Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Across the channel, I saw Kooalawi in the distance about fifteen miles away, brown and
dreary, dry looking. Yet it somehow added to the atmosphere of Lanai and her immediate
surroundings. It was like her poor relative, a family member that was always there. I learnt
soon enough that islands don't all have to be green and verdant to be wonderful places.
The day turned into a hot, muggy one, and while there was not a lot of wind, there was
a breeze, allowing me to motor sail and tack in long reaches out and into the channel and
back. I was able to see Lanai as a whole when I was a few miles offshore; I saw no sign of
people or buildings. With the aid of my field glasses, I did see the frilly tops of the Norfolk
pine forest on top of the island. I also noticed that there was more greenery appearing the
farther north I sailed; the herd of wild horses were still grazing like statues on the hillside.
I was looking forward to slipping into a safe, little harbor and tying up to a dock. Murphy
would love to frolic about on land again, and I looked forward to a shower and freedom
from the restraints of solo sailing.
I kept my fishing line out with the prospects of hooking another fish while I had the op-
portunity, but at the slow speed we were doing, I knew it was a waste of time. It took me
the best part of the day to motor sail past the legendary sweetheart rock and into the chan-
nel that led to Black Manele Bay. Here too were high lava cliffs marking the entrance and
surroundings to the little harbor. I could see why it was called Black Manele Bay. I liked it
immediately.
It was warm and sunny and protected and cozy. There were several little wooden docks
fingering out from the shore around the little harbor, and there were a few yachts and little,
local fishing boats as well as a few large motor launches. There were a lot of green acacia
trees and kiawe trees and wild scrub. The harbor was situated at the base of a long, gently
sloping hill with a winding tar road that snaked its way out of view as it meandered up the
hill. There was a lava rock ablution block which afforded visiting sailors and locals a cold
shower and toilet facilities. There was a little harbormaster's office and picnic tables that
were scattered around the shore line. It was sweet. I rounded the last channel marker, turned
sharp left, and dropped my two sails. I puttered over to a vacant wooden dock and slowed
down to almost a stall, leaping off the deck at the last second with the two mooring lines in
hand. I secured these two on the stout “T” cleats on the dock and threw out some fenders to
keep Déjà vu's paint work from rubbing up against the planking. I noticed there was quite
a healthy surge in the harbor and added two spring lines to slow her down. I would, in the
following couple of days, add more lines as I learnt the lay of the land.
A short, stout, young Hawaiian man came down and greeted me with a friendly smile and
jet black hair falling over his face. He introduced himself to me as Raymond Kapoiki, the
harbormaster, and he too welcomed me to Lanai, asking how long I was staying.
