We landed under a sky that felt alive.
Late on the night of April 27, as our aircraft touched down on the remote runway of Kuaihelani, we stepped out into a world few ever experience. An island of less than 1,200 acres, yet it is home to nearly seven million seabirds. To put that into perspective, imagine an area smaller than many Honolulu neighborhoods or a fraction of New York's Central Park, now fill it with life, sound, and movement beyond anything you thought possible.
The air pulsed with the calls of birds. Wings cut across a night sky illuminated by a nearly full moon and an endless canopy of stars. It was overwhelming in the most grounding way. A reminder that this place operates on its own scale, its own time, and its own sacred rhythm.
We were welcomed not just by the land and its wildlife, but by the people who call Kuaihelani home. Staff from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), Chugach, and the FAA greeted us with warmth and familiarity. They guided us to our home for the next 18 days, where we were met with smiling faces and heartfelt hugs from the Thai nationals who make up much of the Chugach team. Even in such a remote place, there was an immediate sense of community and shared purpose.
Before anything else, we gathered. We stood together as the Papahānaumokuākea Marine Debris Project (PMDP) team. Kevin OʻBrien, James Morioka, Lauren Fraser, Andy Sullivan-Haskins, Derek LeVault, and Kamaliʻi Andrade, alongside our incredible partners Kalani Quiocho, Hauʻoli Lorenzo-Elarco, and Kenika Lorenzo-Elarco. In that moment, we offered oli (chants) to honor this place, its people, and the ʻike (knowledge) and spirits that reside here. We announced ourselves, our intentions, and our commitment.
We do not take this privilege lightly.
We ended the night listening to the constant chorus of seabirds, hearts full and grounded, ready for the work ahead.
At first light, Kuaihelani revealed another side of itself. Under bright, open skies, sunlight poured across the atoll, illuminating soft turquoise clouds that seemed to reflect the brilliant blue shallows of the inner lagoon below. Sky and sea blurred into one continuous expanse of color, an ever-shifting mirror of light and life. In these moments, it becomes clear why Kuaihelani is known as the backbone of the heavens, a place where the elements meet, where the spiritual and physical worlds feel inseparable.
We made our way to the northeast end of Sand Island. As the sun rose over the horizon, we gathered again for protocol. Oli were chanted. Hoʻokupu (ceremonial offerings) were presented with care and intention. And then, as if in acknowledgment, a large flock of mōlī (Laysan albatross) lifted from the shallow waters and took flight together, moving as one across the sky. In that moment, something shifted. We were no longer just a team, we were ʻohana.
Following protocol, we received briefings from U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service staff and moved quickly into action. The mission had begun. We split into two teams. One team headed to the north shore of Sand Island to begin shoreline marine debris removal. The others began mobilizing for small boat operations, unpacking and organizing our 20-foot container filled with essential gear. Two small boats, four outboard engines, biosecurity equipment, and the tools we rely on for marine debris survey and removal. Every piece of gear represents preparation, intention, and the collective effort of the many people who made this mission possible.
As the day came to a close, we gathered once more, this time on the west side of the island. The sun dipped below the horizon as we offered sunset oli, closing our first full day in Kuaihelani. The sky softened, the winds eased, and we found ourselves in conversation late into the night, sharing stories of where we come from, the paths that led us here, the cultural practices that ground us, and the people who continue to uplift us.
We spoke of our families, our partners, our kumus, and our communities. We spoke of responsibility. We spoke of gratitude.
And we made a quiet, collective promise, to do this work with integrity, humility, and unwavering commitment. To honor those who came before us, and to fight for those yet to come.
This mission, PMDP’s first of 2026, is dedicated entirely to Kuaihelani. Over the next 17 days, joined by additional team members and partners arriving April 30, we aim to remove up to 50,000 pounds of derelict fishing gear and marine debris from the atoll's reefs and shorelines. It is physically demanding work, but it is also deeply meaningful.
Tomorrow, we continue. We will complete the build-out of our first small boat and prepare for expanded operations, whether that means shoreline cleanup on Eastern Island or aerial surveys of the backreef in search of entangled nets hidden within coral ecosystems.
Tonight marks Day 1. Seventeen more days lie ahead.
Mahalo nui for following along on this journey with us. Your support, encouragement, and belief in this work travel with us, even to the farthest reaches of Papahānaumokuākea. We carry it with us in everything we do.
James, Kevin, and the PMDP Team