Surf''s Up

    Last Friday, as Sandra conducted her morning ritual with the phone, reading the news and correspondence while sipping her morning coffee, she announced that her cousin Don in New Hampshire was warning us of a high surf alert.  Isn't it curious, we smirked, that someone on the other side of the

Bienvenue!  Sarah and Lucas at City of Refuge.

 country should tell us what the ocean is doing right outside our door?  From up here at Casa Ono the surf didn't look that bad, the surf predictor suggested moderately clement conditions and we had planned our first trip to the City of Refuge since the outbreak of dengue fever.  Besides that, we are moderately obstinate children, albeit rather old obstinate children. 

  Thus, around 10 AM we found ourselves donning our gear at the table by the bay, just across from the national park made famous by Samuel Langhorne Clemens.  At our table was a mother and her cheerful baby.  Greeting her, I perceived by her accent that she hailed from somewhere in Europe.  France,as it turned out.  Her name was Sarah and her eight month old was named Lucas.  Luc was the very vision of charm, waving, smiling and chewing on his mothers purse.

    As it turned out, Sarah did not currently live in Paris.  She is a nurse and her husband (who was out swimming in the bay as we spoke with the comely jeune mère) is a teacher.  And they teach in northern

 Saddleback Butterflyfish, Kahalu'u, January 2016

Quebec.  When she says north, baby she means north, like 1000 miles north of Montreal!  Up in the frozen wasteland they minister to a village of First Nations.  I related how my brother in law and his wife taught school in a snowed in Indian village in Alaska twenty years ago.  She was confused by the word Indians, which has apparently been entirely replaced by the appellation First Nations in French speaking Canada.

    As we were putting on  all our warm gear, I asked Sarah if she found the winter water here in Hawaii cold.  She replied that it was 40 below in her village and , no, the water here seemed pretty warm to her.

    After snapping a picture of Sarah and the charmant Luc, we made our way out to the two step entry.  There we encountered a surprising amount of surf.  In fact the water was enjoying a four foot excursion, just slopping onto the second step and then receding so that the rocks below were exposed.  I sat on the edge and put on my fins and then assisted a lady of about our age in her escape from the bounding sea.  Once safely on the hard, she was a non-stop litany, extolling the danger of getting in and out at that moment.

    As I am still here writing, you may infer that we walked away from our two step adventure.  Trudging head down  across the lava, Sandra recounted how many times she had walked away.  It's not many, two or

three times.  As we approached the table, we saw that Luc's father had successfully returned and that Sarah, mask in hand, was preparing to go down to the ocean.  She was wearing only a bikini and I could not help envisioning her milky skin all cut to tatters.  Quelle tristesse!   Sandra warned her of the danger, but after all, her husband had just  safely negotiated the entry and landing.  I can't say for sure what she did, but I'm pretty sure that she did not make the evening news. 

Threadfin Jack, courtesy of Bo Pardau.

   As we were loading our stuff in the car, the lady who had discouraged us from going in was exclaiming about a weird fish, like a Portuguese Man of War with long tentacles, she said.  Wondering why she waited until we were poised to leave to dispense with this tantalizing detail, we identified her fish for her as a threadfin jack, also known as the African pompano.  I am still longing to see one of those guys in the open ocean.  Sandra and I made our way back to Kahalu'u where, although it was low tide, conditions were not life threatening and we managed this picture of a pair of Saddleback Butterflies.

    Having been turned away by the raging sea, the following day we headed up to the Hilton at Waikoloa.  This afforded Schmoopie a chance to look in the Queen's Shops and for me to explore the lagoon at the

resort.  You may recall from previous blogs that this lagoon is a curious entity.  The management swears that

The lagoon at the Waikoloa Hilton.

they have never stalked it with fish.  Rather, fish are washed over the breakwater and then reside in the lagoon.  Just like a bird feeder, it is my position that this makes them fair game.  Of course, anyone would like to see their bird in its natural habitat, in the bush if you will, or his fish swimming in a less contrived situation. But I'm not giving back my immature sailfin tang, my threadfin jack, nor my longtail dragonet.  If serious bird watchers can sit, life list in hand, next to a line of hummingbird feeders in Patagonia, Arizona, I guess I can take mine to the lagoon at the Hilton Waikoloa, man made waterfall and all.

   So, leaving my beloved perusing the shops, I soon found myself on a recliner beneath a palapa in the soft white sand.  There was a young man in his mid-thirties at a nearby chaise who, snorkel mask in hand, had

Shortnose Wrasse, Kailua Kona Pier, Jan 26, 2016

just emerged from the man made wonder.  Being the friendly sort that I am, I asked him if he had seen anything good.  He replied that the lagoon was full of fish.  In fact, he averred that he had snorkeled all over the State of Hawaii and had never seen a greater variety of fish on a wild reef.  So there you have it.  At City of Refuge, one is obligated to brave the surf and the rocks.  At the Hilton Waikoloa he is pushed hard up against the rubber-nosed geeks.  

    With this encouragement, I grabbed my gear and waded out into the cold, turbid water. While I was putting on my fins, a stately lady of a certain age waded nearby.  She helpfully nabbed one of the pads I use to cushion my aging feet inside the flippers.  As she returned it to me, I muttered something about old, deformed feet.  She tilted her head just so, a pose accentuated by her wide brimmed, lilac sun hat, and asked, "What ever happened to the supermen  we once were?"

     Visibility in the lagoon ranged from two to six feet and the water, except in the channel, was mercilessly shallow.  Never the less, your sometimes superman made his way around, dodging paddle boats and the

Cushion Star  Culcita novaeguineae

wading wealthy.  The most curious thing of this veritable panoply of marine life (not) was the abundance of lagoon triggerfish.  In the half hour or so braving these raging waters, I would guess that I saw forty individuals.  The lagoon is not the rarest of fish, but I don't see one every time out.  

    Sadly, I didn't see too much else of note until it was almost about time to get out and meet another, even more glamorous lady. Just then, over by the pen in which the management incarcerates a couple of reef sharks, three Island Jacks sped by.  I didn't have time to take a picture, but there was no mistaking the constellation of mustard colored spots on their flanks. According to my list, I saw this species in 2014, but I had not seen the island jack in well over a year, so our venture into the black lagoon did yield one worthy fish for the list.

   While the waves continued to crash, Sunday was devoted to football on TV and Monday to the completion of a building project on the house.  All of which brings us to yesterday.  That Tuesday had been

Potter's Angelfish  Kailua Pier January 2016

earmarked for Sandra's book club, during which I was to go snorkeling at the pier.  With the waves thundering in, snorkeling didn't seem too likely.  So I dressed in a swim suit more appropriate for playing in the waves and left the camera at home. 

    On the off hand chance that the water around the pier was protected, I threw my mask and fins in the trunk.   Sure enough, although waves were crashing on Paul Allen's Reef, the water on the Ironman side of the pier was flat.

    It was a cool day with sprinkles of rain and there was only one other person on the small beach as I got in.  The water was actually only moderately cloudy and I rued the absence of the camera.  Right away I saw the blacklip butterfly, but didn't see anything else of interest as I swam out to in front of the palace.

   Ever since our ill founded trip to City, I had been thinking about the threadfin jacks.  Two years ago, when I was swimming at the pier with a friend, two fellows in complete dive gear and bearing huge SLR cameras,

Potter's angelfish, Kailua Kona Jan 2016, 10ft

claimed to have seen a couple of the pompanos on the far side of the swim buoys.  With this in mind, and as there was no boat traffic on this rough day, I decided to swim back over the sand and reef in the middle of the bay.   A couple yards in from the first orange mooring buoy I was lucky to spot a shortnose wrasse.   It took me many years to see this fish, probably not because it is extremely rare, but more because it is small and one has to be keyed in to the subtle differences in silhouette between the shortnose and other similar wrasses.  This fish was in ten feet of slightly turbid water; had I not recognized the shape, I never would have investigated it.  He was a nice little fish more than three inches in length and allowed me several close approaches.  At this point I was kicking myself for leaving the camera at home.


   Finally tiring of the shortnose, I swam straight in to the pier.  There, nestled on the reef about three yards from the pier, I saw my second or third cushion starfish in Hawaii.  And I have a vague recollection of seeing

one somewhere else, like the Caribbean or Western Mexico. Suffice it to say, this was a major find for me.  About five inches across and two high, he was only three feet down, sort of tucked into a corner created by

Hi

two adjoining corals.  What a gorgeous animal he was!  Purple on top, at his base where he met the substrate he had a rim of orange papillae in different shades.  These rose to create an elipse at each corner of the star.  So decorative were these that they reminded me of the mihrab in the Great Mosque of Cordoba.

Obviously, this cushion star represented a religious experience.  I observed it for several minutes, wishing I had the camera.  finally deciding ot leave, I saw a single young lady standing knee deep on the beach.  and I thought to myself, "Well, if you can't photograph it, perhaps you can share it."

    What incredible good fortune.  The young lady was extremely well spoken with a Scandinavian accent and she exuded that aura of happy enthusiasm that one always hopes to find.  Her name was Emily and she was not from Sweden, but from Minnesota.   She and her husband, Rob, who was just swimming in to shore, were

 hoping to move to Hawaii and they were happy to swim out and look at the cushion starfish with me.  The three of us enjoyed the star for a couple minutes and then said goodbye on the beach.  I talked about starfish anatomy, Rob talked about training himself to breathe on the opposite side while swimming long distances and Emily stood there just being sublime.  I still didn't have a camera so there is no picture of Emily and Rob.  Take my word for it,  they were a handsome couple of thirty somethings dressed for serious swimming.

   Sandra and I reconnoitered at Casa Ono.  I told her about the starfish and talked her into an afternoon swim.  Around two we were back at the pier, slipping into the cool water.  having carefully noted the position of the cushion star, I swam right to it.  Sandra loved it as much as I did.

   After nabbing a brace of photographs it was off to find the shortnose wrasse.  Although fish tend to move around more than sea stars, its been my experience that the shortnose wrasse tends to stay put for days at a time.  Due to his proximity to the mooring buoy, I was able to swim to my spot and start the hunt.  Nothing

Adapting life to art.  The Starfish Becomes a Mihrab.

 appeared for several minutes and it is a credit to Sandra's interest in the sport that we did not swim away.  This was lucky, for while we were searching for the shortnose, what should appear but a single gorgeous Potter's Angelfish.  Dealing with a treasured species in ten feet of water, I did my best work, diving repeatedly and holding on to the bottom.  The five inch angelfish was elusive, but  multiple attempts paid off with my best pictures of Potter's angelfish. 

     About half way through the angelfish effort the shortnose wrasse made his appearance, creating the opportunity for several more deep dives.  Finally, we got one acceptable picture of him.  Not only that, but while chasing the shortnose across the deep bottom,  I spotted a fine devil scorpionfish and we got his photo as well.

   At this juncture, I have to give a shout out to my mentor Bob Hillis, who in his unassuming way got me diving deeper and for longer duration.  Without Bob's tutelage, we would not have these pictures.  And thanks to Sara and Luc, Emily and Rob, that parvenu on the beach at the Waikoloa  and, of course, the Redoubtable SKG for making this longwinded blog possible.  Sandra is the real Sea Star!

See a fish for me,
jeff
    
















 

Winter at Casa Ono

    I believe that here in Kona we enjoy a monsoon climate.  It has certainly been that this year.    We suffered through a brutally hot wet season that ended in November.  As a result of the large amount of rain,

Honey Bees in the Palm Inflorescence

many things bloomed that we had never seen blooming before.  One would stop in their tracks and say, "So that's what that tree looks like when it blooms."

    For the past month, starting a week or so before Christmas, we have been enjoying a cool dry season.  Neither Sandra nor I can remember the last time it rained... at least three weeks ago.  Every morning I'm out before 7 AM, watering and pruning.  With selective watering, the weeds have essentially died away.  But as you can see from the pictures, we are still enjoying some lovely flowers through the winter.

   Yesterday I went outside and it was a beautiful morning.  One of our palm trees had an infloresence that was full of honey bees.  The dengue fever epidemic is ongoing and a month ago the state was spraying for mosquitoes.  Obviously there is no such thing as an insecticide specific for mosquitoes and,

Tigridia blossom taken with the macro

as a consequence,up until a couple weeks ago we were seeing lots of dying honey bees.  With the dry weather, they must be doing less spraying, hence our tree full of healthy bees.  What a treat!

    Below the palm trees and the avocado, our tigridia plants had gone crazy; there must have been a dozen fabulous blossoms.  As you can see, this flower, which we believe to be a variety of South American iris, is really fancy.  Usually we get only one or two on a given day.  The blossoms last only a single day, so if you are not out in the garden that day yu miss out.

  The avocado and mango are blooming along with the giant heliconia.  There is a variety of begonia that grows on a tall bamboo-like stalk, which lives behind the heliconia and it continues to throw out its pretty pink blossoms. 

Begonia on a Tall stalk.  This one is bent over.

   I love color and so I have planted bougainvillea here and there.  For an encore I'm showing you some that I have growing with the passion fruit on the arbor.

   Hope your day is colorful and full of joy.

jeff

Giant Heliconia

Bougainvillea Growing in the Lilikoi

Ganesha Thanks You for Looking at Our Garden

Things Are Evolving

   Yesterday was a gorgeous day here in Kailua Kona.  At 10 in the morning it was in the upper seventies with a charming breeze.  As we made our way down to Alii Drive, I noticed a number of buoys and what

A High School Paddling Team on a Gorgeous Day

 looked like a race committee boat at the far end of the pier.  The general absence of a crowd, not to mention the ease with which we had parked, lead me to comment, "I wonder if there is going to be a regatta tomorrow?"  A lady passing us at a good clip said, "There's a regatta right now."  to which I replied, to her receding derriere, "It must not be much of a regatta, or we wouldn't have been able to park."

   I think I saw her nod, but my attention was drawn across the street where a paddling team, of about twenty high school age boys and girls in matching blue T shirts, was going for a run up the street.  Garments below the waist were up to the discretion of the athlete, as was footwear; most of the paddlers were running in bare feet, while a few pantywaists were running the pavement in flip flops.  I was reminded of sending the soccer team off for a run, but, of course, the lads were all wearing sport appropriate boots.  Not to mention that the golden bodies

Adolescent Blacklip Butterfly, Dec. 10, 2015

that pranced by looked nothing like those found on the pitches of Oregon.

   I could dwell at some length on the differences in physiognomy between a 17 year old girl soccer player and her Polynesian paddling counterpart, but then Captain Priapism, who lives next door, would call the thought police and that would be it for the the old blogmeister.   Let us say that one might title such a blog, "Beauty and the Beast".  I leave it up to you and your vivid imagination to correctly assign the roles.

    As it turned out, it was a dual meet, with only two crews on the water at any one time.  Hence, the area around the kiosk was only lightly employed.  As we were donning our neoprene, who should happen by but our friend Marilyn from Alii Villas.  After appropriate greetings were exchanged, she averred that it was cloudy today (meaning the water, of course.)  I asked her if she had seen the blacklip butterfly, knowing full

Mature Blacklip Butterfly, January 16, 2016

 well that she is one of the "All the Pretty Fishes" school of snorkelers.   Although she wouldn't know a blacklip butterly from a black-headed grosbeak, one still has to give Marilyn credit.  As she had hip surgery a few years ago and is therefore unable to safely put on flippers for fear of a dislocation, she still gets down to the pier to enjoy the fish.

    As I was telling her that the blacklip butterfly could be found right in the shallows where she paddles, a young man (which is to say he was under forty) asked if there were any sharks here.  He proceeded to describe the small school of milkfish and I was happy to fill in some gaps and put a name on his find.  What joy to be the yoda of the fish.  Following this mini-dissertation, which Sandra bore stoically, we headed down to the water.

   This January the water is not quite as cold as one might expect.  And contrary to our friend's admonition, it was well on the clear side of diluted milk.  Such was the clarity in the shallows that I was able to nab a

picture of the blacklip butterfly, which has now persisted, as I prognosticated back in December, in the very

I'm a Crab of Constant Sorrow

same spot for over a month.  Not only that, but in my prescience, I have taken a picture of this unusual fish each time I have seen it and now have a series of photographs detailing the development of C. kleinii from adolescent to mature.

    I am sorely tempted to call this fish a waif.  It is living in a space whee none of its ilk are ever seen. Clearly the egg moved by current from another area, most likely somewhere else on this island, but almost certainly from below snorkeling depth.  I ask you, was little Orphan Annie less of a waif for being born in New York, not far from the home for foundling girls?  Was Daddy Warbucks a Democrat?

   Our experience with waifs is elegantly spelled out in The Ballad of Jeff and Sandra, recorded by Ulysses Everett McGill and the Soggy Bottom Boys. (I hope you received a copy of the CD in your Christmas stocking.)  The ballad recounts our experience with a tiny white crab, a humongous jellyfish and, notably, the

Immature hawkfish, P. forsteri,  in recovering coral.

Notorious PID.  Everyone agreed that our Phoenix Island Damsel was a waif, and no one thought the egg came from Phoenix Island.  In fact, the water-borne egg probably came from Maui.  Possibly it came from a nest on (shudder) this very volcanic isle.  Sandra and I were lucky to find the first one, who lived by himself in the Valley of the Sun, a depression on the wave swept reef in front of Alii Villas, for over a year and a half.  Many fish watchers, including the Great Oz, himself, came to see and bask in the glow of his waifliness.  A handsome photograph of the Notorious PID may be found on page 80 of the Ultimate Guide to Hawaiian Reef Fishes.

     All blathering aside, I think this blacklip qualifies as a waif and I hope you enjoy the pictures showing his development.

    Swimming out, we  saw lots of fish but nothing dramatic.  Way out by the last swim buoy, which corresponded with the five colorful buoys marking the finish line for the dual meet,  I spotted a handsome

 adult ornate wrasse in about ten feet.  I dove down to get his picture, but by the time my camera and I got 

An Ornate Wrasse that didn't get away.   Ho'okena 2012

to the bottom, the ornate wrasse was long gone Luckily, nearby was an immature freckle-faced hawkfish, This green capped fellow was perched on a piece of recovering cauliflower coral.  As you can see, what a few months ago (back when Freckle junior was just a flicker in his daddy's fin) would have looked like a bleached coral of incipient death, is now greatly recovered.   There was no reason for any of us, from mere novice to professor of invertebrate zoology, to know that so much of the coral would recover.  The evolution of the over heated and bleached coral is an ongoing experiment right here in Kailua Bay.  Those of us who gather around the swimming cubby and take notice of such things are greatly heartened by this partial recovery.

     On the way in I stalled to point at a stocky hawkfish.  As I surfaced a ladylike voice behind me asked, "What are you pointing at?"

You don't want to mess with this waif.

     "A stocky hawkfish."  I replied after pulling the snorkel from my mouth.  Turning a bit I saw Sandra  swimming five yards away.  Turning a bit more, I continued, "You're not my wife."

   The lady could have said, "Thank God for that!"  But instead she said, " I was hoping you had an octopus."
  
  To quote the Wyoming sheriff cum philosopher Walt Longmire, Boy Howdy.  I guess that I,too, was hoping it was an octopus.  But things are evolving and it was still a  great day a the beach.

jeff