On the Fourth of July, I decided to see if I could snorkel to the Mokes and back from Lanikai Beach. It turns out I could, but there were a few things that stopped me when I first set out.
Several yards off the beach and beneath the emerald water, I swam across some unnecessary items. A yard of fishing line and a hook had wrapped itself around an animal (a colony of animals, actually: coral), and a soda can and fishing weight were decorating the bottom. I unwound the line, retrieved the bottom trash, and headed back to the beach. I couldn’t leave that stuff in the ocean just because I wanted to snorkel light.
To me, anything found in our world common areas is our common responsibility. Lanikai has no trash cans along the beach, and several City cans that were located at the beach accesses were just recently removed. It turns out many of those beach accesses are private property, and so the City does not serve them. At the access I use the most—Kuilima Street—a woman has placed a container to collect recyclables. I hope she’s making a killing, because having something there is a big help!
Anyhow, I really, really wanted to get back in the water and take care of the trash, so I took what I’d found to a couple of women sunning themselves on the beach. I was making the assumption that all women cared about these things naturally. The three of us would surely bond over making life more beautiful.
“Hey, guys. Sorry to interrupt. I’m going back in, but I found this trash out there. If you leave before I do, would you mind taking care of it?”
It was clear to me that the women didn’t want to help, but I left the trash with them anyway. I can get a little righteous about litter, and I wasn’t interested in flipping down the beach in my prescription dive mask, getting “Seat’s taken” all afternoon.
I slipped back into the water and happily encountered eight—count ‘em, eight!—sea turtles while making my way toward the islands. Six of them were cruising solo, but at one point I saw two together.
I finally hauled out like an endangered Hawaiian monk seal on Moku Nui—the island on the left when you look from Lanikai. Moku Nui is Hawaiian for “Large Island,” and it is the only one people can legally land on.
I lay on the sand, listening to all the people on holiday and feeling quite pleased with myself. I hoped I’d see some healthy chicks on the island, too! (Wedge-tailed shearwater chicks, that is!) Moku Nui and her twin, Moku Iki, are part of the Hawaii State Seabird Sanctuary. For that reason, dogs are not allowed on the Mokes.
After a bit more rest and appreciation, I asked someone for directions back to Lanikai. No, really; I did! The wraparound waves from the ocean side create a dynamic that can be tricky to navigate, and I wanted to save my energy for the swim itself.
A quarter of the way back, I encountered an entire fishing pole lying on the bottom. It’s funny when you run into man-made objects underwater: you know something different is going on, but you can’t tell what until you put more pieces together, or it somehow reveals itself. When I first saw the pole, my mind made it into all sorts of things it wasn’t.
I fished the pole from the bottom and swam with it awkwardly for awhile, trying to keep it from bumping any coral. I had just taken a tour of UH’s Hawaii Institute of Marine Biology on Coconut Island, where Outreach Education Specialist Mark Heckman had explained the results of their recent research on coral sensitivity: when a person steps on coral, it feels to the coral as if someone is pressing on you till your bones pop through your skin! That’s gotta suck.
Soon, I became aware of a buzzing sound approaching. I went vertical and stuck my head out to locate the boat. I waved my arm and yelled, “Hey!”
As the men circled back, I grinned and hauled my catch out of the water.
“You found my pole!” one of the watermen exclaimed.
Another inclined his head portside. “Trow it in da boat!”
I tried, but my dolphin tail-walk from childhood failed me, so the man reached out and took the pole, nodded, and smiled. And they all buzzed away.
“Woo hoo! Thank you so much!” I yelled after them, and dove in again. It doesn’t take much working together to float my boat.
Speaking of, Kailua411 producer and wave reader Ray Parenteau recently assisted a Kailua fisherman in removing an accidental hook from a sea turtle’s mouth. The honu also had fishing line wrapped around its front flippers—until the men intervened. Fabulous work, Ray and friend! The honu . . . thanks you. ;)
So, once I made land again on Lanikai, I stood and bowed dramatically to the general beach assembly. I had emerged victorious! I had not used sunscreen, however, and that was a stupid move. I did know better and . . . now I know even better than that! I should have bought stock in Aloe that month.
I could not move that evening or many days after without wincing: most of my skin reddened, charred, tightened, and eventually peeled off about five layers. I apologized to myself profusely, and I was honestly relieved when there turned out to be more and healthy skin beneath the barbeque.
Well, Dear Readers, I look forward to sharing more deep thoughts from our Kailua waters next month.
Until then, enjoy your world!
The above column was originally posted in November of 2012, in the online newsletter kailua411.org. It was reprinted here with permission from the publisher. The newsletter is no longer online.