2000fish's Blog – Steve Wozniak's hunt for fish species

DATELINE: FEBRUARY 15, 2024 – KONA, HAWAII

It’s unsettling to be gently urged to leave the house for Valentine’s Day, unless you’re in the middle of a divorce, which we aren’t. And yet, this past February, I found myself in the delicate position of being encouraged to not be home on February 14. Marta had a massive work event that would take up her whole week, and so I might see her for just a few minutes on the actual holiday. However unromantic of her this might be, it is possible she might actually want to get some sleep instead of picking through the annual Whitman’s sampler and stealing all the almond crunch.

There was a precedent, from many years ago, in the pre-Marta era she likes to call “The dark ages, when literacy was almost lost.” Due to bad planning and an unethical distributor in China, I spent Valentine’s Day on a work mission in Beijing with old friend Nic Ware. We ate at Outback Steakhouse, and despite the suspicions of the staff, we did not exchange gifts, so there was no Whitman’s sampler to guard.

Steve and Nic wander Beijing, circa 2001.

There being no Outback in Kona, I felt reluctant to leave home, but Marta has been at this for 20 years and knows how to make me do things I don’t want to. With characteristic brilliance, she pointed out that February was spearfish season, and she offered to pay for the trip. Being a kind and giving partner, I reluctantly agreed. And so, with what I had to pretend was moderate sadness, I was off for Kona.

Kona has been a gift that has kept on giving for almost 20 years. Mostly in cahoots with Captains Dale and Jack Leverone on the Sea Strike, I have added over 100 species and dozens of world records in this beautiful location. As the years have gone by, I have been forced to ignore the law of diminishing returns, but there always seems to be something new to catch.

Foremost among these is the spearfish, also known by its scientific name, the #$%^ing spearfish. This is a trolling game, and by my math, every day I spend trolling for them is another day closer to catching one. I got on the phone with Jack, and he set me up for two days on the boat, mostly trolling but with some bottom fishing mixed in.

I stayed at the Marriott, which is just a few minutes walk from the Kona pier, which is always productive. It’s a great location – a comfortable pier on an island where most shore fishing is accessed over slippery rocks. It has a variety of habitats available – sand, rubble, coral reef, and undercut pier. Without Marta there to insist on nice dinners and cultural stuff, which of course made me sad, I would be forced to spend all of my non-boat time on the pier. Darn.

This is where my judgement went a bit sideways. Normally, one of the best things about Kona is that Honolulu, and hence Jamie Hamamoto, are still 100 miles away. But I really wanted to see Wade.

Wade on Heeia pier, working his way through a box of Malasadas.

Wade ended up not being able to make it because of some family obligations, so he sent Jamie instead. This is his idea of a prank.

Still, Jamie had matured and become slightly less vicious to me, so I sort of welcomed the company. She would show up for two days of the trip, the 14th and 15th, so I had two days to fish before she got there.

I have struggled with the following paragraphs for weeks, and I have still found no way to make them sound less whiny. For God’s sake, I was fishing in KONA, one of the great destinations on earth, catching loads of fish, eating great food, and enjoying the tropics. But the fact remains that I didn’t catch any new species or any world records. I can just hear all of you saying “Cry me a river,” or “Do you understand the law of diminishing returns?” but it is what it is.

The 12th was a full session on the pier. The variety is simply amazing – it’s like fishing in an aquarium (not that I ever have as far as you’re concerned,) but … I have been here a lot.

Kona Town in afternoon sunlight. The dark spot in the water is a giant school of baitfish.

I met a bunch of religious kids. They prayed for me. It didn’t help.

A raccoon butterflyfish, not new, but I never get tired of photographing them.

A prettier bluespine unicorn than I got last year.

On the 13th, I caught up with Jack, or Captain Jack as he should be properly addressed, and we headed out after spears.

Running offshore early in the morning, when nothing has gone wrong yet.

We all know how this story ends. There were a few heart-stopping mahi-mahi, and we spent some hours catching loads of small yellowfin on light tackle and poppers, hoping that one of the fish would turn out to be a bigeye. None of them were a bigeye.

But the mahi are certainly beautiful.

I spent the evening eating macadamia-nut crusted stuff, and fishing the pier. I got loads of reef fish and the occasional eel, but alas, nothing new. I am still not sensing any sympathy from the audience here.

I awoke on the 14th and immediately thought romantic thoughts about Marta. I want to make this very clear. I had left gifts around the house for her, none of them a vacuum, and I of course called her and expressed my love. I got voicemail.

Speaking of rejection, I then headed off for another day on the Sea Strike.

Passing the harbor entrance early in the morning, before anything had gone wrong yet.

We trolled and we trolled, and while we got some beautiful mahi-mahi, the billfish that shall not be named did not make an appearance. There were a couple of radio reports of spears being caught, but they were few and far between.

The mahi got bigger.

I knew Jamie was flying into Kona right around then, and her evil presence had clearly put the bite off. It was time to go bottom fishing.

A nice amberjack on light tackle. I had no idea Jack was in the picture until later that evening.

Another of the bottom catches – a Pleuger’s goatfish. This species was my 100th world record, back in 2014.

This was another paragraph I struggled to keep out of the whiny zone. Here I was, in Kona, with perfect weather, catching fish after fish on light tackle. Any normal human would be thrilled. But, as Marta and a series of therapists often remind me, I am not normal. I wanted something new, or something unusually big. Even Jack commented it was a pretty good day on the reef fish, which I probably grudgingly admitted while I kept praying for some oddball rarity to bite.

Plleuger’s come in striped and non-striped varieties.

It was late in the session, just as I got a text from Jamie that she had landed and was heading to her hotel, that I got an unexpectedly hard bite in about 400′. It was too small to be an amberjack, but too big for a snapper. It fought all the way to the top, and I had Chris grab the net just in case it was something sexy. I saw the shape first, and said “Ah, crap. Triggerfish.” But when I swung it onboard, I realized it was a very big blueline triggerfish. I had owned the record on this species from 2011 until 2023, when a Japanese angler named Noriko Asano broke my 1/12 mark with a 1/14. This fish weighed out over two pounds, but nothing would be official until we could get the fish to shore and officially weighed.

The beast in question.

The fifteen minute boat ride seemed to take forever, especially with Jack and Chris uttering such witticisms as “Do you think your Boga will be big enough? and “Do you want them to get the marlin scale ready?” Ha ha.

Chris gives a Hawaiian blessing to my triggerfish.

We pulled into the dock, and before we were even tied up, I jumped up on the pier with Boga and fish in hand. It was over two pounds, and I had world record #232.

Chris and Steve celebrate.

The trip suddenly seemed curiously worth it, despite having to miss a Valentine’s Day with Marta. (We did a makeup night out a few days later, with a nice dinner and a Whitman’s sampler, for all you ladies who still think I’m a monster.)

To the well-meaning but derisive hoots of Jack and Chris, I headed back to town and an uncertain evening with Jamie. Would she show up with an orange-tail filefish in her luggage? A world-record clown triggerfish? She is clearly capable of anything.

It was great to see her. Despite my occasional vitriol about the orange-tail filefish, she is family, and it’s usually good to see family, especially when they aren’t the idiot kind. Somewhere in there, without any real warning, she had gone from a little girl to a woman. No less irritating because she catches stuff I can’t, but an adult, with a degree and a job and all that stuff. When the heck did that happen?

She showed up with malasadas.

We had macadamia-nut something for dinner, and then headed out to the pier. We absolutely crushed the reef stuff, catching wrasse after wrasse and a bunch of other assorted fish. This is a light-tackle bonanza, and we would be happy at it all night. But sometime before sunset, there was an event. An event that would have implications three thousand miles away.

I caught a chub, which didn’t seem earth-shattering until I got a closer look and realized that, for once, it was not the dreaded global yellow chub. It had decidedly high soft dorsal and anal fins. It was a highfin chub, not just a new species but also eight inches of steaming revenge on Marta, who had caught this creature years before and lorded it over me. She was down to only five species I don’t have, and this makes it one of the best Valentine’s Days EVER.

Someone is going to fill in the punchline that I got a chub for Valentine’s Day, so I’ll just get out ahead of you.

One of the occasional morays – a whitemouth in this case. Do not put this in your pants.

A crown squirrelfish, one of the many species that come out after dark.

Late that night, we celebrate a porcupinefish.

The next day, our last on Kona, was a whirlwind of different spots looking for whatever might bite. We ranged as far south as City of Refuge, and as far north as above the airport, and while there were, again, lots and lots of fish, there was nothing new to report.

Hunting the tidepools at City of Refuge.

It’s a gorgeous place and the fishing was exceptional, which I was ok with until exactly 4:16pm, when Jamie did that thing that I hate so much. Just as I caught the rather rare blue boxfish, which I had only gotten one of in my lifetime, Jamie, in the same spot, with the same rig and the same bait, caught a Whitley’s boxfish, which I have caught exactly zero of in my lifetime.

My boxfish. These are awesome, but not a new one.

WTF, Universe?

I tried to handle the situation with maturity and tact, but that didn’t hold out very long. So after I finished expressing how unfair the entire universe is to me, and glaring at her with substantial malice, we did exactly what you wouldn’t have expected us to. We both broke out laughing.

There’s always going to be something she catches that I don’t – she lives here, and yes, she is THAT good at fishing. I can only hope that I’ll be the first one of us to get a spearfish.

Steve