When people think of fishing, the mental imagery is almost always positive and happy. Sunshine, puffy clouds, deep blue sea, smiles and action!
Kids look up to fishermen and say, “I want to be like that when I grow up.”
Workers day dream throughout the week, the thought of a weekend fishing trip propelling them through on the job drudgery.
Managers count the days until they retire, imagining a life where they can go fishing anytime they want.
Many executives enjoy their work, but they also love to take breaks from making money just so they can put on shorts, take off their shoes and hang out with their favorite charter boat crew.
Fishing is a great way of life. Therefore, it begs to be asked, what is it about fishing that turns some of the nicest guys you know into the grumpiest of grumpy old farts — while they are out “happily” fishing?
Robbie Engelhard and Paul Gouveia are two of the nicest guys in Kona and have been friends for years. When they go fishing however, they can turn into the Odd Couple. It’s a tossup as to which one is Oscar and who plays Felix, but if you have ever fished with them, you might say they interchange the roles multiple times as the day goes along.
They were out fishing recently, on Paul’s skiff, and were pulling up to check out F buoy when another boat cut them off before they got where they wanted to go. A great chorus of captain’s disapproval roared across the ocean to the perpetrator. The skipper of the boat in question had his head where he could not hear them and trolled on, oblivious. The near collision was such a flagrant offense, Oscar (or was it Felix?) had to throttle back and reverse the little boat, and they came to a full stop to avoid a T-bone.
Despite the deluge of threats, epithets and insults, the offending vessel just chugged slowly by, so they hurled insults until it passed. Eventually, Robbie realized that they were dead in the water, and eased the throttle back up to get their lures moving again. Once the prop wash started to swirl behind the boat, one of the lines came tight, they were hooked and up came a flashy mahimahi.
Robbie assumes command when he is on Paul’s boat, which would put a burr under most boat owners’ saddle. That part of the configuration doesn’t irritate him though. They are simply fielding their best team. With Robbie in a wheel chair, it makes good sense for him to park and steer while Paul scurries around tending to the lines. It’s a good theory, anyway.
Now they were hooked up and things were going well. The other boat was not hooked up, so they appreciated that their good fortune may have been the direct result on an idiot cutting them off. Karma.
Everything was hunky dory — at first. Paul kept the line tight when the mahi flopped around, easing him toward the boat. Robbie managed the helm, all the while gently encouraging Paul by telling him that everything he was doing was pretty much exactly wrong.
Paul simply tuned him out, muttering at the fish instead of the skipper. The mahimahi was coming in easily, so he didn’t need Robbie’s help with this one anyway. Because it was a small fish, they didn’t bother to clear all the lines, and a couple dangled and the lures slowly sank. Before Paul got the mahi to the boat, one of the other reels started screaming and Oscar and Felix came back out, center stage.
“Get that damn mahi in quick! It’s only a peanut, should have been in long ago. What the hell are you doing? That’s something big on the other line!”
“Don’t you think I can see that for myself? Just drive the dang boat and don’t come back here and get in my way!”
“That’s the problem! You can’t get out of your own way. Hurry up! Jeeze…”
Paul turned and gave Robbie “the look” and they both shut up and went back to work.
About this time fish number two stopped running and the reel stopped screaming. Paul left the mahi swimming slow circles just behind the boat and ran to the rod where fish number two used to be. He cranked on the reel as fast as he could, trying to come tight to fish number two. Winding fast, his eyes were glued on the mahi, hoping that line did not go slack which could allow the hook to come loose, the mahi to escape and the abuse to come down like rain.
“Turn the boat! Turn the boat! Keep the mahi tight!” Paul yelled at Robbie who was watching as fish number two came tight again, and started taking line. Paul continued to crank, transfixed on the mahi.
“Don’t wind while it’s taking line! And don’t tell me how to drive. Pay attention to what you are doing and I’ll watch myself.”
And so it goes on boats on every ocean, and so it went that day at F buoy.
From the action and the discourse, adrenaline got to pumping and Paul became a machine. The mahi was slung over the gunwale and subdued. When fish number two arrived at boat side, Paul gaffed it and pulled a 90-pound ahi over the side in one clean motion.
Robbie cheered and congratulated Paul on a job well done and the old friends were back to normal. During their “bro-fest” the ahi came to life banging of its tail in rapid fire staccato. Blood and gore was slung around the boat, all the way to the helm and across Robbie’s sunglasses.
“Dammit! Quiet that sucker down! You should’ve hit it harder! Hurry!”
So it goes and so it went. But why fishing makes nice guys curmudgeons may never be known.
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Hunting is arguably as big a part of the local way of life as fishing. As with fishing, some hunt to put meat on the table, some do it for fun but most hunt for both reasons.
Spring wild turkey hunting season kicked off this past weekend. The season runs from March 1 through April 15.
Kona resident Jon Sabati is Hawaii State Chapter President of the Wild Turkey Federation.
“Everyone knows Kona is one of the best blue marlin spots in the world, but I’ve been promoting Hawaii as an all around sportsmans’ paradise for years,” Sabati said in a recent interview. “We have all sorts of great hunting in Hawaii, and people are excited when they find out about it.”
Jon runs a charter hunting operation at Kealia ranch. His guests primarily chase mammals — pigs, sheep and goats.
I contacted Jon to talk to him about what appeared to be an explosion in the wild pig population at Puu Waawaa. During this past bird season, herds of pigs were loitering around ranch gates and they ignored trucks with hunters in them who wanted to pass through. Pigs were running up and down the old runway and seen on almost every ranch road. There were even pigs makai, under the bluffs.
I had not hunted Puu Waawaa in years, but I did not remember ever seeing this many pigs, and never so bold as to challenge you for a gate.
Jon said he was not sure why there were so many pigs around this year. The Wild Turkey Federation worked with DLNR-DOFAW in years past to establish water and feeder location for birds, but in recent years they were concentrating their efforts to the support shooting sports programs of the Hilo 4-H club, the Boy Scouts and Konawaena school.
Jon said that there was a management plan for mammals long ago, but he did not know where that stood now. He steered me to another gentleman, well known in the world of Hawaii hunting, Dick Hoeflinger.
I told Dick of my experience with the pigs and asked, “Many years ago, there was much talk about creating a multi-use management plan for Puu Waawaa. What ever became of that project?”
Dick reached back in his memory vaults for dates and names, and for a man of 84, he was sharp as a tack. Back in 2002 a group of stake holders and concerned citizens created the Puu Waawaa Ahupuaa Advisory Committee, and they did indeed meet, discuss, write and submit a multi-use plan to/with DLNR-DOFAW. The plan was published in 2003 and according to Dick, was never seen or heard of again.
Four years later, in 2007, Dick and others who had volunteered and contributed to the plan raised a fuss that it had disappeared. They pressed the need for a plan, again. This time, Hoeflinger was contracted to work with the group, and write Plan B.
This second group, held twelve meetings over the course of the next two years. In 2010 they submitted Plan B, with nine recommendations. With an audible sigh, Dick said that again, nothing became of all the work, effort, manao and time.
According to Hoeflinger, Plan B resurfaced in 2017, greatly altered and rewritten. It was so different, Plan B now qualified as Plan C. Dick reflected that it was a far cry from what was agreed to and submitted in 2010. Truth be told, he used stronger adjectives than “a far cry.”
Over the course of this conversation with Hoeflinger, much history came forth along with amusing anecdotes and interesting facts. However, it was still not clear — why so many pigs at Puu Waawaa?
Dick did not have an exact answer to that question, but he did offer another bit of history that could at least partially explain the current situation. After the DLNR brought Plan C forward in 2017, agency staff stated that there would be no “Mammal Management Plan” because they were too busy working on endangered species.
To Hoeflinger, pig over population is just one topic of many island wide hunting concerns that were addressed in Plans A and B. On Mauna Kea, sheep have all but been removed and there has been little to no grazing or any other type of fire fuel reduction. The hunting areas are overgrown.
“The mountain is ready to ignite,” lamented Hoeflinger.
For bird hunters, the risk of having their dogs attacked by pig is a big concern. When cover is thick, the danger of coming across concealed pigs is heightened, even though Puu Waawaa porkers don’t appear worried enough about humans to hide from them.
“Yes, indeed, pig attacks can be be bad,” Hoeflinger said, “but I’ve had more than one dog fall into a lava tube it couldn’t see through thick cover. I had to crawl down into a tube once, to pull my dog out. It was so tight, we almost didn’t make it out.”
There wasn’t time to follow up with DLNR-DOFAW staff before press time. More than likely they have their own reasons why certain things happened and why certain things did not. What stands out, regardless of whether there are more sides to this story, is that for more than 17 years, private citizens, concerned stake holders, specialists and common folks have given and given and tried to tried and help. They donated valuable time and resources trying to contribute to a greater quality of life and land, here on the Big Island.
These types of people make a difference in communities. These are contributions to be appreciated. Based on the stories of Mr. Sabati and Mr. Hoeflinger, theirs is not that case.
Wonder what Paul Harvey is going to say…
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