Hawaiian Skies: Hilinaʻehu 2026
Hilinaʻehu 2026 (ʻAukake 13 - Kepakemapa 11, 2026)
Na Leilehua Yuen, Hawaiʻi Culture and Language Resident at Gemini & NOIRLab
Mūlehu is one of my favorite ulu hōkū to use in talks because it so beautifully illustrates how the constellations are not immutable groupings, but simply how each culture, even each individual, might organize the stars so that they are most easily remembered.
Click to view in detail (NOIRLab/NSF/AURA/L. Yuen)
From Hawaiʻi, to the modern eye, the Greek constellation Cassiopeia looks like a great ʻIwa, Fregata minor, flying through the northern sky. In the 1970s, when the crew of the Hōkūleʻa, a performance-accurate recreation of an open-ocean Polynesian voyaging canoe, worked with Mau Pialug to reconstruct Hawaiian wayfaring, they named Cassiopeia ʻIwakeliʻi, Chief of the Frigatebirds. Because ʻiwa are a pelagic species, their behavior over the open water is used for indicating weather and fishing conditions. Their nesting season is generally from around March to November — during hurricane season — and they are known to take shelter from storms in the lee of high islands. If the ʻiwa are staying close to shore, humans probably should as well.
A folk tradition of the constellation also sees it as an ʻiwa but includes ʻIwalani’s (Royal/Chief ʻIwa) favorite food, Mālolo—the flying fish — as well. This is paired with the Little Dipper, ʻIwahine, using Polaris as the Pūnana, nest, or Hua, the egg she flies around. If we go back even farther in the names and stories, then we come to Mūlehu.
I have often wondered why Mūlehu is named for one of the helper stars instead of the chief star, Polo-ahi-lani. You may already have figured it out. I had to stare at the sky and run the constellation through Stellarium so many times before it clicked in my brain! Mūlehu is the lead star. Mūlehu guides the other two around the sky. Obvious, once you see it!
I am a child of the Space Age — Vanguard I and I launched the same year, 1958, and we both are still on orbit. So, I am particularly tickled that Mūlehu is one of the stars used by the Apollo missions as a sight-star in the longest voyages humans ever made.
The name Mūlehu [Tiansi, Archird, Schedar] is very old and appears to come to us through the Hawaiʻiloa navigation tradition. Hawaiʻiloa was the chief for whom the great navigator Makaliʻi sailed. See Ka Nūpepa Kuokoa, Volume IV, #52, 30 December 1865, below. The translation is mine, so if there are errors, please let me know!
“Eia ka lua o na inoa o na hoku o keia lalani hoku. O Mulehu, aole nae oia inōa wale no, aka, he mau inoa e ae no kekahi o keia hoku, oia hoi o Poloahilani a me Poloula. O ke ano o keia hoku, he hoku makapo, a he pohina no kona ano ke nana aku kakou i ka po.
Ua kapaia no hoi ka inoa o keia hoku mamuli o kekahi alii o Hawaii nei, oia hoi o Poloahilani, a o kona ano o ka noho ana, he alii makapo, elua mea nana ia e alakai iwaho, a iloko; e paa ana kekahi ma ka lima akau, a pela na hoi ma lima hema.
A no ka makapo o keia alii, ua lele kona hauli iluna o ka lani, a kau i kela mau hoku i kapaia i na inoa ekolu maluna ae.
O ke kau ana o keia mau hoku, hookahi mawaena, oia ka hoku pohina, a o kekahi hoku ma kekahi aoao, a o kekahi no hoi ma kekahi aoao, e like me keia kii malolo iho, a pela ko lakou ano ke nana aku i ka po. ₓ ˣ ₓ O keia hoku ua pili ia Kuakini a me kana mau mamo.”
So, here are many names of the stars of this constellation. Mulehu isn’t the only name, but each of the stars have their own names, as thus, Poloahilani and Poloula. The nature of this star is a blind star, and its appearance is dark when we look at it at night.
This star is named after a king of Hawaii, namely Poloahilani. He ruled as a blind king, with two guides to lead him about; one holding his right forearm, and the other the left forearm.
Because a blind king was notable, their names were elevated and placed in commemoration on those three named above.
The placement of these stars, one in the middle, that is the dim star, and another star on one side and another star on the other side, just like this picture, and that's how they look at night. ₓ ˣ ₓ This star is associated with Kuakini and his descendants.
I think this beautifully illustrates how our kūpuna valued and cared for each other. One of the things I love about doing deep dives into the old moʻolelo is that they tell us so much about the values and lives of our kūpuna i ka wā kahiko, our ancestors in times long ago. Mūlehu is one of our oldest constellation names, and its moʻolelo shows that from ancient times caring for the disabled was a Hawaiian practice.
Poloahilani
Ke Aliʻi Polo-ahi-lani was a blind chief who had two attendants, one for each hand, who led him about. This practice continued to be documented into historic times with other chiefs, most famously ʻĪmaikalani.
ʻĪmaikalani
Ke Aliʻi ʻĪmaikalani was a legendary blind warrior chief who lived during the late 15th to early 16th century. He ruled over the Kaʻū and Puna districts of Hawaiʻi Island during the time of Keawenui-a-ʻUmi and ʻUmi-a-Liloa. His story also shows us that not only did our kūpuna care for the disabled, but service animals are not a new concept. ʻĪmaikalani had two beloved pet ducks, which would quack at the approach of strangers. They would fly overhead when he went into battle, and by their quacking and listening to the sound of their wingbeats he could tell where enemies were. He also had young warriors who fought on each side of him. When he was home, the ducks acted as an early warning system and would quack any time strangers approached his kauhale. But, according to the story I was taught, a traitor killed his pet ducks, so there was no warning, which allowed enemy forces to kill his personal guard and then kill ʻImaikalani.
Kāʻeokūlani
Ke Aliʻi Kāʻeokūlani lived from 1729 to December 6, 1794. He was a prominent Hawaiian royal and the half-brother of King Kahekili II and ruled over Kauaʻi, Maui, Lānaʻi, and Molokaʻi. He was a powerful warrior and superb tactician. When his legs began to fail him and he became too frail to march into battle, his warriors wove a basket and carried him so that he could continue to command. He died in battle on Oʻahu on December 6, 1794, at the age of 65.
Relationships between Aliʻi
Despite what modern “historical” fiction works may say, Hawaiian royalty never were looked after by enslaved people. To call oneself “kauā” when serving one’s aliʻi was a poetic expression indicating humility, not a literal designation. While there was a class of outcasts known as kauā, the relationship and status were not analogous to the systems of the Antebellum United States and should not be conflated. My own opinion is that the people who became kauā were an earlier group of inhabitants of the islands who were displaced by later waves of migration. At any rate, people who filled the role of personal servants to aliʻi generally were trusted relatives. They were never of low rank. Myriad names for the different relationships allowed people to instantly know the relative status and duties of household members. Kau-kau-aliʻi, ʻōhua, ukali, lawe-lawe, and other terms abound, each indicating specific relationships.
Other Features
Of course we still can see the story of Māui from the Kumulipo in this month’s sky. If you have not read about it yet, you can find more information in last month’s column. For a Māui story that is not part of the Kumulipo, we can look toward the tail of ʻAi Kanaka (great shark/fish/Milky Way). There we find one version of Māui’s kite in Cygnus. It looks remarkably like the kite petroglyph recorded at Kaʻupulehu by Bud Henry. Maui fashioned this kite of bamboo strips and then covered it with his mother’s lightest, strongest kapa and made long, strong cords to control it. Sadly, there was not enough wind to fly it. So, Māui stood on the shore of Hilo Bay and chanted to Waipiʻo, where the priest Kaleiʻiokū lived. This priest had charge of a set of ipu in which were stored the various winds. Maui chanted for him to send winds strong enough to lift the great kite. Always up for an adventure, the priest sent some. Māui wanted a greater challenge and chanted for more. Kaleiʻiokū sent more. Māui kept asking for greater and greater winds until, finally, Kaleiʻiokū got fed up and just opened all the gourds at once, and every wind of Hawaiʻi poured out in swirling chaos! They lifted the great kite, snapped the lines, and swirled it away over Maunaloa to Kaʻū, where it dropped. Māui was so disgusted he refused to go get it. It turned to stone and became a puʻu and remains there to this day. The largest winds came from Ipu Nui, and the gentle breezes from Ipu Iki.
Something we need to remember when discussing Hawaiian star lore is that not only are we speaking across languages and culture, but we are speaking across time—across millennia. Those who follow this column may have noticed that I am using Hōkū Pā more now when referring to Polaris. Evidence (documented in resources such as theMauna Kea Heritage Resources website) suggests this was the more common name during early voyaging eras. It translates to “Enclosure” or “Encircling Wall.” Despite modern stories claiming ancient Polynesians were astonished by a static 'unmoving star,' they really weren’t; Polaris was not stationary at the time of the first discoveries. Instead, it and its companions rotated in a visible circle around an empty celestial pole. Polaris, Yildun, and ε UMi formed the primary pillars of this pā (palisade), protectively encircling that vacant space. On exceptionally clear nights at sea, dimmer stars like 4 UMi, CO Cam, and HIP 47193 would complete the enclosure, while the brilliant Kochab and Pherkad formed Holopuni—the active guardians patrolling the outer perimeter.
When those earliest explorers sailed north, Polaris was around 6.5-8 degrees away from the pole, leading a company of stars in a circle, Hōkū-pā. Over a thousand years, precession pulled the stars closer in to half that distance until, by 1000 CE, from the deck of a waʻa, Polaris appeared to be standing firm. But the chants still retained the original information and called it “Surrounding Wall.” Then, at last, around 1500 CE, the language started catching up with the observable phenomenon. Five hundred years later, we are still in transition, with our oral traditions and written texts preserving both words today.
Another misapprehension is that the Hawaiian language died. But Hawaiian language newspapers were still being published right up until around WWII, and as a living functional language, ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi continued to evolve. So, since Hawaiian people have traditionally been comfortable with attaching use-based names to the hōkū and ulu hōkū, new names which fit the uses of the new generations were added. One obviously new name which springs to mind is Kia-paʻa-kai, “pillar of salt,” so named for Lot’s wife who, in the Biblical tale, looked back toward Sodom and was changed into an unmoving pillar of salt.
Keoe and Humu are on each side of the Milky Way. In Japan, at the Tanabata festival, the stars are celebrated as Orihime (おりひめ, 織姫; "Weaver Girl") and Kengyūsei (牽牛星, Cow Herder Star). Tanabata is celebrated throughout Japan. The Maunakea Observatories host a Tanabata festival each year at their facilities mauka the ʻImiloa Astronomy Center. It is free and open to the public.
The story of Humu as told by Kupahu (Johnson and Mahelona 167-8) suggests that Humu was a guide star to Kaua‘i when a canoe sailed from Oʻahu. Not only does the story encode important navigational instructions, but it also contains a warning to listen to a person's knowledge, not to prejudge them based on appearances, and it warns to keep one's own ego in check.
We are still in hurricane season, and the Ipu Makani a Laʻamaomao remains high in the sky. A very old navigational name for this constellation is Hōkūʻiwa which, today, we usually translate as “The Nine.” Some sources say it translates as “Frigate Bird Star.” Tradition says Hōkūʻiwa guided Hawaiʻi Loa back to our islands after his voyage to the South Pacific, which is consistent with the use of Arcturus, now usually called Hōkū-leʻa.
Kauamea, Corona Borealis, is nearby. For me, in the story of Lono and Puapuakea, it is the apu, the cup, from which Puapuakea served Lono his ʻawa, and in the story of Laʻamaomao, as I learned it, while the great ipu (Boötes) with the bones of Laʻamaomao contains all the winds, the little ʻapu (Corona Borealis) contains the rain. Ka-ua-mea — the rain object — works. Now I am looking for a story of the Corona Australis!
One question I was asked recently is why I translate Nā Hiku as “Big Dipper” instead of “Ursa Major,” as many others do. The ulu hōkū Nā Hiku, “The Seven,” refers specifically to the seven stars that, in English, correspond to the Big Dipper, which is an asterism of Ursa Major.
Morning
Those of you who have followed my column for a while know that I propose the Winter Circle as Hōkū-lei. It is such a dramatic ulu hōkū, and it comprises so many known stars. Since one translation of “lei” is “to rise like a cloud,” I really can’t think of a better piece of sky for the name. I also have been looking at the various names for Gemini as possibly referring separately to the stars and to the star lines. We can try it out and see how it works.
27 August Lunar eclipse
Eclipse Timeline for Hawaiʻi:
Moonrise (Hilo): Around 6:44 pm HST, as the eclipsed Moon comes above the eastern horizon.
Maximum Local Effect: A partial lunar eclipse occurs right around moonrise/6:48 pm HST. The peak of the eclipse happens while the Moon is still below the horizon.
Partial Eclipse Ends: 7:51 pm HST.
Penumbral Eclipse Ends: 9:01 pm HST.
In my research it seems eclipses likely were seen as portents, not anything to be specifically feared. Rather, one should look at all the other signs and see what changes they may herald. However, even today, we have people of all perspectives.
Click to view in detail - Credit: NOIRLab/NSF/AURA/L. Yuen
Click to view in detail - Credit: NOIRLab/NSF/AURA/L. Yuen
