This is a moment in time onboard Hōkūleʻa about five minutes before the change of one particular four-hour watch. Most of the time it is smooth sailing, and when there is action, it happens all at once. Some of this is written in kaona (deeper meanings), some in nautical terms, and the rest as dialogues exchanged between crew and in my mind.
I stand in my Aikau surf stance on the aft deck, assessing the priority at this moment with my watch crews hands firmly grasped around Kawainui.
The jib is luffing. Did the wind just shift or is it driver error?
“It’s a ten degree right shift, we are getting headed. Drive down to fill the sails, we are still on a close hauled point of sail, itʻs just the wind shifting to the right. Turn the bows to starboard, yes, yes, pull the hoe to port.” “Did you hear that exhale?”
I know that sound!
“Over there! Get your camera.” “How’s that multilayered cloud bank on the horizon?”
Akua colored it vertically with shifty grey/black clouds splattered over a tangerineorange/neon blue background with a magenta tinge around the tops. The social watch is going to steer right into it and I will be all cozy reading my book by then.
“Aunty, did you see my harness?” “No, I did not, did you hang it up?”
“Hanapa’a! Port side!” “Ok, Ok, we are steering into the wind, now.”“Stop drooling bruddah, Cap didn’t pull it on deck yet!” “What you think, fish head soup tonight?