Trailers For Sale or Rent: Black Sand Beach 49 and Something Special at City

    Here on the Big Island, there are more than a few shore entries for snorkelers that are associated with a resort hotel.  Having the most fun sometimes involves knowing what the hotel provides and, in the spirit of

the King of the Road, knowing what doors are unlocked when no one's around.


   While Roger Miller grew up "dirt poor" in rural Oklahoma, he was never a hobo sort.  To escape poverty he joined the army and served in Korea.  When he mustered out, he immediately gained employment as a performer and song writer, specializing in the Nashville sound of the sixties. The unattended doors, therefore, are more a figment of his imagination, rather than autobiographical.

    Sandra and I were oblivious to Black Sand Beach 49 until a few years ago when a real estate agent representing properties at Waikoloa Village noted this bay as a good place to snorkel if you happened to live in Waika-blowah. As you know, we live down in Kailua, but every now and then we enjoy going north.

     Our excursions north had wandered into a rut.  Two days ago it seemed like the right time to go some where other than Beach 69, aka Waialea Bay.  And so we decided to return to Black Sand Beach 49.  To reach this beach, which fronts a small bay

Black Sand Beach 49 at the Mauna Lani

surrounded by the sprawling Mauna Lani Resort, one heads in to the Mauna Lani, goes 270 degrees around the Mauna Lani traffic circle and motors on south through the golf course for about a mile.  Just after the road turns to the right, you take a left indicated by the tiny shore access sign..  The guard will give you a pass. It is important to note that, unlike the Mauna Kea, we have never failed to get a pass to this gem of a beach.

     It was a sunny day with acres of blue sky as we made the short walk from the parking area to the beach. This day there was a large cruising catamaran about 40 yards off shore. After we took a picture of the boat,  I left Sandra reading in the shade.  The beach here is a mix of black and white sand, similar to Ho'okena, so I prudently wore flip flops as I made my way down the steep slope to the water. Having avoided burned feet, I plunged into the cool clear water.

    This is an interesting bay, almost round with steep lava walls.  Once I thought it was a caldera, but now

Tennis, anyone?

I'm not so sure.  Nevertheless the steep sandy slope where you enter is the only part that is not either sheer  lava wall or open to the sea.  There is as much healthy coral here as anywhere, and the water on the west side of the entry is usually clear.  That was the case today and I enjoyed the clear water with out seeing much in the way of interesting fish.  On the way across the bay, I stopped to talk to a fellow from the sailboat, who was paddling aimlessly on a small surf board.  Ashore, this cruiser confused me and I thought it was a mono hull.  From this vantage point it was obviously a large catamaran in the range of 40 feet.

    Soon I was across to the inner wall of the bay.   Invariably, the water is cloudy on this inner side.  On a positive note, there is more coral on this side. And more importantly, we tend to see more interesting things over there.  We have seen an octopus at least twice and a year or so ago  the Redoubtable SKG found a blacktail wrasse.  Swimming alone in cloudy water, I kept a good eye out for sharks.  I didn't see any tiburon,  or anything else that I can brag to you about.

    Having enjoyed my refreshing, if unproductive, swim, I soon found myself at the single shower.  Here I made friends with a gentleman from Marin County who was staying at the Fairmont Orchid, one of those

hotels that make it really difficult to walk in off the street.  Not that there is any compelling reason to do so...it's more the principle of the thing.  Apparently the Fairmont sees the King of the Road approaching from some distance and acts accordingly.    

    My friend at the shower was a friendly sort, in spite of his choice of snooty lodgings.  And he was really enthusiastic about BSB 49. He said it was the best place he had been snorkeling.  BSB is pretty good, but being the helpful sort who plies his audience with advice well past their point of endurance, I regaled him with a couple suggestions,  City and Ho'okena in the south  and Mahukona in the north.  His wife, who seemed an able sort of girl, was pretty excited about going down the ladder at Mahukona.

    You are probably wondering when I am going to give you some real inside information. I mean, am I Roger Miller or Roger Rabbit?  It obviously doesn't have anything to do with bay, per se, unless you count not suffering burned feet. What it has to do with is lunch!

   At BSB the Mauna Lani provides the visitor with a nice set of rest rooms, which also service a well appointed tennis court.  Next to the tennis court is a cute little table and chairs and with an umbrella. sitting  in

Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse, City of Refuge

a manicured tropical setting.  As nobody in their right mind will play tennis in the middle of the day in Kona, this table with the garden setting is just waiting for you.

    Thus, at noon, the lovely SKG and I sat down to a delightful repast, al fresco.   To make our experience complete, the great ornithologist in the sky provided us with a female cardinal who danced around the table for several minutes.  She posed on the fence by the court and in the spider lily and was a joy to behold.

   I suppose my friends from Marin County enjoyed a fine lunch at the Fairmont, (la de dah) but I can assure you that they didn't have anything better than Sandra's chicken salad.  And I sincerely doubt they had the pleasure of a lady cardinal.

                        

                            >))))) ' >       >))))) ' >       >))))) ' >       >))))) ' >     >))))) ' >       

   Just so you won't think we are a couple of pikers in the fish finding and portraiture department, we made our way to City of Refuge the next day.  There we actually did see some fish worthy of mention.

    Shortly after getting in, I saw a bigeye take a turn in the open about ten feet down.  Thinking I would dive

Scrawled Filefish  Aluterus scriptus  City of Refuge, April 2016

down, hold on and take a look into his cave, I picked my hand hold and dove.  Just as I reached out to hold onto my coral projection, something moved only inches away.  It was a whitemouth moray, said mouth being full of sharp teeth.  Whoops!  Sometimes its best to leave well enough alone and in this instance, that goes double for bigeyes and their well denticulated friends.

    As we swam along, there were numerous opportunities to photograph Hawaiian cleaner wrasse.  It seems like just a week ago I was thinking that this species was becoming less common.  On this day at City of Refuge and the day before at BSB 49, they were remarkably common.

   Swimming north, we passed through a patch of cloudy water, but by the time we got to the corner it was clear again.  From out in the bay a trio of scribbled filefish swam in.  They were initially quite close to the

Thompson's Butterflyfish    City of Refuge, April 2016

surface, in perfect position for a picture.  We rarely see this fish near the surface, back in 1985 there was a small school of these magnificent creatures residing at Kahalu'u.  For years you could have photographed them at close range in good light.  Of course, that was before really dependable point and shoot cameras came along. 

    As the filefish swam away, we were joined by a mixed feeding flock of Thompson's butterflies and three spot damselfish.  They too remained uncharacteristically shallow.  For a moment or two they provided an unusual opportunity.  Ahh the delights of clear water and good surface light.

    Ashore we were dining in our folding chairs when a group of thirty somethings arrived.  They were from Australia, but two had emigrated to Sydney from south Africa and one from Zimbabwe.  Hard to believe that the conscience of the world turned Rhodesia into a place where no one is safe.  Any way, we had a nice chat and as we finished our lunch, a pod of dolphins came in.  Life at the beach can be pretty nice.

Nothing makes us smile like watching kids play at the beach.

What A Croc!

      My son James hates barracudas.   His first encounter came when he was ten years old and we were snorkeling in the small laguna at Akumal, about 40 miles south of Cancun.  To this day he will tell you that the barracuda smiled at him...and he hated it.  A few years later we encountered barracudas in, of all places,the man made lagoon at the Hilton

Great Barracuda with Cleaner Wrasse  2011

Waikoloa.  They were there for a couple years, but I haven't seen them in a long time.  Clearly the management (who swear they have never put a fish into that lagoon) did not consider them dangerous, but it is surprising that they let them live there for so long, given their reputation.  I assume that eventually the Hilton managers had the barracudas removed.

    Lucky for James, barracudas have become less common on the Kona coast.  I think I have seen three individuals in the last five years or so.  I have seen two large ones, about three feet in length and one adolescent, just over a foot, who swam around the swim area at the pier.

    Three days ago Sandra and I went swimming at Kahalu'u.  What a surprise!  It seems like we have been going there a lot.  The majority of the snorkel was fairly non-productive.  Out near Surfer's Rock we saw a peppered moray eel.

    As far as being dangerous, I guess you could say that morays are more dangerous, at least in the Pacific Ocean, than barracudas.  I don't know of any barracuda attacks in Hawaii, but its not so difficult to find people who have been bitten by eels.  Mostly these are dive masters who were feeding the eels and the eel simply took too big a bite, inadvertently biting the hand that fed it.  There are also some innocents who were holding onto the bottom or exploring the coral and had their hand mistaken for a small octopus.

T. crocodilus and Cleaner Wrasse  Kahalu'u  2016

   James isn't overly concerned about morays, despite the fact that some of them are clearly smiling at you.

   Twenty yards towards the shelter at Rescue Beach this outing changed dramatically.  Suddenly we came upon three Crocodile needlefish, Tylosaurus crocodilus.  Two were larger than any needlefish I have ever  seen.  The smallest was a large houndfish, perhaps pushing up to the two foot range, which is at the upper end of what I see here in Hawaii.

     The medium sized fish was around three feet in length.  He had his mouth wide open, enjoying a teeth cleaning by a Hawaiian cleaner wrasse.  As you can see, I wasn't quick enough on the trigger to catch the cleaner wrasse on the teeth, but its still a pretty good shot.

   The third fish was the most interesting.  This fellow was dramatically larger than any needlefish I had ever envisioned.  At closest approach we were probably three feet away, but by the time I addressed this big boy with the camera, he had moved off a little.  This fish had to be in excess of four feet and much thicker through the body than I had ever suspected a needlefish to develop.  As we approached, he seemed to make eye contact and he wasn't smiling.  For just an instant, I thought, "Am I supposed to be afraid of a large needlefish?"

Don't Cross Swords With Richard Sharpe

    Having had a few days to consider that mortal question, which at the time was practical rather than rhetorical, I still don't have an answer.  This guy was bigger than any barracuda I have seen by perhaps 20%.  Not only that, but just last year a crazed fisherman went mano a mano with a swordfish in Honokohau harbor and paid the ultimate price for his foolishness.  My conclusion: Large beaked fish must be taken seriously.

    When we got home, I called Barracuda James, who was reclining, high and dry, on his deck in Camas, Washington.  I told him about the size of the fish and its sharp teeth.  He couldn't believe that it was bigger than the barracudas we had seen together.  Which just goes to show that when you are looking at something dangerous, be it a handgun or a barracuda, it may seem larger than it actually is. Also, this needlefish was a genuinely big fish.

    The most interesting aspect of this large fish, from a physical standpoint, was a large blue patch on the posterior dorsum, just before the caudal fin.  This was such an unusual marking that I wondered if this animal was a different species.  Repairing to the books, I found that, according to Jack Randall, houndfish can range up to 53 inches.  An ichthyologist takes his measurements on a cold metal slab as opposed to by sight in the ocean.  So if Jack says five feet, three inches, we have to accept that a scientist somewhere actually handled a crocodilus that big.

   Still, the blue marking was very unusual, not mentioned  (certainly not pictured) in either Hoover's orRandall's field guides.  I next consulted that most excellent scientific

The Family-size Crocodile Needlefish

resource, Google Images.  In one photo, there is a suggestion of blue on the dorsum anterior to the tail, but it is not the distinct patch we see in my pictures.

   And so I consulted the experts directly.  John Hoover wrote back right away, having noticed that the lower jaw stuck out further than the top.  He suggested that the maxillary fighting tip might have been broken off.  Bernard Cornwell, he of Sharpe's Rifles, might regard this as a a dent in the sword of an accomplished warrior.  John had not seen a blue marking like that before.

   Jack Randall responded yesterday.  His first reply ran along the lines of,  "You ninny.  If you read my book T. crocodilus grows to five feet, so I make the identification on size alone."

The Dean of Marine Ichthyology

    I wanted to give this aging giant in the field of marine ichthyology one more crack... perhaps he had just got up from a well deserved nap.  So I gently responded by asking about his health and, by the way, what did he think of the blue patch before the caudal fin.  Here is his reply:

Jeff

I haven't seen the blue patch either, but I would want to see something more before I decided that is significant.

 I guess you could say I am doing well considering I will be 92 next month. Still publishing.  Attached is my most recent publication.

Big news:  I will receive the Darwin Medal at the International Coral Reef Symposium which will be held this June in Honolulu (every four years at a different city).  I am the 8th recipient, the first ichthyologist.  Some

A Close-up of the (Soon to be famous) Blue Spot

friends have congratulated me for receiving the Darwin Award.  I hasten to explain that it is a very different award.  As you probably know, it is for persons who do away with themselves by such things as losing at Russian roulette.

Aloha, Jack

    Most importantly, I do not believe that Dr. Randall has any intention of doing himself in, regardless of the award. .  From my personal perspective, it seems like Sandra and I observed something, perhaps a secondary breeding coloration, that is not well known in the scientific community.

   
    So chalk one up for the Snorkelkids.  And be careful around big fish bearing swords. 

jeff

PS  Dr. Randall alluded to a recent paper in the Journal of the Ocean Science Foundation describing 34 new members of the genus Pempheris  (sweepers) in the Indian Ocean.  He was the lead author, although at 92 I'm not sure that he made it into the ocean to identify all 34 species.  The redoubtable SKG and yours truly saw three species of sweepers in Bali.  So the Great Oz is way ahead of us.

                                          

                                                      Snorkelkids, Kailua Kona, Hi.

April 2016 Life is a beach

   Wednesday dawned bright and blue.  As I sped away from the Kealakehe transfer station, having deposited a trunkful of monstera and hapu'u, which is the Hawaiian name for tree ferns.  This particular cleaning was in preparation for a visit by my last remaining friend from high school, who is the dean of the

Red Shoulder Surgeon Adolescent with Manini  2016

business school at UH Manoa.  As I sped south on the Queen K Highway, I mused on the comparison.  Here is my friend the dean, traveling the world on behalf of UH, while I'm an out to pasture gas passer, spending my days on the beach and making paper mache fish.  Given that we both live in the 50th state, could our lives be more different?  Well, I suppose I could be homeless, but let's hope we don't have to go there.

    Having negotiated the upper reaches of Kailua, I made the turn down Kam III to Kahalu'u.  Always your faithful correspondent, I was hoping to strike up a conversation that would lend itself to some amusing blogging.  Finding a shelter littered with the mundane, I headed into the ocean.

    I had timed my trip to the recycling center, and hence my snorkel, to correspond with the tides.  At 9:30 it was the lower of the two highs, about three quarters of a foot.  Not so high that the waves would wash over the Menehune breakwater and, more importantly, high enough so one could easily slither through the rocky

Imm. Red Shoulder Surgeon  2012

entrance.  Summer is on the way and those of us with tender feet are hoping that the sand entrance will soon be recarpeted with, well, sand.

    Out in the bay, the water was clear and I was soon rewarded with an adolescent Red shouldered surgeon.  The red shoulder surgeon is one of our most common fish and handsomely colored.  The well known adult is two tones of gray, the front two thirds a light gray and the after portion darker.  A long red ellipse is emblazoned just where one might place the shoulder...if fish had shoulders.  This red stripe is remarkably similar in hue to the stripe on the bow of a coast guard cutter.
 
     As it turns out, the red slash, canted 64 degrees forward, was first proposed in 1964 by the industrial design firm of Raymond Loewy / William  Snaith. It may now be revealed that Mr. Snaith,  a navy brat who

Pantone 175

 spent his formative years near Pearl Harbor, was inspired by the shade of red, well on its way to orange, worn so proudly by the red shoulder surgeon..  Officially this color is known as Pantone 179.  Snaith lobbied long and hard for the name, Surgeon Shoulder Red, but the people at the Department of the Navy said enough is enough.  By 1967 all of our Coast Guard vessels were decked out with this inspiring red blaze.

   I, for one, can not remember a time when our coast guard cutters did not bear that red stripe and I secretly thrill every time I see it.  

   The shape of the red ellipse is repeated in a blue surround.  The overall effect is that of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  Could this be a coincidence?  The creationist who lives next door claims that God designed all animals, down to the last detail.  Is it possible that the dear good lord is a fan of motor racing?  Food for thought.

Coast Guard Cutter William J. Snaith

    As it matures, the red shouldered surgeon under goes a remarkable transition,  the smallest keikis are the same yellow as the yellow tang, albeit roughly the shape of the mature RSS.  While quite small they acquire the red shoulder patch.  Initially a ghostly outline, the patch becomes more deeply hued as the fish matures.   In this adolescent, we see a a fish that is just emerging from the yellow coat of his childhood and will soon be two tone gray.  If one is observant, he can see the yellow babies commonly in late summer.  To catch a transforming adolescent like this fellow is a rare treat.  I followed him around for a while to catch the photograph you see here.

    For those of you who are playing along at home, I'm including a picture of the adult RSS that I took on the same outing.  Sad to say, as I was reviewing my pictures under the awning at K Bay, I deleted my best effort.  Klutz!  I'm also including a picture of an immature taken in early October of 2012 at Ho'okena.  Sadly, I can not find a picture of the

Saddleback Butterflyfish, C, ephippium   Kahalu'u 2016

extreme immature, lacking the bar or any vestige of the two tone coloring.

   The remainder of this swim yielded two nice buterflyfish pairs.  As you can see, the saddleback butterflies were swiming in bright sun, nibbling tidbits from the rocky bottom.  The Raccoon pair was chilling in the shade of a coral head, one or the other occasionally making a foray out of cover for a bit of tea.  In much of the English speaking world, which is to say that part that is more dependent upon England, per se, for its linguistic traditions, this means a light meal.  Or, at least, such is my conceit.

   We enjoyed our visit with the dean immensely.  On our way down to K Bay the following morning, Sandra announced  (yes, I finally got Sandra to come snorkeling) that it was refreshing to be able to talk intelligently

Raccoon Butterflyfish  C lunula  Kahalu'u 2016

to someone for a change.  She reflected for a moment and then added, "Current company excepted, of course."

   Similar to the day before, there were no worthies to be coaxed into conversation, so we soon found ourselves back in the soup.  The adolescent red shouldered surgeon was not to be found and the pair of saddle back butterflies was similarly absent, but it was a pretty good day for hermit crabs.  Clinging to a coral was a pontifical miter.  Neither Sandra nor I could get him to let loose, so we honored his tenacity and the occupant remains a mystery.

    "How", you may ask, "do you know that there was a hermit crab inside that shell? Would not the legitimate molluscan owner cling tightly to the coral?"   Well.  In our experience as amateur carcinologists, when ever, in these very Sandwich Islands, one encounters a small shell that clearly does not belong where it

For heaven's sake! Don't start pontificating.

is, there is probably a hermit crab inside.  Further, Sandra is fairly confident that somewhere in a box we still possess a pontifical miter shell.  This would be a remnant of the bad old days when we brought hermit crabs back to the aquarium which we kept on the lanai at Alii Villas.  As in this case, sometimes our charges arrived in flamboyant clothes, sort of like Dick Grayson arriving at the Bat Cave.  Once in their new home, they would have to contend with the other hermit crabs, who each night would duke it out for the best shell.  To make a long story short, in the case of Pontifical Miters and hermit crabs, we've got the T-shirt.

Holy Hermit Crabs, Batman!  Can't you make him stop?

    A bit further on, there was a family of Hazlett's hermit crabs wearing a variety of different shells. The pater familias was downright regal in a triton.

    Out near Surfer's Rock we had a close encounter with a large male Ember Parrotfish.  These guys are understandably stand-offish.  When a spear fisherman says he had uhu for dinner, this is probably what he meant.  Ember parrotfish (until rather recently we called them red lipped parrotfish) are perhaps the best tasting of reef fish, surpassing even menpachi, which we know as epaulet soldierfish.  With all this in mind, it was an honor to have this bold fellow pose for a couple pictures.

  Shortly after bidding the parrotfish adieu, I came upon the front portion of a large slipper lobster.  As

Iridescent Fireworms

I dove down to move it to a location more suitable for photography, I found that it was home to a pair of iridescent fireworms, who I assume were dining on the remnants of the lobster.  These worms, who look remarkably like sea going centipedes, did not particularly want to be photographed, scuttling away before I could get a decent picture.  We don't see them very often, so it was a treat in spite of their lack of cooperation.  The  photo of the dorsum of the lobster carapace is dramatically better than the one with the fleeing bristleworms, but they are both interesting.

    Finally (I believe I can hear you say, "Its about time.")  we come to yesterday, where we find our heroes descending the winding, narrow, treacherous road  leading to that hot bed of dengue fever, Ho'okena.  Hard as it is to believe, given the drought that has persisted for more than three months, we are just a few weeks removed from the last reported case of dengue fever on the leeward side of the Big Island, and it is my suspicion the Ho'okena Beach Park remained closed until quite recently. One has to remember, that those Aedes aegypti mosquitoes were probably not relying on fresh rain to supply a breeding ground.  Rather, they were reproducing in residual rain being stored in cisterns such as those the residents of the few dwellings at Ho'okena employ.  One doesn't know if all the A. aegypti mosquitoes have died off.  I feel it is more likely that they were finally denied a fresh human dengue fever carrier for epidemic (read blood sucking) purposes.  Keeping in mind that this is the very same mosquito that spreads the newest international scourge, the Zika virus, I suspect that the Big Island,

Tiger Cowrie,  C. tigris  Ho'okena 2016

especially our favorite beach park, is primed for something dramatically worse than dengue fever.  If one can believe the maps shown on the evening news, A. aegypti lives as far north as San Francisco, so perhaps it is unfair of me to single out the cistern-using residents of Paradise, Ho'okena and Milolii as international criminals.  But to many of us, its pretty clear who is responsible for the prolonged dengue fever epidemic.    

     I moseyed over to the small shelter and occupied a view seat at the makai picnic table.  At the other end was a pleasant young lady from Portland, who was camping.  That she was a camper but better turned out than your author was only mildly embarrassing...I'm used to it.  Sadly, she was just too normal for an amusing blog interview.  While she prepared a papaya,  Sandra and I changed into

our swim wear.  In the process, I noticed that the county has added two camping spots mauka of the

Yellow Tail Coris, transitional adolescent

parking area, thus separate from the beach front sites.  These two sites were occupied while a couple beach front sites remained vacant.  There was no obvious explanation why these people did not choose to camp on the sand. 

     Upland campers aside, we were soon in the water, which was crystal clear.   Swimming along the reef near shore we saw many red labrid wrasses, including one that was transitional to the adult yellowtail coris.  These are always fun and I am threatening to paint one with red and white stripes anteriorly , the posterior will be blue with white stars.  The Patriotic Wrasse!  Good luck finding one on the Fourth of July!

    On a coral nearby I spotted one of the largest cowries I have ever seen.  As you can see, this big boy was nestled into a crevice.  Almost as big as one of those delicious navel oranges that they sell at Costco, he was a tiger cowrie.  According to the Hoover critter book, this cowrie grows larger in Hawaii than anywhere

Plectoglyphodon johnstonianus, the Blue eye Damselfish 2016

else.   I haven't seen this species recently, possibly it was a life cowrie.

    Swimming out to deeper water, we saw a gilded triggerfish.  Despite looking carefully at every congregation of coral, we did not see any angelfish.  Finally we ended up where the reef grows off the end of the old boat landing.  Here the waves sweep in and out; its a perfect place for fish that like a shallow, surging habitat. I had seen some adolescent Blue eye damsels in shore, but here I found one that was willing to hold still and I got a pretty good picture of  this shy yellow fish.

     Looking among some dying coral in a area where the waves were really sweeping through,  I saw a small wrasse that initially reminded me of an ornate in exactly the wrong spot.  In a moment I realized that it was a small five stripe wrasse.  The fish with the fancy face is never large and this one was smaller than most, four

Five Stripe Wrasse, Ho'okena, April 2016

inches at most.  True to character, he swam fast, darting among the crevices in the coral as the surf passed over us.  After taking a few pictures, I was lucky to find him again and show him to Sandra.  Checking my records, I find that I have not seen this fish since January, 2014.

    Ho'okena remains an excellent place to snorkel.  If you can pick a calm day, it provides an easy, sandy entry with superb fish watching.  Just watch out for the skeeters.

    A special thanks to the U.S. Coast Guard and the brave men of Cutter Escanaba.

Ho'okena Pier April 2016   Sandra Gray

The Hortonville Band and and Update from the Pier

   These days when I go down to Kahalu'u, it's pretty much a toss up whether the people on the beach or the critters in the ocean will be the highlight of the excursion.  Two days ago, Sandra and I made it down to K

 Bay in the morning.  The parking lot was no more full than usual...we found one of the auxiliary spots reserved for locals who realize the the constabulary doesn't actually care about the lines.

   On the contrary, the shelter was packed.  The mass of humanity was not attending a baby luau, but instead was a throng of pale houlies, most of whom were just sitting on the benches, seemingly waiting for something to happen.  The group was distinguished by a large number of sea green towels.  I asked a stout lady a bit younger than myself who was associated with this mass of laundry just what was the deal.  She replied that they were the Hortonville
Marching Band from Hortonville, Wisconsin.  She volunteered that they had marched in the Merrie Monarch parade in Hilo and were now here in Kona for two days.   Looking around, I noticed a bunch of dazed adults sitting at the tables, but there was indeed a plethora of pale adolescents.

    How many people are in the band?"  I asked.  She replied that there were 140 bandsmen on the trip but another 100 adults had come along for the ride.  240 Hortonians? Holy Whoville!

    Before I could finish getting my gear on to head down to the sea, Sandra had returned with this picture.  You can tell that they are bandsmen as they are marching into the water.   If anything distinguished this group from the Badger State, aside from their blue green towels, it was the use of their fins.  Having paid for the rental, they were determined to get their money's worth by wearing them everywhere.  I can only imagine Snorkel Bob throwing up his hands in dismay.

What do you suppose that the band performed at Pearl Harbor?

   Sitting on a rock with my feet in the water, putting on my own relatively ancient fins, I pondered what it must have been like the day the band descended on Snorkel Bob's.  What if there was another customer.  Can you wait just a minute?  How about two hours?

   Swimming in the bay was no more dangerous than usual.  The likelihood of collision was markedly reduced because these Polar Bears (the moniker of the Hortonville High school) apparently can't swim very well.  Or perhaps they just don't like to swim.  At any rate, they mostly stood around in the shallows,  masks pulled up on their foreheads, fins on the rocky bottom.   On the other hand, aside from not actually snorkeling, sometimes standing on the coral, the bandsmen were remarkably well behaved.

    Here is the website for the Hortonville Band with the itinerary:
http://www.hasd.org/Music/Hortonville%20Itinerary%20090215.pdf

Light spotted sea cucumber   H. hilla  (Perhaps)

    As you will note, the kids were subjected to a brutal schedule.  If they looked a little dazed as they stood on the rocks at K Bay, I suppose I can resonate with that.  I mean, who the F*** boards a bus at 5:45 to look at Akaka Falls, marches in a parade at 10:30 and leaves for the volcano at 2?  Seriously?  The itinerary planner at Hawaii State Tours must be a sadist.
 
    The coral standing wasn't limited to the youths.  Out near Surfer's Rock I approached a large female Polar Bear standing on a coral head.  I believe she approached fifteen Wisconsin units.  This method of measuring weight (Wisconsin Units) is employed by snide  medical residents in the cheese making state.  My former colleague, Jim Goeke, reported that the Wisconsin patient
population was much, much larger than the obese of western Oregon.  Hence, according to the disparaging residents back in Madison, they required a different weight scale: Wisconsin Units.

    To be fair, on average the kids and their adult supporters were not any more obese than their peers here in Kona.  A bit pale, perhaps, but no more obese.  Again, to be fair, I've never seen the kids from the Kealakehe High School marching band.  Maybe they, too, are skinny and pale

Beware of Polar Bears

    But I digress.  We left the mother polar bear standing on a coral head with her mask pulled up onto her forehead.  I politely asked her if she could swim, as she was killing the coral.  She replied that she could not, as she was looking for her daughter.  Now I ask you, if you were her chubby daughter, and you were hanging out with 140 of your closest friends following the Bataan death March of Hawaii tours, how likely is it that you would let your mother find you?  The coral never had a chance.

    While swimming, I saw yet another peri-mortem sea cucumber (this one may be the light spotted sea cucumber, H. hilla) and  several Christmas wrasse.  Best of all, I saw the immature of the Blue eye Damselfish, also known as the Johnston Island Damselfish.  This small, furtive fish darted around inside a coral, forcing me to attempt multiple photographs through the fenestrations...with a complete lack of success.  Sadly. this immature is not pictured on the

Immature Beau Brummel sort of like the immature JID

internet, or in Hoover or Randall.  In fact, these two experts make no mention of this phase, despite my (apparently unconvincing) lobbying for his inclusion.   With a blue dorsum, and yellow below, he looks a bit like a Beau Brummel from the Caribbean, a picture of which I am providing here. The immature I see has a little less blue on the dorsum and the yellow is a lighter shade.

  Or it's possible I have experienced a succession of hallucinations over the past twenty years and you should dispatch the men in the little white coats with the large butterfly net to haul me in.

    In researching this blog, I discovered that this species feeds on coral polys, especially cauliflower corals.  With the death of so many pocillipora corals due to high water temperature, we may be seeing far fewer of this handsome species on our shallow reefs. 

    When I returned to shore, poor Sandra was sitting on a table near my gear having been displaced by the ever increasing number of Whos.   She had texted her picture to Bob Hillis, who responded that he was going to get a pair of lace up fins for hiking in the desert.

A bay full of happy Whos!

    Another bus was reported on its way from the King Kam Hotel, where the multitude was lodging (and the origin of those blue green towels) so we beat a hasty retreat.

 The Whos down in Hortonville like loud music a lot.
But the Grinch atop Mauna Kea did not.
He sat on the peak, his ukulele a strumming.
And said, "There must be a way
To keep  Merrie Monarch from coming."

"I hate all the bands with their blustering trumpets.
I despise all the flag girls dressed  up like young strumpets.
And what of the swaying, grass clad hula dancers?
In my learned opinion a telescope is the answer!"

    Who would have guessed that the Grinch was a man of science?   Apparently the Grinch  has given up on  governor Ige standing up to the hula dancers.   Last year, the same Merrie Monarch dancers appeared on KHNL dancing on the top of Mauna Kea, colorful skirts swaying in the thin air, protesting  the 30 meter telescope.   We have probably lost the telescope, but at least we will have the hula dancers. Aloha oy vey.

For those of you who want to see what the poor Grinch is up against, watch this video of the hula dancers from Hilo at the work site:
http://mauinow.com/2015/04/11/video-maui-halau-honors-mauna-kea-amid-tmt-controversy/

    The following morning, yesterday, we got up bright and early and headed down to the King Kam Hotel in hopes of squeezing in another interview or two with the fine citizens of Hortonville prior to thier departure.  I

A Convex Crab in dire straits.

got there around 9:30 and they were gone.  I had just under two hours to kill so I headed down to the pier for a really long swim.

    Shortly after entering the water I happened upon a convex crab.  I doubt that this was the same individual I saw by the pier only a few days before.  He was harboring between a coral and a large rock and was remarkably tolerant of my approach for photographs.  The reason was soon apparent; at least one of his legs was tangled in fishing line.  I attempted to free him with my bare hands, but the line was that stout woven stuff used for leader when you are fishing for whale sharks.

   Failing in my attempt, I swam back to the shore in hopes that one of the swimmers, or the lady who was teaching a well heeled youth to paddle board, might have a blade of some kind.  Of course, this was in vain.  And perhaps it was just as well, because, despite searching for fifteen minutes,  I could not locate the crab. 

Paper mache Potter's Angelfish by the author

What I did find was a large yellow margin moray lurking in one of the nearby coral heads, serving as a reminder that one should approach those rocks and corals with appropriate caution.

    Hoping that my initial effort somehow freed the crab, I swam away.  Attempting to take advantage of the clear water, I searched the reef around the swim buoy for the resident Potter's angelfish.  Not finding him, I swam back to the pier in hopes of seeing the bluestripe butterfly that we spotted a few days before.  Although butterflies often stick around for a week or two, he wasn't there.  I'm including here a picture of a paper mache Potter's Angelfish that I recently completed..feel free to refer to the men in little white coats above.

    Amid the coral I found a fancy green and silver fishing lure, which I retrieved.  It took several attempts to flip the lure up and over the rail, onto the pier.  Appropriately, I was using the hook shot copied from one of the players in the final four.  (Like Mrs Biden, I was cheered by the Villanova victory.)  In the process of hook shooting the lure, I managed to hook one of my fingers.  Now tell me that you are surprised.

Gotta work on that hook shot

    Heading back to the shallows, I found the coral with the yellow margin moray.  I was getting out the camera to attempt a photo when some movement caught my eye.  At the base of an adjacent coral, there was a small  scorpionfishfish.  About three inches, he was chalk white and covered with fringes.  What a treat!  Based on size and shape, I would identify this cute fellow as a Shortsnout Scorpionfish.  John Hoover mentions the pink eye as an additional field mark in separating this species from S. diabolus.   

    I dove twice to get photographs.  I then set the camera to include a flash and dove again.  As I submerged, something raked over me.  Initially I thought I had been hit by a paddle boarder.  Actually, I found myself disentangling  from a dog.  His owner, 20 yards away on the beach, was using one of those sticks to flick a ball past the first swim buoy.  By the time I recovered and decided I wasn't bleeding very much, I was all turned around and could not find this interesting, small scorpionfish again. Hence, I did not get a close look at the presumably pink eye. I did get a really close look at the the dog as he swam by, having retrieved another long throw.  Seeing him coming, I was just able to swim out of his path.  Had I not, I believe he would have dog paddled right into me.

My assailant swimming ashore.

    This is not the first time that I have been clawed by a dog while swimming.  The other time was at the Dog Beach.  What a surprise.  In both instances the dog was retrieving for an owner oblivious to swimmers.  In this instance, the guy was throwing the ball across the heavily used swim lane.  All of which is to say, it probably behooves us fish watchers to be aware of what's happening on the beach.  Neither paddle boarders or dog owners are looking out for us.

    Ashore, I found a  (probably) homeless fisherman under the pavilion maintained on the pier to shade the tourists returning to the cruise ships.  This canvas canopy is one of the fish thrown to the Kailua homeless, at least on days when there is no cruise ship. On a given day you can find a dozen or more reclining in this patch of civic shade by the bay.  The angler was a pleasant fellow and let me photograph the lure, which I assume he will put to good use.  It didn't occur to me to ask him if he had  been greatly inconvenienced by the Hortonville Marching Band. 

jeff

Shortsnout Scorpionfish,   S. brevifrons  Kailua Bay April 2016