Half way to Hawaii

by Torben Sonntag

  Amazed, our pilot Jack flies a few rounds over the whole scene: really impressive how much damage we have done.

  Stice is probably in a less solemn mood; he instantly vanishes with his helicopter towards Kahoolawe.

  Two fighter jets thunder above us. As we learn later, they have been circling here for a while, and filmed everything. They were also instructed to prevent any escape attempts by the ship’s crews with the lifeboats. For that matter, there’s no need for action. The lifeboats don’t seem as if you anyone could escape with them, let alone stay afloat for more than five minutes.

  Jack points to the fuel gauge: it rests just above zero, so he expresses his regret that we now have to go home. On the way, we pass several combat helicopters heading in the opposite direction.

  I don’t know what Kiara told Jack, but he doesn’t ask any questions; and, at the moment, I find that very pleasant. No one says anything. Seems like we all need a moment of peace and quiet to wrap our heads around what just happened. However, one question comes to me:

  "Steve, what happened? When I left, you were just about to tie up Andrews."

  "Well," muses Steve, "knots were never my strong point. I always stand out like a sore thumb when we go on a sailboat trip. I tied him up and carried him over onto my boat. I was hurrying to reach you, when he suddenly grabbed something and hit me in the face. I flew overboard and landed hard in the water. It’s definitely no fun at all to fall from a fast-moving boat. Thank God, I didn’t pass out. Andrews didn’t care about me and drove on. I swam back to the pontoon where Andrews' boat was still tied. So I followed you with his boat, but couldn’t climb aboard the Sophie, since the other freighter was already too close to it and they were shooting at me. So, I had no other choice but to wait behind your freighter and hope that you’d show up. It worked out in the end!"

  Yes, it did work out indeed.

  We touch down in Kahului, Maui at the Sun Helicopters hangar. Of course, we don’t expect a huge reception committee with champagne to shower us in congratulations. Although I knew that before, I'm still a bit disappointed. After all, it’s not every day that I sink freighters, nor do I blow the cover of drugs and arms smuggling rings on a regular basis.

  In the Sun Helicopters’ fridge, champagne can be found along with some bottles of beer. The company also offers flights with beach and picnic stopovers, so they store the desired delicacies at a pleasant drinking temperature.

  Jack offers both beer and champagne; Bob, Kiara, Steve and I agree unanimously on beer, and Jack also raises a bottle with us.

  "Well done!" he cheers us, empties the bottle all at once and disappears, without another word, to the airfield.

  "What did you tell him?" I ask Kiara.

  "The truth. He’s the owner of Sunshine. If the story appears in the press, he wants his company to be mentioned; if not, I have to sleep with him," she answers cheerfully.

  I swallow and cough until my beer comes out of my nose. Everyone else is rolling on the floor laughing.

  "Of course not," Kiara states. "If no spectacular thriller shows up in the news about it, Jack will pitch today’s flight as a rescue mission by a downed airman to local newspapers, and get his advertising."

  We take the classic route back to Bob’s, including pit stops at the Paia Minute Stop and the liquor store. Arriving at the house, we celebrate like animals.

  Andrews is dead, the criminal doings of the weapon and drug dealers are revealed and the Army has officially taken over. We shouldn’t be in any more danger, but, regardless, General Miller has ordered some military policemen to patrol around Bob’s property.

  Even Christine is here to clink glasses with us. With all the trouble, we had forgotten to get in touch with her earlier. At first, she was a bit upset because she had been hiding for two weeks in the jungle. But after our report about the events, she understood why we hadn’t called her earlier.

  For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel like I’m constantly getting monitored, or like some killer is waiting behind the next tree to put an abrupt end to my beautiful life.

  Only the General doesn’t seem entirely convinced about our victory. He wants to wait and see what the searching of the freighters brings to light.

  In the late afternoon, Miller gets more information:

  The crews surrendered without a fight when facing the military authorities. Some sailors got injured during the collision, but no one died. The ships are wedged together; it’s impossible to separate them. This has both an advantage and a disadvantage: despite the massive water intrusion, the Sophie doesn’t sink since the other ship is supporting it. The downside: If one does sink, both freighters will be gone.

  Two Navy ships tow the large clump of ship wreckage to Kahoolawe. This is a bit further than it would be to Big Island, but on the Big Island there’s no suitable port on the west side. On top of that, the public fuss about it would be much greater if two wedged freighters arrive there.

  Right now, the Army withdraws all soldiers stationed on Kahoolawe and takes them into custody until it’s clear whether they knew about Andrews' scheme or not. They get replaced by fresh personnel.

  The ships get towed into a shallow bay, where they will get searched and later dismantled, provided they don’t sink before actually arriving there.

  Two search parties are already on board to photograph everything. If the ships sink, the army doesn’t want to lose any evidence. However, neither drugs nor explosives have yet to appear.

  Later that evening, nature calls. I happily take a seat on the toilet bowl and relieve myself. The nightmare is over, and we still have one week of our holiday left.

  Ironically, here, in the smallest room, with my pants down and a permanent grin on my face, an unsettling thought shoots through my head… with such violence that I almost fall off the john. My brain switches on turbo, and in one blow, I am stone cold sober.

  Can this really be true?!

  Finally, I recover and rejoin the others. I don’t want to spoil the mood, so I take a beer and casually stand near the General. Bob follows the call of nature shortly after I come back, and I’m finally alone with Miller. I move a little closer and share my disquieting thoughts with him in a low voice.

  "Yes, I had the same thought – that’s one reason the military police are here. Talk to you tomorrow; today we celebrate the victory of a battle, even though the war is not necessarily won yet."

  Chapter 17

  With a slight headache, I wake up before the sun rises. The hangover annoys me; after talking to Miller, I didn’t want to drink any more alcohol.

  However, about half an hour after our conversation, we received the message that the search teams found a container full of drugs. It was already fixed to the cable of a crane for the upcoming transfer, so it didn’t fall overboard during the collision.

  Consequently, we had to celebrate that and clink our glasses again. Although I was always convinced of my arms-drugs theory, the load of a mid-sized mountain fell off my mind when the existence of the drugs was confirmed.

  However, I would rather be in better shape today. A glance at the clock confirms it’s still too early to get up. I roll back and forth until I realize it doesn’t help anymore, and then I go under the shower. The others are still sleeping. I only shared my concern with Miller and left the others to celebrate in peace.

  With a macadamia nut, chocolate coffee in hand, I sit on the porch and wait for the sunrise. The early morning hours in Hawaii are a dream: a light breeze rustles the palm trees, flowers open their heads, the birds sing fitting songs and, to perfect the fairy-tale scenery, the sun illuminates the clouds from below, highlighting them in a golden glow.

  Lost in thought, I jump when General Miller approaches from behind and asks for a coffee.

  Equipped with fragrant, steaming cups, we sit in the rising sun and exchange ideas.

  Kiara appears at 9 a.m.; by this time, Miller and I have already agreed on what to do next.

  But first
we wait for news of the freighters. The towing takes a long time. The US destroyer, which is used as a beast of burden to pull everything, doesn’t break more than two knots. After all, it’s pulling an almost 900-foot-wide vessel wall that’s dragging about 30 feet vertically into the water. At that rate, they won’t reach Kahoolawe before nightfall.

  Early estimations suggest that the drugs inside the container are worth more than 15 million dollars. A lucrative mix of marijuana, hashish, heroin and cocaine – there’s something for everyone.

  We start the day with a classic Hawaiian breakfast: toast with avocado, scrambled eggs and bacon.

  After that, Kiara suggests going surfing on the south side and fetches five more-or-less old longboards from behind the shed. This woman sure knows how to surprise me. When Bob and Miller happily pick up the boards, I'm just speechless. I forgot: surfing in Hawaii is part of daily life, just like cycling in Germany.

  We load Bob's old pick-up and drive off. The seniors sit up in front; Kiara, Steve and me in the cargo area.

  When we get to Launiupoko Beach, we find small, but clean-breaking waves; perfect for a relaxing day in the water. Bob and Kiara’s old planks are so large, you can even stand on them in pairs. We surf tandem and, by the end, Kiara and I have some fun catching the same wave and then jumping over onto the other’s board. In most cases, we end up in the ocean, but that doesn’t matter.

  Shortly after noon, the General wants to go home to see if there’s any news. We pack up and head back. Steve and I decide to go windsurfing at Hookipa. Andrews' people will hardly be waiting for us today. Spontaneously, Kiara jumps into our car and joins us. She has her day off today and has no desire to hang out in the garden. Hookipa rewards us with the type of conditions you come to Hawaii for.

  Cape Town, for example, can also be very good for windsurfing. By comparison, it can be said: A great day in Cape Town is a good day on Maui. But today is a great day on Maui, and I've seen nothing like it around the world.

  In Hookipa, 10- to 12-foot waves roll in, and a stiff breeze is blowing slightly offshore. Absolutely perfect!

  The high waves deter many windsurfers. All the professionals who would be around on Maui now, are currently in Sylt, Germany, because of the World Cup there. In other words, there are only seven people on the water.

  We rig up our sails and into the water we go. Despite my experience with huge waves, I show respect and begin slowly. I start riding small waves, keeping away from the critical section. After half an hour, I feel comfortable, so I also catch some of the bigger waves and aim for the breaking part of the wave. Of course, my courage gets reciprocated by a longer stay underwater and a broken mast shortly after.

  Regardless, we still have another mast in the car. It’s Steve’s, but who cares? He’s still out on the water, but I suppose as a good friend, he would be happy to lend it to me. So I rig my sail for a second time and hit the water again. Half an hour later, I swim back with another broken mast. What the hell, you don’t get these kinds of windsurfing conditions every day, so you can’t worry too much about the equipment. I don’t fly halfway around the world for several thousand dollars just to pace myself when windsurfing in the most fantastic waves, for fear of losing a mast worth 300 dollars.

  Steve is already waiting for me at the beach with a cold beer and informs me which mast I’ll be buying for him tomorrow. Sweet, he’s so naive sometimes.

  On the way back, we get two twelve-packs at the Paia Minute Stop. Out of the 24 ice-cold bottles, only 18 make it filled up to Bob's house. What’s left merrily jingles together by our feet.

  We meet the General in front of the house. Thankfully he takes a beer and shares his news with us:

  "The two freighters literally arrived in one piece on Kahoolawe. Now there’s no more risk of them sinking anymore. Search teams found the container full of explosives; however, the container is pretty dented. It will take a while to open it. The army can’t use blowtorches; the risk of triggering an explosion is too high. Currently, special tools are being flown in from Honolulu."

  We look at each other. Miller cheers up:

  "Congratulations. Success across the board: Drugs and weapons are found, and the culprit is secured. It would have been nice just to catch Andrews alive; it would have been interesting to talk to him. However, the flow of drugs to Hawaii has been stopped and a smuggling ring is out of business. Good job for a few greenhorns!"

  "Thank you," we reply in unison.

  "Cheers!" Miller raises his bottle, and we clink it with ours.

  Kiara and Bob already know about everything. After the past few nights, we can’t take any more grilled meat today, so we head to Haiku to eat shrimp and pasta at "Colleen's."

  For dessert, we have a sensational mud pie. No one is in the mood for alcohol tonight. At Colleen's, we switch to water. We end the day by relaxing on Bob's porch, and the drinks stay alcohol-free here too.

  Meanwhile, the special tools have arrived on Kahoolawe, and the container is now being transported onto the island where they will try to open it tomorrow.

  We talk about this and that for another hour. None of us mentions Andrews, drugs or weapons at all, which I find very pleasant.

  The next day is pretty much similar to the last. In the morning, we all go surfing. Kiara has decided to take a week's vacation. Bob is already retired and the General moved into Bob’s place for a few days. He flies to Kahoolawe every afternoon, to personally survey the latest developments. Maui is located closer to Kahoolawe than Honolulu, so he’s staying here. Anyway, that's the official reason. Unofficially, he enjoys surfing in the morning and barbecuing with us in the evening, and therefore takes his time before returning to Oahu.

  In the afternoon, Steve and I visit a surf shop to arrange for two new masts. The shop owner asks me when I intend to return the two stand-up paddleboards I borrowed two weeks ago.

  First, I’m taken aback, but suddenly I remember two paddleboards, which are covered by a thin layer of sand on a beach on Kahoolawe. Brrrr.

  I promise to drop off the boards over the next few days, but now I don’t dare ask for a good price on two masts, so we refrain from making the purchase. Instead, we stop at Jeff’s, the director of Hot Sails Maui, on the way to the beach. He lends us the masts and only wants them back before we fly home. Everything is easy when you know the right people!

  Despite similar windsurfing conditions to yesterday, everything remains in one piece today. It‘s often like this: On the first good day, I demolish everything, because I’m excited and go full throttle. The next day, I calm down and feel relaxed. And, hey, presto - I can sail just as radically as the day before, but nothing happens.

  At the nightly barbecue, Miller talks about his afternoon on Kahoolawe. The transport of the container proved to be more complex than expected, as it was wedged with others, and they had to be separated extremely carefully. Therefore, it only just reached safe ground on the island this evening.

  In short, there is nothing new.

  The General agrees to take us with him to Kahoolawe the day after tomorrow directly after breakfast. Finally, Steve and I have to paddle the two boards back to Maui; and the best time for that is in the morning, since trade winds kick in at noon.

  Slowly, I start feeling in a holiday mood. The whole Andrews story takes a back seat during the day when we go surfing, and during the evening when we barbecue: exactly how we originally imagined spending our four weeks vacation.

  As far as the forecast goes, wind and waves are staying with us, and life is good!

  In the evening, the General reports that the containers have been opened and they have started identifying the different types of explosives.

  The next day, we fly to Kahoolawe. The two freighters are located on the south side of the island, in the bay in front of the barracks. It seems to me as though months have passed since I was sitting on lookout in the hills above. In fact, it’s only slightly more than two weeks ago.

  Last night, the f
irst explosives were examined and can be undoubtedly connected to the bombs and missiles the US Army fired on Kahoolawe. Thus it’s proven that S&C indeed exchanged the explosives inside of the unexploded ordnance for drugs. Not that I would have had any doubts, but it’s certainly helpful to have crystal clear evidence of our story to share with outside parties.

  The helicopter brings us to the beach where I buried the boards. From here, we circle over the island following the route I took over the island when I rescued Steve. Miller himself flies with us and lets us explain precisely where we were detained on the island and what happened when.

  We fly over Kahoolawe for half an hour and tell him everything. We also take the opportunity to look at the two collided freighters, and we land on the beach where it all started. Our "downwash," the vertical wind the helicopter’s rotor blades generate, is enough to set the two paddleboards free.