When I see Uku I see Sashimi

[bluh2o]

The phone rang early one Saturday last September. The winds were light variables, the swell had gone flat and could I go diving? Do Keikis like cookies? Minutes later in the predawn light with the family still snoozing I escaped the house quietly. I wiped some dew off the windshield of my van, Trusty Rusty, threw wetsuits and gear in and pulled out of the driveway. After bouncing down the dirt road to Kahili beach I parked above the sand to wait for Steve, my esteemed and very punctual dive buddy.
Steve’s truck rumbled up moments later with a friend from the South side. Sean was originally from Minnesota. He had done his share of hunting and fishing there and was enjoying similar pursuits on Kauai. It was obvious though that he lacked the common sense to steer clear of a borrowed kayak. Steve had this old kayak that must have been a prototype for the early Scuppers. It sat low in the water and leaked through the hatches if you weren’t careful. I called it the Yellow Submarine.
I yanked my kayak down from the rack, chucked in a couple of unwashed spears, a wet suit (cold and sandy from the last dive), weight belt, etc. etc. and dragged the whole mess across the beach. A golden sun rose out of the ocean into a clear blue sky as I jumped around getting ready. Do to extreme enthusiasm my wetsuit was half way on before I realized it was inside out. I pulled it off and started over. The rest of my gear got shoved down under the back hatch. There was plenty of room for my weight belt, long fins, glove, tag line, anchor, fish bag, a spare spear, bottled water and candy bars. My main spear, a ridiculously huge Riffe Baja harpoon with a breakaway tip and 120 feet of stainless steel cable wrapped onto a reel mounts on top of the front hatch under straps that prevent it from washing overboard.
Looking like a clumsy sea turtle I scooted the kayak down the sloping sand into the first wave. Steve paddled out next and we waited for Sean. In ankle deep water he sat down unsteadily on top of his little plastic boat and gingerly took a couple of strokes into the first wave. You know the word huli? Sean went huli. A few minutes later, dripping wet, he made it off shore. After his dunking he rearranged his gear and we began paddling out to the northeast over calm water.
Along the North coast of Kauai beyond the reef is a ledge that runs parallel to the shoreline. The ledge starts sixty to seventy feet below the surface and drops to one hundred feet or more. We headed out of Kahili bay over to Pilaa where the ledge and the point actually met. It was an area that put schools of reef fish into the proximity of bigger fish’s habitat.
Our boats made a rippling line across the glassy blue water. Smoke was rising vertically from a fish camp on shore. We tried paddling ahead of a pod of spinner Dolphins and failed. Further off shore I stopped periodically and looked over the side with my mask. I was looking for the drop-off. That and it was fun to look down at any opportunity. Eventually after bobbing under a few more times I saw the ledge beneath my dangling legs. The visibility was good, not “Big Island” good, but seventy feet or more. We stopped and prepared to dive in slightly different areas. I find my spot by dead reckoning. I paddle around on a featureless expanse of water until it feels right and drop anchor. Steve uses two or more points on shore, trees or ridge tops, and triangulates imaginary lines out into the water. Needless to say his method gets him to the same underwater coordinates two times in a row. The accuracy of my method is prone to fate and luck, which is after all what fishing usually comes down to.
It takes ten dives or so before it feels comfortable lying on the bottom. I push my body down past the level of bouancy and then spiral into the depths in a glide until I land on the bottom. On the way down the water gets more clear and the quality of the noise changes. The gurgling at the surface disappears as all the bubbles float away and deep-water noises come through. Different fish and lobster make thumps and clicks while somewhere far off whales or dolphins emit squeaks and moans. On the bottom hanging off the ledge you can see deep into the distance. You get a magnified sense that anything could happen.
I lay flat on the ledge as still as any other ambush predator. In the clear liquid world around me I watch bizarre little jellyfish things drift by. Their shapes resemble corkscrews, wavy ribbons, or rectilinear pumps with lights flashing up and down them. I spend my time sightseeing because if you just sit there and hope for a great fish to swim by it never seems to happen. I looked over the ledge at a clown colored Butterfly fish circling a kinky strand of black coral and my peripheral vision picked up movement. I turned my eyes slowly and saw a very curious Uku (Grey Snapper) cruising the ledge and coming toward me. The frown on his face and his big jaw set came into focus. As he passed I could tell he was old. He seemed old because of what he lacked. The fins weren’t perfectly shaped and new looking, they were notched. The scales weren’t perfect and shiny they were mottled. He wasn’t darting around and nervous, he was in no hurry. He passed by me out of range and I surface slowly.
When I see Uku I see Sashimi. It’s easy to become optimistic upon sighting them. They have the great tendency of sticking around underneath you while you catch your breath and return for another chance at a shot. I rested a few seconds and dropped back to the bottom. The fish’s curiosity got the better of him and he swam right back up to me. Because of my ridiculous harpoon of a speargun I had to back up to take the shot. Boom! He took off into deep water and I headed for the top. By the time I reached the surface the cable had spooled off the reel. I rolled into the kayak and savored the time it took to reel him in. We never weighed him but he felt like about thirty-five pounds. We Sushi’d, Sashimi’d, and grilled Uku for a couple days.
I paddled over to Steve and Sean to gloat briefly and then jumped back into the water to goof around. I watched them dive and inspected a few holes for lobster. I dove as far over the ledge as I could go and took aim at imaginary Marlins or Ono. Sean and I sat in the kayaks and ate the candy bars I brought while Steve did what he usually does when I spear the first fish. He dove and dove and dove some more trying to get himself one. He may be more obsessed than I am.
On the way back to Kahili Steve left Sean and I and set off to one of his secret spots for one last chance at a fish. It was going to take half the day for Sean to get Yellow Submarine back to shore so I threw him a line and helped by towing a little. He never did sink but I did. On the crest of each swell the line between us would pull tight and give me a little jerk. Each jerk washed a little water into the back hatch. Everything seemed fine until at one point I leaned back to yell something to Sean. All the water rushed to the stern and I went completely under. Some air trapped somewhere inside the boat stopped it from heading straight for the bottom. I jumped off the offending vessel and bailed it out. Steve rode a wave into the beach about the same time we got back to shore. Between the three of us we had but one fish. However, since we had put terrestrial life aside and roamed in the big blue pond for a time we were happy.

[blaiz]

Awesome story. 35lbs or so? We call those U-Boats!

I miss kauai a lot. i grew up on the south side and dove around there since I was 10 yrs old. I live on Maui now but go back to see my brother and mom and friends from time to time.

Great read, keep um comming!

[blueface]

Dude that's 6 pounds over the state record in according to Hawaii Skin Diver! Awesome catch! i would be happy with a 20 pounder. I know there are some monster uku over there because my friends get some big ones. Here in Guam they are small. Did you guys get a picture?

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