"If I catch any fish, do you want them, " I asked, "we're up at the hotel."
"Sure, I take," this with a disbelieving giggle and grins shared with the two tattered boys I later learned were her brothers. She knew the fat, old haole wasn't going to catch anything.
Seven papio of at least four different species , a cigarfish and a couple of dozen assorted butterfly and a half dozen other reef fish I couldn't name later, the young lady and I were fast friends. I'd catch a fish. She'd come over with her bucket. I'd offer it. She'd gravely accept, and then retreat to berate her brothers for letting the "big haole" catch all the fish.
After the first thirty minutes she had moved to my end of the rickety pier. I shared light line and tiny jigs. She started to catch fish too. By the time her father arrived, the kids had most of a five gallon bucket filled with fish. Dad was impressed enough to share his bento - the budget Japanese boxed meal that's a nice alternative to plate lunches.
Since it was our last day in the islands, I filled my new friends' coffee can tackle "boxes" with an assortment of light line, small jigs and tiny plastic skirts that I'd not need at home until ice fishing season.
"Malanie," I said, "I used to live in the islands. I may look like a haole, but I'm not." With that I offered her a signed copy of my book Live Bait Tactics.
"I knew you couldn't be a haole when you caught fish. Haoles can't catch fish," she noted as she gave me a hug and a shell bracelet "for remember."
Well, haoles can catch fish even though most do not. Share a beach, bank or breakwater and you meet friendly locals anxious to share their skills and, often, their lunch. So why do most visitors only fish off charter boats that can cost hundreds of dollars a day for elusive billfish when, according to the Division of Aquatic Resource experts, it takes ten or eleven trips to hook and boat one Pacific Blue Marlin or a massive tuna? Only reason I can suggest is most visitors just don't know what they
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