Eddie Aikau (above)"We are here on Earth to do good to others. What the others are here for, I don't know."
- W. H. Auden
- W. H. Auden
Perhaps you've seen the bumper stickers while driving around Hawaii: "Eddie Would Go." Maybe you've wondered: "Who's Eddie?" He was Eddie Aikau, legendary waterman, lifeguard, champion surfer - but so much more. . . First, Eddie was "one of us," a local Hawaiian whose father,"Pops," took Eddie's mother Henrietta and the family surfing nearly every weekend while Eddie was growing up. The boy learned early to pitch in and help drag the families old fashioned 75 lb. wooden surfboard up the beach. . . . In 1967, Eddie was one of the first to surf fifteen-foot Sunset breaks. That same historic year Eddie shared one of the "biggest" days at Waimea Bay with some of the best surfers in the world, guys whose names are also legends of the sport today; but not like Eddie. He was special, and da boy proved it again that day by riding a perfect 40 foot set in his unique, soulful style. The crowd went nuts! A natural choice to be the first lifeguard at Waimea Bay, Eddie's favorite "spot," he was known for sharing his knowledge freely with everyone who came to "his" beach. They say that Eddie only filed reports on a small portion of the rescues he performed, the lives he saved. "No beeg t`ing." But others saw what was going on down there, and voted him Lifeguard of the Year 1971. . . . .
In 1976, the first year of the I.P.S. world tour, Eddie ranked 12th in the world and helped to legitimize the fledgling pro sport with is skill and humble showmanship. Yes, Eddie was there at the beginning - along with his well-known red board. But Eddie was soon to be selected for another honor, as one of the original nine crew members chosen by the Polynesian Voyaging Society to reenact the ancestral voyages of discovery on the traditionally built sailing canoe, "Hokule'a" (Arcturus. Literally translated: Hoku - star, le'a -joy, pleasure, happiness. Hawaii began with people "following their star, following their bliss.") The 60' double hulled sailing canoe was built to replicate the historic voyages of the original Hawaiian people in their migrations to this new land. It was known that the sailing Kahuna of those times made precise observations of the stars, sun, moon, winds, ocean swells/currents, as well as the behaviour of sea birds, to make their way across the star map of the night skies and the Earth's broadest ocean. But they had also used their traditions, memories and experience: none of which Eddie and his crew ohana would have. But Eddie "wen" go anyway. . . The weather was iffy at Magic Island around 7:00 PM on the Spring evening of March 16, 1978 - but locals packed the park to be a part of the emotional event anyway. It was the height of the "Hawaiian Renaissance, the proud rediscovery of everything "Hawaiian" after more than a century of de facto denigration. The Hokule`a truly carried the pride of a nation with it. Despite the marginal weather, a decision was taken to depart. . . . Northwest of the isle of Lanai, as they navigated one of the world's most unpredictable and challenging passages - the Kaiwi Channel - the sailing canoe was cloaked in biblical dark clouds, and slammed by heavy weather. Taking on water that black night, pounded by twelve foot swells, and braving gale force winds, the craft drifted farther and farther away from customary shipping lanes, and even air routes. With every passing hour, they were driven father and farther away from any hope of rescue. Clinging to their capsized canoe with his fellows, Eddie decided to paddle his board for Lanai, some twelve miles to the east. The captain finally gave his assent, knowing that THIS man was the one who could make it - if anyone could; and for the last time, Eddie would go. . . The Hokule`a was spotted the next day by the pilot of a routine inter- island flight who JUST HAPPENED to look in the RIGHT SPOT at the RIGHT MOMENT, a statistical miracle, but our Eddie, and his familiar red board were never seen again. No trace was ever found. Like a hero of old, taken whole-bodied to mythical realms, he became almost a demi-god to Hawaiians, to surfers, and to all who love the seas of the human heart. Today, surfing officials at Waimea Bay, and members of the Aikau ohana, will decide if conditions are right for the Eddie Aikau Big Wave surfing event. Ultimately, they say, the "bay will call the day." But humans will ride those monsters again - just like Eddie used to. If not today, then tomorrow - or next week - unless the "window period" closes without proper conditions. Then the local experts will surf it again without a contest. It's more than a contest to us, after all, and it's all out of human hands anyway. The Hawaiians of old always followed the decisions of nature. Whether the contest goes off or not this year, the "Eddie" is a celebration of a humbly heroic person, an appreciation of a certain view of people, and of life. The Eddie Aikau Foundation continues to nurture the kids coming up whatever the conditions. . . . So when the time of challenge comes, I hope that I will go just like Eddie always did; with resolution, celebration, and a Hawaiian heart full of Aloha for the ocean, Ke Kai, and for all of you who share this island home with me . . . .this island we call "Earth," A L O H A! Cloudia
In 1976, the first year of the I.P.S. world tour, Eddie ranked 12th in the world and helped to legitimize the fledgling pro sport with is skill and humble showmanship. Yes, Eddie was there at the beginning - along with his well-known red board. But Eddie was soon to be selected for another honor, as one of the original nine crew members chosen by the Polynesian Voyaging Society to reenact the ancestral voyages of discovery on the traditionally built sailing canoe, "Hokule'a" (Arcturus. Literally translated: Hoku - star, le'a -joy, pleasure, happiness. Hawaii began with people "following their star, following their bliss.") The 60' double hulled sailing canoe was built to replicate the historic voyages of the original Hawaiian people in their migrations to this new land. It was known that the sailing Kahuna of those times made precise observations of the stars, sun, moon, winds, ocean swells/currents, as well as the behaviour of sea birds, to make their way across the star map of the night skies and the Earth's broadest ocean. But they had also used their traditions, memories and experience: none of which Eddie and his crew ohana would have. But Eddie "wen" go anyway. . . The weather was iffy at Magic Island around 7:00 PM on the Spring evening of March 16, 1978 - but locals packed the park to be a part of the emotional event anyway. It was the height of the "Hawaiian Renaissance, the proud rediscovery of everything "Hawaiian" after more than a century of de facto denigration. The Hokule`a truly carried the pride of a nation with it. Despite the marginal weather, a decision was taken to depart. . . . Northwest of the isle of Lanai, as they navigated one of the world's most unpredictable and challenging passages - the Kaiwi Channel - the sailing canoe was cloaked in biblical dark clouds, and slammed by heavy weather. Taking on water that black night, pounded by twelve foot swells, and braving gale force winds, the craft drifted farther and farther away from customary shipping lanes, and even air routes. With every passing hour, they were driven father and farther away from any hope of rescue. Clinging to their capsized canoe with his fellows, Eddie decided to paddle his board for Lanai, some twelve miles to the east. The captain finally gave his assent, knowing that THIS man was the one who could make it - if anyone could; and for the last time, Eddie would go. . . The Hokule`a was spotted the next day by the pilot of a routine inter- island flight who JUST HAPPENED to look in the RIGHT SPOT at the RIGHT MOMENT, a statistical miracle, but our Eddie, and his familiar red board were never seen again. No trace was ever found. Like a hero of old, taken whole-bodied to mythical realms, he became almost a demi-god to Hawaiians, to surfers, and to all who love the seas of the human heart. Today, surfing officials at Waimea Bay, and members of the Aikau ohana, will decide if conditions are right for the Eddie Aikau Big Wave surfing event. Ultimately, they say, the "bay will call the day." But humans will ride those monsters again - just like Eddie used to. If not today, then tomorrow - or next week - unless the "window period" closes without proper conditions. Then the local experts will surf it again without a contest. It's more than a contest to us, after all, and it's all out of human hands anyway. The Hawaiians of old always followed the decisions of nature. Whether the contest goes off or not this year, the "Eddie" is a celebration of a humbly heroic person, an appreciation of a certain view of people, and of life. The Eddie Aikau Foundation continues to nurture the kids coming up whatever the conditions. . . . So when the time of challenge comes, I hope that I will go just like Eddie always did; with resolution, celebration, and a Hawaiian heart full of Aloha for the ocean, Ke Kai, and for all of you who share this island home with me . . . .this island we call "Earth," A L O H A! Cloudia
note: the Hokule`a has since made several successful journeys, visiting all the historically linked isles of the Pacific, and closing the "Polynesian Triangle" with a voyage that included Rapa Nui ("Easter Island") late in the last century. Most recently, the latest crew sailed the canoe to Micronesia to gift a full-scale voyaging canoe built in Hawaii to MAU, the wise Micronesian islander who taught the Hawaiian navigators his traditional (and almost lost!) skills of Polynesian navigation. The two canoes departing reminded some of the flotillas of ancient times, journeying together. The Hokule`a made an nontraditional visit to Japan, where she was feted & celebrated by the Japanese people and especially the many Hula troops that flourish there today. I'm humbled to tell you that a copy of my little novel: "Aloha Where You Like Go?" also voyaged with that crew. I handed it to captain Nainoa Thompson on the day of departure as a gift. He sent it aboard, and gave me a long hug. I know what it's like to go out of sight of land - other worldly. And the responsibility of lives at sea is out-of-body. "We're all praying for you," I said. "Thank you. We have a lot of time to read out there," he told me. "Thanks for the book." Nothing inessential is brought on the voyage. I'm thrilled that my words made the trip; that I could be even a small part of the story of these beloved people & islands that I call my home . . .
