Education of a Raft Wacko

Illa-Tiki, John Haslett's first raft (top), hoisted a single squaresail on a bipod mast. It was intended for a pure downwind drift voyage from Ecuador to Hawaii. His next three rafts, all with two lateen sails on pole masts, were meant for the more rigorous maneuvering of alongshore sailing on the west coast of South and Central America. (click to enlarge)

I've written a number of posts about modern-day raft adventurers, often referring to them as "wackos" because I find it amusing to do so. (See our previous posts on rafts.) The folks who set off to drift across oceans on (barely) floating piles of vegetable matter are a special sort of mariner: brave, tough and resourceful: without question; strongly committed to (or obsessed by) an objective: very much so in most cases; a little "different?" -- uh, yeah. (Please don't get me wrong. I use "wacko" is a purely positive sense, acknowledging something of myself in that term. If someone were to invite me to participate in a credible raft expedition, I might jump at the opportunity.)

John Haslett started out as another raft wacko. But somewhere between the construction of his first raft, Illa-Tiki, in Ecuador in 1995, and the wreck of his fourth, Endurancia, in Costa Rica in 1999, he grew into something else, as neatly described in the subtitle of his book Voyage of the Manteño: The Education of a Modern-Day Expeditioner. (The book was recently republished in Kindle format under a new title: The Lost Raft: The True Story of Madness, Mutiny, Mud, Sharks, Shipwrecks, Survival, and Extraordinary Discovery in the Wake of Kon-Tiki.) Not to say that he entirely lost the wacko attitude. But as his expeditions morphed from mere adventures into serious research efforts, Haslett's youthful dilettantism dissolved, replaced by maturity and competence as a logistician, mariner, and leader.

All of Haslett's voyages were on balsa log rafts, begun on the west coast of Central and South America. Illa-Tiki set out from Ecuador bound for Hawaii, with no real objective other than to do something Thor Heyerdahl-ish. By the time that voyage had failed, Haslett had redefined the goal of his rafting efforts, so that his second voyage, aboard the raft Manteño, was no longer just a voyage but, rather, an expedition -- a voyage with a purpose -- seeking to demonstrate that Precolumbian trade, which is believed to have occurred between Ecuador and Mexico, could have been conducted by the Manteño people of Ecuador using balsa sailing rafts of the kind reported by early European explorers, which reports are not universally accepted as accurate or credible.

Not one of Haslett's four raft voyages came close to reaching its destination, and the last one wrecked almost as soon as it began. But even in their failures, Haslett's voyages contributed something to our understanding of the rafts that the Manteño people might have used. Some of the most important of those contributions are in the negative: Haslet''s experience shows us just as much of what the rafts were not or could not do as it shows us what they might have been and might have been capable of. That's the kind of research, the kind of science, that we hear too little of, but it's every bit as important to our understanding of reality as the so-called successes.

Haslett's book is a detailed record of gruelling hard work rewarded by the "failure" of the voyages to reach their destinations. As I read Voyage of the Manteño, I looked forward to summarizing it here, for it is by far the most fascinating and best-written rafting adventure I've come across.

But I've found that this has already been done competently by others, including a nice summary of the first three voyages, and details about the construction and sailing characteristics of the rafts described in academic but very readable form by Cameron Smith, an archaeologist who accompanied Haslett on some of the voyages. There's no need to repeat these available sources, and I leave interested readers to read them for specifics on Haslett's voyages and vessels.

But I also urge them to read Haslett's book for a gripping, suitably humble, and altogether satisfying first-hand account of how, through hardship, hard work and the force of necessity, naivete can grow to maturity and seriousness of purpose.

Northeastern Amerindian Canoes: Peabody Museum #8

As the final installment in the series, let's look now at boat-related exhibits of Northeastern American Indian cultures at Harvard University's Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. Earlier posts sampled the Peabody's exhibits of Baffinland Inuit, Aleut, other Alaskan Eskimo, and Chinook, Coast Salish, et al, and other Pacific Northwest cultures, a large stitch-planked monohull canoe from the Solomon Islands, and items from several cultures of Oceania.)

Detail of a diorama depicting American Indian culture of Southern New England in late 17th and 18th centuries. The paper birch rarely grows to adequate canoe-building size in Southern New England. Although Amerindians further north would trade sheets of canoe bark with Southern New England tribes, the dugout was the region's most common, and only indigenous, watercraft. Rectilinear lines as shown were the norm. In hollowing the hull, the top surface would be burnt to a char with a small, carefully regulated fire, then adzes with stone or shell blades were used to chip and scrap away the charred material. Although dugout canoes are often thought to have been heavy and awkward affairs, one can see from the model that the sides were hewn to a thinness that would make the canoes reasonable agile and capable of being portaged when necessary. (Click any image to enlarge.)

Blade of an Eastern Algonkian canoe paddle, collected prior to 1899. From the display card: "The blade of this elaborately decorated paddle is painted green. The double-curve design was executed by removing the paint while it was still wet. The stepped motif and crosshatching are suggestive of Penobscot or Passamaquoddy manufacture. The handle exhibits graceful carving and shows much indication of use." The Penobscot people lived (and still live) in Maine; the Passamadquoddy in Maine and New Brunswick. [Addition 1/27/14: further discussion of this paddle appears on Murat's excellent blog Paddle Making (and Other Canoe Stuff).] 

Shaft and handle of the above paddle. 

A model of a "crooked" canoe from the Montagnais people of eastern Canada, made around 1852. The "crooked" name derives from the sharply rockered bottom, designed for quick maneuvering on tight and rocky streams.

Another Passamaquoddy canoe model, but of a different style, and collected in the early 19th century. The double-curve design on the bark is executed by scraping away one layer of the bark. When applied to full-size canoes, such decoration was usually confined to the ends and topside areas amidships, and not below the waterline as was done on the model.  

A model Micmac sea canoe, made in 1904. The double-curved gunwales raise the sheer amidships, making the boat drier in ocean waves, while the lower sheer toward the ends allowed easier paddling. 

Eastern Algonkian canoe model, collected in 1794 and described as "very accurate." From the display card: "Although originally attributed to the Micmac, the form of this canoe is suggestive of Maliseet, Passamaquoddy, or Penobscot manufacture [all Maine tribes; ed.]. the flared ends are of a very early style. Note that the thwarts are carved and the seams have rod ochre applied over pitch."

Canoe model built in 1904. From the display card: "The unusual ends make attribution difficult. The bottom profile is slightly concave, or 'hogged,' as is typical of northwestern canoe types, but the U-shaped end treatment is not characteristic of that area in general."

From Pacific Islands: Peabody Museum #7

Let's look at some more maritime-related objects from several Pacific cultures on display at Harvard University's Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. (Earlier posts in this series on the Peabody looked at Baffinland Inuit, Aleut, other Alaskan Eskimo, and Chinook, Coast Salish, et al, other Pacific Northwest exhibits, and a large stitch-planked monohull canoe from the Solomon Islands.)

This canoe model from New Zealand was collected prior to 1850. Its origin is probably Maori. The base of the hull appears to be carved from a single log, as would have been the real canoe that it represented. It measures approx. 108" LOA. (Click any image to enlarge.)

Elaborately carved stern decoration on the Maori canoe model. 

Bow decoration on the same model. The carved washstrakes are stitched to the dugout hull, and a black half-round batten is captured by the stitches. On a real canoe, some kind of vegetable fiber and mastic would have been placed beneath the batten to make the seam watertight.

The museum has an impressive display of adzes from various Pacific cultures, most with stone blades. The adze is the primary tool for dugout canoe construction.

This side-hafted adze from the Carolina Islands has a blade of sea-turtle bone and bindings of twisted coconut fiber.

This adze from Kirapuno, New Guinea, has a reversible stone blade held in place with nicely woven rattan binding.

Navigation chart from the Marshall Islands, made of the midribs of palm leaves, shells, and hibiscus and banana fibers.

Collected prior to 1903, this model Philippine double-outrigger sailing canoe has a squaresail rig, a dugout base and trifurcated ends, with two of the horns at each end turned up sharply. The outrigger floats are attached directly to the straight outrigger booms, placing the floats quite high -- possibly above the load waterline.

The struts on this Hawaiian double canoe model (wa'a kaulua) curve up between the hulls before passing through the washstrakes just above the gunwales of the dugout bases. Naturally-grown, curved timbers were used on real canoes. The curvature raises the struts above some splashing waves.

The unadorned simplicity of this single-outrigger Hawaiian paddling canoe model clearly identifies it as a workboat for inshore fishing and/or transportation.  

Whereas the two previous canoe models from Hawaii were representational, this delicately carved canoe-shaped effigy vessel from Indonesia probably had a ceremonial purpose. 

Composite fishhook of bone, fiber and wood. The display card says it's from the "Sandwich Islands": one wonders why the museum chose to use this antiquated name for Hawaii. A leader is bound to the shank of the hook, the bindings tightened by an inserted wooden wedge.