Feb. 20, 2000 p.m.; 15 days since departure--Sailing on the Edge

Source: Sam Low

"He ho'okele wa'a no ka la 'ino" / "A canoe steersman for a stormy night." Said of a courageous person.

During the afternoon yesterday (Feb. 19) the wind piped up to from 20 to 25 knots and began to shift ENE. The swells became steep, faceted, and dark as the sun sank lower. The sound of the wind increased in pitch and volume; we were pleased with the increase in the canoe's speed but concerned about its course which was even more west than we wanted.

Later just about sunset Nainoa briefs the crew: "Okay, you guys, we are in an interesting situation. We can't keep losing ground to the west, so we are going to have to steer close to the wind. But we can't lose speed because we are in the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). We don't know when the doldrums might reassert themselves here, so we want to get out of here as fast as possible. We may have to tack to make up for the ground we have lost to the west, but I don't want to tack in the ITCZ--not until we get to 10 degrees North. It will be a lot of work but if we do it right, we should be in Hawaiian waters in a little more than a week.

Later last night (Feb. 19) after dodging some squalls and enduring a few others, the clouds dissipated and we saw the north star ahead already high in the sky, about five degrees according to the navigators (indicating the canoe was at five degrees N latitude). The wind increased; the sea pumped up, and we put the steering paddle in the water to hold the canoe right on the edge of the wind.

This time the dance between helmsman and paddle is not delicate. The paddle kciks and bucks as we try to control it.

"With the back sail hauled in tight and a small jib, the canoe is not well balanced," Nainoa explains. "The canoe turns into the wind, so your job is to let her do that until she is about to come into irons, then put in the paddle and steer downwind, but not too much.

Nainoa calls these conditions sailing on the edge. To do it properly a helmsman must be attuned to a number of signs: Is the windward rigging taut or slightly loose? Is the canoe heeling to leeward or running flat? Are the sails straining with pressure or relaxed? What does the wind sound like? Are the sails luffing slightly?

Nainoa explains how to put the clues together to sail on the edge: sailing close to the wind without stalling requires a delicate touch and sensitivity to the natural environment, he tells us . To go into the wind the sails are strapped down tight to make them efficient airfoils. We have 800 feet of canvas up there so the wind pressure on them is intense. If you turn downwind the canoe presents more canvas to the wind and she speed up. That feels good to an inexperienced helmsman. We're going fast--but we're going in the wrong direction. We're heading too far west.

You know you are too far off the wind when the wind sound increases, the canoe accelerates, and the pressure in the sails causes her to heel over onto her leeward hull. Also look at the windward rigging--it will be as taut as piano wire. So put the paddle up and bring her into the wind until you are still going fast, but the canoe is no longer heeling--she feels flat in the water, and the windward shrouds are a little loose. Hold it right there. If you steer up too high into the wind, you notice the speed drop off and the sails begin to luff. That's already too late, put the paddle down and steer off.

The trick is to avoid zigzagging. Going up to far, over-correcting, then going down too far. The goal is to maintain a steady course--on the edge.

To make this as easy as possible, Nainoa and the other senior crew balance the canoe, distributing the weight fore and aft. Take in the back sail and the canoe will want to turn into the wind by herself--creating what sailors call a weather helm. Loosen the back sail and the canoe will want to turn downwind, a condition known as lee helm. Move weight forward and the canoe turns into the wind; move weight back and the canoe turns off the wind. It's a delicate balancing act; when we get it right, the balance allows us to tie down the steering paddle and give Hokule'a the freedom to steer herself for a time.

The balance is so delicate, that when a crew member leaves her puka forward and walks aft to take a bath, the canoe may come a few degrees off the wind.

This refined tuning of the crew and canoe on the edge of the wind is necessary because the wind conditions are so unusual. The NE trades usually found in the northern hemisphere, have crossed over into the south.

In one sense this is good because instead of encountering fickle winds or no winds, in the ITCZ, we have strong winds from the NE or NNE. it looks like Hokule'a will set a speed record for the ITCZ, says Nainoa. And that's good . But instead of getting SE trades south of the equator, we got wind from the NE and that has forced us way west of our ideal course line.

In the last few days, Nainoa has been considering alternate strategies for finding landfall--taking into consideration what the wind may be when we past the ITCZ and reach ten degrees north. At about noon today (Jan. 20), he says "The wind are now NE to NNE at 25 knots and we're steering at northwest--we're not even aiming at the Hawaiian Island chain. We can make Hawaiian landfall if we can maintain Nas Leo Ho'olua (two houses west of north, or NNW), but now we're steering three houses west (NW by W)."

So due to the unfavorable winds we have lost the cushion that our earlier sail plan called for. Our original course line intersected the mid-latitude of Hawaii (20.5 degrees N) 275 miles to the east. Now it is possible that we may be forced so far west that we may intercept the Hawaiian Islands in the middle of the chain or even sail past them.

"I could tack east now," says Nainoa, "but I'm going to wait until I get through the ITCZ and we're at ten degrees north and then decide. We have to be ready to take advantage of a wind shift. If the wind shifts slightly east or south of east we may be able to go straight on. If it shifts to the north we will tack to the east to make up the distance we've lost to the west."

In the meantime, we sail on, forcing Hokule'a to perform at her peak in whatever conditions nature provides.

"If we arrive at twenty degrees north latitude, the center of the Hawaiian chain, and have not seen the Islands, what then?" Nainoa asks. "Are the islands to the east or west? With our origina; sail plan and the cushion it provided we would know they had to be to the west. Without that cushion we can't be sure. But I know what we'll do. We'll turn east, against the wind, and tack in a search pattern."

Nainoa pauses for a moment, then says--"I guess in ancient times if you were west of the Islands and turned down wind you were dead. I still ask myself how did our ancestors ever colonize such a vast ocean area? Twenty-five years ago I had no intelligent way to answer the question now I have a lot more information about how they might have done it, but I still don't have the answer."