One day, when the wind was howling, I watched this tug trying to bring its barge in to Kawaihae harbor. Trouble was, the wind was blowing across the entrance channel. As it came in, the tug had to slow down, leaving the slab-sided barge even more prone to the effects of the wind.
In the top photo, the tug needs to leave the green buoy on its port (left) side, which it’s doing. Problem is, the wind is blowing from that direction, so the tug is already too far over. Also, it’s easy to see how the barge is no longer directly behind the tug, but has been pushed farther over by the wind.
In the middle photo, the tug has to leave the red buoy on its starboard (right) side, but it’s obviously too late for that. The tug captain knows he has no shot and, in the bottom photo, turns into the wind before heading out into open water.
I watched the tug try this maneuver several times without success. Next morning, on my way to work, I saw the tug and barge still out in the bay. It wasn’t until later that morning that it finally gained entrance to the harbor and tied up safely alongside the jetty.
On my walk the other day, I saw an outrigger canoe heading west just off the North Kohala coast. The sea wasn’t too rough, but I was surprised to see it because it was a long way from the place it probably launched to the first place it could safely be taken out.
A few minutes later I saw two other canoes, and they kept coming. Over a span of about 15 minutes, at least a dozen of the same kind of outrigger canoe hove into view. Some were brightly colored, such as the one in the top photo, but they all looked very small when seen from a distance.
The one bring up the rear, at least as far as I could tell, was all white and it made me think that if the sea got rougher and the canoeist got into trouble, his boat would be awfully hard to spot in a sea of whitecaps.
Posted in response to Becky’s October Squares challenge theme of ‘Kind.’ See more responses here.
This week’s Sunday Stills challenge theme is ‘Beautiful Beaches.’ See more offerings here.
ʻAnaehoʻomalu Bay, at Waikoloa Resort, is often referred to as A Bay for reasons that aren’t hard to figure out. In normal times this is a very popular spot. The beach is a long curve of pale sand with palms at either end. It’s popular with sunbathers, swimmers and snorkelers. There’s also a restaurant and bar at one end of the beach, facilities nearby, and shops not far away. And Ocean Sports operates various cruises out of the bay on a catamaran or glass-bottomed boat.
There’s a hike I like to do, which goes south from A Bay, and on previous visits I’ve skirted the crowds which are usually found there. However, these are not normal times. On my last visit I headed north. There was one person in the water, two on the beach. The ocean lapped gently against the shore. An offshore breeze rustled the palm fronds. Usually when I hike places like this, I’m an aberration with shoes and a fanny pack, marching through swathes of bikinis and board shorts and roasting flesh. On this occasion, I was an aberration just by being there.
This week’s Friendly Friday challenge theme is ‘Nostalgia.’ See more responses here.
I wasn’t sure I’d have anything for this theme, but this photo does make me somewhat nostalgic for my sailing days. I liked making passages and being out of sight of land, as opposed to sailing in a bay. I enjoyed watchkeeping, navigation, and my world being simplified to boat, water and sky. I saw more in that reduced world than in my usual busy life. Standing night watches, I didn’t just register the dawn. I noticed a glimmer in the east slowly transition to pre-dawn, and then an almost blinding sunrise. The sight of a bird was an event. There were days of no wind when the ocean was glass and it was hard to believe that the nearest solid surface was thousands of feet below.
Now, had I found a photo with a small boat being lashed by waves on a whitecap-riven ocean, my nostalgia would be less pronounced. One trip, I took a photo of the couple I was sailing with. They were on deck, hunched in foul-weather gear, as water sprayed across the deck, looking exactly as that sounds. These moments are inescapable when sailing longer distances. When I was younger, the discomfort was worth the rewards. Now, I don’t look at it the same way. But looking at this photo, it’s easy to imagine how it could be on that perfect trip no one ever experiences.
Also posted in response to Becky’s July Squares challenge theme of ‘Perspective.’ See more responses here.
I was on my way to work one morning when I noticed the sailboat in the top image. The array of white sails caught the early morning sun and stood out against the deep blue water. I pulled over, took this photo and headed on in to work.
I saw later that the boat had anchored in Kawaihae harbor, so on my way home I stopped by to check it out. The SSV Makani Olu is a three-masted staysail schooner (SSV stands for Sailing School Vessel), and is used as a training vessel for various programs run by Marimed Foundation. The boat is based at Kaneohe Bay, on the east coast of Oahu.
In the photo to the right, the boat appears to be four-masted, but that’s just because the mast of the boat behind it lined up perfectly.
For more information about SSV Makani Olu and Marimed Foundation, go to marimed.org.
Containers are unloaded from one of the inter-island barges at Kawaihae harbor. It’s not a forklift doing the work, more of a grip-n-raise, though I doubt that’s its official name. No prizes for guessing that the shipping company is Matson, but I like the repetition of their name in the images.
Some recent high surf made a breach in the breakwater of the northern small boat harbor at Kawaihae. Besides punching this hole in the rock barrier, the wooden mooring floats were also badly damaged and boats using the harbor were ordered to relocate since it was no longer safe.
Repairing the damage being estimated to cost around $8 million. Usually these kinds of thing overrun the estimates by a generous margin.
The top photo shows the extent of the damage as a tug and barge approach the harbor. Below, the picnic tables are deserted as the wind whips up whitecaps and a blast of sand across the area.
Incidentally, the tug and barge were unable to get into harbor because of the strong crosswinds and spent the night out at sea. They were still there next morning when I saw them, but were able to finally get into the harbor a few hours later.