“How’s the fishing?”

For those who have asked that question at Kuliʻouʻou Beach Park, you may have received either my short or long answer. The short answer is sharing that I was their child’s age when I first visited the park, and it has not changed.

My earliest memories were family picnics, my grandmother’s potato salad, crab nets, Kalanianaʻole Highway’s two lanes and the water which was up to my chest when I crossed the mouth of the stream with my father and brother.

I still recommend that the best time is at low tide when you can almost walk to the outer reef on white sand. It’s beautiful, therapeutic, and safe. (Knowing how to swim is mandatory, but a pair of tabis optional).

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I’m not sure what I enjoy best — the sunrises, sunsets or the middle of the day when, with a good pair of Polaroid glasses, you can see everything under the water.

I too enjoy asking “How’s the fishing?” quickly followed up with “Do you have a fishing guide?” Until recently, eight out of 10 people were unfamiliar with the Department of Aquatic Resources’ laminated, waterproof fishing rulers that identify fish by their Hawaiian names, size and number that one can keep. I generally have three or four in my pocket to share.

The fishing guides had been out of print for several years because of funding. Educating the public is one of the best ways to protect our fisheries. Because of this I offered to raise the money for reprinting. The offer was declined by the Department of Land and Natural Resources.

The long answer starts around the same time when we had a two-lane highway and one of the state’s largest (523 acre) fishponds, Keahupua o Maunalua. (My recollection of public education at the time came through jingles: “Mother Nature knows best” and “Plants are the basis of life.”)

I am not an academic, as I spent most of my Kalani High School senior year at Sandy Beach and Makapuʻu. When at Leeward Community College, I rented a room at a beachfront house on Kea Nui Road that extended a two-year associate of science program to four years.

Reflecting on Leeward’s Marine Technology Program, artificial reefs were being promoted to increase fish populations by providing structure for marine plants, corals and protection for juvenile fish from predators. One of the best ways to improve fishing is to make sure we don’t kill undersized fish before they have a chance to reproduce.

When Henry Kaiser replaced the Kuapā fishpond with 10,702 households in Hawaiʻi Kai, he did the same thing for Honolulu’s families that artificial reefs do for fish. 

The most recent artificial reef installation in Hawaiʻi, as indicated by a DLNR report, occurred in 1987 with the ʻEwa deepwater reef. A recent missed opportunity was sinking the Falls of Clyde 25 miles offshore in 12,500 feet of water, as it would have made a great artificial reef.

Today, academia is concerned about our carbon footprint and advocating majors in environmental science and sustainability. We are becoming more aware of how aquatic and terrestrial plants mitigate our carbon footprint. 

With the resurgence of Hawaiian studies in our schools and discussions about “canoe” plants (nonnative plants that the Hawaiians brought in their canoes that were essential for their survival), we might look at the benefits invasives have to offer. They may be better adapted to climate change.

In the August 2010 Issue of “Hawaii Fishing News,” my wife Susan and I wrote an article titled “Another View of Maunalua Bay.” My observation was that 37,000 volunteers and 21,000 students were involved in a fight with Mother Nature by removing 4 million pounds of aquatic plants.

We sometimes forget that a great gift from Mother Nature’s is creating plants that transform waste into food and oxygen. Lānaʻi City uses invasive water hyacinth in their wastewater treatment system. The same plants are at work in the stream next to the Honolulu Polo Club in Waimānalo.

There’s been a tremendous reduction in the biomass after removing the seaweed. Less biomass means less fish. The same principle applies to our food supply. If we want more beef, we need more grass, more eggs, more grain. Plants are the basis for life.

In the ocean plants provide structure. They are the artificial reefs, the houses that the small fish, crabs and shellfish live in. The endemic bonefish population that depended on this for food has crashed. There is no place for crabs and shrimp to hide it is an oceanic cafeteria and feeding frenzy.

Sadly, now white sand and rock have replaced much of the plant life. Beautiful but sterile.

Mother Nature does not rest, though, and there is a new crop of aquatic plants that I am looking forward to identifying. My experience on land is that, unless you’re planting is intensive and you are religious about maintenance, Mother Nature has a different plan.

There are no guarantees in fishing, but Minnesota stocks 350 million fish annually and a nonresident fishing license is $10. Minnesota also works with private landowners to procure easements for hunters and people fishing.

Hawaiʻi’s constitution is unique as it guarantees the people of Hawaiʻi access to hunting in the mountains and fishing in the ocean. So why do we continue to close trails and restrict parking at our beaches?

We have the technology to raise salt water aquarium fish yellow tang and seahorses, moi, octopus, kampachi, shrimp and other food fish to restock and feed Hawaiʻi’s families.

Hawaiʻi is changing. I remember the Kodak Hulu Show and swimming in the Natatorium, amenities that showed our aloha to visitors who spend $17.8 billion a year, represent 25% of our economy, and $2 billion in tax revenue.  Gone are the days when we appreciated the wisdom of Mother Nature and the windfall tourism brings us.

We should observe how invasive aquatic plants mitigate effluent leaching from our cesspools and transform it into nurseries for fish. The adverse effect, of course, would be devastating to the construction and real estate industry and eliminate the need for costly septic systems and lowering the cost of new homes.

Hunters could play a larger part in Hawaiʻi’s food security and tourism. Today, if one doesn’t have a wild boar in their backyard, they have a feral chicken. Both could be transformed into a main course for block parties and lūʻau.

In lieu of a kamaʻāina discount or “green fee,” a calabash bowl would better represent our culture.
We should be thanking Mother Nature. Environmentalists, your fight is unsustainable.

Susan Mulkern, vice president of Mulkern Landscaping and Nursery, contributed to this Community Voice.