Out of the eight major islands most recognized in the Hawaiian Archipelago, Molokai is fifth most populated. At its extreme length and width of 38 by 10 miles, it is also the fifth largest in size. The locals gave the island the nickname of Aina Momona, which means the Friendly Isle, and that is how we remember Molokai. Everyone was so very friendly and helpful, and curious but delighted to see catamaran india, one of the few visiting boats, in the main harbor.
Polynesian settlement to Molokai arrived in two waves from the Society Islands starting in 1025 through 1120 and again from 1190 to 1290. The first European to set foot here was Captain George Dixon of the British Navy in 1786, followed by a Protestant Mission established on the eastern end at Kalua’aha. By 1878, an immigrant from Germany built the first and only Sugar Mill and ranching began in the first half of the 19th Century when King Kamehameha V set up a country estate on the island which was managed by this same German, Rudolf Wilhelm Meyer, and is now the Molokai Ranch. King Kamehameha V eventually built a vacation home in Kaunakakai and ordered the planting of over 1,000 coconut trees in the Kapuaiwa Grove. But the history of Molokai that I found most fascinating, is the story of the Leper Colony, on the remote peninsula of Kaluapapa in the north, isolated from the settled lands by an enormous and impenetrable range of mountainous cliffs.
As the sugar plantations developed in Oahu in the later half of the 1800s, more and more Eurasians immigrated to work the fields along with sailors, traders and others from societies where smallpox, cholera, and whooping cough were endemic. The exposed island communities lacking natural immunity, were soon ravaged by these diseases and the worst of all, was leprosy. Fear and worry of the population and sugar planters pressured the government to take action to control the spread of leprosy in particular. The legislature passed an act requiring the quarantine of people infected with leprosy and established the colony of Kalawao which operated from 1866 to 1969. A research hospital was developed and the colony was assisted by Father Damien of the Philomena Catholic Church, who also died of the disease after 16 years of service. The population reached a peak of 1100 at the beginning of the 20th Century and over the decades, more than 8500 men, women and children diagnosed with this cruel disease were exiled to the colony and declared legally dead. Unaffected spouses were granted automatic divorces and the remainder of the disease free family members changed locations, sometimes to other islands, to avoid ostracization by their communities. Even though there are no active cases here today, former patients have chosen to continue their lives in the settlement and have established the Kalaupapa National Historical Park welcoming visitors who arrive by small aircraft or by an all day donkey trail excursion over the mountain ridge which we would have loved to have done! But alas, the trail washed away with heavy rains last year and furthermore the settlement is closed to visitors to protect the inhabitants from the Covid!
So, our only option (besides renting a helicopter) to see this stunning landscape that I had read so much about, including the towering cliffs reported to be the tallest sea cliffs in the world, was to sail around the northern coast. We set off on a sunny morning with a favorable weather window and chased a rainbow across the narrow Pailolo Channel, notoriously one of the windiest channels between the Hawaiian Islands. What started out as a beautiful clear day soon turned wet and foggy as a series of rain squalls moved in. Ever determined, we sailed along the jagged edges and steep ravines revealing high-reaching waterfalls in a daring proximity to land until all visibility was lost. At this point we knew it would be unsafe to attempt our planned anchorage tucked around a point and hidden completely from us. Not only were we disappointed to miss out on a night along this magnificent shoreline but now had several more hours to travel to our alternate haven on the west coast. As we steered a course around the flat triangular peninsula of Kaluapapa, the fog lifted and we were able to view the lighthouse and the settlement of Kalawao barely apparent in the distance. I took a few somber photographs that I like as they reflect the mood of our sail around this extraordinary and quiet place in the shadowlands.
The sun was low on the horizon as we rounded Ilio Point on the Northwest Corner. There was no clear indication of good anchorages on the charts so we chose a sandy patch in an indentation near a small beach in the northern corner and settled in for the night. What started out as a sheltered refuge from the windward coast we had just sailed, became an unbearable whirlpool of building sea over the course of the night and by first light we were ready to up anchor and move on. As we prepared to weigh anchor in the early morning hours we saw a large sea lion off our stern who gave us an encouraging look with his big black puppy eyes, as if to say, “Get out of here while you still can!” Unfortunately, we had been nursing our starboard engine because of a fan belt that needed attention (in calmer waters preferably) and it soon became obvious that we would make no progress without using both engines against the winds and swells that had shifted south and west, the direction we needed to go, of course. After several miles of small gains against the weather, we decided to tuck into the southern edge of Papohaku Beach and wait it out. We spent the rest of the day bouncing around in a tolerable swell trying to get a better weather forecast with our faint cell signal. Again, by the early hours of the next morning, we knew we needed to move. We could feel the intensity of the swells that had been building throughout the night and since we were not anchored far enough from the break line, we needed to move quickly. By now, the wind had a decidedly western origin which helped build the seas in our anchorage. We could use this wind to sail and the elements would no longer work against us as we headed south. As we brought in the chain on the back of a wave, it caught and swung the bow around hard. We knew we were hooked around something substantial on the bottom. The process is to let out more chain and try a different approach and direction, which we did, but in a heavy and potentially breaking 2+ meter swell it starts to become dangerous and a lot of bad things can happen. In our case that morning, the clutch on the windlass slipped and ran the chain out at speed, and this is a good thing, scary as it is when it happens, because if the chain is secure to the windlass under that amount of pressure, the risk is pulling the entire apparatus out of the deck! The chain had run out to the rope end of our abundant rode before I could catch up to it with the engines while fighting the rush of a swell and as David pulled the line in by hand to recover the chain, another swell broke taking the line back and with it a chunk of David’s finger! There was blood all over the deck, not in itself anything new, but this time seemed different and I could tell by his expression that it was serious. We spent a few minutes wrapping his finger before we were back at retrieving the chain, at least in part, to secure our vessel while we decided on a new course of action.
Someone had to go in the water. It was the only solution. We needed to assess the situation of how the chain was wrapped and if it could be untangled at all before we talked about abandoning our valuable ground tackle with a buoy for a later retrieval. I wanted to go, feeling bad about David’s injury, but strength of success lies in appropriate assignment and my strength is behind the wheel and David’s strength is… well…strength, in this case. It was too dangerous to bob the surface in the now breaking waves with a snorkel and fins. SCUBA was required to get below the surface and quickly. In addition, we needed to secure David to the boat with a long heavy line so that we could get him back to the boat as well. As I paid out his tether from the bow, I watched his bubbles while noting some directional reference. When he told me we were only snagged at one side of a big rock while the anchor was in a patch of sand, I had a better idea of what to do next. Sometimes a guess can tangle a line further if you circle the boat the wrong way, and now that we knew how we were snagged we had a chance! Sure enough, fortified with David’s intelligence in the field, so to speak, we were able to drive out our chain even in the breaking seas.
With a rush of relief and big happy smiles, we charged out of the bay and turned south. Within a couple of hours, we rounded the southern point and turned east. It was as if a new day had dawned. The morning sun was glorious, glittering the surface of the now calm waters in the lee of Molokai with dancing light. Soon we negotiated the narrow channel into the old barge harbor of Hale O Lono and dropped our precious anchor through 15 feet of calm water into the safety of soft mud with a plonk! A couple of Bloody Mary’s were immediately in order followed by first aid and a long nap to make up for the previous two sleepless nights.
After a couple of restful nights in Hale O Lono, we pressed on to the small village of Kaunakakai for a visit on land. The harbor has a long commercial pier which was empty when we arrived. We had seen the many large tug and barge vessels that transfer inter-island cargo in the Hawaiian Islands, and found a place for ourselves in the shallows well away from the turning basin of the inbound suppliers. We were the only visiting boat and there was scarcely room for us to swing the full 360 degree radius that we have learned to expect here. It was a pleasant walk into town and we were excited to explore our surroundings, pick up some groceries and try the local pizza. At a glance, Molokai seems like a remote place. The beautiful long beaches are void of crowds, there are miles and miles of scrubland interrupted by occasional dirt roads and no high rises. There are no traffic lights, a handful of restaurants, and only one hotel. It is quite the surprise since the island is centrally located between the more commercially popular and well known Islands of Maui and Oahu. The reason for its remote feel is due to the local population and generations of aggressive opposition to economic development. There is a litany of reasons behind the resistance to commercial enterprise but having traveled to both the busiest destinations as well as the extremely remote areas of the world and watched the development of my favorite Caribbean islands, I personally found Molokai to be a refreshing example of a population strong enough to resist exploitation and preserve the local tradition that is rapidly disappearing from these culturally rich Hawaiian Islands.
Once again the time had come to move on, this time to Oahu, the epicenter of Hawaiian population and the capital city. Our haul out at a ship yard was set and we needed to focus our attention on our faithful india who was due some examination and physical affection. Besides….Pearl Harbor awaits!
