The Last Day of Lahaina Harbor

It was just another day at the harbor for 45-year-old Capt. Chrissy Lovitt, a Lahaina local and mariner who had just docked her Twin Vee Weekender, Wahine Koa. The 36-footer served as her delivery vessel for her “insta-boat” business, transporting fuel and various goods to the locals on the neighboring island of Lanai. She’d heard word of the fire, but with a hurricane far to the south and forecasted 30-knot winds passing through her city, Lovitt wasn’t concerned flames would reach her.

But just as Lovitt and her wife Emma Nelson were tying up, an 80-knot wind burst ripped across the harbor. Lovitt looked up to see a neighbor’s boat break free and drift away. She went after it and was able to secure it to the main dock of the harbor. Right around that time, everyone saw smoke. In what felt like an instant, Lovitt says, the harbor was surrounded by fire.

Dozens of wide-eyed boaters watched the sea of smoke suddenly walling them in, mouths gaping, many without thinking, scurried in an attempt to get their vessels out of the harbor. One friend of Lovitt’s who piloted a dinghy with a 35-horsepower outboard doubted if she could even make it out.

“She was afraid that she’d just get blown down on the reef,” Lovitt explains. “You have rocks 20 feet off your port side and you have a sandbar 20 feet off your starboard side so if you get blown just a little bit you will be aground—so if you do have a 35-horsepower motor and you’ve got 80 mile-an-hour winds, you’re almost putting yourself in more danger trying to get your boat out.”

Commandeering a 10-foot skiff nearby, Lovitt drove through the harbor looking for anyone she could convince to escape with her.

“I’m going to save my boat,” Lydia Lintermans, a friend and sailor yelled to Lovitt. She had just used a good portion of her savings to restore her passagemaker and planned to sail to Tahiti as soon as weather permitted. But her sailboat was built like a tank and there was no way she’d navigate it through the harbor amidst the gusts and smoke.

“It’s not the fire that’s going to kill you, it’s the smoke, get on my boat and let me take you offshore!” Lovitt yelled back. Lintermans nodded, relinquishing her dreams and climbing out to the skiff. “Get on the boat, we have minutes!” Lovitt shouted to Lashawna Garnier, another neighboring boater.

After gathering eight others, Lovitt, with the help of Lintermans and Garnier, brought the skiff to a 120-foot ferry she used to captain, now lashed to a mooring offshore. As soon as she dropped off the eight people on the skiff, Lovitt could see an old man she towed earlier, struggling to secure his mooring. She motored over to him and helped tie his lines. Heading back, the skiff’s motor began to gurgle. Sea water had gotten into the cowling. Within moments, the motor was dead, leaving the skiff to drift back in the direction of the ferry. Lovitt untied the skiff’s line from its anchor while Garnier and Lintermans frantically waved their arms. A few aboard the ferry popped their heads out from portholes to see Lovitt with the skiff’s line in hand gesturing for them to catch it. “Do not miss, do not f—–g miss!” Lovitt shouted. One of the displaced boaters just managed to catch the line. “Sweat it!” Lovitt yelled. “Take a wrap!”

Climbing onto the ferry, all the women could do was watch the destruction.

“We just watched all three of our boats burn; I can’t describe the feeling,” Lovitt says. “It was just shocking to see our home and our livelihood go.”

Four hours went by before the Coast Guard arrived, all of the stowaways now looking like they had been working in a coal mine. The Coast Guard boat took the others Lovitt saved, while she, Nelson and Lashawna attempted to restart their dinghy outboard. This time, it started up. Armed with flashlights and a handheld VHF, they scoured the seawall—the road behind it had cars parked along the edge with their doors still open; Lovitt figured people had jumped for their lives. Then, they saw something—two children, five and six years old, floating in the water. The women pulled them onto the boat. They would be the only two survivors the women found that night.

That day over 2,200 homes and buildings burned to rubble. The only thing left, according to Lovitt, was one hotel and a church. Lovitt’s house, which remained unburned, became a shelter to eight other fire victims who lost their houses.

As of this writing, at least 115 people have perished in one of, if not the worst, wildfires in United States history. Lovitt’s goal now is to get herself a boat so that she can begin running supplies from the other islands to Maui. Lovitt’s brother Joe, a ferry captain in San Francisco, is doing everything he can to help, including organizing a GoFundMe page. The campaign launched on August 9th, seeking $80,000 (now $100,000). Within six days, 300 donations were made and over $30,000 had been raised. As of our printing, they’re up to $75,000. “The boating community here in San Francisco has been really supportive, a lot of captains and deckhands have pitched in—one mariner to another,” said Joe. “When a boater needs help, you go do it.”

Listen to our podcast with Capt. Chrissy Lovitt here ▶

This article originally appeared in the November 2023 issue of Power & Motoryacht magazine.

Source: https://www.powerandmotoryacht.com/blogs/the-last-day-of-lahaina-harbor