April 4th 2002 Day 10 Fox's Landing to Halape (20 miles, 5 hours):

The trades are finally kicking in, blowing at 30-35mph, at this point in our circumnavigation we are directly downwind, enjoying the thrill of catching the wind swell (occasional breaking waves) and riding wave after wave for hours on end. We stay well off the coast for this stretch. The continuos lava cliffs offering no safe haven and the backwash created by the pounding waves (inside) would only slow us down, making paddling more difficult.

Finally we reach Halape, an isolated, picturesque, white sand lagoon. We refresh ouselves in the freshwater, clear, inland pool. The tranquility belies the sites history, when in 1975 a local earthquake caused a tidal wave, surprising a boy scout troop (of twelve) on a hiking trip, who perished.

Looking back, the toughest part of this adventure was the uncertainty of weather and the pre-departure jitters. I had been all over the island, by vehicle, on hikes and done sections by kayak during optimal weather conditions. For this trip, my longtime friend (Mickey Sarraille) has flown over from Ca., for three weeks, to make this circumnavigation attempt. I did not know during the initial planning, but was later told, that no one had yet attempted to circumnavigate the island in one outing. The handful of people, in modern history, who have paddled the complete Big Island had done it in sections, taking extended breaks, waiting for premium weather, and for the most part taking the downwind, forgoing the circling in a continous direction.

I told a few friends of my plans but when I mentioned that my friend Mik had never been in a kayak before and was handicapped, missing his left leg near his hip from a motorcycle accident 24 years ago, I could see their dismay and wondered why they couldn't visualize my dream but would rather see me as insane. I was more than delighted when one friend offered me his EPIRB (satellite position rescue beacon), since his sailboat was damaged and awaiting repair. Now I have no worries if anything catastrophic should happen. We would soon be rescued in the event of shark attack, appendicitis, blown off the island or being smashed against the rugged lava cliffs.

True: the weather on the Big Island is volatile. Having been on the island often over the last 30 years, I have some understanding of the difficulties involved. I know it blows gale force, a high percentage of the time, over the Eastern half of the island. We could expect that to be a headwind for about 90 miles. The wind does drop at night however, and my plan, barring an unusual break in the trades, is to paddle at night and rest during the day while negotiating the upwind leg.

One positive on our side is Mik and I are longtime friends (since 11 years old). The two of us know each other, strengths and weaknesses, well. We have experienced rough expeditions before. Weathering an extended storm in a sinking sailboat, flying in hang gliding competitions and hanging on for dear life as we travel (by the unpowered aircraft) through the Sierras, consoling each other by radio, that the last piece of extreme turbulence was an isolated incident, and we should keep pressing on. We spent a winter on a sailboat surfing Isla Todos Santos (Island of all the saints) while surfing and bodyboarding, some of the worlds largest rideable waves.

Some people may look at Mik as handicapped (or insane) but I know from experience that his mental toughness, positive outlook and superior upper body strength (from being on crutches for 25 years) makes him a perfect partner for a challenge of this type. While he has zero kayaking experience, with the exception of sitting in one in a sporting goods store, he has ocean skills far above those of most kayakers. We have no illusions as to the difficulty, we only hope that conditions are not so demanding that the trip goes beyond our ability to endure.

March 25th 11pm: Mik's flight is late and we hike out to camp, at midnight, near our departure point to wait for morning. I can hardly believe the weather report, it is more than favorable, because of a storm track near the islands, there are no trades in the near term forecast. It could be a week before they return.

Day 1 March 26th, First Light : We're up and amped, like overloaded circuit breakers. We spent most of the night, high on adrenaline, discussing the trip. We spend an hour loading our gear into our Scupper Pro TW kayaks. My sister and her boyfriend show up, to give us a sendoff, take some photos and take care of my car. I have Mik's footpedal on his rudder system rigged with a strong bungee on the left side so he only needs to work the right pedal and it should, in theory, return left of its own accord.

Loaded up, a few too many items strapped on top, which we couldn't cram inside, we lug the heavy kayaks down the launch ramp and set them afloat. Mik gets his first taste of sitting in a floating kayak and out we go. Rudders down and Mik seems to be stuck in a left turn. The bungee is too tight and after an adjustment we make our way out of the harbor, Mik zig zagging along getting the feel of his rudder system. I'm starting to have second thoughts. Was I being overly optimistic that a first time kayaker could handle the 15 miles a day (over an extended period) that I had expected we could accomplish? Would Mik's handicap become a factor in, as yet, unforseen ways? As I watch him zig zag along, these thoughts run through my mind, we also talk incessantly and are filled with exuberance as we round the western most point of the island (Keahole Point) and come to our first stop after an 11 mile paddle. Makalawena beach (one of the Big Islands finest beaches) is accessible only by hike, boat or Humvee.

We made it a point to start on one of the easier stretches of coastline to get a warmup, but now with the trades nonexistent, we wish we were getting the upwind leg out of the way. I planned on 3 days to Kawaihae harbor but it could be done in 2 if we can handle 19 miles each day. I don't want to burn out at the beginning, but wanting to get to the upwind section before the trades return, we decide to see how far we can get on day one. It turns out we do make the 19 miles, getting into Kiholo Bay, after an exhausting push into a 20mph offshore breeze. We slowly round the last point, pushing against the headwind for the final mile. Mik is exhausted, not surprisingly, after his first day of kayaking. He looks as if he's working a bicep machine at the gym, not yet adept at the torso rotation that will conserve his energy in the days to come. I dive in and come up with a 6lb sea bass on the end of my three prong spear, we set up camp, eat, and sleep like the dead.

Day 2: Kiholo to Sunstroke Bay (we renamed it, 25 miles)

Paddling North, Mik wants to get miles out of the way. I tell him the trip will be a waste if we don't take time to enjoy the places we visit. We get on our waterproof headlamps and swim in, Mik with his floating carbon fiber (homemade) crutches, to explore an inland flooded lava tube. They call these places "Queens Bath". In hawaiian history only royalty were allowed to bathe in these freshwater pools. This one continues underground for quite a ways. I had not explored it (into the dark chambers) in the past. We swim through the crystal water, our waterproof headlamps, lighting up the complete darkness, the tube finally coming to an end where the lava had filled in, putting a stop to the underground corridor.

We make our way north and a rare Kona wind (reverse trades) starts cranking up. This is a beneficial, unexpected tail wind getting up over 20mph. We discuss skipping the Kawaihae bay, straight lining it toward the north end of the island. This would save us some miles and time, getting us sooner to the headwind leg. It would also take us 5 miles offshore and make for a near 30 mile day. With the confidence of children we go for it, knowing it will be a long day, far from a safe beach, with no regrets.

Our biggest enemy is the sun and today is hot, thank god for the wind. We have great hats and Mik is liberally applying the spf 50. I keep the sunscreen on my face but ignore the rest of my exposed skin, mistakenly thinking that my tan will prevent the burn. We raft together for lunch 5 miles offshore, then continue on toward Lapakahi park where the coastline will come out to intersect with our courseline.

About 3 pm I start feeling sick thinking I must have eaten too much for lunch. We decide to shorten our day a bit and angle in toward what we hope will be a landable (rocky) beach. Not feeling good now, I can only paddle for a couple of minutes before needing a break. Mik is tired but doing well and he goes on ahead to check for a landable spot. We make a landing after a 25 mile day, I immediately crash in the shade, under a Kiawe tree, for an hours sleep before reviving, Mik dives in and comes out with a couple of fish for dinner. We both realize that it was the sun that did us in and my legs are purple where the sun was beating, causing my sunstroke.

Day 3: Sunstroke Bay to Kohala Lighthouse (19 miles)

Now well covered by long sleve windbreaker pants and tops, we paddle seven miles to a stop at Kapaa park where we hit trades (Strong offshore winds). A friend meets us and we get a ride up into Kohala to visit with friends and family. We see the trades backing off and figure we better get back on the water. Another six miles and we are just short of the north end of the Island (Upolu Point). We are now into heavy trades (headwind now) and need to wait for them to drop. We anchor the kayaks in a small protected bay and swim in. We find we are at the birthplace of King Kamehameha and take a self guided tour of Mookini Heau, a Temple of War in historic times. We will not battle this velocity of headwind. Our choices are to swim in with camping gear and spend the night, or if the winds drop after dark, we could continue on to the Kohala lighthouse (2 hours away, weather permitting) which has a rugged rocky launch ramp and the light could guide us in.

We see the trades lightening, we watch the awe inspiring sunset and we swim out to our boats as the sky darkens. We paddle into the darkness in sloppy conditions. Rounding Upolu point we see the lighthouse up ahead and also a small light off to the right. A friend of mine is camping near the lighthouse and I suspect we are seeing his Coleman lantern from 5 miles away. Mentally it seems to take a long time for us to reach the lighthouse. Anthony's (my friend) lantern goes out a few minutes before we arrive.

At 9:30 pm we get in close to the surf and yell at Anthony to bring down a light to show us where the ramp is. We camp with Anthony and his family eating their leftovers, plenty of fish and rice, and sharing breakfast with them. Anthony and his family are Hawaiian and as local as you'll find. Because of their friendship and willingness to share we owe them a big mahalo (thank you), and a six pack of beer (yeah we're cheap) is on the way.

Day 4 Kohala Lighthouse to Waimanu Valley (12 miles):

Easy 12 mile day . We spend time sightseeing around the offshore islands, one of which has a cave carved completely through it, caused by the continous assault of breaking waves. We hook up barracuda, losing more than we secure onboard, but plenty for dinner. We shoot all of our, on deck, film of the numerous waterfalls and 1000' near vertical walls, ascending up to 2000' at the rear of the valleys.

Entering Waimanu valley, the pristine black sand beach is missing, taken offshore by the winter waves. Today the waves are small but breaking on the steep rocky beach. I ride a wave in, perfectly hitting the only spot with a bit of sand left. Getting the kayak hauled up over the round river rocks is another story and requires a Herculean effort. On Mik's turn he doesn't get in quite as straight and a larger wave is following him in. I instantly decide not too pull his kayak up (the following wave could have snapped off the rudder or worse) and shove him back out into deeper water. Mik is pissed that I don't haul his kayak out and we are both rolling around in the river rocks. The strong sideshore current and the rudder, being down, make it nearly impossible to get the kayak in position to haul up. Luckily there are no inhabitants to witness our comedy routine and eventually we get ourselves and the kayak on top of the rocky beach. The only injury sustained is cuts around my ankles which will fail to heal, causing the worry of infection which could sabotage our success.

Looking back out, the waves are so small. I make a mental note to not take the small waves for granted as we land at the more difficult areas, otherwise our trip will be ending with one or two destroyed kayaks, like the kayak pieces we see strewn across the rocky beach.

We explore the valley. There is some evidence of ancient Hawaiian Settlements. It is believed that King Kamehameha, born into a royal family beneath the Temple of War, was deemed a threat (by a rival king) and would be killed if found. As a young child, he was apparently hidden away in this series of valleys, similar to Jesus being hidden from King Herod as a baby, so he could grow up to fulfill his destiny of uniting (some would say conquering) the islands and Hawaiian people.

Our next stretch will be our toughest upwind leg, 28 miles to the next good landing. The weather forecast is still great and Mik wants to push on tomorrow. I really wanted to stay an extra day to explore the valleys but Mik is right. If you believe in Hawaiian spirits, they have offered us a gift and it would be sacrilegious to refuse it. Our philosiphy Carpe diem (seize the day) has in this circumstance changed to Carpe meteoroligica (Seize the weather).

Day 5 Waimanu to Laupahoehoe (28 miles), 9 hour day:

On these upwind legs there will be no late starts. We are up at 4:30am breakfasting and packing, on the water before light. We pass, Waipio, the last of this series of valleys. There are a few residents now living in the valley. The valley in centuries past was a bustling community with as many as 10,000 inhabitants. When the Europeans brought disease which the Hawaiins had no immunity to, nearly a third of the Hawaiian population was wiped out. That combined with tidal waves, a dangerous 4wd road and a river that often floods is why the valley is nearly empty now.

Mik used his last disposable water camera yesterday. I told him there were more incredible falls and scenery coming up and now he is kicking himself in the ass multiple times every hour. This coastline, the Hamakua (meaning fighting stroke to windward, aptly named), is usually brutally rough and our direction taking us against the grain should be the make or break section of the trip. Today is beautifully calm though, we come up to a protected bay and see humpback whales heading toward us. We stop the kayaks and wait quietly to see if we'll be able to spot them as they pass by. To our astonishment, the whales surface only a few feet from our kayaks! We didn't plan on getting this close and are not as comfortable as we would have been 50' away or more.

We stay quiet and I snap photos while we have the opportunity. The mother whale is holding the calf on her back, up to the surface, to get a good breath of air. They have stopped moving and for a short time give us a beautiful introduction to the Cetacean birthing process. We notice what looks like a rope off the back of their tails and realize that we are seeing the umbilical cord, still attached, and this calf was born just a short time before. The whales leave us and we continue on, reflecting on our experience. It's amazing the emotions that erupt when in the presence of these magnificent mammals.

At 18 miles we stop for a rest, (again swimming in, this time through a nasty shorebreak), believing the long mileage will be easier if we take a break. In the afternoon we continue covering our 28 mile leg. The clouds deepen and the rain starts, the headwind is only light as we come around Laupahoehoe point into a nice protected launch ramp. We walk our stuff up the short 50 yards to a nice campsite in a public park. We camp just yards from the memorial that marks the spot where a fourteen schoolchildren and their teachers (on a fieldtrip) had their lives extinguished in 1946 as a tidal wave roared onto this coast, again, with no warning.

April 1 Day 7 Hakalau to Hilo (Richardson's Park) 15 miles

Made a good landing through surf yesterday at Hakalau, camping in a beautiful valley with freshwater stream. Out again at dawn, packing the kayaks in the dark, we inadvertently miss the anchor lying in the deep grass. After getting out through the surf in dangerous conditions, neither of us is willing to go back for it.

We head for Hilo and reverse trades are again picking up. On this side of the island they call it Maui winds (blowing from Maui) and for another day, on the worst section of our voyage, we are flying downwind covering the 15 mile leg in only 3 hours. In through the surf at Richardson's park, Mik snaps one of his Nico-crimps on his stainless steel cable controlling the rudder. His right rudder useless, the bungee holding the left takes control and has him flirting with a large dry rock. He retracts the rudder and is successfully able, after a few choice words, to glide into the calm lagoon. We land on a quiet black sand beach at only 9:30am.

Hilo has been ravaged by Tidal Waves twice during the past century. After the last one (in 1961) the Makai (ocean side) side of town was not rebuilt and is now a large public park. We call a taxi and hit the Wall Mart, Safeway and hardware store to get supplies for the remainder of the trip, to repair the rudder cable and set up an alternate anchor.

Day 8 Hilo to Pohiki (29 miles)

Out at dawn in stormy conditions. Luckily the Maui winds are continuing. We pound into a headwind getting past the first point until we are able to turn downwind. I'm pretty sure we could find a camp spot somewhere along this 29 mile leg, but with the strong tailwinds we feel obliged (Carpe meteorologica) to take advantage of the rare conditions. We round Cape Kumakahi (the islands easternmost point), spotting the only shark (about 6 feet long) of our trip and enter Kapoho Bay. This bay has spectacular hot ponds and we stop for a welcome jacuzzi. We've covered 25 miles in only 5 hours.

It's low tide and the pond is separated from the ocean by dry rocks. In the pond (about 300 yards long) we find about 50 turtles gathered in groups around the volcanically heated vents, looking very much like health club members, each monitoring a hot jet, after a moderate workout. The water is crystal clear and we get some great underwater photos while enjoying the above 90 degree water.

We consult our chart and find that a 4 mile paddle will get us to Pohiki, the next good camp site, so off we go riding the winds of hope to Pohiki. We have now covered over half the miles (the difficult half) of our circumnavigation. We are now confident that barring any major problems, (infection my constant worry), we will be successful.

Day 9 Pohiki to Fox's Landing

Pohiki also has a natural jacuzzi heated by the volcano and we, of course, make use of it. We watch the local surfers and bodyboaders ride an incredibly dangerous reef in front of our camp. Surf spots are few and far between on this coast. The surfers skill levels are high but we can see the potential for disaster as they ride in front of, and around, the dry coral heads and lava rocks. We make friends with the locals living at the ramp and the local fishermen who make their living off the ocean. The house by the ramp is one of the islands older buildings and we are told stories about it's history, including being used as a funeral parlor. During WW2 it was also used as military officers quarters when the area was a training camp. They showed us bayonet marks still in the walls as proof of it's historic past.

We reluctantly leave our friends, no longer worried about early starts, at a respectable hour (10:00am), for an easy day to our next camp. We stop for a break at Kehena, the islands most popular nude beach and partake of the activities. A group of spinner dolphins comes in and puts on a show for hours, that even Sea World would be proud of. We swim with the locals out to visit with the dolphins and get some great underwater shots, some even of dolphins.

Again we reluctantly press on, our newfound friends wishing us luck. Shortly we enter the Kalapana area where the recent lava flows have been entering the ocean and have destroyed one of the more beautiful areas of the island, including a lot I still own, now under 40 feet of lava. Everything along this coast is now jet black and cliffy until we come across a small Kipuka (an area missed by the lava), Fox's Landing. It is absolutely pristine, paradise found, with an abundance of coconut trees and vegetation. We have the beach to ourselves as we explore the area, take photos, and set up camp.

Day 12 Kawa Bay to Waiahukini (22 miles)

Yesterday we past the active lava entry areas. We did want to see molten lava entering the sea but after flowing into the ocean for 20 years it stopped pumping its toxic fumes (could be viewed as fortunate for us) shortly before we passed by, only to be active again a week later. We expect the trades to give us the push but they are down again. We plan on camping at the launch ramp just before South Point, (one of the places where the dangerous currents sweep away from the island into the endless pacific) we stop and visit with the fisherman, watching their skill at getting their boats through the shallow channel and onto their trailers. It is interesting enough today (a calm day), on a rough day their entrance would make our voyage look like childs play, but they are suitably impressed by our accomplishment, knowing as they do the moods of the ocean. They tell us of the 40' ketch that headed around Ka Lae (South Point) , never to be heard from again and advised us to head around today, while it's calm, and informing us of a great camp spot just a few miles around the other side.

Day 13 and 14 Waiahukini to Pohue Bay to Honomolino (28.5 miles)

We're passing remote green and black sand beaches that few people get to view. They are far off the beaten path and, when accessible by 4 wheel drive, are beyond locked gates. We stop at Pohue Bay to relax and play in the surf with the locals. The wind picks up strong (now a headwind) and we decide to stay, at this idyllic spot, making this a short day. Day 14: again passing deserted beaches arriving at Honomolino, an isolated beach one mile walk, from the end of a lightly traveled paved road.

We didn't know but an article had just come out about our trip in the Honolulu paper. I have a hard time imagining that any Honomolino resident would get the Honolulu paper but one did, we were welcomed, and a party was quickly set up with us as the VIP guests. We were given all we could consume, steak, chicken, rice, salad and assorted courses with beer and wine. I'm sure no one could believe how much we could eat (including ourselves), but there was more than enough and we were given zip lock bags to take the remainder with us on our journey. We owe a great thank you to our hosts, one of which is the owner of a highly successful island manufacturing company who I think will enjoy his anonymity.

Day 15 Honomolino to Captain Cooks Monument (20 miles)

Again reluctant to leave, our friends wishing us success on our journey, we head north. We cross a big bay and come in to what we think is the City of Refuge. Mik took advantage of the beer and wine last night. He wasn't thinking about the 20 miles then, but he's wishing he went easier on the beers now. We find we are off course and get a view of Hookena Park. We round the next point and find a large cave, big enough to paddle the kayaks inside (waves permitting) and get photos.

A few minutes further north we come into Honaunau (city of refuge). We stop for a break and to resupply water so we can be hydrated on our final day. Honaunau is a historic park, where once upon a time a law breaker could find safety, often with warriors chasing him down. Upon entering the City of Refuge, his pursuers could not follow. After spending a certain amount of time and receiving absolution and blessings from the priests, he would be allowed to go free and return to his community.

Mik is dumbfounded that we are still rounding the Mauna Loa Volcano. This 13,000+ volcano has been our constant companion since leaving Hilo and dominates our view for more than half of our circumnavigation. On to Capt. Cooks monument. This is the spot where the great circumnavigator Capt James Cook (certainly a distant relative of the intrepid explorer Capt James Kirk of Star Trek Fame), had his godlike status tested by the natives and was found wanting, as a spear ended his life. We camp just a few feet from the spot of his demise.

April 10th Day 16 Final Stretch Capt Cooks to Kona (16 miles)

Last Day. We've had such optimal weather the entire trip, it's not surprising that we would be tested on our last day. A large zodiac (tour operation), comes by and congratulates us, saying we are in the local paper today. We see Coffee and Macadamia nut farms up on the higher slopes. The headwind picks up and gives us a good workout as we push in the last 5 miles to the King Kamehameha beach and hotel. We are not quite finished but we stop for a break before the final hour and a half stretch into Honokohau Harbor,our starting point. The local paper comes down for an interview, Our friends show up to congratulate us, give us leis and take us out for a pre-victory lunch celebration.

The final push. The newspaper photographer is waiting at the entrance to Honokohau to get our photo as we enter. The headwind is stiff and the backwash off the rocks severe. If it were up to us we would wait for easier conditions but everybody is expecting us so we battle around the long point. Ironically on the calmest side of the island, an hour from the finish, we are having our roughest paddle of the trip.

Mik comes from behind passing me like a rental horse returning to his stable, apparently annoyed with our plodding progress. I boost the power up to 100% and slip in behind him, hoping to catch any current he might be riding. I am annoyed a bit now myself, wondering why he would be trying to injure us on the home stretch.

After five minutes, I realize it's not a current, Mik is still walking away. He has finally perfected his torso twist and that combined with his 16 days of distance paddling, his upper body strength, and his 30 pounds of reduced load due to his missing appendage have created a formidable paddler. I yell at him to wait up and ask him what the hell he's thinking with the sprinting. He replies that he is ready to be done with the headwind and wants to get past the last point. We compromise and notch down to 75% power.

Our spirits are not dampened and we are joyous with our accomplishment, as we enter the harbor. We are sorry the trip is at it's end and we joke about pulling a Forest Gump and just keep on paddling around again. We enter the harbor right on schedule, like the swallows returning to Capistrano, which incidentally is my hometown, where Mik and I first met (in 1970) and began challenging each other to see beyond the current worldview about what is acceptable or possible.

We feel better than we did during our early days of our trip. It seems as though we have been out for months when we remember all the experiences we've had and the people we've met. We freely admit that we were lucky dogs when it came to weather. We felt the Hawaiian spirits were with us and guiding us through a weather pattern that has not been seen in a decade. Our final tally was completing approximately 300 miles in 16 days with no outside support. We figured we'd have to take rest days due to adverse weather we but took none. We paddled close to 85 hours for an average speed of 3 and a half mph averaging almost 19 miles (by paddling over 5 hours) per day.

For any one interested in repeating the adventure, take into account that we caught an escalating El Nino condition where the March and April trades are suppressed, the exact opposite of the more normal gale conditions. Don't expect anything like we lucked into. You better be serious watermen, regardless of your kayaking skills, capable of swimming onto a treacherous rocky or cliff coastline at night. Your kayaks as well as your physical bodies will be tested and either may not come out of it intact. Don't think I'm trying to say that others are not capable of the adventure. In fact I am tremendously in debt for the support I was given from friends and family who believed in me. Knowing your own skills and knowing the island, it's coastlines, surf and weather patterns, can make all the difference.

Aloha, A hui ho (until our next meeting)

Kelly Harrison is the son of legendary waterman Lorrin "Whitey" Harrison and resides in South Kohala on the West side of the Big Island. He is the owner/operator of Trekking Hawaii and offers Kayaking and Hiking Eco-Adventure tours to visitors of the Big Island. For more information on his tours (a bit less physical than the previous story) visit www.trekkinghawaii.com

Mickey Sarraille lives in Lake Elsinore CA, one of the worlds Hang Gliding meccas. He recently stepped down as president of the Lake Elsinore Hang Gliding Association and is somewhat famous in regional hang gliding circles. Neither will comment on the question "What's next"?

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