Aloha no, Chris here.
Upon first aquiring ʻAʻa, I had never seen a wharram design waʻa before. A few months prior, I was competing with some freinds in Uncle Mels Makaha classic with the master steersman Leon. Paddling in the seat behind me was an extremely jubilent character. Chromwell, a Kahaluʻu sailor/craftsman who would later fly to the continent to show us the way wharrams graced the wind.
One particular afternoon, Keʻili was picking up her Mom to show her our new waʻa. Chromwell and I were entering a quiet harbor just above the boarder. As we were docking the canoe, a little center console boat rushed in spilling a wake of intoxicated city goers all over the dock. Although they looked in their late 30s the alcohol seemingly turned them into toddlers who had lost their binkies. After half an hour of obscene behaviour occured, Chromwell finally gave in, “hey guys, if you dont mind there are families all around and this is a guest dock, could you please act respectfully”
This did not mix well, their intoxicated captain replied with offensive, vulgar phrases that I will refrain from quoting. Bystanders began to raise their iphones as this man screamed racial slurs while reving back and forth sending wakes to the horizon. By his way of thinking, what was wrong with us, was that we didnt have drunk girls on our boat, we wereʻnt loud enough, we were brown and skinny… alas, we were on a “weak little b***h a** raft.” Well, this set of words was heard by a divine intervention. Before the sentence left his mouth, his brand new lifted truck unattendedly slipped down the boatramp into a complete harborwater immersion. Panic broke out as his somehow no longer intoxicated girls ran away as he swam after his dissapearing truck. Woe to those who disrespect the canoe.
We were so shocked that our docklines magically slipped off and we drifted away from the scene in silence. What happened that day on the dock was symbolic of our lives as island people. Disrespecting the canoe is disrespecting lives that have come before us. The year before, Chromwells son had tragically passed away. As little turns begin to unfold, unique events like the one on the dock, continue to show that there is a spiritual side to everything. Perhaps by was chance the limu was slippery on the boat ramp that day, perhaps karma is real, perhaps God has a great sense of humor or perhaps it was chromwells son smiling down saying, “dont mess with my faddah!”
Regardless, the greatest miracle that day, was that Keʻilis mom was able to come aboard ʻAʻa. Her body was very weak from chemo therapy, yet her warrior canoe spirit was so strong that it sent ripples from our little waʻa kaulua out of california, down kealaikahiki and throughout the pacific. These are the wakes we remember when we sail.
Aloha.
