Once upon a time, 3000 years ago, a man awoke from the night’s rest upon the lofty volcano top, on an island in the middle of the north-south archipelago. It was dawn on a clear, warm summer’s day, and the breeze was warm. As the sun rose higher he rubbed his eyes and sleepily looked out east across the calm sea. Turning to the woman beside him he said, “I think I see something over there below the sun. Do you see it too?” She looked for a minute. “Yes, it looks like another island; but I never noticed it before, and we have never lived there. Strange and wonderful, as our people have been around here for many generations. I wonder what it’s like?”
Some days later, a calm summer’s night coincided with a waxing moon. As the near-full evening moon began to rise, and just as dusk began to descend, a canoe rode the rising tide. Four men, in shifts of 2 at a time, paddled out into the ‘east’, working all night, navigating by the moonlight, the stars, and later the sun as it rose. Even later the direction of the light wind and the swells, because the sun was too high. The canoe reached its destination the following evening as the moon was peaking.
They pulled it up onto a beautiful wide, white sandy beach, and slept on the warm sand beside the turtle tracks and the pink butterfly sea shells.
The canoe and its 4 travelers had reached an island without a name.