Midway Island (Atoll) Part 1
Upon climbing out of the airplane the
salty sea air fresh off the ocean fills you lungs and heart as it envelops you into one of
the most magical places on this earth. Shown to your quarters (which are converted
officers quarters) the three story cement building becomes home for the week.
Comfortable and clean, the rooms feature A/C if needed and queen sized beds. TV, phone
service and guest services are available at a moments notice. An early evening
stroll along a pure white beach of powder ground up coral takes you to the Captain Brooks
Bar which overlooks this clean safe swimming beach. You get to meet and become
aquatinted with the others who have joined you here for the week. Fishing is only
one of many reasons the island has become so appealing, there’s scuba and skin
divers, ecology and nature enthusiasts. Members of the armed forces return here for lost
memories and many come just for just the relaxation that the island has to offer.
There are only a limited number of guests allowed on the island per week so reservations
are generally requested. The island has year round residents of some 50 people which
help keep the inner structure of the island running, water, electricity, sanitation,
housing, etc. I think most of the residents have at least two or more jobs just to
keep things in shape. All new guests to the island are
required to attend an orientation meeting in which the rules and regulations are discussed
as well as what daily activities are available from the Fish and Wildlife Service and the
Phoenix guest services. Bicycles or Golf Carts are assigned and Nature walks for
those not familiar with the island are encouraged. Last year we had waited till the last
day before going snorkeling, I dreamed and thought about that all year, this year I wanted
to emerge myself quickly with the waters of Midway so we booked a snorkeling trip out to
the reef after lunch. The diving facilities at Midway are superior and we were
joined by a group of 20 college students who were here on a extended two week field trip
to study the flora and fauna ofthe atoll. With excellent fitting gear, fins,
divemasks and wet suits if you wanted them we joined the dive masters and Second Day Up early to the strange sound of pigs
squealing, cows mooing, wood peckers pecking, it
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I
keep trying to think of a word or phrase that best describes it, maybe “Primal”,
or “God’s Little Acre”, or even three squares a day. Everyday
was such an adventure! The air and water are both clean and clear and the environment is
full of life just as Mother Nature intended it. 
other
instructor for a memorable experience. Slipping into the waters one becomes part of
this world, the blue and pink corals and brilliantly colored tropical fish both small and
large. It seems all the fish here have been given their chance to grow to their full
size, at least everything seemed big. The Wrasses were splashed with bands of turquoise
and orange, Parrot fish were nibbling on sea algae and gaze up at you, slowly giving way
and darting in and out of hidden caves. We swam up to the actual reef itself and
felt the surge of the Pacific as it washed through gaps in the reef, fresh with the
essence of life this water seemed like the Fountain of Youth. Sparkling with sunlight lit
Champaign bubbles seemingly swirl about in an underwater ballet. The many tropical
fishes darted in and out playing peek -a- boo always curious they seem awed by your
presence and sea urchins their bright reddish orange spines 8 to 12 inches sticking out
among the corals. Some twisted strands of cargo or drift net clung to the reef,
brought to these shores by the currents, they housed a multitude of marine life which had
made their homes in these drifting masses of fiber. The college kids carefuly removed
these nets from the fragile coral reefs and glass and plastic floatation balls were sought
after prizes. Hunter and I spent the afternoon enjoying ourselves, she hung on me
like a barnacle while we explored the reefs. On the return trip back over turquoise
waters and sandy bottom flats we watched Manta Rays glide out of our path and rare banded
brown booby birds taking refuge on a channel markers. After a hearty meal at the
Galley cafeteria, Hunter and I spent the balance of the day, beach combing, bicycling and
swimming. Floating and we watched the Ferry Terns hover 3 feet above our head like
butterflies they bounce around then scurry off in matching pairs diving and wheeling in
exact unison. Laysan Albatross like dive bombers came in out of the sun swooping in
noiseless flight they crisscrossed the beach. Ratt-ta-ta-ta-ta, Ratt-ta-ta-ta a dotted
line of bullets came on spitting up sand as they strafed the beach. Visions of the
war can be seen and felt here but the only real fight you’ll have is with the real
bad boys of Midway, the Trevallys, a fish which defends itself admiralty. In
the late afternoon the beach’s sand felt cool to my hands as I pushed them through
it, soft and white almost like powdered sugar. The waters were clear almost emerald green
and sunlight danced on the oceans floor beneath making little patterns in the sand. The
sun off on the horizon, it’s rays shining out through the clouds, pink and purple
while another albatross whistles overhead, zooming back and forth across the beach. The
clouds have a green tint to their bottoms reflecting the hues of the lagoons waters, very
peaceful here. Appropriately I’ve chosen William Bebe’s ‘Galapagos
World’s End.’, 1912 as a book to read while I’m here. 
everywhere you look these chicks were half covered with fuzzy charcoal gray
down feathers. Through wooded lanes covered with Australian Iron wood trees and spotted
with nesting snowy white terns or sooty gray petrels we rode to the marina which harbors
two Bertram 38ft. sportfishers and a pair of Glacier Bay 26ft. sportfisher catamaran.
Capt. Chris Sheeder was the captain this morning as we took the smaller Glacier Bay 26ft.
out to fish the reef. Our goal was to get Hunter a World Record Amberjack for the IGFA
Small Fry division (under 10 years of age), second choice was either the Giant Trevally or
Wahoo or any other number of fish that were available in her class category. Just
outside the entrance in the reef we set up on one of the war’s sunken airplane
wrecks, a Corsair in about 80ft. of water resting on a sandy bottom which would give us a
little better chance before the fish dove for protection and rocked or reefed us. Chumming
with generous inch sized chunks of skipjack we only raised a few smaller sized chubs (like
a big perch/ black in color) which crowded in behind the boat. There wasn’t
much current at that time and not much developed so we moved further down the line and
found another spot with greater current though closer to the reef itself. We weren’t
there 5 minutes when Tony the Tiger paid us a visit but kept on going, a quick VHF call to
the dive boat in the area alerted them to the sharks presence and they pulled out and
moved to another location. The chubs arrived shortly thereafter and with them the
sharks. One, then two, then a few more Galapagos Sharks showed in the chum line, not
aggressive they just swam back and forth waiting for a few tid bits of chum, though they
did race after anything that sat in the water very long. Casting Chum Flys with
either spinning rods or fly rods was the method, you’d let the flys drift with the
other pieces of chum thrown, the chubs would take the flys then spit them out and if you
left it drifting too long the sharks ate them. The trick was to get the flys deeper to
where the Amberjacks and trevallies were cruising about. When the Amberjack became a
little more aggressive in the chumline or when there were several of them you had to be
quick to get the fly in front of them before the other critters got em’. We lost
quite a few flys and fish to the sharks. Chris suggested I put on one of the leadhead
casting plastic lures which I had brought, Hey, I brought over 35 heads and tails it was
time to use them. Well we used them, just about all of them. Almost every cast was
an Amberjack, BluefinTrevally or some other unseen beast who would drag them down into the
depths only to either break off or the sharks got to the fish before Hunter could wrestle
it up out of the deep.
She’s only 9 years old and those
heavy fish just required strong heavy pressure to keep them out of the reef/ rocks/
sharks, it just didn’t happen, her little arms just hadn’t the strength.
We did have several chances though so I felt we had our shots at it. One fish an
estimated 40lb Amberjack took the leadhead plastic tailed lure she had cast, letting it
sink out and she was on. She stopped the fish from getting into the rocks and it
headed offshore so we released the tie-off buoy and followed. With the plastic
tail hanging out of the corner of the fish’s mouth it bore out to sea but a giant
Giant Trevally came in on the poor jack and tore it right off the side of it’s mouth
snapping the line in the process. And we all know that when the line breaks the
parties over, it was a good battle though! Returning back to the harbor we took a
short break and enjoyed bicycling back to the cafeteria for lunch, the Galley is a great
place for gathering and it’s where practically everyone on the island eats lunch and
it’s only open for a couple of hours so everyone shows up there. Back to the
marina after lunch we discuss the afternoons strategy, still after records we opted to
work off a cargo pier where a number of bigger Amberjacks have been seen. A short
run around the island brought us up to the pier where we tied off, the wind and current
bouncing off one side kept us at bay 
from hitting the pier but it was a little
rocky though. Shoals of smaller fish came up on the first tossed chum and it didn’t
take long for the smaller jacks to butt their way into the action. Hunter hooked and
landed several of these 5 to 12lb trevallies (Bluefin and Butaguchi or big lipped
trevallies) then the big boys showed up. Like bullies at a party they pushed their
way into this melee of feeding fish and dominated the scene. 60 to 100 pound fish at
a rods length they came. As fast as I could tie up new double lines to albright
knots and 60lb flourocarbon leaders Hunter broke them off as fish after fish dove into the
protection of the pilings. I had ahard time keeping up with her, I was rigging
either 12lb or 16lb spinning rods and she just kept breaking them off. Hunter
looking for another rod picked up my pre-rigged 12wt. fly rod w/ 16lb tippet & chum
fly, she makes a short flip into the water and up comes one of these beast that scares
you, sucks it down, she yells “whoa” as it nearly rips the rod out of her hands.
If that fish would have turned the other way we might have had a chance in the open water,
who knows what would have happen but it would have been a tough fish for anyone to beat on
the fly rod. After a couple of hours of this fun and games we headed back to the
slip and called it a day. We didn’t set any records that day but we did have
fun and that’s what counts. After a quick shower and clean up Hunter and I came
down to the beach for a few minutes of relaxation and reflection . The warmth of the sun
felt good and sparkling water allways makes me daydream. An albatross’ five foot
shadows criss crossing on the sand. The horizon line with it’s black reef and plums
of white water which every so often shoot up are silhouetted against the darkened sea
behind it, inside the reef dark turquoise green water fades into a brighter emerald green
as it nears the shore, the sand turning tan in the afternoon’s sun. It’s
nice just being here. Moisture laden clouds hanging in the air, held suspended by
temperature layers thet lay flat bottomed and reflect the green lagoon below.
Sunset brought us to the French Clipper restaurant again for a perfect ending to a perfect
day. Up again after a peaceful rest the birds awaken you with their ceaseless
clamor, we’re off to do damage to the blue water crowd. Joining us this morning
on the Yorktown was a Hawaiian named Lincoln acted as deck, he usually runs the
Enterprise, the other 38 ft, Bertram. Our goal was to see if we could catch Hunter a
blue marlin, Wahoo, Dorado or tuna. An additional brace was put on the foot rest for
her size, the bucket harness straps were adjusted and drags were reset light for her
strength, using 50lb tackle. We opted to fish the hookless lures as teasers and drop
back a rigged skipjack tuna as bait. For her to struggle trying to get the rods out of the
holder after the strike would only be difficult so we agreed she’d sit in the chair,
watch the lures and when a fish came up in the spread we’d drop back the bait and off
we’d go. You can fish/troll entirely around the island’s reef with two main
shelves running off to the East or West but it’s not really necessary to travel
much. Out of the harbor 15 minutes or so and your over the drop-off. Five minutes
after we had the lines in the water we had a respectable fish up on one of Sevenstrands
new “Big Daddy Teasers” Black and purple with an aurora flash. The fish came up
and tried to munch it and Lincoln who had noticed a flash earlier on it tossed the pre-
rigged bait back, the bait sides back and the marlin woofs it down, it’s head
half out of the water we can see it take the bait down. And just like that we were hooked
up. We dump out another hundred yards of line and Hunter straightens her legs and
braces herself as she engages the drag, the rods bows and the hooks come fast.
Another two hundred yards races out under pressure. What a thrill, she hangs on watching
the line disappear into the depths. I had warned her to expect the fish to bust out and
tail walk, but the fish only comes out once and windshield wipes once then dives for
another 50 yards. Hunter begins the long battle of learning to fight fish. 
The
reel in high speed we slowly back down to pick up some of the lost line, she works with
the lessened pressure and understands the winding and flexing of her legs in the bucket to
make the system work efficiently. The first half hour she’s tireless and her
enthusiasm bounding with joy, the second half hour she weakens and it becomes a struggle,
line is lost during periodic runs and her smooth fluid pumping is lost. Using both
hands now, the left hand coming over the reel she tries to reel with both hands but we
warn her against it and try to compose the situation. The fish sinks out and it
becomes a stubborn battle. We pause for a brief minute to regain composure, a cool
drink and a few splashes of water over her head and she’s refreshed again.
Dropping into the lower gear she begins the repetitive nature of slowly pumping fish up
from the depths, an inch at a time we gain line slowly only to lose it again in the rising
swells, a half hour of this battle and she’s gained back half of the line only to
loose most of it again as the fish makes another stubborn run. Hunter balances
herself in the chair under the drag pressure her legs begin to shake and the winding takes
it’s toll on her small muscles, but she’s game and hangs in there.
Sometimes I think she’s going to get pulled overboard but the light drags on the reel
allows the line to play out before anything bad can happen, a safety line is attached to
her and the bucket. This see-saw back and forth doesn’t gain us anything but
time and wear, the fish seems to have settled down for the moment so under advice from
Chris she bumps the drag knob up and over the strike button, the added tension allows her
to gain line in the drop of the swell and to hold it from being lost in the next rising
swell, a foot of line is gained then another and another, some line lost but overall
we’re now gaining line. A hundred times this is repeated, Hunter’s in
rhythm now and she gains line like a pro. The fish nears but it doesn’t like
the boat and it struggles to get away and more line is lost but it’s regained,
another pump another inch, now a foot, she gets a good wind and now two feet is gained,
now one and another, the double comes up but the fish surges off again. Everyone gives her
encouragement, “Come on Hunter your doing great another pump”, “one more
time, he’s close” , “keep going, another pump” She asks
can you see him? “, “I can see him“, Chris oversees from the bridge while
at the controls, “Come on Hunter one more time, Keep it up” The double
reappears again and Lincoln reaches out, he needs longer arms, not yet, a
little more, a little more. There, Lincoln’s got a wrap then another on the
heavy leader, like a flash Chris is down in the cockpit with the gaff ready, it makes a
few kicks but Hunters relentless pressure has tired it and the gaff does it’s
job. The fishes hue is a bright silver and cobalt blue with bars of neon lit azure,
Hunter has scampered out of the chair and is amazed at it’s size, “It’s
bigger than me! It’s twice as big as me , it’s Huge!! “That was fun
let’s do it again” she’s excited. She snaps a few photos and watches
as a ramora swims off into the depths leaving it’s host. Bright blue and silver it
shines in the mid-morning sun. Two hours even on 50lb tackle, 249lbs.
It’s a very, very pretty fish she says. If approved, (at least to our knowledge at
that time) it would be a pending world record for IGFA’s Smallfry Division for girls
under 10 years of age. I’m Proud. Hunter eager to weigh the fish joins the crew up on
the bridge for the return trip, the fish still bright blue below. Students, workers
and alike join the crowd as we back into the slip. Congrats, from those waiting
there, the word has gotten back to the island and several students come peddling up.
Many questions asked and she’s interviewed by a few reporters doing assignments for
various magazines on Midway, The fish was hung and weighed in at 249lbs. Again more
photos and Congrats from many. The fish was donated to be smoked. “You slide
back and forth when you push off with your feet, and then reel down”.
she’s
heard being quoted. Mike Gaautreaux, the island’s manager from Phoenix Corporation is
there to offer his congratulations. Even one of the locals residents wants to make a
Japanese fish print of it with acrylic paints and art again was created, nature’s
brilliancy was lit again. The laundry crew noticed a shortage of bed sheets that
afternoon. The bike rides were pleasant in the afternoons, down canopied lanes of green
Australian Iron Wood dotted with the nesting terns, their snowy white feathers and
black ruby eyes obvious. Bike trails take you off the main road and reveal other nesting
birds hidden among the long stemmed grasses or downed wood shelters. A pair of Red
Tailed Tropicalbirds care for one of their kind, the chick glaring out, wondering
what’s out there. We finish off the afternoon with another wonderful
swim. Dinner of Roast Duck, wine and Shirley temples that night, a treat for all,
then a long needed sleep.