Fishing the Ala Wai in the olden days

I was never a fisherman anywhere, not like guys who are seriously into it. But there are plenty of folks who experienced fishing all over, including the Ala Wai Canal back in the days when it was much less polluted.

This morning, I came across a great blog at Kaulapi World about one man's childhood memories of fishing at the Ala Wai with his father. It's been only one generation since the cementing of the Ala Wai Watershed, but practically all has been lost in such a short period of time. Gone are the taro fields, duck ponds — the breadbasket of Oahu just a century ago — leaving us with remnants of what used to be.

My memories of fishing there are limited to occasional crabbing with Pack 333 (Cub Scouts) and watching the occasional fisherman hook up along the water, usually near McCully bridge. The crabbing was more exciting, of course, thanks to the humongous Samoan crabs. I don't know if the crabs were really from Samoa. They had big old pinchers, though, and they loved going after those aku heads everybody used as bait.

Tossing the crab nets, a circular metal frame holding a weave of rope similar to a basketball net, was probably the most fun for me. Not that I was good at it. But even back then, in the mid-1970s, I was aware of the toxins and poisons in the waters. A summer science class at UH, one for fifth graders, was all I needed. Will Kyselka led us on a tour up the Ala Wai and up Manoa-Palolo Stream, taking samples of the water along the way. All of the water was later measured for lead content. It wasn't a happy result, but it wasn't entirely shocking, either.

One day, probably, the entire watershed will be restored by Mother Nature. We probably won't be around to see foliage and vegetation run amok around and through all our man-made structures. Until then, all there is within the area are obnoxious motorists blasting their engines and all the dysfunctional symptoms that come with an overpopulated place. 

Crossroads

I find it puzzling, but not worrisome, that I have almost zero interest in the NBA playoffs this year. In fact, I haven't cared much about the NBA since fantasy season ended. Kudos to my brother, Kimo, who won our Larry Bird Association championship. (I came in third or fourth.)

I also had minimal interest in March Madness for the first time in maybe three decades. What's happening to me? Not sure.

I find myself obsessed with material about our neighborhoods and cities, our communities and islands, our environment and development. We are connected to our homes, however you define 'home', whether we acknowledge this or not. So this is not a sad change for me, at age 43. I'm leaving behind some old interests and pastimes, I guess, but have a new passion for things that have always meant something to me. Walking to school every day (except when I rode TheBus), it's impossible to not notice the trees, streams, concrete congestion of urban Honolulu. My favorite was walking over the Date Street bridge to Kaimuki High School.

During the early 1980s, bouganvilla (sp) bushes grew tall and wide and lush. Brilliant hues of goldenrod and violet and peach and white, from one side of the Manoa-Palolo Stream to the other. Along with expansive branches of trees on both sides of the stream, it was a place to stop for a minute and just admire nature.

One day, the bouganvillas and trees were gone. The stream was barren of covering and shade. Bare stumps and dirt remained on each side of the stream. It was sad.

I remember a few years after that, walking up the road from our new residence (also in town), a beautiful old tree had been chopped down. All that was left was a massive stump, surrounded by fast-food restaurant concrete, a gas station... it was shocking. I never forgot it. I suppose, looking back, I came to accept living in a land of concrete. I suppose a part of me hated it. That may be why I enjoyed living on the Big Island for eight years.

Well, the point I was going to make is this: the Ala Wai Watershed was a bountiful place of harvest for the island of O'ahu for generations until most of it was filled in by the Dillingham Corp. and turned into Waikiki, McCully and Mo'ili'ili as we know them now. But there's still lots of "open" space at Ala Wai, even a lush public garden next to my old school, Ala Wai Elementary, that's been there for almost 30 years now. Everything that grows there is gloriously green.

Ala Wai will return to its original state one day, perhaps a thousand years from now. Ten thousand years. That's what it was created to do: produce a watershed that sustains life. I'd like to see that happen in just a tiny increment. Lord knows we have enough concrete. If that means clean-ups, redesign, community projects and innovation, I'm all for it. Takes many hands to bring out the potential of the land.

Of coral reefs and blind mullet

One of the best things about growing up in the Mo'ili'ili/University area was access to some unique things. One of them was the UH Lab School's summer science program that Mrs. (Thelma) Odo enrolled me in as a fifth grader. Though the program was not part of Ala Wai Elementary School, she signed me up and off I went for three weeks or so.

UH Lab School seemed far away for a kid whose entire world covered a range of three or four blocks on Kapiolani Blvd. and University Ave. But it was only a 15-minute walk, really. Though I skipped the first couple of days in favor of Ala Wai Summer Fun with my friends, my mom got on my case and I went to the science program.

It was a great experience. Will Kyselka, the University of Hawaii professor, was one of the instructors. Imagine that. A sage old guy dealing with 10-year-olds! He was cool. We went on field trips almost every day, including one to the UH quarry, known in the old days as Kamoiliili quarry. Though campus construction had obliterated much of it, there was still much to be seen in 1976. Kyselka showed us coral reef remnants and blew our minds. The quarry is a few miles from the sea, and there's a 60-foot (or so) drop from the upper-campus surface to the lower campus where we stood.

My interest in the geologic formations of Mo'ili'ili has never waned. Folks in the area know about the blind mullets under the busy traffic intersections of King and University. Leah Colucci is a cave explorer who has preserved images and observations on a site called ExploreBiodiversity.com.

The historical background of the caves ties into the Ala Wai Watershed, which ties into the enormous fields of taro and rice that existed there in the early 20th century. The eviction of those highly successful Hawaiian and Chinese farmers from the land is another story I want to dig into eventually.

It also ties into the reason why that filthy little ditch next to Isenberg Street was (still is?) called "Duck Pond."

Mrs. Odo, the one who signed me up for the science program, once laid out an old map of the community and explained what used to be here and there before Chunky's Drive-In and The Willows. I don't remember most of it, but I remember the feeling of amazement. Growing up on concrete leaves little to the imagination. It's only after hanging out in some of the area's remaining areas that still have foliage — like Ala Wai and Manoa-Palolo stream — that it seems possible that this was once a thriving agricultural haven.