Heʻe hōlua is the death-defying ancient Hawaiian sport of riding a narrow, wooden sled up to 50 miles an hour down a mountain track.
"Lying down with your face 6 inches off the stones, flying down a hill,” said Oʻahu-based cultural practitioner and educator Mahi La Pierre. “And the goal was distance, right? Whoever goes the farthest.”
“Some people say, the Hawaiian extreme sport — so people die,” La Pierre continued. “It's a sport. But it's also like, I'm just gonna say what Pōhaku Stone says, it's like the front of the hōlua are like your hands, the two piʻipiʻi, the upright areas, are like you're offering yourself as you're riding.”
Pōhaku Stone has been instrumental in reviving the over 2,000-year-old practice, along with others like La Pierre and Farrington High School kumu ʻIliahi Doo.
La Pierre and Doo recently led a workshop on Molokaʻi, in which participants build 7-foot-long papa hōlua, or sleds.
“That's what our intention is — to make it normal, because it's such a lost art,” explained Doo.
About a dozen participants, from keiki to kūpuna, gathered for the three-day workshop.
“There's a lot going on in this world, but for this moment in time, on this ʻāina, we're going to be hōlua-crazy — hōlua maniacs,” La Pierre told the group, laughing. “Yeah, I like you go dream hōlua.”
Made of ʻōhiʻa wood, the two papa hōlua came alive under Doo and La Pierre's guidance, using historic models at the Bishop Museum for reference.
Molokaʻi participants used hand tools to sand the rough-cut wood as smooth as glass. Then the wood's color darkens and shines with coconut oil to help the sleds glide.
The elements are lashed together — the pola — or platform; the keʻa, or crosspieces; and the kāmaʻaloa — the runners. The fibers cross over each other and pull tight, locking the wood in place.
Molokaʻi participant Kauluwai Yamashita, 13, said that for him, this was the most memorable step.
“Lashing was my favorite part, ‘cause I didnʻt know how to lash before this and it was really cool getting to learn how,” he explained. “And now Iʻm thinking about making my own hōlua sled, ‘cause that would be really fun.”
Kanoelani Davis is a Molokaʻi cultural practitioner and the executive director of Hoʻakā Mana, the nonprofit that hosted the workshop. For her, the hōlua creation process is a form of healing.
“To see the joy in people's faces, to see the array of ages. We had people who were keiki all the way to kūpuna that were doing the classes,” she said. “So witnessing just our community kind of come together was positive. And we had a lot of positive feedback — not only in their accomplishment of making the hōlua — but just how they felt, like inside, and it's beautiful to be in a place where everybody is just positive.”
Ancient hōlua were often up to 18 feet long and just 6 to 7 inches wide. They were raced on stone tracks, with sugar cane flowers spread on top to reduce friction — stretching 1 mile long, the remains of which are found across Hawaiʻi. Some of them have burials near the ancient tracks.
“It was life and death in doing these things,” said La Pierre.
The sport was reserved for the akua, or gods, and the aliʻi — royalty — and practiced by both men and women.
Doo encourages today's learners to ask questions.
“We still don't know all the answers as to why. Why is it this size? Why is it this skinny? Why is it all of this kind of stuff? But ask!” he said. “Because it's kind of cool to know why kūpuna did it. I know somebody asked, 'Did the aliʻi only do it?' And from the stories we heard, yeah, but who knows? Somebody could have snuck around and because it looks fun, yeah? Like, 'oh, I like do that,' right?”
La Pierre said building and riding hōlua is like a window into the past.
“Then, when you ride, even though I personally have never experienced a very big hill, it's just exhilarating — getting to the mindset and just an inkling of what really happened [back then].”
He and Doo hope that by holding more workshops and learning opportunities, heʻe hōlua will become revitalized and normalized today.
For Molokaʻi resident Aulani Herrod-Perkins, that's exactly what happened.
“I came to this opportunity mākaukau [ready] to just learn, and then to apply the learning as well. Look at us now! We whipped up two hōlua so fast. Like ʻanakala said, I have the hōlua bug now!” she laughed.
“It's really amazing to be part of these kinds of mea [things] where we're normalizing nohona Hawaiʻi [Hawaiʻi’s way of life]. He Hawaiʻi kākou!”
Molokaʻi participants got a taste of riding their newly constructed hōlua on a small hill, amid whoops of success, laughter of a few tumbles and calls for “hana hou!”
The two papa hōlua residents created will stay on Molokaʻi, to be shared and used.
For La Pierre, building hōlua is one way to learn more about his kūpuna.
“Two days ago we just had wood,” he said. “Now we have a vehicle to ride in the footsteps of our ancestors.”
