Learning the ways of the Hawaiian voyagers
story by Lisa Schell
photographs by Chris Amundson
The deafening winds of Maalaea Bay drown out the rhythmic “shwish, shwish, shwish” of outrigger canoe paddles slicing the ocean’s surface. Waves crash into the side of the waa, dousing paddlers with stinging salt spray. Despite the rough conditions, the canoe’s progress is steady and strong. In the clear night sky, stars that guided the early Hawaiians shine brightly above.
The canoe steerswoman begins a chant, and just as their paddles reach into the water and pull together, so do the paddlers’ voices as they join in response.
Ia waa nui
Ia waa kioloa
Ia waʻa peleleu
A lele mamala
A manu a uka
A manu a kai
Iiwi polena
A kau ka hoku
A kau i ka malama
A pae i kula
Amama, ua noa
That large canoe
That long [shapely] canoe
That broad canoe
Let chips fly
The bird of the upland (mountain)
The bird of the lowland (sea)
The red honeycreeper
The stars hang above
The daylight arrives
Bring [the canoe] ashore
Amama — the kapu [taboo] is lifted
At least twice a month — on the evenings of the new and full moons — members of the Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Voyaging Society and their guests launch from Sugar Beach in North Kīhei to learn how the early voyagers used the stars, planets, moon, and even ocean currents to navigate vast distances throughout Polynesia and the Hawaiian Islands. At a time when most beachgoers at the nearby resorts are heading in for the night, the adventure is just beginning on the beach at the Society’s canoe hale (house).
Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Voyaging Society Night Paddle Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Voyaging Society Night Paddle
“How many of you have ever paddled before?” Executive Director ‘Ānela Gutierrez asks the group gathered around a six-man outrigger. A few brave souls raise their hands. With patience, she shares a brief Canoe 101 lesson that includes how to board quickly without losing one’s paddle in the ocean.
Before a wa‘a enters the water, Gutierrez also explains how to read a celestial map depicting “star lines” ancient voyagers would have followed. Once at sea, this night’s paddlers will have the knowledge and skills to identify the star line over Hawaii.
Hawaiian Outrigger Canoe Voyaging Society is a Maui-based nonprofit that shares Hawaiian canoe culture, especially relating voyaging long distances. In 2006, some of its members, including board president Kimokeo Kapahulehua, completed a seminal six-year, 2,000-mile paddle to every island in the Hawaiian chain.
In 2019, as part of its educational efforts, the Society began hosting full-moon night paddles on Maalaea Bay. A few years later, it added a new moon paddle under the dark sky when instructors like Gutierrez teach how to navigate using the stars, constellations and planets.
At last August’s blue super moon paddle, two canoes pushed off from Sugar Beach and paddled along the North Kīhei coastline, then beached under the full moon near the Hawaiian Islands Humpback Whale National Marine Sanctuary Visitor Center.
Gathering on the sand, not far from where sea turtles nest for the night, Gutierrez explained how Hawaiians used the constellations to navigate north and south — Hawaii to Tahiti and back.
“You see the Bigger Dipper? It points to the North Star,” she told her paddlers.
“Then the next star you’ll see is that bright one right above us,” she said. “That is Hōkūle‘a — our zenith star that sets and rises directly above Hawaii. If you’re voyaging back from Tahiti, you watch for Hōkūle‘a, and the more it appears directly overhead, the closer you are to Hawaii.”
Gutierrez directed paddlers’ gaze to the southeast, where Maui’s Fishhook, also known as Scorpius, sparkled against the silhouette of the dormant Haleakala volcano. Barely visible, the Milky Way hung like a fish on the end of Maui’s hook.
“When Maui’s Fishhook is there, we know it’s not the time to be making big voyages,” Gutierrez said. “It’s hurricane season.”
With the massive mahina (moon) now fully overhead, tracking star-line constellations was nearly impossible — that is a task for a dark, new moon night.
It was time to head back. The paddlers pushed the canoes into the water for the return trip to Sugar Beach. Waves crashing on the reef beyond the fishpond caused some first-time paddlers to gasp as the bow pitched over white-crested swells.
Although paddling during a full moon is magical, it can also be challenging. As the moon climbs higher in the sky, ocean currents often rise, making the water rough and paddling a challenge. That’s when the steersman or woman might begin a chant to calm nerves and synchronize paddlers.
The full moon also can confuse some marine life, and it’s not uncommon for flying fish to end up in the canoe. The craziest thing, however, was when a humpback whale breached next to the canoe during whale season “just to let us know it was there,” Gutierrez said.
The Hawaiian calendar has 12 moon cycles, each with 30 moon phases, beginning with the first sliver of hilo, growing to a full moon at hoku and ending with the completely dark muku — the new moon phase. With no moonlight during muku, the stars and planets appear bright and easy to see, making muku a perfect time for stargazing.
Muku means “to cut” or “sever.” In Hawaiian ways, when the muku moon appears, this is the time to let go of what has weighed you down the previous month, which Gutierrez wholeheartedly encourages.
On her muku paddles, she gives guests a moment to let go of anything that did not serve them over the last 30 days. She adds that the hilo moon promises new beginnings. “Make your intentions and think about what you might want to work on for the next month,” she said.
As the paddle comes to its end, the steersman or woman guides the canoe close enough into shore so that the massiveness of the Haleakala volcano provides welcome shelter from the wind. The ocean is calm here.
Novice night paddlers breathe a sigh of relief or smile, thinking about all they have seen and maybe imagining voyagers of long ago coming home after the long journey across the Pacific.
The canoe makes a graceful arc, so its bow faces out to sea.
“Back paddle! Back paddle!” cries the steersman, at just the right time so that the reverse motion lands the canoe on the beach between the incoming waves of the shore break.
On the steersman’s command, the paddlers jump out of the canoe, and in unison, push it up the sand and out of the reach of the tide.
Landing the canoe is the last adventurous flourish of the evening. Yet, it’s hard to believe the experience is over, so some paddlers on the beach, staring back out to sea and at the night sky, hope for one last glimpse of Hawaii’s Hōkūle‘a star, which they now know always points the way back to Maui.
