October has never been known as a busy month around here, but right now you can swing a cat up and down the docks in Honokohau and no one is there to tell you to bugger off. There’s room galore and plenty of feral cats to swing, but that’s not what that old saying refers to. Back in 1771, the originator was in a tent too cramped to swing a cat of nine tails. That’s not a problem in Honokohau these days.
Most of the captains and crews have jetted off to Cabo for their tournament season, which conveniently starts when ours is just over. With not many folks here going out, fishing stories are few and far between. Truth be told though, even COVID can’t stop Kona from being Kona, so there is always a story somewhere along the coast, if you poke around enough.
A cruise through town on Alii Drive turned up little, just more quiet empty space and a smorgasbord of human alley cats prowling around. Further along the joggers offered up some normalcy and then the beaches dazzled and were a little more lively. It was at Keauhou Bay, however, where classic Kona style action was found.
People were scattered up and down the docks, and most were fishing with “hand poles” which are just a modern version of an old fashioned cane pole. When a pole bent over and the tip went to dancing, the owner would respond by simply lifting the rod tip high, and then deftly swing a fish into his hand. The simplicity of this style of fishing lent a timeless element to the scene.
They were catching halalu, which are juvenile to adolescent life stage aukle, a type of scad. It is common across the Pacific for Polynesians to have completely different names for various sizes of the same species of fish.
That’s the way it has been forever and this style of fishing has been around almost forever, as well. Watching grown adults catch finger sized fish and smile like they had won a lottery made it easy to step back into a simpler era, and forget the challenges of today.
Not everyone was catching, but those who did appeared as ecstatic as someone who had just won a tournament with a grander marlin. One man in particular displayed a wide Cheshire Cat grin when he turned to drop halalu into his bucket. Ironically, this man knows very well the ex-citement big game fishing, yet here was master trolling lure maker, Eric Koyanagi, having a ball catching minnows. This is like stumbling upon Satchmo beat boxing on a street corner with the hep cats of the 40s.
“I go fish Keauhou Bay for therapy,” said Eric, “The halalu aren’t here forever, you know. They’ve been here a month or so now, and I’ve been coming down since they first came in. We have a group of four friends, and even though the fish usually only bite early and late, sometimes we stay all day, just talking story.”
Surprisingly, Eric explained that beneath the idyllic imagery laid a slightly troublesome, yet still humorous side. “Some of these folks get here at 1:00 in the morning and mark their spot with buckets. Then people come later and try move in on other folks spot. They tangle up lines and other dumb stuff but those lolo who try move in on me or tangle my line I just tell em, “I hope you can swim, braddah, cuz you going in if you mess up my fishing!”
After a good laugh, Eric continued “It’s still a good break for me. It’s a circus, but it’s still fun. But just cuz you grab a spot early doesn’t mean that is where they will bite. The fish don’t even bite til the sun starts to rise. The fish have tails, so they swim around. Sharks and ulua bust them up too, keeping them on the move. I don’t camp out for one spot, I try watch what the fish are doing from day to day.”
It appeared that the fish Eric caught were a little bigger than the other guys. “I like to fish by jigging. I think that turns up bigger ones. The guys who fish with cut bait seem to catch mostly small ones, but you never know.”
Eric markets trolling lures under the Koya brand, and he sells them all over the world. Authentic, handmade — old school — trolling lures from Kona are a hot commodity now, and Koya lures are in big demand.
Owning your own business is never easy, but managing success can be as much about man-aging stress, as it is product. This is one reason why Eric has returned to fishing for halalu — to take time away from making lures.
“This run is the first one I’ve come down for in more than twelve years.” Eric laughed, “I dug my poles out from under the house, all covered in dust. I had to start getting out of the shop. I pour, pop, polish and package every single lure myself. Except for skirted lures, it’s just me.”
When it’s time for Eric to go back to work, he often pours all the fish he caught out of his buck-et into another bucket. He may not even know who owns that bucket. He chooses those who didn’t crowd or act kolohe. Then he smiles at the guy looking up in disbelief, and heads on home.
“I grew up here, and have been fishing akule since small kid days. Honokohau was best for Akule, back when the docks floated on fifty gallon barrels. It’s been good, getting back into it. Sometimes I deep fry the fish, but more often I give them away.”
Underneath this idyllic scene at Keauhou Bay is what Koyanagi calls a circus, but as you would hope from an image out of the past, he adds some aloha. Hopefully, the lolo don’t leave more fishy mess behind than the cats can clean up.
“Those buggahs, they need to clean up better! They gotta, or the boats that tie up on those docks going to complain and then nobody can. If that happens, like I said, I hope they can swim!”
