Joe Tahoe transported to Hawaii by Outrigger Canoe

When Oklahoma was upset on Saturday, losing its home opener, I climbed into my lifeguard tower and hung my head. Harold Tiller must have experienced his first disappointment in heaven, for it was thanks to him and Art Wood that the Oklahoma football team was flown out here to build Tilted Village. I honored Harold's memory in a moment of silence.

Then, as I always do after a moment of solemn reflection, I decided to do something frivolous. While driving around the lake with nothing on my mind, I saw some outrigger canoes off Dollar Point. Outrigger canoes?!

They rounded a buoy near Tahoe City and I tracked them back to Tahoe Vista, where they beached and commenced to celebrate.

The revelers offered me a Dr. Pepper and told me they would be back to race the long course on Sunday, so of course on Sunday, which had turned cold and windy, I was right there cheering them on as they splashed into our icy waters to launch their longboats.

The wahines went first, and a heartier bunch of ladies you could not find in any sporting event. They wore smiles as they climbed into their canoes and started paddling toward Dollar Point; when they returned two hours later the smiles were gone.

I overheard one thawed-out woman mutter, "When that first wave hit me in the chest I thought I saw my soul leave my body. I nevah complain about being cold in Hawaii again...nevah!"

I learned that Hui O Hawaii, Sacramento's outrigger canoe club, was hosting the two day event, attended by clubs out of Truckee, Oahu, San Francisco, Redwood City, Benecia, Canada, Santa Cruz, San Leandro, Napa Valley, Petaluma, San Jose, Monterey Bay and Santa Barbara. Hawaiian names highlighted the scene: Koa Kai, Hui Waa, Pupu, Kilo Hana, Lokahi, Kamalii O' Kekai, Kanaka Ikaika and Assa-Matta-You!

I was particularly impressed by the "over fifty" crew that featured a handsome Hawaiian looking man in his late sixties, who looked like he could bend steel bars in his teeth. Though his name was Jerome, it might as well have been King Kamehameha by the way they regarded him with reverence.

The lead paddler, who would take the waves in the face, was Jeff. He looked to be younger than fifty in every way except for a steely determination in the eye that only comes with a half century of competition.

Behind Jeff was Shaka, a former Mr. Hawaii, now in his young sixties, who got his game face on by tearing a quarter in half and tossing it into the water for luck.

In the back of the boat was Billy, a cop from Honolulu, who looked like he could stare down Nappy Pulawa, then book him with a smile.

There were six men in each of the ten canoes that gathered a half mile offshore. A horn sounded, and the water surrounding the long-boats turned white.

Were I a good reporter like Jack Carrerow I would list the results here, but I was preparing food when the teams returned and missed the finish.

I can tell you the San Francisco women won the long course, and beat the "over-fifty" men by two minutes, which caused some grumbling among the otherwise cheerful elders. From what I could gather by the celebrating, the Benetia men captured the long-course.

As darkness settled into the basin the Hawaiian music started, and ladies bundled in blankets from Franciscan beds, began doing the hula-hula to the delight of their neighbors.

Shaka plugged in his iPod and suddenly the night air was filled with Polynesian rhythm and song. When Shaka started to sing I saw mynah birds in the pine trees where blue jays used to roost, and they were singing too.

Before long the front porches of the Franciscan were dotted with visitors to Tahoe who must have thought they had been magically transported to Hawaii with pixie dust.

It was a heartwarming scene, unlike any I have witnessed at the Lake of the Sky, and when the outrigger canoe clan returns to Tahoe next summer, I shall be standing there on the beach with a Dr. Pepper to welcome them...



McAvoy Layne lives in Incline Village and visits schools throughout Nevada as the ghost of Mark Twain.