Hurricane Kilo

    Summer is the season when the the meteorologists in Hawaii cover hurricanes.  Because of the potential harm that they represent, the television audience, aka the potential victims, are spell bound by the colorful
maps and the ever changing explanations and forecasts.

Jennifer Robbins at KHNL

    This week Kauai is supposed to get hammered by Hurricane Kilo.   We have seen countless maps showing how Kilo will pick up power in the warm ocean south of the island chain and then buttonhook up to smash the Garden Island.  Wham!  The rest of us were supposed to get moderate winds and buckets of rain. When I checked the weather on this very computer yesterday morning, the pundits said that it was supposed to rain all day.  By noon, the sky was clear and it was hot, damn hot.  Hurricane or no hurricane, I knew it was time to go to the beach to cool off and maybe see some fish.

    It was logical, Kilo beginning with K, that I would chose K Bay for yesterdays outing.  As on any sunny Satrurday, Kahalu'u Beach Park was the site of a family gathering; the

Baby Dascyllus at K Bay

Tobias family had partitioned off the shelter with colorful ribbons and balloons.  One of those signs that you order up from Walmart heralded  the "Tobias Baby Shower".  Lucky for me, the Reef Teachers left just as I arrived, permitting me to nab a choice shaded parking spot and a portion of a table in the shade, albeit just outside the shelter.  My sense of inconvenience being as low as it possibly could be when displaced by such a gathering, I was able to say, "God bless the Tobiases and their progeny!"

     The tide was high but the bay was pretty flat   The water at the entrance was really warm, perhaps 90 degrees, and really murky.  However, as I swam into the bay, the temperature cooled to mid 80s and the water cleared.  By the time I made it over to the area near the Menehune Breakwater, I was really happy.   Cool, clear water and my camera retrieved from the newly opened safe.  God bless the Tobiases, God bless the people at First Alert. And God bless voluptuous lady meteorologists in tight skirts.

     My spirit of Thanksgiving was rewarded with a couple fine immatures.   Yes, Matilda,

Big Bad Blue Goatfish

summer is the season for baby fish as well as baby Tobiases.  First to make an appearance was a fine little dascyllus with a bright blue forehead.  For the first time in three months I was standing on my head in five feet of moving water trying to photograph a tiny fish.  What bliss!  The resulting picture is a little blurry, which I attribute to my lack of recent experience.  Its much easier to take pictures of willing subjects at a wedding than tiny, skittish dascylli.

    As I called it quits with the dascyllus,  a large blue goatfish, in the company of a small ulua,   came along searching for invertebrates.  And a pair of Raccoon Butterflies made an irresistible subject in the clear water. One is tempted to make reference to a well worn sexual metaphor...in this case it really was wet and bordered, to some mild extent, on the surrealistic. 

     Out further on the reef, in the vicinity of Surfer's Rock, I ran across a bluestripe baby of the Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse.  The fish was smaller and the water even more kinetic, so 

Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse imm., Kahalu'u August 2015

I had a barrel of fun attempting a photo of this fellow.  I hope you will agree that I was progressing up the learning curve.  This guy was no less evasive than the dascyllus and every bit as small.

   On the way toward the smaller shelter I ran into a pretty big example of the baby Rockmover.   This Dragon Wrasse was of the greenish persuasion and would have made a wonderful subject.  But, being a spoilsport, the moment he realized I had an interest in his portrait, he dodged under a rock and refused to come out.

    As I swam away from the green dragon wrasse with out a picture, I didn't regard it as much of a tragedy.    In preparing the blog, however, I have discovered (or not!) that I do not have a picture of a green dragon wrasse.  Certainly this is not the first green one I have seen, but judging by my collection of photographs, the brown morph must be far more common.  Or less elusive.  Or more photogenic.

     Anyway, I swam away in ignorant bliss, dwelling on Kevin Kline's advice to Michael Palin as he devoured the fish in Ken's aquarium in "A Fish Called Wanda...."Don't eat the green ones.  They're not ripe yet."   And people wonder why I enjoy snorkeling!

Don't eat the  green ones.  They're not ripe yet.

     But the best was yet to come.  As I was a crawling out on the sand like some geriatric sea monster, a lad of about seven or eight, already wearing a mask, was putting on his fins.  It took him a little while, but he got on each fin with out sitting down.  I gave him a thumbs up and asked him if he kept track of his fish.  He grinned and said, "Sometimes."  In that instant, I knew that the future was in good hands and bid him to look for the Dragon Wrasse.   "It looks like a ragged piece of kelp."  I added.  Yeah, that's the ticket.  Ragged kelp.

    If one had given me a choice, I would have said Kilo was a measure of weight, not a name to be applied to a tropical cyclone.  Over dinner and a glass of merlot, I made a few disparaging remarks about the

Raggedy Kelp.  That's the ticket!

impotence of this poorly named zephyr.  And all was well until the witching hour, when Donner and Blitzen suddenly put in an appearance.  For the next two hours, we experienced a remarkable electrical storm.  We were exposed to thunder strong enough to shake the house at least 25 times in that period.  Isn't it interesting that all that energy sucked from the warm ocean can be spent this way, in addition to the strong winds that we fear most with a hurricane?

    As some of you know, Sandra and I recently returned from Portland where our daughter Leslie was married.  Our extended stay afforded the opportunity to spend some quality time with our first grandchild, who is now a three year old Golden / Irish Setter Designer Dog named Riley.  One afternoon when we were puppy sitting, there came a single burst of lightening and a distant peal of thunder.  Riley was so agitated by this meteorological display that he damn near knocked Sandra onto her delicate derriere.  After about fifteen minutes of

Riley gets a little comfort from his mother.  Mind the bump.

comforting, he was able to get up and walkabout the mansion with a sheepish look on his face.   As sweetie and I cowered in bed at 1 AM after an especially vicious blast of thunder,  I whispered, "Boy am I glad Riley isn't here."

    But Kilo is passing and our roof is still where it belongs and Sandra and I really do wish that all of you were here, if only so you could share in our next bout of extreme weather.  Or maybe you could send over Jennifer Robbins.

jeff