Kai's Rig

The crack of cotton rigging rope starts the morning. Cinching down the final wraps, I follow Kai’s lead. Feeling the rope groan as slack is pulled tight. Varnished two by fours are rigged on top of the original Iakos. Connecting an extra ama to the red and yellow canoe. The whole rig sits nestled in the back of Ka’ōhao. Looking straight out between the Mokulua Islands from behind puffy green plumes of naupaka. The water is clear turquoise, and light trades shimmer across the lagoon, beneath the heavy morning sun.

We are sweating now, putting the final touches on the canoe. Tinkering. We set the mast; fifteen feet of Norfolk pine cut from the Neher’s yard up Maunawili road. Adjusting the stay lines on the port and starboard Iakos getting the mast to stand snug and straight. The boom, is an old raw ten foot pipe of fiberglass. Connected to the mast with a gate latch, we picked up from Hardware Hawaii a few days back. The sail, is an old white tarp cut to fit the rig. Mustard yellow wipes of glue show where Kai folded frayed edges back upon themselves. Forming the crab claw synonymous with pacific voyaging. A chopped soft top nose covers seat one, keeping the bow dry as it bounces and bobs through the chop.

“Raja she go.” Kai says with a mischievous grin. The setup is incredible. Standing in the midmorning breeze. The rig is of the Dukes of Hazard & Where The Wild Things Are. Scrounged together from scraps and pieces; it is a childhood dream. Suddenly bursting out from the boundaries of imagination and plopped down in the Binney front yard.

We stand there admiring the canoe. From far away it looks homemade, But up close you can really see the magic. The lines are frayed and the paint is chipped, the amas are cracked and patched with thick layers of resin. Yet the knots are tight, and all the angles are right. Something is bound to break, and that’s the plan all along.

Kai grabs a bag of frozen chili and stuffs it in the light green dry bag.

Grinning again, He says “Lunch.” With a smile that fills every corner of the word. Kai walks on heavy heels through the house, shaking vases and coin jars as he passes by. He rummages through the pantry and comes back with a couple cliff bars and peach cups.

“Full course meal today.” Kai says with a smirk, throwing our appetizer and dessert courses in with the chili.

“One. Two. Three. Huuup” Kai calls as we pick up the whole rig and start waddling down to the water. seven rocky steps. Three hundred pounds. I feel a neck vein bulge as I carry the front half of the canoe. Feeling my toes spread and grip the algae covered steps. Skin on my arms stretches and rubs where my elbows are hooked beneath the front Iako for a hold. I breathe through puffed cheeks and feel my back groan with the little shouts of popping muscle fibers. I take a final shaky step down into the fine white sand. Warm water laps against my shins as I feel the sweet relief of buoyancy. Kai drops the aft into the water and wades to the front. Untying a few wraps of rigging rope to drop the sail.

“Not too bad ah fatty?” Kai says with some rasp and a snort as I catch my breath. The front half holds most of the gear and all the dang weight. Which Kai is well aware, grinning and sneering at my condition.

“Whatever you little hobbit. Let’s get out there.” I snort back, dunking giddily in the turquoise blue.

“Yessa, let me hookup the sheet and we go.” Kai says, straddling the boat, one foot on the stern, the other on the gunnel. He has this strange juxtaposition to his movement, like your grandpa took the wheel on a twenty something year old for the day. Its tight, like something might give at any moment. But he never falls and always seems positioned just right. like he saw the next bob of the boat coming fifty times before. Leaning a little left at the perfect moment to catch himself.

“There we go, hop on you faka.” Kai says as he plops down on the stern of the canoe, sheeting in the sail for a good line drive. Headed out beyond the reef. I scramble onto a Iako, and we are off. The crab sail catches a gust as it swirls through the lagoon, lifting the hull out of shallows, humming for the horizon. Pushing. Jumping. Scrambling. I lean out on Norfolk saplings rigged to the Iakos. Feeling the canoe rear and dance to the open ocean’s call.

Through the outer reef, more like over. But out nonetheless. Out. Out. Out. Boils gurgle and flow off ancient coral boulders, sitting together tightly. We bob and weave out through the masses. The canoe glows, saturated with the heavy midday sun. Breaking the reef as the shelf falls into the deep dark blue.

“Hooo, Drop the grub would ya.” Kai says with a glint in his eye, trimming the sail and setting our line for Birdshit Island. I tie a mildew covered length of rigging rope to the port Iako, followed by a couple arm lengths of fifteen pound test and a measly pink grub, jiggling at the end of it all. A real maestros rig if you ask me. I toss it all overboard and watch the line snap snug against the Iako.

“Yessa, Papio killer in the water. You wanna steer for a while?” Kai asks, hanging over the gunnel, careening his neck to Birdshits heading.

We swap awkwardly, clambering over the Iakos as another gust of wind fills the sail. No one is steering for a moment and the red and yellow canoe veers off in its own merry way.

Kai finds his place on the Norfolk saplings and says, “Woaah girl, get her back on course would ya riles.”

I grab hold of the steering blade, poking on the starboard side. The carbon fiber blade is sucked up against the side of the canoe as the deep blue rushes by. A line of bubbles trails behind us. I feel the ocean’s hypnotic rhythm take hold. The Ko’olau range stands in the background, tall and unruly, cloaked in dark green. Inhaling in the midday heat. Groundswell passes like freights. Headed for shore. The canoe lifts up and over. Dancing along. Making good time. Picking up speed. Humming, Kai and I are buzzing. Giggling. Cackling now. Like we are getting away with something. Two bandits on the run, with a bag of chili. Heading for a place to lay low. Closing in on Birdshit.

There she is, in all her glory. A big clump of black rock covered in white bird shit. “Guano” is the more refined term. But we left all that at shore. With the emails and slacks and general bullshit of growing up. We’re tired of Bullshit, we want some Birdshit! And here we are, the mecca. Shearwaters and Albatross, ‘Iwa and Manu O Ku, all squawking and swirling in an eclectic mix, diving and twirling into their nests. The red and yellow canoe finds itself in the lee of the island. Clear turquoise down twenty feet. With the midday sun shimmering on the surface. Kai hoists the sail and I pull in the pink grub. Making loops of rigging rope in one hand. Suddenly feeling tension as I get to the clear liter line.

“Hanpa’a!” I shout as a flash of silver wriggles beneath the boat. Gingerly, I pull in the liter and a foot long Lai surface’s next to the yellow ama. A knuckle thick at its widest point, with big dilated pupils and silver sides. Huffing and puffing as I hoist it into the canoe. Kai grabs the Lai and gets the hook out.

“Not worth the bones, Let um grow.” Kai states in a sing song voice, tossing the little guy back into the water. Watching it sink belly up.

“Ho, we must have dragged that faka for a while.” Kai says with a laugh, peering down after it into the blue.

“I’m gonna dive down and grab um.” I say as I roll overboard, lining up on top of the flashing silver. A big inhale fills my chest and I begin stroking down to the flash. I pop my ears, feeling the squeaky release. I keep pulling down deeper. Riding the sink as my lungs begin to squeeze. When I get down to the right depth, I lose the flashing silver. I search for a moment, Spinning. Then I’m struck by the ocean floors expansive clarity. Forgetting about the fish entirely. No goggles. So I expected a focal distance equivalent to your favorite mole rat’s. Shocked to find the world bounding out in every direction. Valleys and peaks, pinnacles, plateaus, it was all there. Filled in with light turquoise fading into deep dark blue. Luminescent rays from the sun spread out amongst the scene. While an intense sense of quiet fills me. I blink and feel my lungs start jump. Staying for a while longer spinning in the incredible silence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have tinnitus from grinding my teeth. Making all the little muscles around my ears lock up and press against my eardrums. The Doctor explained that its totally harmless and should go away.

His medical recommendation was “To chill out and get a mouth guard.”

I haven’t done either yet. The tinnitus is slowly getting better on its own, but when I sit in a room by myself, the ringing fills the empty space. A symptom of a much larger condition. Expectation and appetite. I talk to my dad about it quite a bit. To see it as opportunity, to do great things, to help people. It’s in my bones, my heart, my skin itches with it. The roots are not very pretty to point out. But they are there, nonetheless. Causing me to scratch and claw, always forward.

Opportunity requires the option to decline. Which I cannot find anywhere in my mind. It is what I love and hate most about myself. Wrapped in one bundle. I am working on it, trying to harness it. But it gets away from me constantly, leaving me shaking and trying to catch a breath.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I take one last spin down twenty feet below, in that beautiful quiet blue. Then begin pulling for the surface. One. Two. Three. Riding the surfaces pull the rest of the way. I blow out a little puff of bubbles then pop up into the hot midday air. Inhaling deeply, Exhaling deeply. Inhaling deeply.

“Missed him huh? Think he went that way.” Kai says with a smirk pointing towards shore.

I laugh in between breathes and say “Better that he’s swimming around anyways. Also holy crap, the water is so clear, I was just scoping the bottom.” Swimming back to the canoe through the calm smooth turquoise, I pull myself up onto the Norfolk saplings.

Kai tosses me a cliff bar and says mischievously, “Appetiza.”

I unwrap the macadamia cliff bar and scarf it down like some sort of ravenous marsupial. Chewing on the sweet, mushy, sun baked mix.

I ask Kai, “Where we headed Dawgie?”

Kai sheets in the sail and catches a good gust. We angle for a reach as the canoe begins humming and dancing out from the lee of the Island.

With his biggest grin yet, Kai says “Mokes. We gotta get there before the chili thaws.”