The real beginning

The nerves started to boil up from the pit of my stomach as we flew down into Molokai this morning in a tiny 12 person Cessna.

It could have been a result of the 4am start to the day or the tension of being weighed in to assign seat positions (we were in seat 3) with our potentially overweight bags. But I’m pretty sure, it had something to do with the race coming up.

I had a series of calamitous visions:

·         The 20kg bag I had lugged onto the plane sinking like a stone into the ocean as we swam out through the beach break.

·         Finding our canoe had been punctured on the trip across from Oahu, or hadn’t turned up at all.

·         Being stuck at the airport after returning our hire car and having to hike 20miles through the darkness to reach the race site

Somehow I had created the most improbable collection of misfortunes in my mind!

I looked over to Charmian with trepidation in my eyes, but all I could see was calmness and delight in hers as she peered down at the aquamarine coral beds and surf breaks far below. Putting my concerns aside we landed on the very rural island and set the day in motion.

 

Back in Maui, Charmian had met a fellow paddler whilst waiting for the plane – Katy from LA – and we joined her for breakfast at the Kamamistsu bakery where Charmian discovered that the speciality ‘Molokai’ toast, appears to be just toast (no condiments or butter). Over breakfast, Katy filled us in on where to eat, where to shop, and we traded a couple of paddling stories before getting her number in the hope to keep in touch over the next few days. It was nice to arrive on the famous Molokai island and experience the camaraderie of another paddler straight away.

We went on to meet Cheryl at her palatial B&B, who got straight down to the business of logistics for the race. It appeared she had done her homework, and knew exactly where we needed to get to, and when. And as she explained how things could work out, she began to allay some of my fears.

We distracted ourselves from thinking about the race for a couple of hours by visiting the Kaluapapa Lookout, the Hawaiian sacred Phallic Rock (you have a lot to live up to boys!), before grabbing a coffee from the Molokai Coffee House. The distraction didn’t last long, as the surfer guy in the gift shop started telling Charmian all about the killer beach break at Kalua Koi. She was all too happy to share this information with me, which possibly wasn’t the best idea.

Anxious Michelle suggested (insisted) on a trip down to Kalua Koi to welcome our canoe to the island and check it was still in one piece. On our way there, we dropped into the Molokai Hotel for a drink, where we were serenaded by the local uncle and aunties ukulele band.

At the Molokai Hotel with the ukelele band in the background

Down at Kalua Koi we met Kennie and Lauren Denton who are doing the race as a father/daughter mixed pair. It’s Lauren’s first crossing too, and it was a little reassuring to see she had similar reservations to me. Her Dad is showing her the ropes this year, having done the race many times previously (it turns out he has partnered  Grant Hughes several times). We vicariously lived the moment of unwrapping a brand new Pueo through them, watching it emerge like a butterfly from its chrysalis.

 

It was then time to go down to the shore, confront the monster beach break, and map in our minds how we might tackle this challenge on Sunday. It was as erratic as Cooper chasing a seagull, but we identified a calmer part of the beach that may be kind to us on Sunday, with the break flattening on the shore, so that I won’t need to surf the tube in order to arrive on the start line in time.

Charmian contemplates the beach break at Kalua Koi

 

I’m now feeling much more confident and relaxed about our whole adventure. There appears to be a solution to all the kinks that I had envisaged and I have a great feeling that things will just work out.