Reflections from the PAA Group

REFLECTIONS 3

Reflections on PA'A
by Robin Craig
from Waikiki, July 2, 2010

Before I was selected to participate in PA'A, I had devoted a large percentage of my law writing career to the issues of marine protection and to adaptation to climate change. Quite frankly, focusing on these two areas is often depressing--but they share the feature of being two legal areas desperately in need of more attention, and more hope. I found that hope at the Midway Atoll, located toward the far end of the Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument.

Three images of Midway remain iconic for me (only two of which I could adequately capture by camera). First and second were the abundance of life. While moli (albatross) chicks shared almost every aspect of our outdoor existence, the memory of birds that stays with me the most is that of the multitude of birds in flight over the islands that make up the Atoll, both Sand Island and Eastern Island. Terns, albatross, tropicbirds, and frigate birds played in the sky in unbelievable numbers, with terns and tropicbirds in particular often descending to near-earth to examine the humans walking and biking in what was clearly their domain.

A number of scientists, such as Jeremy B.C. Jackson, have tried to re-create a sense of the historic baseline of species concentrations in various ecosystems. They describe thick beds of oysters in New England and the Chesapeake Bay, turtles so numerous in the Caribbean that sailors could walk on their backs, clouds of birds so large that they could darken the skies. Only on Midway, however, have I personally experienced a true sense of what those kinds of concentration of life truly could be.

Equally important, however, was the relative ease with which those of us on the island could live with that life. Of course, there weren't many of us there (around 80, I believe), and our transportation was limited to feet and bikes most of the time, suggesting the potential value of population reductions and a less oil-dependent lifestyle elsewhere. It was amazing to me how quickly I got used to dodging moli chicks on my bike, and how much I welcomed the examination by the white terns, even though I understood that such examination generally meant that I was too near their nest or egg for their comfort.

The second image of this abundance came in the water, when we snorkeled the Atoll reef. The picture I've included conveys just a small sense of the amount and variety of life on that reef. With over 50% apex predators, these waters again convey a sense of how biodiversity-rich these ecosystems are "supposed" to be.


At the same time, however, Midway did not allow me to romanticize the struggle for survival that typifies most marine ecosystems, or to ignore the damaging legacy of human development and consumption. Plastic littered all beaches on Midway, in an amazing variety, from all over the Pacific. In 15 minutes one morning I gathered 18 fishing floats that appeared (from the writing on them) to be from at least four countries. Moreover, I was ignoring all the other plastic and glass trash I encountered, ranging from an assortment of cigarette lighters to whiskey and sake bottles.

In addition, dead and dying moli chicks were a regular encounter. Saddest for me were the living chicks with "droop wing," a deterioration of the flight muscles resulting from lead poisoning, the enduring legacy of the lead paint used on many of Midway's buildings during the war years. To watch these chicks struggle to move their wings, knowing that they had no hope of survival, was heart-wrenching, especially when I allowed myself to wonder how many would have made it but for the paint chips. Lead remediation efforts are in progress, and hopefully they will remove this toxic invasion from this living landscape.

Nevertheless, evidence of life's resiliency was also everywhere. For me, the most iconic image of Midway--and the one that is coming to stand in my mind for the whole worldwide struggle to preserve and enhance ocean biodiversity and overall health--is the lone endangered monk seal sleeping on the beach among the rusting metal hulks discarded by the military at Rusty Bucket. If these endangered marine mammals can make some kind of peace with Rusty Bucket, then perhaps there really IS hope for the oceans--and for the humans who depend on them--after all.

Reflections from the PAA Group

REFLECTION 2
by Marion Ano

My Return: A First Reflection

I have to admit returning home gave me a strange feeling. We touched down on O‘ahu at about 3:45am in the morning and in the pre-dawn hours I yearned to be back on Pihemanu. After saying our goodbyes to each other in the parking lot, I thought most about how I would share my experience with others. It didn’t take long for reality to set in that I was home and in the dark I already saw it in a whole new way. As soon as I arrived to my house I turned on my computer and looked at my pictures. I could not stay away.

A week ago today, marks my first day on Pihemanu and I miss her smell, the birds, their young voices, the incredible presence of life, the mana (life force), and the ancient spirit of that place. To be honest, I have not fully digested the experience. The space and time to do so is not as readily available here, but I’m glad to have the opportunity to reflect upon it now.

The one thing that strikes me the most upon my return is how much we have destroyed our home and how amplified our presence is here. When I compare the dormant town of Midway to Honolulu, I notice the noise. I’m just so grateful for the quiet moments I had on Pihemanu where for the first time I heard the heartbeat of Mother Nature. I’m trying to be as cognizant as I can to stay with this feeling and remain a catalyst for my own change and to inspire others to do so as well.

The lack of wildlife here is piercing and the baseline has shifted so far. I think about that a lot more than I used to. I view Papahānaumokuākea as part of us, the pae ‘āina (archipelago), and I yearn for those mea ola (living things) that connected the entire chain. If we begin to seriously consider what’s missing here and why, we would work together to repair our connection to the pae ‘āina (archipelago) as nature had worked so hard to do way before our time. Maybe, these young islands can once again be as enchanting and powerful as they were millions of years ago. Could we live in a world where more would be respected and left alone? I hope to keep this conviction close to my heart as time begins to divide my attention. I’m trying hard to remain hopeful, for our children, grandchildren, and the honua that I love so dearly.

I’m anxiously awaiting my weekend trip to Ka‘ena point to see some of the seabirds and other wildlife. I wonder what they look like here and hope to share what I know about them with my ku‘u mau hoa makamaka (my dear friends) that join me.

I had a conversation with a good friend yesterday who has also had the privilege to journey to Papahānaumokuākea and we agreed that parts of the experience could not be captured in words or in a photograph. The only way I know how to hold on to the spirit of this journey is to humbly channel aloha ‘aina (love of the land) and remain steadfast to do all that I can to protect this pae ‘aina. There is no price, there is no cost, there is only love.

Special mahalo to the pae ‘āina, the PAA ‘ohana and facilitators, my family (especially Mom and Dad), my ku‘u mau hoa makamaka (my dear friends), my mentors, and my colleagues.

Me ke aloha no,
Marion Ano

Reflections from the PAA Group

Participants from the PAA group have been asked to sit, back, relax, and reflect on their journey at Midway Atoll. The first reflection to come in is by Al Braun.

REFLECTION 1
by Al Braun

Flying a cardiac patient to Queen's Medical Center, I look out the window westward at the painted sky at sunset. My mind drifts back to our time on Midway Atoll. It's been a week since we returned, but it seems much longer.

Everywhere I looked over the last seven days there have been reminders of that special place: spinner dolphins in the water off Honokohau harbor, pictures of ulua in the doctor's office, coral on a show on the Discovery channel, and honu grazing on seaweed near the shore in Keaukaha. Each image evokes feelings and emotions that overwhelm me.

Not all of the feelings are positive. I see a myna bird carrying a piece of rubbish and think of moli chicks with their stomachs full of plastic debris accidentally fed to them by their parents. I walk through a store and see a plethora of plastic products. I wonder how many of them will eventually find their way to Pihemanu's shores.

My efforts to conserve resources, recycle, and be a more conscientious consumer have been exponentially increased. Sometimes I feel like I'm proselytizing when I tell anyone who will listen about the things I learned during this experience. When I talk about Hawaiian values, it's no longer some ethereal subject, but a practical way of life.

My life has been changed in ways that I never thought possible. I have embraced my past and look toward the future with hope and determination. I know I'll never be the same.