NOWRAMP
2002
The
Heart of Nature
Written by Carlos
Eyles
Underwater Photography by Jim
Watt
September 27, 2002
We
are underway when I wake for probably the tenth time through
the course of the night. The Rapture pulled anchor
at 9pm and it was a long and bumpy night, with eight foot
seas on the beam, rolling the boat sideways, with the occasional
body slam, to make sure someone didn't drift off to sleep
by accident. It was the first time in a week we had to sleep
while underway; I dare say few found a full night's slumber.
When I make my way down to the salon for breakfast at 7:30
am, which is served from 7am to 8am, no one is there, save
for Doc Overlock. Everyone is in bed. Breakfast will wait
and I head for the bow, some people read a newspaper to
find out what happened yesterday; I try and read the weather
to find out what will happen today. It is another gray dawn.
I fear that we will be following this morbid weather front
clear back to Honolulu. A four foot swell is running from
the northeast, but the wind is due east coming hard at 25
knots. There is a grave dark welling in the sky, the kind
that if you are in the comfort of your home you might marvel
at, but out here, it will seize your breath. Squall lines
hover like grand ships sinking from a liquid sky. Streaks
of light like diffused lightning bolts run horizontal to
the sea, burrowing indigo holes in the lumpy, boot-black
sky.
When
I look at the power of a sea like this one this morning,
it brings to mind the first Hawaiians who came on the wind,
sometime between 200 to 400 AD in multi-hulled canoes. While
I quake at the weather in the confines of a one hundred
and fifty foot vessel with two, eight hundred horse powered
diesel motors, they boldly sailed some 2100 miles in the
open ocean, unclear of any destination, with only the stars
and the sea and a deep faith in their abilities to guide
them. Now, on this day only the sea and stars are unchanged,
that and perhaps some of the underwater reefs we are witnessing
on this expedition. However this vessel and those of us
on her are far different than the men and women and children
who first voyaged up from the central Pacific. Perhaps our
only similarity is that we all deeply care for the ocean,
in that I feel connected to the first Hawaiians, though
they understood aspects of the ocean that neither I nor
any scientist could ever begin to grasp.
Before
venturing further into the day I would like to give the
terrestrial team, who returned to the boat dog-tired yesterday,
a bit of a nod for a job well done. They deserve to sleep
in a bit late this morning, having put in two full days
of manual labor on Kure. Very few boats get this far north
and there was work to be done. `Aulani, Kaliko and Moani
weed whacked in behalf of the albatross a large round patch
so they might land with dignity. Albatross are built for
the sky and landing is not their forte', about half the
time they will somersault ass over teakettle in their landings.
The team pulled two acres of weeds (Verbesina, or
Golden Crown Beard) so the boobies could have a decent place
to nest and the Wedge-tailed Shearwaters could burrow down
and have some solitude of their own. A few storm shutters
on Kure's residence quarters were scraped, sanded and painted
for any future visitors who would be willing to put in time
and energy for the birds.
The Captain pulls the Rapture up and around Pearl
and Hermes Atoll so that we are protected from the swells.
We are fortunate again today to be going out with Keoki
who believes he knows of a reef not far from the boat. It
is in seventy feet of water, and I will be on scuba this
morning. The water is quite clear, and I buddy up with Mike
May and we along with Watt and Doc Overlock, Brian and Keoki,
head for the bottom and a small reef system where acreage
of sand spills off into deeper acreage that is shelved up
by reef wall. From the top it appears innocuous, scarcely
worth a look, however on our descent a few ulua present
themselves, then a kahala, then a curious school of thick
lipped jacks. Once on the 
sea
floor the place is jumping as any neighborhood does when
guests pay a visit. This reef is exactly that, a neighborhood,
complete with children (small fish) elders (lobster), teenagers
(omilu) and adults (butaguchi ), landlords (ulua) garbage
collectors, (white tip sharks) schools, homes, markets,
playgrounds. Healthy neighborhoods, with a healthy atmosphere,
clean food, a vast, relatively safe playground, (except
when the landlord comes around to collect the rent). In
this neighborhood the inhabitants are born, will live a
good life and then die of natural causes.
We all are enchanted by this little reef, its simple beauty
calls to us, and seems to capture an innocence of a time
unchanged, a time no different than when the Hawaiians sailed
their canoes to a new home. Perhaps that is why we dive,
to return to our timeless home. The true home for all mankind,
in the heart of nature.
<<Journals
Home
Talk About It!
