Exploring the Sights (and Climbing Fish) of 'Akaka Falls

Ancestral storytelling is helping scientists make sense of a remarkable and under-studied fish.

This knowledge of ‘alamo’o’s abilities also made the fish a reliable food source. According to James Akau, an intern with the U.S. Forest Service, ancient Hawaiians laid sticks in streams for the young ‘alamo‘o to climb, which led to woven baskets. Dependent on the fish for a steady source of nourishment, they came to learn the fish's whereabouts and behavior through kilo, or observation, later spreading this firsthand data through storytelling. For their part, scientists have pinned down some facts as well. They’ve found that of the five distinct species of ‘’o’opu" in Hawai‘i, four are able to climb up to lower estuaries, but only one ('alamo'o) is able to scale falls like 'Akaka. According to Richard MacKenzie, an aquatic ecologist with the U.S. Forest Service, they use fused pelvic fins on their undersides which function as suction cups to cling to the mossy rock at the base of the waterfall. Reaching upper streams can take days for the thumb-sized fish. They’re also amphidromous, says MacKenzie, meaning they move from salt to fresh water throughout their lifetime. After adults spawn in the upper streams, the hatched larvae plummet hundreds of feet to the streams below where the current carries them into the ocean. They feed, mature, and grow in the saltwater before returning to the streams as juveniles to scale the falls and lay eggs of their own as adults. But how they know to replicate this cycle remains unknown. MacKenzie says the young may be able to locate streams via scent or temperature following heavy rainfall, but this is of course an incomplete explanation.

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Another great unknown is how they’re able to survive outside of water for so long, says MacKenzie. Their gills are light and feathery, and when they aren’t submerged or wet, can collapse and stick together. Likely, he says, they’re able to climb because they duck in and out of the mist and downpour, though a fish out of water has issues besides breathing. While humans dispose of nitrogenous waste through urine, fish do so through their gills, says Grabowski. So, ‘alamo‘o not only run the risk of suffocation, but also levels of toxicity that would be dangerous in most other fish—all while scaling sheer, thousand-foot cliffs. Answers as to why they climb are elusive as well. MacKenzie believes it’s to avoid competition and predation in the more crowded streams below. “We’ve looked up the mechanisms and the reasons, but there’s still a lot of questions,” he says. It’s a common trend with the ‘alamo’o—for every known fact, there seem to be two more unknowns. One reason we don’t know more about these fish may be that, when it comes to financing research in Hawai‘i, there’s a bias toward saltwater fish, says Grabowski. “We’re interested in doing o‘opu work, [but] there’s not much in the way of funding. It’s a problem across the board for a lot of species here in Hawaii.” Most funding comes from sport fisheries, says MacKenzie, and while ‘alamo’o were a vital Hawaiian food source at one point, they’ve been eclipsed in the modern era, allowing unanswered questions to flourish.

These thumb-sized fish scale some of the biggest waterfalls on the island—though scientists aren’t exactly sure why. Credit: David Herasimtschuk © Freshwaters Illustrated.

Hawaiian local Bretman Rock takes us on a misty journey through a lush rainforest that culminates in a magnificent 442-foot waterfall. He’s joined by a local expert to discuss wildlife, folktales, and Hawaiians' distinct connection to the natural world.

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Be sure to explore 'Akaka Falls and other Non-Fungible Planet locations from home with Google Earth.

o‘opu ‘alamo‘o—a tiny fish strangely able to climb several-hundred foot cliff faces. But exactly why, and how, are questions that elude the island’s scientists to this day. Read on to learn more.

Hawai‘i’s ‘Akaka Falls are home to the endemic

However, some of these questions may have been answered long ago, says Kealohanuiopuna Kinney, a research ecologist for the U.S. Forest Service. He says stories about ‘alamo‘o have been passed through oli, chants, and hula, dance. “There’s no analog for some of the things we’re seeing today,” he says, “so [we’re] taking the next step to look at these ancient ‘olelo no‘eau, deep wisdom, thousands of years of observations.” In the Office of Hawaiian Affairs’s Papakilo Database, there are nearly 1,000 ‘olelo, or sayings, that reference the ‘alamo’o. One ‘olelo tells the story of the o’opu god Holu. If Holu wasn’t worshiped, the ‘alamo’o wouldn’t be fat or abundant. “The prayers for blessings on this life were offered,” the translated story reads. “He appeared just like a man, but was in reality a network, and was wrapped in a wicker basket with the exception of the head and the mouth.” Kinney believes there’s a lot that modern researchers can learn from these stories. “They literally say the god, Holu, was a network,” he says. “I’m using all these words, ecological terms for these spaces, but it’s remarkable how advanced our ancestors were in viewing themselves within the ecosystem. They weren’t apart from it—they were of it.” Research on ‘alamo’o can be like putting together different pieces of a puzzle, says Kinney—both from cultural information and field observations. “You try to piece the story together informed by both the science and traditional knowledge,” he says.

To make the climb up ‘Akaka Falls, o‘opu suction onto the wet, mossy rock next to the waterfall. Credit: Sam Fletcher.

Through presence-absence surveys and observation, there is evidence to suggest that ‘alamo’o numbers are declining, says Akau. This can be from any number of reasons: watershed degradation, stream diversion, climate change, and nearby development. Unfortunately, the less we know about the species, the less we know about what threatens them. For both science and culture, ‘alamo’o deserve our care and attention, MacKenzie says. “For me it goes back to biodiversity,” he says. “These fish are only found in Hawai‘i, so once we lose them, they’re gone.” ‘Alamo’o presence also indicates an intact stream, MacKenzie says. These fish in particular are cleaners, bottom feeders, and play an active role in maintaining stream water quality, while the streams in turn maintain and heal forest systems. For Kinney, one Hawaiian proverb stands out: ‘I ola ‘oe, I ola mākou nei,’ or ‘my life is dependent on yours, yours is dependent on mine.’ “We rely on these o‘opu,” he says. “Let’s take care of them. Let’s make sure we don’t take too much.” These little climbing fish still have a lot of questions to answer, and science has likely only scratched the surface.

With an average annual rainfall of 130 inches, Hawai’i Island’s mountainous Hāmākua Coast is home to copious freshwater streams and staggering waterfalls. What’s perhaps even more remarkable than the 442-foot ‘Akaka Falls, or the dizzying 1,450-foot Hi‘ilawe Falls, are the o‘opu ‘alamo‘o: tiny, endemic goby fish that routinely climb them. “They’re pretty damn cute,” says Tim Grabowski, head of the Hawai‘i Cooperative Fishery Research Unit. “I’ve always had a soft spot for gobies.” While this feat alone would seem to warrant widespread scientific attention, o‘opu ‘alamo‘o have evaded much conclusive research thus far. Simple questions surrounding their ability to scale such great heights and why they do so remain partially or entirely unanswered. As scientists chip away at the many mysteries surrounding this miraculous fish, they’re looking to an unexpected source of data to aid in their research—ancient Hawaiian storytelling. For centuries, the Hawaiian people have known of this climbing fish. Its local name—‘alamo‘o—translates to “lizard-head,” in direct reference to mo‘o, ancient Hawai‘i’s giant shapeshifting lizard deities. Mo‘o were revered stewards of nature whose bodies, in death, were believed to become the landscape itself. On Hawai‘i Island, locals still recognize the ridgelines of Waipi‘o and Waimano as mythical deities of old.

By Sam Fletcher

Ancestral storytelling is helping scientists make sense of a remarkable and under-studied fish.

James Akau lifts a hīhīwai, or freshwater snail, which makes a similar climb up Hawai‘i Island’s waterfalls. Credit: Sam Fletcher

The Honoli‘i stream becomes the estuary where o‘opu enter from the ocean as juveniles. Credit: Sam Fletcher

A male o‘opu ‘alamo‘o perched on a boulder beneath a streambed, where it spends most of its day. Credit: Courtesy of David Herasimtschuk

These thumb-sized fish scale some of the biggest waterfalls on the island—though scientists aren’t exactly sure why. Credit: David Herasimtschuk © Freshwaters Illustrated.

James Akau lifts a hīhīwai, or freshwater snail, which makes a similar climb up Hawai‘i Island’s waterfalls. Credit: Sam Fletcher

The Honoli‘i stream becomes the estuary where o‘opu enter from the ocean as juveniles. Credit: Sam Fletcher

To make the climb up ‘Akaka Falls, o‘opu suction onto the wet, mossy rock next to the waterfall. Credit: Sam Fletcher.