Kela a me Keia (This and That)

 

When I joined the Honolulu Fire Department in 1972, my first assignment was Engine 13 in Kahuku. The fire station was a three-bedroom plantation house just across Kamehameha Highway from the sugar mill. Except for a few of us new guys, most of the fire fighters there were long-time windward residents who had been in the department for many years.

 

One of those veteran fire fighters was Makahiwa Lua, a Hawaiian from La’ie who was an avid fisherman. Lua, who passed away in 1986 at the age of 68, loved to thrownet, and for many years he walked all the shallow reefs from La’ie Malo’o, the south end of La’ie, to La’ieikawai, the north end. He knew the Hawaiian names of all of his favorite spots, and I spent many hours talking story with him as he recalled colorful names such as Puehuehu, ‘Onini, Kaunala, Pu’u’ahi, and Luaawa.

 

 One of Lua’s favorite times of the year was when the ‘anae holo, the famous “traveling mullet”, made their annual migration from Pu’uloa (Pearl Harbor) to La’ie and beyond. During the winter, the mullet schooled in Pu’uloa, then headed out into the open ocean by the thousands, traveling east past Honolulu and Waikiki. Following the shoreline to Makapu’u Point, they turned north and hugged the windward coast all the way to La’ie.

 

“When we heard the mullet were coming,” Lua recalled in 1973, “We would get our thrownets and find somebody with a car. Then we’d drive towards Hau’ula and drop guys off on the beaches along the way. When the mullet came by, everyone was spread out, so they would get a good chance to throw and pick up a lot of fish.”

 

Makahiwa Lua and his friends from La’ie were part of a fishing tradition that was repeated by thrownet fishermen at every place the ‘anae holo passed. As a high school surfer at Diamond Head in the 1960s, I remember the ‘anae holo well. When they came through Ka’alawai, the shoreline community at the base of the mountain, they flooded the channels in the reefs by the thousands, swimming under and around us surfers as fast as they could go. And thrownet fishermen from all over Honolulu would be waiting on the shallow reefs inshore as the fish raced by. But I didn’t know until I talked to Lua and other fishermen many years later that the ‘anae holo were actually migrating around the island.

 

Several years ago I found an article on the ‘anae holo in the April 30, 1925 edition of the Hawaiian language newspaper Ka Nupepa Ku’oko’a. It was written by John Mokumaia, a fisherman from Moanalua. The following are excerpts from the article:

 

“[When the anaeholo appear at Kaihupala’ai in Pu’uloa], they are also seen in ‘Ewa and at Kumumau’u [Hickam Harbor today]. Then they are seen at He’u in the bay at Kalihi, and at Ke’ehi and Moanalua. When the ‘anaeholo move outside of the lagoon, they stop at Waikiki where the experts mentioned in earlier issues [of the newspaper] will catch them, and if they get away, then they stop at Maunalua. [They also follow the Koolau coast and stop at Kailua close to Oneawa and at Kahana.]

 

[This fish is called the anaepali in the ‘Ewa District], and ‘Ewa was famous for them in those days. Ke’ehi which is close to Moanalua was famous for them [too]. When the whales moved in [during the winter months], these fish were seen in the markets.”

 

Mokumaia concluded his article with this comment:

 

“And by observing these fish, it was evident that all the shores were blessed and my own eyes have seen this and I did these things commercially. By observing these three kinds of fish [anaeholo, anaepali, and akule], oh reader, you can see how it was back in those days.”

 

When the ‘anae holo circled the island, they also ran down the west side of O’ahu. Long-time Wai’anae fisherman Carl Jellings recalled trying to catch a school with a surround-net as they headed east from Poka’i Bay toward Kahe Point.

 

“In 1976, I was privileged and blessed to have surrounded a huge school of ‘anae at Kahe. The school was first spotted at Poka’i, moving swiftly along the coast toward Nanakuli. By the time we were ready, they had already passed Nanakuli. In order to catch them, we needed to prepare a mile ahead of them. After I surrounded them with twenty foot, 3-inch eye mesh, 18-pound test, the nets sank quickly. These fish were the smartest I had ever seen. The few that sacrificed themselves were caught, but the rest leaped over the nets. You could see tons and tons of them going over the floats. It was simply amazing!

  

“It was told to me that [in the old days], Hawaiian canoes lined the shores of Makua, awaiting the arrival of the ‘anae. A spotter atop Mount Laeau would yell out and signal their arrival, and schools and schools of mullet would pass through, completing their circle of the entire island of O’ahu. Thus, the name Wai‘anae or “mullet waters”.”

 

While pole and net fishermen still catch mullet around O’ahu, the migrating schools of ‘anae holo seem to be a thing of the past. Carl Jellings offered his thoughts on why this is so.

 

“I was the last Hawaiian to have seen this and to have been blessed to surround a huge school of migrating ‘anae off the Wai’anae Coast in 1976 off Kahe. Where did they go and what happened to them? One can only speculate, but many of Oahu"s  shallow inland estuaries are gone, filled in and developed. Remember Wailupe? That peninsula is man-made. Channel after channel was dredged through the reefs of Pearl Harbor, Ke’ehi Lagoon, Honolulu Harbor, Kewalo Basin, and Kalia in Waikiki with the Ala Wai Canal. These were the historic Spawning Trails that the ‘anae used for century after century, but now they are cut and too deep. Fresh water for agriculture was diverted from the streams that flowed into the estuaries, and tilapia were introduced. One can only speculate what happened, but for hundreds of years Hawaiians awaited the arrival of the ‘anae at Makua,.Poka’i ,Kane’ohe, Maunalua, ‘Ewa, and Sand Island. We can  simply say what is easiest: they have  been overfished, but I will have to disagree. Pretty sad.” 

 

Long-time fisherman Roy Morioka also had memories of the ‘anae holo and some thoughts on what happened to them.

 

“I have a view that overlays Carl's assessment of the loss of habitat. Not only did onshore development and the loss of freshwater springs bubbling nearshore contribute, but the introduction of the tilapia displaced all the ‘anae spots I knew as a kid. Ala Wai was choke with mullet where guys used to throw starhooks with a broom stick with a wire-hanger-loop on the end. The guys would toss the hook out and strip line as fast as they could to snag the ‘anae, and they caught fish! 

 

“I was privileged to be allowed to use one of Mr. Kanemoto's chairs adjacent to the Ala Wai Golf Course when he wasn't using it to catch mullet, using the 20-foot poles and fishing 1" off the bottom. In fact, I just found my old sounding lead a couple of days ago and that brought back fond memories.  This is what fishing is all about!  Good times and lasting memories of times shared with special people and places.

 

“I remember, too, when my dad would take my mom and I to Diamond Head lookout with our dinner, to watch the ulua when the ‘anae holo occurred! It was an awesome sight, watching the black ulua rip through the piles of ‘anae migrating just off the reef. You could see the attacks in the faces of the waves, but alas, no more.”

 

Roy Morioka offered these final thoughts.

 

“I guess when the freshwater was restored at Waikane and Waiahole the mullet prospered again in Kane’ohe Bay.  Many fishermen spoke about a great mullet year 2007 was.”

 

That’s good news for all of us. As more people work to reverse the adverse impacts of development and urbanization, perhaps the schools of ‘anae holo will run again.