Hold Fast The Kālepa Line

Remembering Kālepa Baybayan

I first had the privilege of sailing with Kālepa Baybayan during the Sāmoa leg early during the Worldwide Voyage. I can’t say I knew him very well. He hadn’t chosen me to be on his crew as is the tradition for leadership during voyages. So I count it a blessing to have gotten to know him under sail. I saw him with those crew who he had held close, with whom he was warm and loving. With others, like me, he was quieter and more reserved at first. But there is no resentment in that statement, only admiration. Because even for people like me he made a powerful impact.

I’m forever grateful for what he taught me on the wa‘a. There are so many stories to tell, so many lessons to share. But one that particularly stands out was when we were working at the bow. In good conditions, it is common practice to raise a jib above the manu ihu to catch as much wind as possible in addition to the main and mizzen sails. Amid the energy of the howling wind and crashing waves, we’d clip in the head of the sail, work the running rigging to raise it, and make fast the sheet line as normal. We’d feel the pull of the canoe as the jib filled with wind, giving still more of ourselves to mother nature, heading that much faster to our next destination. 

But then, he did something I’d never seen before. He took a small scrap of rope and using a simple clove hitch and inline bowline, affixed it to the jib sheet line, ran it through an eye in the deck and cinched it down. This had the effect of pulling the jib in just a little tighter to the wind. Whatever fluttering was remaining in the luff—that little dancing of the sail that tells you you’re not maximizing your ability to harness the wind—would subside. We silenced the sail’s jitter. We made the most of what we were being given. 

He would look at me then and tell me—with his signature gapped grin—that if I wanted to see us speed past Hikianalia, this little trick is what would allow us to do it. I’d watch him make this line regularly, and then in the hope of making him proud, begin to do it myself without his asking. Of course, from that point on I referred to that added length of rope as The Kālepa Line. 

Over a year later, I’d be one of his crew again in the Caribbean (again, not of his choosing!). He’d show other crewmembers his trick to get a few more horsepower out of the wind with a short length of rope, and he would ask me ‘And what’s the name of this line called, Eric?’ The Kālepa Line! ‘That’s right!’ he’d boom, flashing his signature grin again.    

In many ways he was a giant. One of the original intrepid souls who now and will forever line the hall of heroes for so many in the voyaging community and beyond. But in other ways, he was like his namesake small piece of line. Through his knowledge and leadership, he could get just a little more out of those around him than perhaps even they thought possible. His candor could quiet the noise and bring clarity to difficult situations. His natural gift as an orator would inspire people with what we were doing and why it mattered, moving us all just a little faster together toward our shared future. His love for educating made us able to harness the power of our movement forward. He helped us to make the most of ourselves. 

We still feel the extra pull he created. We always will.