Recently, one of my readers, Dewey Watson, suggested a column on fishing and crabbing.

“The experience I most remember was crabbing at Keehi Lagoon in the late 1950s and early ’60s,” Watson said, “where the seaplane runways were.

“The surviving markers for those planes were the best places in the lagoon to catch crabs and whatever else the ocean would deliver up for us. I went with a true gentleman, Anthony Silva, whom I recall was a school administrator.

“As a kid, I was lucky to have met the Silva family, who were neighbors of one of my mother’s faculty friends. To me he was simply Mr. Silva, the world’s foremost expert on how to catch crabs, cook them and eat them — all in a beautiful day on the water.

“The trip would begin early in the morning at Mr. Silva’s house with the gathering of the equipment, including the 5-gallon bucket of aku (skipjack tuna) heads to be used as bait.

“We launched from a dirt road alongside Keehi Lagoon just Diamond Head of the airport, and immediately started setting out 30 to 40 nets. Crabbing in Hawaii was like a diminutive version of what cold-weather crabbers experience.

“First, what you catch, or did then, were mostly the size of small Maryland blue crabs. I remember they tasted pretty good, particularly since crabs (except in a can) were not at all available.

“Like any small crab, however, they are an acquired tradition — you must love the process of eating them as much if not more than the small amount of meat you get as your reward. They were fun to catch and a job to eat.

“What we really wanted to find were the ‘giant’ Samoan crabs that were similar in size to a modest Dungeness crab.

“To catch these denizens, we used crab pots that were just inverted coolie hats with a weight on the bottom and a cork float holding up the ring. The whole apparatus was attached to a line and ultimately to a float.

“The aku head was tied on a line in the middle of the cone so the crab had to swim into it — but was also free to swim out unless we happened to be there when it was snacking. We set our traps in various parts of the lagoon, and then we would make the rounds taking turns to pull up the nets.

“Since there was no trap in the nets, you had to pull fast to catch any crabs that might be feasting before they could figure things out and swim away.

“Mostly, it worked well, and the thrill of the day was always seeing what the net would deliver up. Usually, we got lots of crabs, the smaller ones of which we threw back, but often we would pull up bottom fish, eel, a large Hawaiian shrimp called squilla, and of course, when we were lucky, we would get the Samoan crab!

“The Samoan crab would put up a fight when its puny brain realized that it was moving in the wrong direction. The game, of course, was to pull out your Samoan crab without getting pinched.

“This wasn’t always an easy task, when he (we always released the roe-­carrying females) was clinging to the net! There were lots of screams, admonitions and general scrambling to make certain that whoever was assigned to that particular net, no matter how young, landed that particular crab.

“In the middle of the day, we would always anchor for lunch, prepared by Mrs. Silva, and always the same fare: bologna sandwiches, pimento loaf, Swiss cheese on white bread. Some fruit — but no bananas! As any fisherman in Hawaii knows, bananas on a fishing boat bring the worst possible luck.

“By 3 p.m. we would begin the process of getting home for dinner. Back at the house, the nets would each be washed and hung out to dry and the buckets and gear, car, trailer and boat hosed down thoroughly (Mr. Silva would wash and wax the car the next day).

“The crabs would be delivered to Mrs. Silva, who had a huge stockpot boiling. One by one, we would put in our catch, remembering who caught what and, naturally, reserving the Samoans for the very last.

“Mr. Silva always had a ceremony associated with putting the Samoan crab into the pot. It wasn’t much more than just honoring the person who brought it up and reliving the story.

“Then, of course, we ate. Neighbors, spouses and parents were invited over, and a real Portuguese-Hawaiian feast was laid out. Whatever we caught, we ate.

“The eel would be barbecued or fried up, the shrimp went into the crab pot, and the fish were fried up or stewed with vegetables. Pao doce (Portuguese sweet bread) was served with the seafood, and for dessert, well, we usually had ice cream (this was the ’50s).”

Street fishing

“We lived in Kuliouou in the late 1940s,” Gere Best recalled. “The road through Hawaii Kai was a very narrow two-lane highway between Kuapa Pond and Maunalua Bay. We caught Samoan crabs, too. They are the meatiest and tastiest crabs.

“Waves used to crash up on Kalanianaole Highway during stormy weather, leaving fish flopping on the road.

“Without hesitation, I ran out the back door of the house, running all the way to the first bridge. Lo and behold, nice fat uhu (parrotfish), menpachi (soldierfish) and mullet were running all over the highway, and planty keeds, too.

“The kids and I went crazy, running all over the water-filled road, scooping up fish and putting them in our buckets. Talk about a feast that night!

“I remember my dad’s warning about not taking more than needed. This was a Hawaiian belief passed down to all of us, so we did not get greedy and waste.

“We also went pole-fishing off Queen’s Beach in Waikiki. My dad and uncles taught us rowdy kids how to catch fish so that later in life we would know how to get food from the sea, feed our families and not starve.

“Till today I remember the pole-fishing skills, along with how to clean the fish, cook it and eat it. Life’s lessons learned.”

Heeia Kea Small Boat Harbor

Ken Takeya said, “When I was very young, we would go to Heeia Kea pier in Kaneohe when schools of baby moi would come into the area. There would be several thousand fish in the school, which was attracted to floodlights from the pier.

“The baby moi were about the size of sardines and very good deep-fried, since you could eat the entire fish after removing just the guts.

“You had to get there early to secure a spot on the pier and could not leave your spot to even use the bathroom; otherwise, you would lose your space.

“We ended up working in pairs, where one person would be fishing with a bamboo pole and the other would take the fish off the hook and put it into a bucket.

“Once we caught the first fish, we would use the stringy intestines as bait instead of constantly re-­baiting the hook. We would also break the barb on the hook so it was easier to take the fish off it.

“We would take turns fishing if somebody needed a bathroom break. After a couple of hours, we would have about 300 to 400 fish in a large bucket, so we would leave and split the catch.

“Now the bigger fish are about 12 inches or more in length and are prized, since they are not as plentiful. In the restaurant, if you can find them, they go for about $25-$30 dollars per meal.”

Do you have an island fishing story? If so, send me an email.

Bob Sigall is the author of the five “The Companies We Keep” books. Contact him at Sigall@Yahoo.com or sign up for his free email newsletter at RearviewMirrorInsider.com.