Gardening with the Congers

   Early this week we went snorkeling (again) at Beach 69.  This time we took our super good friend Anita, who has to return to Calgary on Wednesday.  There was a small craft waring posted for our coast, but we

Kickin' Back at Beach 69

figured it was her last chance for at least several months...why not take a chance and go to an excellent snorkeling spot.

    As we drove north, there was no wind what so ever until we reached Waikoloa.  By the time we parked at Beach 69, it was blowing so hard I could hardly get the car door open.  Not for nothing do the Kailua real estate agents call the area Waika-blowah!  Anyway, when we made it to the beach, we were in the lee of  the houses and trees and life at our picnic table was rather pleasant. 
   Soon we were in the water, which was surprisingly clam considering that there were whitecaps 50 yards off shore.  Swimming out along the south cusp the water was getting progressively more turbulent.  Just

Hawaiian Conger in fulll Retreat

 inside the point a large eel swam past me, moving rapidly through the shallows.  He had a pointed snout and irregular gray and brown bands, but no black and white ridge on his dorsal fin, like you see on the Goldenhead Moray.  But then his head was plain gray, not at all golden.  As he swam away from me, I could see fins protruding from just behind his head.  Perhaps because I am not accustomed to seeing fins on an eel, these seemed pretty large.   In my field notes I remarked that they were reminiscent of a Chinese dragon.  As the eel swam away, I was able to squeeze off one good shot before he disappeared in the the bubbling turbulence. 

     Luckily Sandra and Anita had been near by and saw the eel when I called and pointed.  When we surfaced to discuss the sighting, the first thing Anita said was, "That was the biggest, slimiest eel I have ever seen!"  Luckily, both of my colleagues, as I phrased them in my letter to Jack Randall, saw the fins.  I had no idea what we had seen.

    We completed our swim, checking out the crevices and valles around the island.
This afforded good looks at the large chubs. Also near the island, a teenage Mu put in an appearance. He was almost the size of an

Mu, Beach 69, April 2015

adult, but retained the distinct barring and yellow face of an immature.  And he was only twenty feet down, so us wimps had a chance to dive for a picture.

   Back at the ranch, I wrote to Jack Randall and
John Hoover, who quickly confirmed that this was a Hawaiian Conger Eel.  In the Ultimate Guide, Hoover has a picture very similar to the one that I took.  A couple photographers on the internet have better head shots, showing the pectoral fins just behind the head.  I have borrowed one of those so you can appreciate the anatomy.  John Hoover commented that it is rare to see one swimming during the day (i.e. they are primarily nocturnal).  Further, when they are seen during the day they are usually a plain gray.  And all the resources note that they are far more readily observed at diving depths.

     So we were very lucky.  But there is more.  If you read John Hoover's text with care, you will discover

Conger Eel courtesy of MARlin

that there are two distinct sub-families, conger eels (Congrinae) and garden eels  (Heterocongrinae).  I recall seeing my first garden eels in the Sea of Cortez way back in the mid 80s.  You know those guys who live in the sand 40 feet down and poke their heads and necks out into water where they sway back and forth like so many asparagus stalks in a spring breeze.  Since then, I have seen garden eels in Hawaii and the Western Pacific.  In my ignorance, I used the name conger eel and garden eel synonymously, blissfully ignorant of the true conger eels.

    Now, not only have I added the Hawaiian Conger (Conger marginatus) to my life list, but I have correctly added the Hawaiian Garden Eel (Gorgasia hawaiiensis).  If you need the latter, they are a chip shot in about 40 feet at Ho'okena.

    And they say ignorance is bliss.

jeff