Patagonia NZ

I thought of the Polynesian Voyagers now, the pioneers of ocean travel who relied solely on the constellations, natural signs, and their knowledge of the wind and water to find their way to islands yet discovered. Not entirely unlike downwind foiling, the newest expression of voyaging that emerged from Hawai’i and has quickly spread around the globe. We use the bumps—big ocean chops created by strong wind and sometimes opposing currents or tides—to ride miles down the coast on hydrofoils. To get up and going you need nothing but a paddle, your own experience, and some good balance. Oh, and enough wind.

The best in the sport can easily travel 20 miles in an hour on a good day. But when the bumps are too small, you’re working ten times harder and pumping the board, which feels like doing continuous squats with really bad form. ‘Continuous’ because if you come off the foil, you’re probably paddling the rest of the way.

This time, we would have a dedicated escort boat following the four of us between Maui to Lāna’i—Paige Alms, Jack Ho, Keahi de Aboitiz, and myself. As our boat took the four of us up the western coast of Maui, it was eerily calm. Even after arriving at our launch zone, the wind line outside of Honolua Bay. The conditions were not quite what we were hoping for. After a rocky start we were up and riding, but I was already pumping way too much. Suddenly, the island of Lāna’i looked like a faint and distant mirage on the horizon, and the singular honey energy packet in my backpack seemed hardly sufficient for tackling the next 32 miles. Then something changed in the water.

The bumps were growing as we got deeper into the channel, and our legs found a break with each one. Soon we were riding down the faces of waves and carving turns, surfing across the ocean. Hoots and hollers came from all sides (or maybe it was more like squeals and giggles from Paige). Surprisingly we were all able to stay together as a group. Usually downwinding is an ‘every man for himself’ kind of activity, as once you get up on foil it’s hard to slow down, and getting up minutes after someone can leave you a mile behind, searching for your needle friend in the haystack of the Pacific Ocean. But when you end up together, riding side by side with your friends, it’s the world’s best and longest party wave.

Our party wave continued for miles; the four of us solving the incessant, evolving puzzle of dips and crests in front of us, linking one pocket of power to the next. By mile 15 I had to fight off tunnel vision, my eyes strained from staring at the patterns in the water with unwavering focus. It was better not to overthink my line, or rather not to think at all. It was an exercise in being fully present. Like the moment when you’re dropping into a steep wave and have to completely trust your body to know what to do—except the drop keeps going.

Then you have sections where the pattern clicks in your brain and you can anticipate the next move of the water, even be two steps ahead, relaxed and knowing that the next bump will form under you. Almost like you are working together. I’ve never felt more connected to the ocean and its energy than in those moments. 

As we neared Lāna’i someone spotted the old shipwreck on the northeastern edge of the island. It is a landmark we had scoped on the map and speculated whether we would be able to veer off course enough to see while still making it around the edge of the island. As soon as we spotted it, and conferred via radio, there was no question—we just had to try. So, we quartered across the wind to the left until we got as close to shore as we could, one eye on the rusty old boat and one on the bumps. Then we started quartering back the other way, and what we found felt like that famous scene in The Endless Summer. Our wind chops organised into swells that were rolling down the coast of Lāna’i, hugging her curve as far as the eye could see. It would never be surfable, but on foils we felt like Mike and Robert riding the pointbreak of dreams with nobody around, peeling off one swell onto the next until we reached our escort boat waiting to pick us up behind the wind shadow.

It was a day we’ll never forget, finished off with a boat ride home under the stars, marvelling at our impossibly successful adventure and scheming for the next one.

This story features in Roaring Journals Edition Three: order your magazine here.