In Hawaii’s summer clime, where I spent a year serving the state’s University, I soon learned from the Kamehameha School fourth-grade school teacher that locals liked to “talk story.”
A frequently recounted story told about Pele, the volcano goddess who threw fire at Kamapua’a, the Pigman. He was a suitor who tried to follow her across the mountain divide called ‘Pali’ on Oahu Island.
This fable led to a local saying, “Don’t take pig across the Pali.” In other words, don’t mess with a fire-goddess named Pele.
A haole–‘white man’ on Oahu–accountant bought a fire-red, 30-foot sloop in San Diego. Shipped the sailboat on the deck of a freighter. Named her Pele. Then put her in the shipyard across the inlet from the Waikiki Yacht Club. I was recruited to tend mainsheet during upcoming races.
Troubles ensued. Boat leaked at the stern. Halyards were too long. Motor didn’t run well. But the sign-painter had painted Pele in large letters on her stern.
When the Kamehameha teacher saw the name, she became alarmed.
“If you name that boat Pele, you will bring down her wrath….bad luck will follow.”
Bad luck had already happened. I informed the owner. Others gave him the same warning. Repairs were made. Leak plugged. New halyards were flown from California. He changed the name, had a Hawaiian Kahuna (minister) bless her, and we went racing from Waikiki to Pearl Harbor.
We were doing pretty well until a Pearl Harbor U.S. Naval submarine surfaced in front of us near the end of the race. We didn’t collide, but I got the message from Pele. Left the crew. Went back to skippering my chartered 21-footer.
Photo credit: Pixabay
