Permit? I ain't got to show you no stinkin' permit.

By sheer coincidence, we decided we would rent kayaks and paddle across Kealakekua Bay to snorkel off the monument at Captain Cook Cove on February 23rd, 2010, the first day new permit rules went into effect that severely curtail landing or mooring a kayak at the Monument. Or should I say any permit rules, given that prior to the 23rd, for as long as people have pulled on masks and fins, there have been no controls on snorkeling in this well-protected bay on the west side of Hawaii, widely considered the best snorkeling spot in all the Islands. Large catamarans full of oiled-up tourists come down every day from Kailua-Kona, just to the north, while others come on Zodiacs and still others hike the two miles down from the highway, a drop of over 1300 feet to the sea on a difficult road through elephant grass well over head. The hike down is long and hot, but the hike out is five times harder. My brother and I made that hike in 1979, before the now-popular sit-on-top plastic ocean kayaks existed allowing even the water-wary to paddle the one-mile across the bay from Napo'opo'o Beach Park. In 1979, we were the only ones there until the first catamaran pulled in about 11 am.

On the 23rd, we were told, we would need a permit to land or moor our kayak. On the 22nd, when we dropped by Pineapple Kayak rentals up the hill in the town of Captain Cook, the proprietor, an intense middle-aged Korean woman, was in full lather about the arbitrariness of the new rules, which in her view were designed to punish the low-life scum who hung out at the put-in, a decaying concrete quay at the end of Napoopoo Rd."I pay my taxes," she said. They are sweeping me up with those bums. Her concern for her livlihood was evident. The new rules seemed to unfairly benefit the big companies with boats that come down to the bay, companies that already have mooring arrangements with the State.

What was also evident was that she really didn't know much about the new permit process or how a potential client would go about getting one. I showed her the State's website, where the Department of Land and Natural Resources had a .pdf of the permit application you could download. The form only asked for some basic info -- name, address, when you wanted to go -- but didn't tell you the process to get the signature at the bottom, ominously labeled "Hawaii District Superintendent." That sounded like a hard signature to get, especially in the Land of Aloha. Other than Hilo, a two and half hour drive around the island, I didn't even know where a DLNR office was. The proprietor pointed one out just a mile south on Queen K Highway, so I had her print a copy of the form with the agreement that we would check out the process and get back to her.

The DLNR office looked like the custodian's closet at a 1960's elementary school. And the door was locked tight, despite being 2 pm on a Monday. A chalk board on the outside had a phone number. We called it. We called the number the grumpy person who answered said we should call. The only-slightly-less-grumpy person who answered that call told us to fax the form in and the District Superintendent would review the application and if he found it worthy would sign it and fax it back. Five-day turnaround time. We mentioned that this seemed to preclude anyone coming to the island for a week-long visit from actually visiting Captain Cook by kayak. She seemed to either not comprehend the implication of this to tourism or simply didn't care.

Now I understand the need to control access to delicate ecosystems. I understand the desire to shut down illegal cash businesses that don't pay taxes, especially when run by bums on welfare (the words of a Hawaiian native acquaintance who runs a large Kona coffee company, weighing in on the subject a few days later). But If I Were King, the permit process would be different. First off, the actual instructions would be on the .pdf and on the web page, indicating the actual process you need to follow to get an actual permit. Next, for those who don't learn about the need for a permit until they're in town on holiday, I would have an actual human at the office in town. Charge $25 for the permit and allow only twenty or so a day. The five hundred bucks a day it would generate would pay for the body in the office for few hours, or at the quay, informing people of the rules and how to protect the bay and its spinner dolphins, plus a lot more.

Like maybe enforcement. Because we ended up renting a kayak the next day, February 23rd, paddling over and pulling our boat onto the rocks just like it was, well, February 22nd, when the permit had not yet gone into effect. No one showed up from the State of Hawaii and we ended up having a delightful morning of snorkeling and exploring.

Two obvious locals did paddle up at one point while we were eating lunch. One asked in a loud and serious voice "OK, I want to see your permits." But he failed to hold the expression for longer than a moment and broke out laughing.