Aloha Oe to Odysseus (at the Waikiki Yacht Club the Last Night Before His Odyssey)

Tonight was my last and only chance.  

Odysseus would depart in the morning, crossing the vastest desert on Earth on his arms, alone.  One individual, crossing the Pacific Ocean, using only manpower. 

No companions, no follow boats, no assistance.  No sails.  No engine.  

Just one man in a small boat with a cabin and oars.

I had to look into this man’s eyes, to feel the presence of such a fierce individual.  

So after dinner with my wife and daughter, I left the dirty dishes in the sink.  I drove down to the Ala Wai Harbor to meet Odysseus in the after hours darkness at the Waikiki Yacht Club.  

I knocked on the shuttered white doors of the Waikiki Yacht Club.  

I had only communicated  with Erden Eruc by text. I wondered who would open the door. 

The knob clicked, the door creaked open and out stepped Erden.

He was strong, clear-eyed, articulate.  His body was pure muscle, functional and formed to accomplish his goal: Traversing the sea by human power. 

His hair was close-shaved, aerodynamic for his task.  His arms were powerful, his handgrip sturdy.  Without speaking a word, Erdun emanated strength and confidence.

With a smile, a handshake, and a warm greeting, this gracious and hospitable man welcomed me into the Club.   

Erden walked down the wood dock to show me his boat, his twenty foot, six month home on the sea.  

His boat was loaded with provisions: Food, water, oars, tools, electronics.  Most of his boat was an open deck for sitting and paddling, but he had a covered hutch in front where he could sleep, rest, and recover.

I was in the presence of a special person.   He had already paddled all the way from The Pacific Northwest, without sails, dodging a hurricane.  And now, after three weeks of re-provisioning, he would continue his journey. 

“Tomorrow the harbor master will escort me out of Honolulu.  I’ve been here three weeks, and I’m getting too comfortable here.  I have to move on.” Soon the longest paddle would begin.

“When will you arrive in Asia?” I asked.

“My goal is next March.”

I shook my head.  It’s October.  Six months of paddling in his tiny boat, alone, in the endless desert sea.  And why?  

To live. To strive.  To raise awareness about plastic pollution.  To advocate for ocean health.  To push the boundaries of the possible. 

A modern day Odysseus, though unlike that Greek hero, this man is doing it alone, and he’s choosing the challenge. 

It’s as heroic as something can be.  Fully engaged with nature, striving within oneself, in celebration of the best of humanity, for a noble cause.

We returned to a waterside table by the Yacht Club and shared a drink together in the moonlight.  I listened to his story, his life, his adventures, his dreams.  

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Inspired by a friend lost in a tragic climbing accident, and the fleetingness of life, Erden chose to chase his very greatest dreams straight away. 

He would climb the world’s highest mountains, traverse the world’s continents on foot and by bike, and cross colossal oceans by paddle.  “Over and Around” he would call it, and nominate himself CEO- Chief Exploration Officer.  

Erden accomplished so much of this: summiting mountains, crossing seas, transporting  climbing equipment from coastlines to base camps by bicycle. 

Always human powered.  Always answering the question: What can humans do?  With an affirmative: More.  

13 Guinness Book of World Records.  And counting.

But Guinness Records don’t pay the bills. It’s expensive and complicated to fund and stage such epic missions.  Erden campaigned in his home markets of Turkey and Europe for sponsorship of his heroic feats, and successfully recruited many partners.   He has struggled in North America to find sponsors.  Which baffles both of us.

Though was only meeting him now, I  already felt worried about the trials that lay ahead for him.

We finished our beverages, Erden pouring most of his out into the dark black ocean. He led me back through the dining room, adorned with flags, trophies, mounted fish. 

Before I left, I handed him a small pink gem my daughter had sent, an omen of goodwill and good fortune for his treacherous journey ahead.

We shook hands one last time, I wished him safety and success, and thanked him for showing the best of what humans can be.  He smiled, and retreated back to his boat, to prepare for his Odyssey.

The door of the Waikiki Yacht Club slung shut.  

I won’t forget this man, this night.  Indeed, I’m thinking of him every day, out on the sea right now, rowing, rowing, rowing, buoyed ever forward, toward the Green Light.