the back side of the LCD, and we were told to “jump” down into the Zodiac. Easy enough for the first few paddlers, but the last three risked landing on someone in the boat and breaking another’s leg or neck!

   We bounced and completed the plunge into rubber, and off we whisked to the canoe. The changes were quite easy, compared to the LCD challenge. The new crew took over with new steersperson and stroker, and the other crew was shuttled back to the LCD for a rest.

   This Zodiac never stopped a moment of the morning. Grant finished the changes with one canoe, crew, and respective escort boat, just in time to deliver and pick up another crew, canoe, and another escort boat. I saw him speeding over the chop with the rubber nose of his craft nearly vertical. He never even slowed, as it promptly heeled to his direction of travel. An amazing skipper! We repeated this protocol throughout the rest of the day.

   While we were “resting” on the LCD, the captain shouted a canoe had “hulied”. We scanned the horizon and there the canoe was upside down in the ocean, not ours. Skillfully the crew flipped it back, and within seconds, two virtual fountains of water came flipping out of the canoe, bailing for all it was worth. It was like watching a couple of miniature fire-hoses pumping water into the ocean. Though we were not personally affected on our canoe, it looked like a well-rehearsed ballet. Everyone was back in place and proceeding along t he coastline of Lana’i's eastern shore. This was a safer place than the swell and chop of the open ocean. There was a strong SE wind and the current to contend with and we were travelling North. A member of our support crew noted this water would be a challenge for even the most experienced of men’s crews to tackle! We all glowed with pride, thinking we were somehow able to cope with such challenges successfully. Of course, we were paddling, but we weren’t making the crucial decisions.

   The cliffs of Lana’i's eastern flank had some exquisite beaches, and lower terrain, very arid and sparsely covered with vegetation. As we rounded the northern end of the island, the seas grew calmer, sheltered by the enormous cliffs from the winds and current. The paddling grew more peaceful on the west flank, giving us pause to admire the spectacular topography of these volcanic Hawaiian Isles. I felt I could paddle forever. We passed an occasional dive boat, with no visible life (presumably they were under water), and some spectacular “arches” where the surf had eaten pieces of volcanic stone away, leaving secret passageways or grottos. Then we saw a hominid leap from the cliff into the surf, and come bobbing up. He had a couple of companions, who appeared to be hiking up and down the cliff, for the thrill of a daring dive.

   So the day continued for hours more. It was only when an outcrop of rock appeared to have been sheared from the cliff, that Mike Federoff announced we were near Manele Bay, our destination for the first phase of the paddle and the night. It wasn’t even yet 2 pm.

   Kimokeo ordered crews changed in the canoes, so all were “Pink Paddlers” with only steersperson and stroker from the support crew. Each canoe was to follow his lead, and he steered our canoe, as we approached Manele Bay. Pink Paddler relatives and friends lined the beach singing and dancing, motioning us into their direction. There were swimmers in the surf, and we were not able to communicate that we could not land with them in our path.

   Suddenly, Kimokeo shouted “back paddle, back paddle, back paddle..back paddle, back paddle, back paddle!!!” Everyone reversed! We were within feet of the sandy shore, but the crashing surf was looking more like Makena’s Big Beach, and decidedly unsafe for small craft landing. We back paddled for what seemed like forever, and finally Kimokeo turned us around and headed us east along the coast and away from Manele Bay. We continued our journey along the circle of Lana’i, when Kimokeo shouted just 10 minutes more! I guessed we were going to put into the Lana’i Harbor, where there was a breakwater. That’s precisely what we did.

   Our reception committee meanwhile scrambled from the beachfront at the resort and down to the harbor, no easy stroll. When we landed our canoes on the slippery ramp, and carried our canoes up a grassy knoll, and removed our paddles, we were greeted by hugs and kisses, icy bottles of water from the hotel staff, cool wet white rolled wash cloths for our salty faces and steamy necks. We were adorned with traditional kukui leis by the staff, and friends and relatives hugged and kissed their loved ones. Nine hours had elapsed since our 5 am departure from Lahaina, and it seemed like a dream. I wasn’t at all tired, but feeling floating and buoyant, and hardly believing what we had just done.

   The Hotel shuttled us to their landmark site, and we dispersed to our respective spots for 1-1/2 hours respite and clean-up. I headed for the outdoor shower beside the pool, to wash my aqua socks and sand from my legs. I wouldn’t think of putting a flipper on the hotel lobby rugs before removing the debris from the ocean.

   We met again at 5:30 pm at the campground lawns, where a buffet was spread for the voyagers. Beef stew, rice, chicken, fresh fruits galore, and chocolate-covered cookies,that slid down to our hungry tummies with lubrication from lemonade and ice cold water. Large round tables were set with cloths, and we all joined new and familiar faces to enjoy the balm of the Manele Bay sunset. As dusk approached, we made our way to our rooms or tents, to rest for the next day’s adventures.

   Breakfast began on the campground lawn next morning with bagles, cream cheese, watermelon, and fresh fruits, tang orange drink, and, of course eau de vie! Kimokeo gathered us again to bless our endeavor, our mana, and our safe passage. We posed for photos from family and our voyage official photographer, Meryl and Bruce Cohen’s beautiful daughter, Eve Cohen, who just happens to be a professional photographer. Eve was tireless and “everywhere” with her equipment, and her beautiful smile reassured everyone she was taking fantastic photos of the journey.

   At 8 am we walked to the Lana’i Harbor, hauled our canoes down the grassy knoll and into the water at the boat ramp. A slippery hazard, that boat ramp! Several barefoot damsels lost it, but hopefully none were seriously bruised or hurt. Kimokeo assigned paddling order and canoes, while the crew loaded our luggage onto the respective escort boats.

   We had our original steersman, Cliff Libed, and Florida Town stroking. We had all gotten into our seats from the ramp, except Florida, who was up to her neck in water. She was attempting to climb in as a water change, but somehow got her two hands grasping the gunnel, with her two legs draped over the other side. She was exquisitely horizontal, when she should be vertical to the canoe. I thought I would leap out and help her get into the canoe, when I remembered, that could be me in her same position, unable to haul myself into the canoe as well. Valiantly, she struggled, and finally powered herself into the canoe with everything including her “tushie” to follow. How many ladies half her age could have done that!

   We stroked magisterially out of Lana’i Harbor, like the armada from a great conquest. Photos were flashing all along the breakwater, family and friends waving frantically, blowing kisses, shouting loved ones’ farewell wishes. Two of the escort boats followed closely, but the LCD was no where to be found. No matter, this was the short return voyage only expected to be 4-5 hours paddling.

   We paddled filled with pride, renewed energy, refreshed from all the good mana from the support and love of friends and crew. The sun was unus ually hot after 8 am, and there was no breeze. There was a swift current, and soon schools of spinner dolphins appeared leaping (spinning) their way back to Manele bay after a night of feeding out at sea, to sleep the rest of the day in sheltered waters. There must have been 200 of them swim by our canoe! How thrilling to be so close to the “locals” of the sea that we were privileged to meet.

   We paddled nearly 1-1/2 hours, and still no LCD. What had happened to it? Perhaps its engine wouldn’t start. We hailed down another escort boat, and begged for a bottle of water to share among the six of us. The heat was taking its toll, and we gleefully splashed each other with refreshing sea water. Water, water, but not a drip to quench our collective thirst. Our plan had been to change out each 1/2 hour, as before, but we alas had no escort vessel.

   Soon enough, we began to hear its laboring, lumbering engines, and perhaps 10 minutes passed before we actually saw it catching up to us. My, we were fast paddlers! The only excuse offered was that “the currents were stronger than they had anticipated”. When we got within shouting distance, Mike Federoff dove off the gunnel, and floated to our canoe, so swift was the current. He scrambled aboard our ama, and told us we had no zodiac to facilitate our change outs. The motor had developed an oil leak. Grant was riding on the LCD, and the rubber Zodiac was being towed behind.

   The replacement crew were aboard, and we managed to hang on to the rubber sides and change out our crew, and scramble into the lifeless Zodiac. We were tethered to the LCD. As the replacement crew paddled swiftly away, their bailer flew out of the canoe, and bobbed on the water. Kimokeo shouter to “Leave It!”, but Cliff dove in to the water from the Zodiac to retrieve it. He caught it, but found the current challenging for even a strong swimmer like he is. With great effort, he managed to reach a rope I had tossed to him, and he pulled himself alongside the Zodiac. We were towed next to the LCD, and prepared to climb up the rope ladder dangling over the rear. We felt Cliff should go first, since he was exhausted. It proved to be nearly impossible for him to hoist himself onto the ladder. We all held our breath. He was way too big to lift! Finally, Grant ordered the ladder lowered, so Cliff could get his legs on the rung below the water line, and THEN climb up and onto the deck. It was a struggle for all of us just getting back on board, but we did it.

   We all ran for water, Head, and something to eat. Again, the fumes from the diesel engines overcame me, and I found myself in need of a gi nger chew. None to be found, and I “spit up” on the deck, as I sat on the cooler of ice. Cliff poured cold water on my back, and placed a cold towel on my neck. I told Kimokeo I needed more ginger chews, and I would be just fine. He found some, and ordered it brought to me. I was better, but not 100%, as the day before! I languished on the gunnel trying to breathe clear ocean air and not the fumes. I spit up again over the side, thankfully. I told Kimokeo I would be better back in the canoe, so he lined me up with the next change crew, but, alas, I couldn’t get myself up the ladder to the back of the LCD, where we were expected to jump into the Zodiac as it floated beside the ship. I knew I couldn’t make it with anything close to precision, and would find myself floundering somewhere between the Zodiac and LCD, not a safe place to be.

   Grant instantly sensed my dilemma, and jumped into the Zodiac, and reached his arms up to me to “fall” on him. That was just what I did, and presto, my nausea left me, and we all climbed back into the canoe for the end of the voyage. Our luggage was tossed into the Zodiac, and we stowed it under and in front of our canoe seats. We zipped up and were off. The water during the 10 miles across with the channel had been mercifully peaceful, calm, and the odd swell, just to keep things exciting again.

   We approached Hanakao’o Beach to the sound of Hawaiian drums and chants. Friends and relatives again formed the reception line along the beach, as we stormed it again, this time bow first! We scrambled out running the canoes up onto the grass without stopping for anything in the way or underfoot. Three parked canoes, 18 happy paddlers, 35 relieved support personnel, who had completed their mission without a mishap, and with a great deal of love, compassion, and just plain old fun! We hugged each other, ran from person to person! Kihei Canoe Club had a reception line of singers and drummers, who feted us royally. We were even treated to a Tahitian Dance, and joined the chanting in unison with the singers. Such a glorious ending to the journey of a lifetime!

   That’s the Voyage of Hope Mana’olana from my eyes. It truly was an historic moment in my lifetime, and one that I shall never forget. Kimokeo envisions expanding the program in the years to come, and I cannot wait to be part of the support group making this experience a reality for others in turn.

   Pamela R Miller, Pink Paddler
   19 October 2009

2. 

   Mike Elam October 20th, 2009 at 22:22

   Still more photos can be seen here.

3. 

   Mike Elam October 22nd, 2009 at 17:29

   Here is a link to the Maui Weekly article on the Pink Ladies voyage written by Barry Sultanoff.

4. 

   Mike Elam October 23rd, 2009 at 09:16

   The coverage of this event just doesn’t seem to stop. This is a link to Maui TV News which ran a piece on the Mana’olana voyage. It begins about 4-1/2 minutes into the 28-minute long news broadcast.