by E. Coulombe
Lono’s face contorted in anger. George shifted his weight on the sand and turned the table right side up. “Well Michael,” George continued to speak, ignoring Lono’s anger, “we’ve made some progress. In this new day of white humility, and native arrogance, homage is now paid.”
Lono turned his gaze from the ocean. He was angry, but still looked down at the ground, an old gesture leftover from the plantation days. “What exactly are you saying?”
“What I’m saying is…” George walked over, and kneeled down in the sand in front of Lono, bowing his head low. “What I am saying is, I know that I could not do this without you. If you weren’t here, I’d sit for days in front of an empty table, eating my stale bread and dried fish, and eventually the weather would turn, and I’d watch as my little empty table got tossed along the beach in a storm, and finally I’d pack up and go home–- empty handed.” He raised himself off of his knees and fell sideways to sit in the sand. “But fortunately the times have changed, and unlike the old days when the idiot white men believed they were in charge, now I can freely admit that you are in control and I could in no way do this without you.”
Embarrassed by George’s confession, Lono went back up to his camp to retrieve his machete. George had said he wanted his table to be close to the shore but he needed shade, and the shoreline vegetation of shrub naupaka and ilima provided none. He looked longingly at the coconut palms scattered along the beach, but Lono firmly shook his head no. Instead, Lono hacked away at the mesquite, its one inch thorns ripped his shirt as he worked towards the main trunk. Finally, he wrestled loose several twisted poles, just long enough to suspend a tarp.
“Maybe it’s silly calling this an expedition, but it makes me feel better,” George said. “Thanks for allowing an old man his tomfoolery.”
When the tarps, tents, and tables were all in place, the boys pulled drift logs under the shade of ‘George’s Staging Area’ as Michael had dubbed it.
“Now. We need a plan of action,” George said, digging through his pack and pulling out the sandwiches from Emma. Lono had a homemade pack fashioned from a burlap sack with two shoulder straps sewn onto one side. He reached in and pulled out a small packet wrapped in ti leaves–- rice and smoked pig. Hawaiian style, he passed it around to be shared. George and Michael took several of the small bites of meat but didn’t know what to do with the rice, until it came back to Lono and they watched him scoop up a mouthful using just his fingers. “Hey, pass that back,” Michael laughed.
“So what’s your plan?” Lono asked after they had all been served.
“Well, let’s think about it. First, what do we know? Let’s say that this is Nakoa,” George said as he drew a circle in the sand. “We don’t know if any or all of the incidents are related, but if we assume that they are then, first…”
“Old man Kane died net fishing off Kukui Point.” Michael started.
“Here,” Lono drew an x in the sand “just west of our village.”
“Then you boys were surfing at …. “
“Jaws. Here off the Westside, a little further north,” he marked the spot. “The cave where we were attacked by that thing I’ve never seen before.”
“Right. At the same time that I found the sand casting of what I still think is an Ediacaran right here, just up the beach from where we are camped,” George placed a mark on the island in the sand, north of the other two crosses. “Then when we last camped here you, Lono, caught that still to be identified small slimy creature here.” George marked Ko`olau Kai again. “And lastly…”
Michael once again interrupted George, “Ku’ulei caught that black thing ….”
Who in turn was interrupted by Lono, “and the people in the water had their legs chewed up by sand sharks.”
“Yeah, sand sharks or whatever they were,” George looked over at Lono dubiously, “and that was on the shore of Lehua.”
“Here.” Lono said as he drew a circle in the sand to mark the Lehua sea mount, one mile directly west of Ko`olau Kai.
“Now Lono you know this better than I, redraw the boundary of the island of Nakoa, not by the shoreline, but by the surrounding reef.” Lono picked up the stick and drew a line that started on the north, near Key’s and paralleled the western coast, down towards Ko`olau kai. Just above Ko`olau, his line diverted away from the coast over to Lehua rock, meeting the small seamount on its northern flank. He moved the stick, and starting on the southern flank of Lehua, he drew the line back across the one mile channel to Nakoa, at a point south of Ko`olau and the sea caves, again paralleling the shore until he reached a point at Kukui Point, where he drew the line all the way up to the island of Nakoa itself.
“That’s just what I suspected,” George said, becoming more excited. “See, the way I figure it, this large underwater reef skirts the southwest facing shore of Nakoa. On the other side of the island, where the large swells have been gouging it out for five million years, the volcano was carved off, and huge chunks of land sloughed off into the sea and lay buried deep on the ocean floor for at least a mile out. I’ve seen it on the underwater photos taken by the side scan sonar equipment on Gloria, the UH research vessel.
“But here, on the leeward side, protected from the ravaging sea and storms, a large fringing reef has developed. Lehua rock used to be a part of Nakoa and over time it has submerged, but still a land bridge exists between them mostly about 200 feet under the surface, but in the middle of the channel it drops deep, about 600 feet, then comes up again.”
“Right,” Lono said, pointing out to sea, “and the southern edge of that reef is what causes Nakoa Jaws.” He drew a mark on the southwestern side of the line he had drawn from Lehua to Nakoa.
“So, what we have,” George continued, as he scratched hatch marks in the sand over the area of reef which Lono had delineated, “we have this region of underwater shelf, at less than 200 feet, maintaining a warmer water temperature, a slightly different chemistry, and probably, I’m guessing, a different underwater community than the one found in other off shore regions of the island.” He looked over to Lono for confirmation.
“Hard to guess what it was like before,” Lono answered. “A lot of it’s been fished out. But, I have heard the old timer’s talk of huge schools of akule and even the mahimahi. That’s why the huikilau is at Lehua. More fish there than any other place when the schools are running. And they say net used to be full of delicious moi and panini. We don’t find much of them anywhere now, and never see them on the north or east side of the island.” Lono stopped to think for a second. “I always thought it was just cause harder to get over to Lehua, had to go by boat, so less fished out.”
“Which might be the case,” George agreed, “or it could be that the waters were always different. Either way, for whatever creatures we’re finding here now, the higher water temperature could be monumental. It could be what’s causing them to grow here, or act as a natural barrier keeping them in.”
“Oh wait a minute!” Lono jumped up. “I forgot about the wall.”
“What wall?” Michael asked first.
Lono took the stick and drew a line just inside the etched reef. “We don’t know where it starts, or ends, but, when diving out here, about a mile off shore of Lehua, there’s this coral wall. It starts on the ocean floor, which is only sixty feet down, and grows straight up for fifty plus feet. It almost surfaces at a couple a places. It’s old, the coral’s dead. A couple of spots along it makes these V-shaped cracks, which old timers figured out always line up with the larger streams and rivers flowing off the island. Like here,” he drew in the Waimea River they had crossed earlier, “where the river empties into the sea, then just out here,” he marked a spot in the wall he had drawn, “in the wall, we’ve found the largest V-shape. Figure’d it must be related.”
“And you say no one knows the extent of the wall?” George asked.
“Not really. We’ve followed it down this far on the southern end, it curves towards the shore, then sort of stops a
round here,” he drew a mark off shore from Lehua.
“Maybe the water gets too shallow there?” George probed.
Lono shrugged, “could be, only about twenty feet at most.”
“And where does it go on the northern end?”
“I don’t know. We mostly go diving over by Jaws, when the waves are down. Can get lobster in the wall there. But, it doesn’t end, it goes on. I don’t know how far, maybe all the way to Kukui now that I think about it.”
“That could be it then!” Excited by this new info George studied his sand map. “This coral wall is there because of something about the physiogeography, the lay of the land and climate combined, making the water chemistry ideal for towering coral. And now this very wall could be the natural barrier that’s keeping these organisms confined to the Ko`olau-Lehua reef system.”
“Or could be something else altogether,” Michael spoke up.
“What?” George’s bark startled everyone.
“Well, could be we’re finding these things here cause this is where we are.”
“You mean they’re following us?”
“No. I mean we’re following them. They might exist all the way around the island but no one’s over on the other side to take a look.”
“Dammit, what kind of a little smart ass are you?” George beamed. “You could be right. I hadn’t really thought of that. Sometimes it’s the simplest explanations that elude us. But,” George stood up and stretched, “I still like my explanation better. There are enough villagers out fishing in other parts that we would have heard something. Don’t you think Lono?”
“Maybe. But the kids got a point.”
“Yea, maybe, but I still like mine better.” He leaned his wiry frame over the map. “Furthermore, if we draw a triangle connecting Ke’e on the north side, over to Lehua on the west, and down to Kukui and back up to Ke’e,” George etched in his design, “then….?”
“Nokilo Point, is that stretch right over there,” Lono pointed to the tip of the rock which separated the bay they were in, Ko`olau kai, from the smaller one to the south, Ko`olau iki. “And,” with great flourish he drew another X on the map, “it sits smack in the center of your damn triangle.”
“Exactly. And, just at the beginning of Nokilo Point,” he marked the spot. “What do you find here?”
“George’s Staging Area.”
“Bingo!”
Lono frowned and shook his head.
“What?”
“And at George’s Staging Area, what exactly will we find?” Lono asked. “Seriously George. I mean what’s really going on here. I know you’ve got some idea.”
“I don’t, honestly Lono. Wish I did. For now, I call it the unknown.”
“Which is what makes it so exciting,” Michael burst in.
“Which is what makes it so effing dangerous,” Lono cautioned.
Chapter Forty Two
Andrew’s wet curly head surfaced through the clear water. He shook it deliberately spraying water on those seated on the surrounding rocks. “Wow, that was cool,” he said to Grant. “Remember we used to come here all the time. I can’t believe the moss is still growing, actually I think that slide is more slippery than ever.” As if on queue Grant’s youngest son screamed and slid down the smooth, moss covered crevice between the boulders, landing with a smack into the pool below. “I’m glad you thought of this Waielai. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been here for twenty years. What a shame.”
“That’s silly,” said Kerri, “why not?”
Andrew turned away and Kerri couldn’t see the smile slip from his face, but Emma knew. “Okay everyone, how about we eat. Are you kids hungry yet?” Emma said.
“Wait, look at me,” Thomas yelled from above. Andrew had been watching Grant’s twelve year old son climbing the hill behind the group, carrying the rope swing to the highest possible launch site. Like many of the hapa haoles, half Hawaiian and half Caucasian, he was strikingly handsome, his features fusing bits of each – fair colored complexion, healthy brown hair, and delicate, slightly slanted eyes. He gripped the rope and sailed out over the pool, waited until the highest point of flight and then, let go – and in that classic Hawaiian style “suicide”, he crooked his legs and arms in an exaggerated surfer pose and fell forward, deliberately landing elbows first into the water.
“A perfect ten,” cheered Andrew, “I couldn’t have done that better myself.”
“Oh, yeah, like you could have done that at all,” Kerri teased.
“Wha you say bra, I use do dat, only mo’ betta,” Andrew joked in pidgin.
“Oh yeah, sure you did Andrew, and once upon a time I climbed Mt. Everest.”
“You doubt me? You don’t believe I can do it? Sounds like a challenge to me,” he teased her back.
“Andrew, don’t be ridiculous. She’s just kidding.” Grant tried to stop him. “I’ll vouch for him Kerri.”
Kerri turned her head coquettishly, her lips sealed in an exaggerated gesture. “You don’t have to prove anything to me Andrew. I already know your limitations.”
“Okay that’s it, that’s it. Come on Thomas, help me out here.”
“No problem Uncle.” Thomas jumped up and like a monkey scurried up the rock and clay covered slope, grabbing onto roots and finding footholds in the crevices, carrying the rope for Andrew. Andrew followed behind more cautiously. He needed more footholds than Thomas, who could use his arms to pull his skinny body straight up the hill. And why in the hell am I doing this, Andrew begun to wonder? He almost stopped himself at the next to the highest jumping off spot; he didn’t really need to go all the way up. But then the kid in him kicked in, the same desire that used to drive him up, and that drove Thomas now – the thrill of the ride. He looked back down at the water and the waiting crowd below. And this is going to be one hell of a ride, he thought. Thomas waited at the top to let Andrew go first. Nice kid, Andrew thought. Just like his dad, polite and respectful.
Andrew made his way over to the launch platform, an area of smooth clay no bigger than a foot, carved into the slope. Thomas went above him and clung to what looked like nothing more than a jutting rock. He held the rope close so that Andrew could easily grab hold. When all was ready Andrew looked down. Damn this is high. Am I really going to do this? He looked down at his friends, sitting on the boulders off to the side, next to the trickling water fall pouring over the slippery slide. The sunlight filtered through the trees, creating a patchwork of light and shadow.
Don’t think. Jump.
He sailed through the air with his hands gripped around the rope, but he felt himself starting to slip and he hadn’t even cleared land yet! He tried to bring his feet up to get leverage on the rope but slipped again. Oh my god, this is gonna hurt, he thought as he slid the rest of the way down, the rope burning his hands. He heard Emma scream and saw Kerri jump in the water. Fortunately, at the last second he thought to pull his legs up underneath, and landed flat on his back in the shallow water. He remembered his back hitting the rocks on the bottom.
The next thing he knew Emma was calling his name across the pool, and Kerri was swimming next to him, pulling his body toward the water’s edge. He tried to tell her he was fine but realized he couldn’t speak. Maybe I hit that water harder than I knew, he thought. Kerri stood on the bottom and pulled Andrew onto the edge of the pool. She held him above the water, put her face next to his and said his name. He could hear her saying his name but he couldn’t answer. Her face was close, too close, he thought, what if Emma sees, but he couldn’t push her away. Her lips touched his, oh my goodness, she’s going to kiss me, he thought, and he tried to push her away but couldn’t – not sure if he was unable, or unwilling.
She’s giving me CPR, he finally realized. Guess I did hit that water hard. He tasted her mouth, finally was able to close his lips, and he kissed her. She laughed and pulled her head away, gently slapping him on the face. “You terrified us. You beast. Do you realize you were floating face down in the water?”
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“Was I? Can’t imagine how that could have happened with my ten-point landing. Stuck it too, didn’t I?”
“More like ‘suck it’, you fool.” She smiled wide and her dimples lit the water. Andrew completely forgot himself for the moment and went to kiss her again. But she pushed him away just as Emma approached from behind the boulders. Andrew sat up, half in, half out of the water, and laughed as Emma scolded his childish antics.
“Okay, enough. Now can we eat, or do you have more heroic feats to perform?” Grant said, anxiously. He helped Andrew out of the water, then led the group down a short foot path to a crude picnic table he had long ago fashioned out of koa wood. Everyone pitched in to lay the cloth and spread the food around the table. After Grant’s blessing they dug into the roasted pork, poi and sweet potato.
“Hawaiians eat a lot of meat, don’t they?” Kerri said to Andrew when he sat down next to her.
“Guess so, probably not the healthiest of diets.” He took another bite of chicken laulau. “By the way, when does a geneticist have time to learn CPR?” Andrew asked.
“I was a life guard my first couple of years in college,” she said. “Brought in some much needed money over the summers, until the research scholarships started to kick in.”
“Research scholarships as an undergrad?” He asked quizzically.
“Yea, a bit ahead of the game,” she laughed.
“Same here,” he said. “We do make a good team.” He took another bite of food and ate quietly. “Speaking of which, I think we can finally explain our Lamarckian giraffe, how stretching his neck helped his offspring.”
A lovely young woman, Grant’s daughter Annie, came and sat next to Andrew, obviously interested in their conversation. She was charming, with hapa haole features like her younger brother, but unlike him she was quiet and definitely not a daredevil.