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Daydreaming of Kona

Day 3, Tuesday
Monday night my wife, Sierra Mahin, and my Oahu dive buddy, Mike Belatti flew in. I had booked the four of us on a charter with Tad Shimabukuro and we met him at Honokohau for an earl 5:30 AM start.

Day 2, Monday
After a leisurely morning (hey, we were on vacation), we got a late start out of Honokohau with Mark on his boat. We decided to do something out of the ordinary and head straight offshore. We chased current lines and birds for several hours without finding anything interesting, so we headed over to F buoy. When we pulled up, there wasn't a boat in sight, and we could clearly see mahis swimming up to our palu.

It is 6:35 AM on Friday morning, my first day back to work, and I am sitting at my desk. I've got a huge backload of work to get through, but my mind isn't on it. Instead, I'm...

photos by Mark Barville, Tad Shimabukuro, and David McIntire

The idea for a bluewater trip to Kona started with a marlin encounter. While diving off of the buoys on the north shore of Maui, my dad, David McIntire, had a marlin hit a tuna that he had speared. It tangled in his shooting line, made two jumps, and took a short run before breaking his line. Needless to say, we were pumped to get back into the blue. However, it was the middle of summer, and the incessantly blustery tradewinds made for a long, rough, and very wet trip on our 17-foot center console boat. We talked about making a reconnaissance trip to Kona, where we hoped to get into some flat water and lay the groundwork for future bluewater trips. Everything finally came together at the end of September, 2004.

Day 1, Sunday
David and I had arrived the day before and had spent the afternoon unpacking gear, rigging guns, and getting drinks and food. This is one of my favorite parts of any spearfishing trip, simply because there is so much anticipaiton about the coming adventure. Sunday morning the sky was clear, and the ocean looked like a lake from the shore to the horizon. Yes! Flat water at last!

Our plan for the day was to do some live baiting on the Grounds, the fabled marlin fishing area north of Kona, and then see if we could get in any bluewater action. When we arrived, there were already twenty huge charter boats circling the area. It took us awhile, but we finally were able to catch two small aku, bridle them, and send them out as live bait. We happened to be looking at the rubber band at the right time and saw it tug, then stretch, and finally break. We had a marlin on! The fight was short but intense, and we were all impressed with the strength and power of the fish.

After we had secured the marlin, we went bird watching, trying to find the tuna schools and position in front of them so that we could jump in. Over and over, we would position in front of the school, jump in, and drop our palu, only to have the school sound or change direction. The only fish that were seen were off in the distance, feeding on the surface. Nontheless, it felt good to get into the clear, deep blue water.

I was the first in the water and was greeted by the sight of two mahis lazily eating our palu. The water was so calm and warm, that I floated watching them, not wanting to take the shot too soon and disrupt the scenery. David got in and did the same until the mahis swam off. I happened to be down when they returned, swimming up behind David, and watched as he turned and dove on the shallower of the two. Lining up on where I thought the deeper mahi would end up, I waited and then shot the second fish the instant he pulled his trigger. I felt blessed that I could share this experience with my father, the two of us, floating side by side in the perfectly calm, warm, clear water, each with a glittering mahi on the end of our line.

Tad put the pedal to the metal in an effort to get to the buoys before the crowds showed up, and in no time we were at a vacant VV buoy. Mike and Sierra got in, and Mike shot an ono right on the chain. As he described it, "Everything looked different in the early morning light. The water was black, instead of the usual blue, and all of the bait in the water looked like it had been highlighted with silver. The ono was the same: black with a silver lining around it." Mike's shot passed clean through the fish, which proceeded to pull his floater under. Unfortunately, it pulled off, even though the shot was well placed (most likely due to the thin mono cutting through).

We passed on C buoy, which was sporting divers and flags, as well as UU buoy, which was covered with boats baiting. B buoy was deserted, and when we pulled up, the water was so calm that you could see the dorsal fin of a mahi sticking out of the water, making a perfect V wake as the fish cruised by. The same conditions were found at TT buoy, where Tad and I played air traffic controller to the divers in the water, trying to direct them to the ono that was also leaving a V wake as it circled around the boat.

In the mean time, Tad got the scoop on C buoy. The divers there reported that there were really big mahi around, but that they couldn't get close enough for a shot. We stopped on the way back, and Mike and I got in. After cruising around for awhile, I finally saw the school in the distance, but they simply ghosted off into the blue. The normal tricks just wouldn't work with these fish, so I decided to do the exact opposite of good bluewater technique: run them down. Mike followed suit, although he laughed to himself about my "stealthy" approach.

We were swimming at a full sprint for about 30 minutes before either of us closed the gap. We would occasionally stick our heads out of the water to spot the other diver, so that we could position ourselves such that we could pinch the school between us. As luck would have it, I was the first to get close enough. The largest bull was right at the surface, and I took a long shot with my four-band Wong Ono gun. The spear just penetrated enough to toggle the slip-tip. Knowing that the shot was long, I had aimed at the head, just under the surface, but hit the fish low and back. I let the floater run, since I was afraid the fish would pull off with too much pressure.

When I finally got to the floater, the bull headed straight for the buoy chain. I had no choice but to put the brakes on, swimming hard in the opposite direction. Twice, when I stopped kicking, he pulled me under. Mike swam up and pointed down, and I nodded a vigorous yes. He kicked down and put a perfect shot into the head of the bull. I handed the reins over, and Mike pulled him up while I caught my breath.

Back at the harbor, the bull weighed in at 50.5 pounds. Since we didn't have a cooler, we wrapped the fish in plastic and towels and stuffed him into the trunk of our rental. It was like a scene out of a mafia movie! We then drove up to Mark's house where we filleted and bagged it.

Day 4, Wednesday
After a long day of diving the day before, we took it easy and got up a little late. Mike and I packed up and headed off in search of some shore diving. We were hoping to dive some of the drop offs, so we headed north towards OTEC. Unfortunately, there was too much swell running for us to feel comfortable with playing `a`ama crab on the rocks. We ended up hiking south of Honokohau Harbor and riding the current back to the sand beach. The bottom dropped off into the blue, and we drifted along it without seeing anything of interest. There were lots of uhus and other reef fish inside, but we left them alone.

When we got back to the car, I realized that the keys were locked inside. A friendly lady at the scale house store lent me her cell phone, so that I could call the rental car company's roadside assistance center, which as it turns out is located in Salt Lake City. For the life of me, I couldn't get them to understand "Honokohau." Only in Hawaii! The local office informed me that I would have to pay for a new key and a taxi to bring it to me. An hour and a half later, the taxi shows up with a key that won't work. By then, I was steamed, but the taxi driver pulled out a break-in kit, and in thirty seconds, he was in my car. I happily gave him a big tip and we were on our way.

For now, it's back to the rough and rowdy north shore of Maui, but until next time, I'll be daydreaming of Kona and warm, flat, blue water.

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