i L i n d . n e t

I was contacted late last week by Nick Beck, who was trying to track down my father. Nick is a paddler who was part of the Waikiki Surf Club team that won the 1966 Molokai-Oahu canoe race despite monstrous waves in the Molokai channel that swamped their canoe three times.

Beck, retired principal of Hanalei School on Kauai, who now builds and sells small outrigger canoes.

Beck is in the process of trying to replace photos of the 1966 race lost when his house and possessions were destroyed by Hurricane Iniki. He has a copy of 16mm film taken during the race, and is trying to supplement it with some of the still photos.

He recalls that my dad was on the boat escorting the WSC canoe, and following the race had given him several photos showing the capsized canoe with crew clinging to it.

As I told Nick, I think I’ve seen some of those pictures in the boxes of my dad’s papers, and agreed to search for them.

In the meantime, Nick asked about visiting with my dad, now just two months short of his 96th birthday. After explaining the range of good days and bad days, memory-wise, we arranged to pay a Sunday morning visit.

When we arrived, Nick just blasted into my dad’s consciousness with an enthusiastic greeting.

“You’re wearing your Waikiki Surf Club shirt!” he exclaimed, pointing at the red logo on on my dad’s chest. My dad looked down awkwardly at his shirt, saw the logo, smiled broadly. It was a great way to start.

Nick then introduced himself, referring back to the 1966 race and his involvement with canoe racing first with the Outrigger Canoe Club, then Waikiki Surf, and later on Kauai.

By this time my dad was awake and into the conversation. They talked about the other members of that 1966 Surf Club crew, and how some of them have just kept going and going, Nick among them.

Others in the crew were Nappy Napoleon (captain), Rabbit Kekai (steersman), “Blue” Makua, Mike Tongg, and Randy Chun. Relief paddlers were Richard Henning, Jeffrey Young, and Val Ching, according to a news account at the time.

“How many times did you paddle the Molokai race?”, he asked.

Nick’s reply was quick and amazing. “About 40.”

He tried to prompt my dad about the photos, but I don’t know that I saw any flicker of real recollection.

But my dad was able to connect immediately when Nick talked about how he used to think that the paddlers were the beginning and end of the sport, and later came to realize the vital role of coaches, and of all the other people whose effort is necessary to organize and put on the events that the paddlers participate in.

My father repeated one observation several times–just how much the sport has grown and developed, and how gratifying that has been for him.

It was a great visit. When we left, my dad was beaming. So was Nick. And I certainly followed suit.

Some days are better than others, and this was one of them.