Every December, the streets where I live are closed for the Honolulu Marathon. Residents can’t get out, nonresidents can’t drive in. Neighborhood surfers look forward to race day, hoping for waves.
On marathon day last Sunday, Suis was flat, but my neighbor Debbie, as we checked the surf from the beach park, suggested walking up Diamond Head Road to the Lighthouse break, which showed some waves on the webcam. Heading home for my board, I saw Kimo in his driveway, sweeping leaves and cheering the runners.
“How’s it, Mindy?” the waterman asked in his gentle voice.
I said I was thinking Lighthouse.
“Maybe get some little waves, yeah? And no one out,” Kimo said. “But they just pulled that fishing boat off the reef, and the wind is coming from the southwest, blowing all the pollution this way.”
The 79-foot Pacific Paradise went aground Oct. 10, and after many botched efforts and leaks of bilgewater and fuel oil that we smelled in the waters off our beach, the vessel was towed and scuttled offshore Dec. 7.
Suis had 2-foot, glassy waves that day, and I raced down with my board, only to be headed off at the water’s edge by Captain Cal, who’d just paddled in.
Water flew from his long white hair as he shook his head and waved his arms. “Don’t go out!” he said. “There’s an oil slick from that fishing boat. Coated my board. Smells really toxic. Gave me a sore throat.”
I stared with longing at the glistening waves but resisted temptation.
The next day, this newspaper reported that, according to the Coast Guard, “minimal pollution entered the water” during the fishing boat removal. Still, it was enough to chase Captain Cal and others from the water. The dwindling population of fish on our reef had no escape.
That was one of three “bah, humbug” experiences I’ve had this season at Suis. The second happened early one morning when I came down for a swim and saw the beach park showers were turned on full blast, with no one using them, while the water ran off into the sea.
The only person around was a skinny guy in dreadlocks, dancing on the sea wall. He paused to pull down his shorts and pee over the railing into the ocean, then resumed his capering.
I turned the showers off.
After my swim, I went to rinse off. He stood nearby, arranging his backpack on a picnic table. Suddenly, a plastic bottle filled with soapy liquid struck me on the ankle, and I looked up to see him running away.
Incident No. 3: I was surfing at Suis just before dark and heard a plaintive barking and whining drifting out from shore. It grew louder and its source, a little dog, came into view, scrabbling on the front of a short board being paddled out by a guy who kept shouting at the dog to shut up.
Reaching the lineup, he dumped the panicked creature in the impact zone, turned and caught a wave.
As darkness fell, surfers tried to comfort the distraught dog as it swam in circles, barking. I went in before the owner came back, if he ever did.
Seasonal cheer chased away my blues at “Winter Swell,” a show of surf-themed art by local surfers, on view through Dec. 30 in the Hawaii State Art Museum shop that’s been re-conceived, under new ownership, as a gallery.
Included are retrieved-fin sculptures by Mark Cunningham; lamps with images of surfers riding waves hand-cut in reclaimed plastic by Mark Chai; hand-shaped, phantasmagorical surfboards by Scott Fitzel; giclee prints of big-wave riders by Garret Kojima; interpretive prints of various experiences such as “getting pounded” by Matt Okahata; and billowy pillows by Leanna Wolff, whose large mixed-media seascape also hangs in the show.
All the works are for sale and would delight surfers and other ocean lovers on your list, so dive into this expression session for a treat. The shop is open in the HiSAM lobby from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Mondays and 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays.
“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.
