The Missing Link

     This week I went snorkeling on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday..  That really shouldn't be any sort of exciting proclamation, but the sad truth is that it has been a pathetically long time since I have taken three consecutive plunges.  As you will see, our increased time in the water paid off.

Thou Shalt Not Watch Fish!

    Tuesday has become an important day for swimming, what with Sandra working in the church office Wednesday morning and both of us having a potential church obligations on Thursday mornings.  Its almost as if God doesn't want us to go snorkeling.  Actually, as I have previously reported, the bible takes no position what so ever on wildlife observation.  Noah and the Ark aside, it's almost as if wild animals of any variety didn't exist in the Holy Lands. (I don't think the snake in the garden qualifies as a wild animal and I don't think we can credit Eve with being the first herpetologist.)

   Regardless of ecclesiastical conflicts, we loaded up the car Tuesday morning and headed north to the Mauna Lani.  We had been aiming for a trip down to City of Refuge, but the wave predictor, which is sort of like the bible, prophesied that we would be better off avoiding City on that day.  The morning was bright as we drove under a blue sky, fleecy clouds gracing the heights of Kohala Mountain, the observatories

Flying Gurnard Black Sand Beach 49 July 2017

twinkling on the to of Mauna Kea.

    I was surprised when we arrived at Black Sand Beach 49 to find that there was a significant amount of wind, perhaps fifteen gusting to twenty knots blowing right at us from the north. This wasn't enough to deter us, so we unloaded our folding chair, which only blew over once before we found a hedge that would shelter it sufficiently, donned our swimming togs and headed down the steep black sand slope to the beach.  It was early, around nine in the morning, so that black sand hadn't had a chance to warm excessively.

    The water was fairly clear and a pleasant temperature, probably in the low 80's.  As we swam, the wind blew us back a bit so we ended up swimming through rocks that hug the seaward shore. Finally free, we enjoyed the remaining coral, which is as good as anywhere in these days of coral bleaching.  Towards the middle, we spotted a patch of coral that was
supporting a number of soldierfish, other wise known to spear fisherman as menpachi.  It is a really good year for the epaulet soldierfish, which are appearing in significant numbers in lots of spots where we hadn't seen them before.  As we watched them hovering in their coral depressions, I noticed a Hawaiian squirrelfish swim across a fenestration.  This is a fish that we ordinarily only see at night, so this quick look was exceedingly lucky.

Kentucky Fried Benthic Worms, They're Finger Flickin' Good!

   Moving on, I was happy to find a big, fat flying gurnard in the sand patch smack in the middle of the bay. This odd fish, with pectoral fins that look for all the world like wings, had eluded us so far this year.  We always look for it at the pier, where it appears with modest dependability on both the Ironman and hotel sides, plying its trade in the sand.   We have been lucky to see some juveniles in the past, these being much more handsome with lots of blue in the wings.  This old bird was big and gray, hardly any color at all.  The gurnard has the curious habit of crawling slowly across the bottom while finger like projections from the elbows of the wings (hence just to either side of the mouth) flick at the sand, disturbing small invertebrates which, in their attempt to flee the incessant flicking, become lunch.  I took a ten second movie, attempting to capture this finger flicking, but the fish was too deep, probably around thirty feet, so I wasn't able to get close enough to capture this interesting behavior effectively.  Never the less, we suspect the gurnard was enjoying his brunch, which was (I have it on good authority) finger flickin' good.

     There was little else to see in the bay, so we swam ashore, showered and retired for our own lunch.  I like to let you know about the facilities available near the snorkeling beaches.  In this instance I am sad to

A Coneshell Hermit Crab at Kahalu'u Hopes for Cooler Water

report that the Mauna  Lani, at least on this day, had let the facilities near Black Sand Beach 49, slip a bit.  The men's room looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while, with a substantial amount of black sand piled up in the sink (it looked like turpentine and smelled like India ink).  Not only that, but the establishment had taken the wrought iron chairs from around the table and moved them into the tennis court, put the table umbrella upon the chairs and locked the gate.  Where, oh where, were the snorkelkids to have their picnic.

   Well, the manicured bits of lawn by the courts, shaded by flowering trees were still there, so I on the beach chair and Sandra on her mat, spread out our repast. What do you think about that? In fact, it was damn near heavenly sitting in the shade, dining sumptuously and watching the tourists trudge by with their beach equipment.  Between bites, we took a moment to gaze through the chain links into the tennis court, which was piled at one end with dead leaves.  If one were looking forward to his next visit to BSB 49, he might add all these things together and be a bit

Run Silent, Run Deep.  Scribbled Filefish at City of Refuge 

concerned that something is afoot.  Or maybe we caught the Mauna Lani on a bad day.

    The following day Sandra did her stint at the church while I ran errands.  Somehow in the afternoon I found the energy to drive down to Kahaluu for a swim.  The bay was nice and flat and the tide just right for an easy entry.  That is about where the good news stops.  The water was cloudy and very warm.  In fact, when I was getting out I swam through a patch close to shore that had to be in the upper 90's.  Early on I saw a cone shell hermit crab which escaped my grasping fingers.  Following my fumbling attempt, he peered up at me from between the rocks.  Out by Surfer's Rock there was a pair of saddleback butterflies.  And that was about it.  Even the tourists in the shelter didn't provide much amusement.  So for this installment, the hot water is the story.  Heaven help the coral at K Bay.

Heller's Barracuda

   Yesterday, our churchly obligations behind us, we headed down to City of Refuge, arriving around 10:30.  It was an overcast morning; we had driven through some sprinkles as we made our way through the highlands of Captain Cook.  However, this didn't seem to effect the tourists, who were there in astounding
numbers.  There were great clots of them out in the water, some with matching life preservers, entire extended families with color coded noodles.  We struggled through the maddening crowd to the two step entry, found a place to put on our fins and, swoosh, we were in the delightfully cool, clear water.  After my experience of the the day before, the water looked like crystal.  There were buckets full of fish of every stripe and once we swam ten yards from shore, we were pretty much on our own.

    Our mission on this day was to see the scribbled filefish, which was easily the most common fish missing from the 2017 list and the threadfin jack, which is appearing in bays this summer in Kona and Kohala  With that in mind, we swam straight out forty yards to the lava ridge that in extreme low tide pokes its head above the water.  Hence, we call it the island, even though it is rarely so.  The water around the island is deeper, perhaps 30 to 40 feet, but it was at the surface that I saw the first good fish for the day.  A small thin fish about ten inches long was swimming in front of me.  His body was quite straight, his tail a neat little fan  and  when I looked quite close, he had a fine blue line running the length of his flank.  As he swam, he joined an identical companion.  I decided that these must be juvenile Heller's barracuda.  They were too elusive, small and gray for a photo, but they were fun to observe.

Yellow and Black, Longnose Butterflyfish at City of Refuge

    Sandra and I swam around the island, at one point interacting with a fellow snorkeler who was enthused with a large turtle hanging out on the bottom.  Not seeing much else, we headed north, with the coral below becoming progressively deeper.  Suddenly there was a scribbled filefish deep below us.  As we watched he was joined by a mate and they circled  slowly below us before heading out to sea.

   We shared a high five, but didn't have much time to gloat before we saw a small school of adult Heller's barracuda.  They were about twenty feet down, but before I could get a picture the school went deeper.  At about the same time, a school of opelu, swimming wildly, occupied the spot previously held by the barracuda.  At times like this, the opelu remind me of crazy ants.

    Those of you who don't live in Hawaii may not be familiar with crazy ants.  Suffice it to say, we are blessed with ants in all sizes.  We have large red ants that often appear singly.  Mostly we have black ants that vary from medium size to microscopic.  I suppose there is a branch of invertebrate zoology that specializes in ants and a practitioner of such would be in hog heaven here in Kona.  Most of these black ants

Longnose Butterflyfish Transitional Coloration   City of Refuge, July 2017

send out scouts.  When a scout finds something of interest, the ants form a column, hauling away the booty in an organized, social fashion.  However, one of the smaller varieties of black ants, just larger than microscopic, does not form columns.  Instead, individuals scamper randomly, frantically, about one's counter top.  These are crazy ants.  If one uses the term crazy ants here in the land of palm trees and pineapples, his friends know immediately of what he speaks.  And a school of opelu, bright royal blue with pretty yellow tails, swim like crazy ants.

   Well, we attempted to photograph the scribbled filefish and the Heller's barracuda and in the process I got a couple of poor pictures of opelu, which as we have noted were sort of mixing with the barracudas.  Further exploration didn't yield anything of great interest, unless you live for extremely plain and not so

Dragon Fruit Cactus South Kona

uncommon fish like three spot chromis and Thompson's butterfly.  No matter how hard we looked, there were no threadfins and so we headed for the ranch.

   Just as we were preparing for the two step landing I was stopped dead by a very long nose butterflyfish in remarkable transition.  You will recall that this fish comes in two colors, yellow and black.  It is accepted that they change color from time to time, and that this color change does to indicate anything special.  For example, the black ones are not males.  We occasionally see a black one with a bit of yellow here and there, but  this fish was way different.  His wide flank was bronzy, an effect created by a mixture of yellow and black scales, His face and the trailing edge was black, but that edge was lined in yellow, as were the little spines on the dorasal fins.  Fancy!  This was a truly remarkable individual, one that we have been anticipating for years.

   We surfaced and looked at each other and I said, "the f***ing missing link."  And so it was.

   On the way home we stopped while Sandra took a few pictures of the developing dragon fruit on the cactus in the lava rock desert.  a fitting end to good day in South Kona.

jeff 

  

The Fisherman Strikes Back

    Before beginning, I guess I need to apologize to my loyal readers.  I really should have put together a blog before now.

   A few interesting things have happened since we last met, we have seen a few good fish and taken at

Fishing Doesn't Have to be Confrontational

least one good picture.

   Perhaps the most interesting thing that has occurred involved your humble correspondent getting attacked by a fisherman.  Ten days ago I went snorkeling at the pier.  I didn't see much of interest on the way out.  Thinking of the barracuda that Sandra and Kim saw a week or so before, I swam into the shallows.  As I swam I was aware of a number of fisherman on the sea wall.  They were fishing for a large school of big eye scad that is locally known as the bait ball.  The bait ball usually hangs outside the fourth swim buoy, so when it comes near shore, for whatever reason, the fisherman come out to try their luck.  I didn't see the barracuda, but there was a quartet of barred jacks that were harassing the scad.   While I was watching the ulua, I sensed something flying over my head.  Immediately there after a shiny weighted lure with a treble hook went whipping by my face, no more than two feet away.

   Suffice it to say, this got my attention.  I looked up and a fisherman yelled at me.  He yelled, "Back off!"  Ever the diplomat, I replied, "I'm calling the police!"  I had the chance to appraise the geography of this encounter from both the seaward, and later, the land perspectives.  I'm sure that I was no closer than 25 yards to that fisherman and I had no idea they were fishing that far out into the bay.  Obviously I was wrong about that.  Since then I have wondered if that guy

Which of those fish is Sunny and which one is me?

was skillful enough to put the hook in front of my face or if he would have been equally happy to skewer me.  Now I know what its like to be a scad.  And I don't especially recommend it.









    The next day Sandra and I went swimming with Sunny and Kim from the Methodist Church.  Even though my assailant was not present on the seawall, I warned Sunny to stay away from the fisherman, lest she become a variant on the loaves and fishes story.  On the way out she followed Sandra, and I went searching for something special.  I took note of a wrasse that seemed a little different

There should be a sign for the ultra-plain disappearing wrasse

schooling with some immature belted wrasse.  I dove down and got a quick look before the fish swam under a rock, never to return.  Before he vanished I saw a couple fine blue streaks beneath and behind his jaw. When we got home I was pleased to note that this is the major field mark for the disappearing wrasse.  I didn't get a picture of this fish (he was too spooky) but even if I had it wouldn't be worth showing.  This is one exceedingly plain fish; a trout shaped fish colored a uniform washed out pink with no other markings  When I told her about it, Sandra said that the disappearing wrasse, in his plainness  must be Amish.

   We were able to show Sunny a turtle hanging out on the bottom and bore her half to death with a brief, on the spot lecture on sea turtle respiratory physiology.  As you will recall, sea turtles are unique among vertebrates in that they tolerate an incredibly low brain oxygen tension, buffer their accumulated CO2 to an amazing extent and restore their oxygen and dump their carbon

What?  No Warning Label?

dioxide with two quick puffs.  I'm surprised Sunny didn't fall asleep, lose her grip on the noodle and drift down to join the turtle on the bottom.

   And where was Kim Davison?  How did she get out of the lecture?  As we started our swim, Kim was showing off her copy of John Hoover's fish book rendered in water resistant paper.  As we were swimming out, Kim was attempting to use her new fish identification tool and made herself seasick.  Hence, by the time the lecture started she was halfway back to shore.  Perhaps John Hoover should include a warning in the forward to the book.  Don't read while swimming if you are prone to motion sickness.

    Four or five days later we received an emergency text from Peter...the threadfin jack was back at Mahukona.  As you will recall, this is the juvenile of the African Pompano, a large member of the jack family.  These relatively small diamond shaped fish develop long streamers that trail back from their dorsal and ventral fins.  It is thought that these fringes may imitate the tentacles of a Man of War jellyfish.  Sandra will tell you that the Man of

Sunny (under the halo), Sandra and Kim

War is not actually a jellyfish, but rather a different class of Cnidarian, a siphonophore. Unlike a normal jellyfish,
which is a single multi-cellular animal,  a Man of War is a collection of specialized individual animals.  And there goes Sunny falling asleep again.  


   At any rate,  the next morning Sandra and I left really early and met Peter at Mahukona around 8:30.  In the water, which was high and peaceful, Peter first directed us to a rocky area at the end of the pier where he found a leaf scorpionfish.  As you can see, this guy was a light gray and sufficiently cooperative for us to get a picture.

   We then went looking for the threadfin jacks.  About ten minutes into our search a snorkeler nearby made a hell of a commotion.  He had seen the jacks and chased them, I suppose to get a better look.  Peter interrogated the culprit and there was little doubt that this was what had transpired.   Try as we might over

So you tell me,

the next 40 minutes, we were unable find the jacks. Sandra did find a blacklip butterflyfish which hid under a rock before she could get me onto it.  It was a solid identification in as much as she reported the field mark, a blue forehead, as opposed to saying she saw a Klein's or blacklip butterfly.  If any of you are keeping track, she is now up two fish on me for 2017 (counting the barracuda).  Back ashore, Peter was impressed, as he and Marla had thought that the blacklips were no longer at Mahukona.

    Two days ago Sandra and I went down to Ho'okena.  It is a testimony to how lazy I have become, that this was our first trip to that wonderful bay in 2017.   We got there early and had the beach pretty much to ourselves.  In the water, which was warm and calm,  we saw the four fish we needed in short order.  (flame angelfish, gilded triggerfish, Hawaiian garden eel and bridled triggerfish)  We also saw three

Does a Threadfin Jack really remind you of a Man of War?

species of starfish: linkia, cushion and crown of thorns.  Or is it Game of Thrones?  Those  four fish bring the year's list to 151, which for some reason reminds me of a zombie that one of my friends ordered at a bar back in 1968.  Ancient memories aside, it was noteworthy that as we found ourselves leaving at roughly 10:30 on a Friday morning, the parking lot at this out of the way beach park was brimming with cars.  So much so that the couple that sidled into our spot thanked us profusely for leaving.  Not the first time I have been thanked for leaving.

   I guess if you're gonna go snorkeling in Kona, you gotta get up early.  And watch out for the fishermen.

jeff

Leaf Scorpionfish,  Mahukona  July 2017

         

Swimming With the Church Ladies

   About a year ago, our church received a new pastor, the Reverend Sunny Ahn.  Sunny is a Korean girl who grew up in The San Fernando Valley, after emigrating as  a young teen.  To the best of my knowledge her posting at the Kona United Methodist Church was her first as head pastor.  And she wasn't entirely happy

Sandra, Jeff, Sunny and Kim Prepare to Snorkel Kailua Pier

about it.  She had come from a wealthy church in the east Bay where she was in charge of Asian Community relations...or something like that.  She really enjoyed living in the Bay Area and she was afraid of bugs and geckos.  Picture the bishop (who hauled her away from her urban bliss) as Eddie Albert and Sunny as Eva Gabor.

    At any rate, being a child of God, she embraced her new ministry with appropriate zeal.  A portion of her enthusiasm was directed at forming a variety of little ministries, one of which was the snorkeling/swimming ministry with your humble correspondent as program director.  The ministry, such as it was, lasted four or five sessions.  These sessions included only Sandra, Sunny and Kim, who is a really nice church lady serving as Sunny's adjutant.  And myself, of course.   In September Sunny went on one of her really quick trips to Europe ( a girl can't stay home all the time).  By  October the water was too cold.

Day Octopus, Kailua Pier June 2017

   The swimming ministry resumed in mid-June, when the water temperature achieved sufficient heavenliness.  As before, we were still at the pier, but this time we were joined by Judy and Darlene.  These latter had just emigrated from Concrete, Washington.  Judy is a little older and is recovering from a stroke.  Darlene is a
lifelong friend, a little younger, and is living with Judy as her care giver. They stayed on the narrow beach in lawn chairs while the Fearless Foursome went snorkeling.

    Despite growing up in Los Angeles, Sunny came to Kona more than a little afraid of the water (you can add the ocean to bugs and geckos).  We had been working through that when the swimming lessons stopped in October.  She now wore a wet suit, augmenting flotation to her yellow noodle, so it should have been impossible to sink.  Indeed, she put on her full face mask and we all headed out.

   This outing was highlighted by a superb octopus siting.  This stalwart was on a coral head halfway between the third swim buoy and the shore, so the top of the coral was only three or four feet below the surface.  He was a beautiful animal, doing all the octopus tricks...changing colors and textures, adopting different postures. He hung around so long that we eventually swam away with him still perched on top of his coral

throne.

    I sang my version of the doxology to the octopus and I was more than a little dismayed that my spiritual

Blue Goatfish. Kailua Kona Pier 2017  The flash reveals a face pattern.

advisor didn't join in.  She has a beautiful voice and if ever an octopus invoked the Holy Spirit this was the guy. Later on I would mention this to her in a tweet and she responded with a non-sequitur bible verse:
"Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification." (Romans 14:19)
which I took as a pastoral way of saying,"Mind your own business."

   On the way back to shore, Kim spotted a male Pacific boxfish.  She is getting into fish watching and on her own volition (with a little guidance from the Redoubtable SKG) has purchased a copy of the bible...John Hoover's Ultimate Guide to Heavenly Hawaiian Fishes.  After she enjoyed the boxfish I promised her a Whitley's trunkfish.

   Back ashore we reconnoitered with Darlene and Judy.  Being basically a softy, and knowing that Judy really wanted to get in the water (we are told that prior to the stroke she was an avid snorkeler), I helped her into the water where she floated around for a minute or two.  She tired fairly quickly, which was not a

Pacific Boxfish, Mahukona 2017

surprise and Darlene and I helped her ashore through the small surf which was lapping on the Ironman beach.  It has been one of my big hopes that if I ever am so afflicted, that someone will strap a mask on me and float me out to see the fish.

    The following Friday Sandra was sick, but she was kind enough to encourage me to go snorkeling with the church ladies.  It could be that she thought she would get better rest and recuperation with me out of the house for a few hours.

   Down at the pier I met up with Kim and Sunny.  We were joined by Terri, a lady of about my age, which is to say not especially young.  Like Judy, Terri had in her past been a diver and had a modest interest in marine wildlife.  As we were getting into the water, I learned that Terri was recovering from some sort of leg injury.

   Almost immediately I spotted an octopus just a yard or two off the sand.  He was in a depression in the coral head and in the process of hunkering down.  I got Terri over in time to see him before he disappeared.  At the last I could see his muscular arm, suction cups fully extended, as he manipulated two rocks in front of his body, effectively sealing the opening to the coral hide away.   I had read about this behavior, but never witnessed it first hand.   What an amazingly clever mollusc the octopus can be.  Here is a couplet that fits in to my version of Guantanamera:

Soy un pulpo en la bahia,
Que busca un coral amparo.

I am an octopus in the bay / Searching for a coral refuge.

   As we will see, an octopus can never be too careful.  

   We can all hum that Latin American favorite while I tell you what happened next.  We swam into the bay,

Devil Scorpionfish    All ya gotta do is drop a rock on him.

with me making scouting runs from Sunny, leading with the yellow noodle, Kim and Terry on each side.  Near the third swim buoy I spotted a devil scorpionfish.  Luckily, the church ladies weren't too far away and I was able to get them on the fish.  He was only about seven feet down, so they could see him clearly.  I explained about the orange and yellow pectoral fins and swam down and waved at the fish to encourage him to swim.   He was having none of it so I found a piece of coral rubble and dropped it a few inches from the fish. Still no swimming so I dove for another piece of rubble and sorta dropped it on the fish.  Well, that made him swim to shrieks of delight from my companions.

    A bit later I found Kim her Whitley's trunkfish.    At this point the distaff portion of the expedition headed for the beach.  I stayed out a while longer and was rewarded with a milletseed butterfly.  Before I could attempt a really good picture, he made his way into a coral and did not come out.

     Finally, on Sunday the church had a picnic at Old Airport Beach.   After we arrived, we realized that this was mostly a function for the Samoan contingent of the congregation.  In fact, there was Sandra and myself, the Jaegers, who had to come, two Koreans and 25 to 30 Samoans.

Whitley's Trunkfish, Kailua Pier 2017

   The congregation of our church is remarkably divided.  Roughly 50% are Caucasian, Japanese or some usual Hawaiian mix.  In his landmark novel, Hawaii, published in 1959, James Michener remarked on the new Hawaiian racial mix.  I believe he called it the golden man.  While it is quite common to find people who are pretty much Japanese or Philippino, it is equally common to encounter the Hawaiian mix.  For example, my good friend Jennifer Loasalio, the librarian, is Hawaiian, Philippine, Chinese and Portuguese.  I hope I got that right, but I'm sure you get the point.  A great many people living in Hawaii carry the genome of a variety of Asian and Caucasian peoples.  No wonder Jefferson Beauregard Sessions doesn't like our #islandinthe pacific.  That sort of miscegenation must make his pappy spin around in his moldering clan robe.

     Getting back to the church, 35% are Samoan and 15 % are Tongan.  suffice it to say, these other groups play a significant part in the operation of the church, the worship service, etc.  But they do not mix willingly with that aforementioned 50%.  And the Tongans and Samoans don't mix much with each other, as far as Sandra and I can tell. In addition to the regular service, they have their own.  There is a moderately large open building on the church property where the Samoans retire after church to smoke and have their own fellowship.  It is possible that they harbor traditional Samoan and Tongan religious beliefs.  Certainly in their separate services they engage in cultural activities not usually found in a Methodist church.  For example, the Tongans perform a kava ceremony.  There is no way for us to know the extent of these beliefs and activities.

   Samoa is an interesting place.  American Samoa is a large single island with a few much smaller islands.  It is a US Territory.  Samoa, formerly Western Samoa, is two large islands governed since the second world war by New Zealand.  It has been an independent country since 1967 and belongs to the Commonwealth.

At the Picnic

   Curiously, and this is only as far as we can tell,  virtually all the older Samoans in our church, the ones who
actually emigrated from Samoa to Hawaii, are from Samoa.   However, they make it clear that they were born in American Samoa.  One hears about Mexicans who cross the border so their children can be born in the United States and it appears that the same is true of Samoans.  Having said that, not everyone born in American Samoa is automatically granted US citizenship.  55,000 souls live in American Samoa and 185,000 live in Samoa. 

  So here we were on the blazing hot beach.  This afforded us the opportunity to visit with the few Samoans who will talk to us and Sunny's husband Sung.   Sung is a very amiable fellow of substantial girth.   When I asked him if he was excited about Sunny's experience with the octopi his repose, and this did not change no matter how much I pleaded the cephalopod's case, was that his only interest in octopus was in the eating.  They are delicious and should be consumed as quickly as possible.  There was one Samoan lady who was obligated to sit with us (as far as we could tell).  Peteh is the wife of Navy Mareko, the lay leader of the Samoan congregation and the pater familas of one of the clans, there in. Peteh was of the same mind as Seung; if there was a known octopus, someone should go out and get it (for the pot.)  I felt like saying,  "Don't you have any respect for God's

Honor thy mother, thy father and thy octopus!

creatures?  Don't you know when you kill an octopus it makes Jesus cry?"


    Sadly, there is no biblical basis for venerating or even protecting wild animals, be they moose or octopi.  In fact, the closest the bible comes to dealing with these animals is old testament scripture stating whether or not a Hebrew is permitted to eat them.  The new testament is even worse.  No matter how I might wish it, there is no gospel evidence that Jesus gave wild animals a single thought.  At times like this,  I have to wonder if I am in the right church.  For now, it seems that Sandra and I we will have our own little contingent of two and revere the octopus in a private ceremony. 

Praise Octopus the Holy Ghost,
jeff

    

       

What's New At Mahukona.

   Yesterday we were lucky enough to go snorkeling with our friends Peter and Marla at Mahukona.   Living in the vicinity of Hawi, this is their home court for snorkeling, so their observations and skill were much appreciated.  The wave and tide predictors did their job correctly this time and the water was flat.  As is often the case at this spot six miles from the northern tip of the island,

Mahukona with Colorful Floats

there was a strong breeze, blowing about 15 knots from the northeast.

    There were some fleecy clouds and the sun shone down gloriously on the little cove.  A sense of holiday was provided by a couple of colorful floating toys on the far side of the water.  It wasn't at all clear to me why they didn't blow out to sea.  If the wind held true they might make Oaxaca by supper time.  I suppose they were anchored.

   We noted a significant encampment on the bluff at the head of the cove.  The area devoted to this semi-permanent camp was closed off by a locked gate, so even if one wanted to explore the situation, make friends with the natives, as it were, this was clearly discouraged.  A puzzling 
aspect of this beach park is the inordinate number of flies, which are a bit of a plague despite the prevailing
wind.  My current thought is that the flies are blown over from the camp, which might be a pretty good

Blacklip Butterfly is not currently at Mahukona

reason not to visit, gate or no gate.  Unless, of course, you really like flies.

   My last word on the campers and their flies, is in the spirit of Walter Sobchak from the Big Lebowski (that rug really tied the room together); the campers really tie the fly situation together. It should be noted that those large floatables appeared unoccupied and I speculated that the campers were imposing their will upon the cove and its hau'oli visitors with an, albeit festively colored, modern presence that negatively impacted the natural landscape.  Its possible that if Walter was there he would have put a few rounds in the floatables, thus taking care of the problem and making this prolonged digression moot.


   Anyway, it was a beautiful day, the water was clear and away we swam.  Our hosts had warned us that there had a been a change in the aquafauana over the last year.  When last you visited this bay with your humble correspondent, we shared a close look at Klein's (blacklip) butterflyfish and the fantailed filefish.  Peter had told us us that these two specialties were not there any more.  No matter how hard I searched the

Spectacled Parrot and Indo=Pacific Sergeant, Mahukona 2017

relatively shallow bay where they had been the previous year, I could not refute his admonition.  Que lastima.

   However, this did not mean that there was nothing good to see.  Almost immediately, Peter pointed out a female regal parrotfish.  This is a medium sized reef fish beige on beige and would be really difficult to photograph.  So Sandra and I ticked it off and moved seaward where we enjoyed a big beautiful male spectacled parrotfish.  I regret that my picture does not capture all the beauty of this fish.  In addition to the aqua stripe across the nose, that to some looks like a pair of  spectacles, this big boy had a rosy flank.  Hoover shows the spectacled parrot as just greens and blues, so this really was a very colorful fish. We got within fifteen feet and our look was a lot better than my picture might suggest.  It was really exciting.

    You might just note that included in the picture is an Indo-Pacific sergeant.  I used to see this fish at Kona

Five Stripe Wrasse juv. Mahukona 2017  Easily Overlooked

Maaki, but as we rarely swim that difficult entry, I am not sure that it is still there.  At any rate, it was another fish for the 2017 list.  

   When we reconnoitered with our host, Peter asked if we needed five stripe wrasse.  You will recall this is a very uncommon fish of the shallow, wave washed reef.  He took us a bit further north and, indeed, over the shallow lava carpeted with a bit of dying coral, we were treated to several juvenile five stripes.  We agreed that these were hardly as colorful as adult males.  In my pictures, they mostly look black.  When the sun hit these little trouts just right, one got the impression of a blue flank and pink and aqua lines on the face.  There were no males that we could find.  So subtle were these initial phase fish, that I have to compliment Peter's keen observational skills; they might easily have been overlooked.

Compare with a Five Stripe Wrasse on the PAR Jan. 2014.  Big difference!

  After enjoying the five stripes, Peter suggested that we swim across the bay to the south shore.  We traversed a nice, deep portion of the reef with good visibility down to what I would guess was 40 feet.  I was hoping for an angelfish, maybe some garden eels in the sand parts, but we saw nothing new.  On that far shore, however, I spotted a female Hawaiian Hogfish.  Although we see an immature hogfish almost every summer, this was the first adult I had seen in several years. She was a beauty and allowed me to get within

Hawaiian Hogfish  female 2017 Mahukona

fifteen feet or so.  These are clearly the best pictures of the day.

    For those of you eager to add this uncommon fish to your list, Marla said that it is not unusual to see a female Hawaiian hogfish at Mahukona.   

   Happily, we were invited to lunch.  As we followed Peter and Marla up through Hawi, I tabulated five fish that I would add to the list for 2017; not to mention one fine invertebrate, the cushion starfish. Our hosts live in Kapa'au, a few miles past the King Kamehmeha statue.   Sandra noted, as we made the turn off the main road, that if you drove just a few miles further you would achieve the spot where, were you not paying close attention, you might plunge off the edge of the earth.

    As it turns out,our hosts live on a charmingly bucolic estate full of swaying palms, fruit trees of every ilk and cooling trade winds.  Marla has planted lovely flowers around the yard... it really is a piece of heaven.  While Marla puttered about the kitchen, preparing a Mexican lunch featuring guacamole and ceviche, Peter hauled out a volume related to their work in Samoa.  (You will recall that our hosts are real scientists who actually get paid to

King Kamehameha welcomes you to Kapa'au

travel to Samoa and assess the ecology.)  In the preface to Peter's book was a map of the Pacific, with contour lines showing the decrease in fish diversity from the epicenter somewhere north of western Australia.  Approaching a map like a scientist, he taught me a new word: Isopleth.  An isopleth, as it turns out, is any line that denotes a change in a specified parameter.  Those contour lines on a topographical map and the isobars on a weather map are examples of isopleths,  I suggest you file this word away, pulling it out to defeat your competitors the next time you play scrabble.

     I am including a similar map purloined from Mr. Google which is not exactly like Peter's, but gives you a rough idea. The isopleths were drawn differently on Peter's map and it is to those that I will refer.

   I love maps and this one really caught my attention.  Bali, where we have enjoyed such marvelous fish watching, is inside the isopleth denoting the greatest degree of fish diversity.  So is the southern portion of the Phillipines, where one might choose to go snorkeling if he doesn't mind being kidnapped.  However, the Great Barrier Reef and most of Thailand are not in within this prime isopleth.  Samoa, where Peter and Marla go twice a year, is outside yet

Fish diversity in the Pacific.  Not exactly isopleths.

another.  And so is Fiji.  It is no surprise that the Hawaiian archipelago, being vastly separated from the rest of the islands in the tropical Pacific, gets its only little isopleth

   We had a delicious lunch and lots of fine conversation.  By mid-afternoon, Marla had loaded us down with fruits from her trees and we were on our way back to Kailua.  As we drove, my sweetie told me that she had a sore throat and she was sure she was getting sick.

   Ignoring all the victims, including yours truly, who would be exposed to Typhiod Sandra, my warped mind transformed this information into a new travel tool. The next time you have a whopping good case of bronchitis, not so uncommon these days in these very Sandwich Islands, expectorate on a map roughly corresponding to your chosen vacation destination.  The outline of this glob then becomes your isophlegm  and there in should you expose yourself to the wonders of the world, not to mention the infectious diseases that it has to offer. 

Ca. sandraii.  Greetings from the penultimate Isophlegm!

I present this method in lieu of tacking a map to the side of your barn and throwing darts, although that may be equally effective, not to mention less provocative from an epidemiological point of view.

   Well, sure enough Sandra is sick and I'm probably next.  We hope our dear friends in Kapa'au are in the pink of heath and that there are lots of good adventures in their future.  And your future, as well

jeff 

Hawaiian Hogfish, Mahukona July 2017