First Landfall
As featured @ Ho’onalu Voyaging
We spotted Ahe just after sunrise, squinting to see the small sliver of land through the softened lens of dawn. With an elevation no higher than a coconut tree and sedimentary colors painting the landscape, the small atoll was easily camouflaged against the hazy horizon. As we neared, we dropped the headsail to slow our speed and started the engine to prepare for the pass.
Tiareroa, the long flower, is the sole entrance into Ahe’s inner lagoon. Strong currents run through her cavernous pass, banked by jagged coral, illusive eddies and hypnotic whirlpools. Below the surface, torrents of fish cruise along her marine superhighway— the constant pelagic rush hour indicative of the thriving ecosystem. With her daunting dynamics keeping most at bay, she is relatively untouched, unadulterated, untainted. She is alive, strikingly beautiful, and full of force. As the gatekeeper between open ocean and a sheltered seascape, she beckons respect.
With keen senses, we approached the mouth of Tiareroa. It was the first time seeing foliage, the first time smelling sun-soaked sand, the first time hearing the rush of a current along the coast in almost three weeks. With Kerstin at the helm, the rest of us positioned ourselves along the deck, keeping watch for sneaker coral heads and dislodged debris. Stationed at the bow, Brian guided our course by way of memory and feel. For Kerstin and Brian, this was not their first meeting with Tiareroa, but rather a reunion.
Beneath the wings of their wisdom, my initiation through Tiareroa felt like stepping through a portal into a new chapter of this voyage. For me, the passage itself had been a test of sorts, a crash course in the fundamentals of sailing and the dynamics of boat life. Once we crossed the threshold of Tiareroa, however, it was time to integrate, to mindfully merge our water world with the timeless terrain of a remote region.
The realities of making landfall added a fresh twist to our lives. Our cocooned Ho’onalu ohana expanded to include the greater community of Kamoka, a distinguished pearl farm on the fringes of Ahe. Respectfully, our daily activities adjusted to incorporate the needs of the environment that welcomed us with a warm embrace. For those of us who hadn’t developed motu feet yet, we [reluctantly] adorned shoes to tend to the garden and projects in the boat shed. We learned the ways of diving for pearl baskets, securing them to stations beneath the lagoon’s surface, and the grimy process of preparing them to be grafted.
Plant allies like noni and naupaka were discovered along the meandering motu trails. We used the tropical flora to nourish ourselves, to heal wounds, and to address common ailments. Animal personalities provided comic relief: farm dogs that were somehow equally endearing as they were stinky, and hermit crabs that adorned themselves with shells like runway models don designer garments. The slew of underwater critters never ceased to awe us by sheer number and diversity: mauri and raira sharks, fafapiti and fai manu rays, paraharaha, puhi, fe’e, ume, atoti, paaihere, kito, uhu, vau, iihi, tati, apai, oiri, and of course, the resident oyster clan.
Then there were the humans, those dynamic creatures full of unrelenting surprise and profound potential. Upon meeting many of the Kamoka crew, I had the instant feeling of familiarity— a telltale reward for going with the flow (ho’onalu!). Over the weeks, as we integrated and intertwined and developed connections upon the priceless platform of time, I experienced the fulfilling nature of exchange. By authentically giving myself, my energy, my gifts, I received a myriad of reflections in return. These reflections, in stride, opened me up to new perspectives, new approaches and new ways of being. For, what is a journey without the expansive quality of broadening our horizons?
One of my favorite memories from Ahe, that will forever be alive within me, took place during dusk as we skiffed home from Savage Sunday at the pass. After a day of spearfishing, free diving, beach combing and cooking our catch over a bonfire, we skirted across the water in a state of satiated bliss. The sky was dusted with wispy clouds that captured florescent traces of eternity. Behind them, stars began to reveal themselves, glimmering against night’s gradient draw into darkness. Just as we rounded the western corner of the pass, gliding over a glassy eddy between coastline and coral reef, we intersected a breeze carrying an ambrosial fragrance. I inhaled deeply, in partial disbelief that this was a worldly sensation. To my left, Landon let out an elongated, low whooaaa. Then, behind me, I heard Josh proclaim, “Tiareroa… the long flower.”
Tiareroa is named for the local flower that cyclically emanates an intoxicating floral aroma upon the edges of her coastline. I had no idea. And there really was no way of knowing until experiencing. That’s what Tiareroa taught me, what Ahe taught me, what Kamoka taught me: that knowing is a matter of experiencing. And experiencing requires engaging, exchanging and allowing our horizons to be blown wide open by the unpredictable synchronicities of life.
Mauruuru roa, thank you, to all the humans, all the critters, all the elements and all unique expressions of existence that comprised this chapter of our voyage. With respect and in gratitude, we imua, we journey on with gifts bestowed and received, with a precious new perspective of life.
