KONA, Hawaii - It was with grand anticipation that we set out in search of a Blue Marlin - perhaps one weighing several hundred pounds. It was not to be, however, as the process was too slow for a six-year-old grumbling for some action. This, despite the fact we had launched out of Kona, off the Big Island of Hawaii, approximately 30 minutes prior. Lukie had no patience for a lengthy search involving one of deep sea fishing's most prized trophies.
Meanwhile, the rest of us salivate over the photos of monster fish on board the Bite Me One, where First Mate Chad seems to know his business. My young grandson does not appear to be particularly impressed by either the fish or the first mate, however.
Brian and Mary Beth have invited us along on a family vacation, an offer we can't refuse. It's our second visit to the islands, last time to Oahu and Maui.
Spending a few days snorkeling, dining out at some fine restaurants and playing a few mean games of Uno with Nick, Megan and Luke is much fun - an event that will keep us in stitches for months.
We learn early on that the Marlin are biting - coinciding with a huge tournament that has attracted sport fishers from all over the world the weekend we are in town. The local newspapers will cover the event to the hilt in an area where records are rigorously kept on a day-to-day basis.
Kona seems the perfect place for fishing of any kind. Mountains shelter the area from the trade winds that can make plying the waters of the Pacific a difficult endeavor elsewhere.
The Blue Marlin record for this year is a monster weighing more than 1,000 pounds. But we will gladly settle for one weighing much less. Eventually, however, dad has to pay a visit to the bridge and explain to the captain that, at this point, everyone would be better off if less impressive fish would happen along.
Acknowledging who is paying the freight, the skipper makes way to a different locale with habitat that is almost certain to bring success, as success is measured by our young anglers.
We soon encounter schools of fish - Ono, Aku (Skipjack Tuna) and Mahi-Mahi. Luke goes bonkers as he hauls in a 14-inch Skipjack, fighting it all the way with a 130 Penn outfit that weighs as much as he does.
It gets even better as a chuckling first mate shouts out exaggerated cries of, "fish, fish!" This time it's a Mahi-Mahi, a two-footer at least, followed by two more that both Luke and Nick help hustle into the boat.
The smaller fish is probably a good call as Chad spins a yarn or two about how dangerous it can be when landing a Marlin. He displays rather proudly a wicked-looking scar across the top of his shoulder where a Marlin speared him, the sharp dagger ending up in his neck. "It popped right back out, but I was hurting," he said.
"It took three hours to get back to shore and get me to a hospital," he recalls. "I was lucky," he says. "There have been others who didn't make it."
The fish are keepers, one of which we bring back to the resort where chefs well-schooled in the preparation of sea food serve up platters of fresh Mahi-Mahi for dinner that evening. Luke could not be more proud.
The trip is a great respite from the hot, humid Wisconsin summer. A highlight is a snorkeling trip by boat to Kealakekua Bay, a sheltered cove guarded by a brilliant coral reef. The aquamarine-colored water brims with brightly-colored tropical fish and an occasional green sea turtle.
But before plunging in, the ship's crew makes the point about coral being an animal, technically speaking, and must not be disturbed under penalty of Hawaiian law.
I am eager to learn more of the native Hawaiian culture, often discovered in conversation with the locals who staff the resorts and operate local businesses. After an early morning walk, I stop to ask the desk clerk about the weasel-like animal that can be seen scurrying about the gardens and roadside foliage.
"That's a mongoose," she says, with a bright, ivory-like smile that characterizes the native Hawaiian population. "They eat rodents and anything else they can find."
"When we were little, our mother used to tell us if didn't brush our teeth, the mongoose would eat us too," she said laughing.
Later on during our stay, we visit Hilo on the other side of the island. In contrast to the east side which is arid and less diverse in its plant and animal communities, the farther west we travel, the more likely we are to encounter a treasure trove of tropical plants and wildlife, including goats, sheep, feral pigs and several species of game birds.
And while Wisconsin has its frequent "Deer Crossing" signs, in Hawaii the warnings read, "Donkey Crossing." I have reservations about a hunting season for donkey.
I get rained out on my morning walk at Hilo, but it's just as well, as I strike up a conversation with Vinel, a local entrepreneur selling coffee and a variety of tasty treats at a kiosk near the hotel. The coffee is good, as are the cookies, the ingredients of which include poi and macadamia nuts.
We somehow get on the topic of hunting, and I soon learn that, like parts of Wisconsin, wild pigs are a nuisance in Hawaii. Vinel explains that pork is a staple and hunting them widespread.
She invites me out to the farm to go pig hunting, but I decline since the luggage capabilities did not extend to camouflage clothing, hunting boots and a shotgun. The next time we come to Hawaii, she insists, "You must come out and go hunting with us."
Why not? As the well-worn joke goes, "Here today, gone to Maui."
- Lee Fahrney is the Monroe Times outdoors writer. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208 or at fiveoaks@mhtc.net.
Meanwhile, the rest of us salivate over the photos of monster fish on board the Bite Me One, where First Mate Chad seems to know his business. My young grandson does not appear to be particularly impressed by either the fish or the first mate, however.
Brian and Mary Beth have invited us along on a family vacation, an offer we can't refuse. It's our second visit to the islands, last time to Oahu and Maui.
Spending a few days snorkeling, dining out at some fine restaurants and playing a few mean games of Uno with Nick, Megan and Luke is much fun - an event that will keep us in stitches for months.
We learn early on that the Marlin are biting - coinciding with a huge tournament that has attracted sport fishers from all over the world the weekend we are in town. The local newspapers will cover the event to the hilt in an area where records are rigorously kept on a day-to-day basis.
Kona seems the perfect place for fishing of any kind. Mountains shelter the area from the trade winds that can make plying the waters of the Pacific a difficult endeavor elsewhere.
The Blue Marlin record for this year is a monster weighing more than 1,000 pounds. But we will gladly settle for one weighing much less. Eventually, however, dad has to pay a visit to the bridge and explain to the captain that, at this point, everyone would be better off if less impressive fish would happen along.
Acknowledging who is paying the freight, the skipper makes way to a different locale with habitat that is almost certain to bring success, as success is measured by our young anglers.
We soon encounter schools of fish - Ono, Aku (Skipjack Tuna) and Mahi-Mahi. Luke goes bonkers as he hauls in a 14-inch Skipjack, fighting it all the way with a 130 Penn outfit that weighs as much as he does.
It gets even better as a chuckling first mate shouts out exaggerated cries of, "fish, fish!" This time it's a Mahi-Mahi, a two-footer at least, followed by two more that both Luke and Nick help hustle into the boat.
The smaller fish is probably a good call as Chad spins a yarn or two about how dangerous it can be when landing a Marlin. He displays rather proudly a wicked-looking scar across the top of his shoulder where a Marlin speared him, the sharp dagger ending up in his neck. "It popped right back out, but I was hurting," he said.
"It took three hours to get back to shore and get me to a hospital," he recalls. "I was lucky," he says. "There have been others who didn't make it."
The fish are keepers, one of which we bring back to the resort where chefs well-schooled in the preparation of sea food serve up platters of fresh Mahi-Mahi for dinner that evening. Luke could not be more proud.
The trip is a great respite from the hot, humid Wisconsin summer. A highlight is a snorkeling trip by boat to Kealakekua Bay, a sheltered cove guarded by a brilliant coral reef. The aquamarine-colored water brims with brightly-colored tropical fish and an occasional green sea turtle.
But before plunging in, the ship's crew makes the point about coral being an animal, technically speaking, and must not be disturbed under penalty of Hawaiian law.
I am eager to learn more of the native Hawaiian culture, often discovered in conversation with the locals who staff the resorts and operate local businesses. After an early morning walk, I stop to ask the desk clerk about the weasel-like animal that can be seen scurrying about the gardens and roadside foliage.
"That's a mongoose," she says, with a bright, ivory-like smile that characterizes the native Hawaiian population. "They eat rodents and anything else they can find."
"When we were little, our mother used to tell us if didn't brush our teeth, the mongoose would eat us too," she said laughing.
Later on during our stay, we visit Hilo on the other side of the island. In contrast to the east side which is arid and less diverse in its plant and animal communities, the farther west we travel, the more likely we are to encounter a treasure trove of tropical plants and wildlife, including goats, sheep, feral pigs and several species of game birds.
And while Wisconsin has its frequent "Deer Crossing" signs, in Hawaii the warnings read, "Donkey Crossing." I have reservations about a hunting season for donkey.
I get rained out on my morning walk at Hilo, but it's just as well, as I strike up a conversation with Vinel, a local entrepreneur selling coffee and a variety of tasty treats at a kiosk near the hotel. The coffee is good, as are the cookies, the ingredients of which include poi and macadamia nuts.
We somehow get on the topic of hunting, and I soon learn that, like parts of Wisconsin, wild pigs are a nuisance in Hawaii. Vinel explains that pork is a staple and hunting them widespread.
She invites me out to the farm to go pig hunting, but I decline since the luggage capabilities did not extend to camouflage clothing, hunting boots and a shotgun. The next time we come to Hawaii, she insists, "You must come out and go hunting with us."
Why not? As the well-worn joke goes, "Here today, gone to Maui."
- Lee Fahrney is the Monroe Times outdoors writer. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208 or at fiveoaks@mhtc.net.
