A Lousy Day for Surfing at K Bay

    While that may seem like a strange title for a blog about snorkeling and fish identification, it has way too much meaning for those of us who enjoy a pleasant, relatively effortless snorkel at Kahalu'u.

  When the surf is up, as it has been for most of the last two weeks, K Bay has a monster current as

A Lousy Day for Surfing at Kahalu'u.

the breakers pour over the Menehune Breakwater.  I compare it to swimming in an infinity pool.  You get away from the entry and start swimming as hard as you can for as long as you can.  In my case, being old and feeble, I might swim hard for fifteen minutes and gain fifty feet up current.   At that point I give up the ghost and ride the current back to the entry over a minute or so.  What fun.

    The long point that creates the north shore of Kailua Bay protects the water around the pier from many high surf conditions.  Both currents and waves may be minimal and the water is usually fairly clear.  So we have had a couple enjoyable snorkels over the last fortnight at the pier. We haven't seen much , hence there have been no breathless blogs.

   After one of these swims, as I showering, I met a gentleman in a bright green rash guard shirt.  I asked him where he was from and he replied, in a voice reeking with eloquence,"Lincoln, Nebraska.

Manini,  Kahalu'u, February 2018

 I replied, "One of my favorite colleagues (that incredible gentleman, raconteur and wine bibber,  Bud Hanzel), was from Nebraska and his brother was a professor in Lincoln.  You seem like a well spoken fellow.  Are you a professor?"   To which he replied, "No, I'm an anesthesiologist."  I won't bore you with the rest of our dialogue, and I certainly will not reveal the intricacies of the secret anesthesiologist handshake.   Suffice it to say that Joe is tired of taking night call and looking to retire in Kona.

   However,  I will bore you with one of my favorite stories about Bud Hanzel.  One day Bud came to work and told me that an esteemed professor at the University of  Nebraska Medical School had come to Hawaii on vacation and broken his neck boogie boarding.  The folks back in the Cornhusker State were in shock.  I noted that the people in Hawaii were very well aware how dangerous boogie boarding can be.  To which Bud replied, "Well, I guess the people in Nebraska don't know that much about surfing."  Ba-dum.

Star Eye Parrotfish  Kahalu'u  February 2018

     Getting back to the snorkel at hand, I made my way out over the denuded sandless sand entry and
enjoyed a lovely snorkel with a veritable battalion of my new friends.  I was on the lookout, so  I didn't take an elbow to the chops.  But the opportunity was there.  This is, after all, the height of tourist season.  In addition to the plethora of people, there were plenty of fish.  I'm including a few

Today's Leaf Scorpionfish  Kahalu'u February 2018    La de da.

pictures from today for your enjoyment.

   I was having such a good time, cruising effortlessly over the coral, or what used to be the coral, that I may have gotten further out than I thought.  This can happen when you are cruising effortlessly, which not infrequently means you are riding a current.  As I was passing over a multifaceted lump, I spotted a small leaf scorpionfish.  This guy was black and white, the same color pattern we saw a year or so ago here in K Bay and also, under the wing of the redoubtable Peter Kroppje, at Mahukona, late in 2017.  Suffice it to say, we are still plenty excited to see a leaf scorpion in Hawaii, but it is not the earth shattering experience it might have been only a few years ago.  If you keep your eyes open, you may see one , too.

    I did my best to get a picture of this handsome scorpion, clad as he was in evening wear...you might say he was wearing tails, or at least tail.  Après la photographie, I looked about and saw a man

The "Sandless" Sand Channel Greets the Returning Swimmer.

and wife team swimming nearby, but could not attract their attention..  At that point,  I took note of my location.  I was about forty yards out from Surfer's Rock,  which was bout sixty yards further out than I thought I was.  Luckily, it was a beautiful day with only a modest current flowing out of K Bay and it made for a a nice ten minute swim back in to shore.  All's well that ends well in the land of the leaf.

    May your day end with such luck and beauty.

jeff

              

Not everyone was happy to be at the beach.

   

A New Entry at Keahou Bay

     As you will recall, a few weeks ago our son Charles came to Kona.  On the first morning of his visit, we broke out the fishing rod, purloined a couple frozen shrimp from Sandra and the three of us went down to Keahou Bay.  Our favorite spot on this long narrow inlet is the tail end of the grounds

My Son the Piscator,  Keahou Bay February 2018

owned and operated by the Sheraton.  We unloaded our lawn chairs, having parked in one of the few free spots remaining after the hotel gated its parking lot, and made our way to one of our favorite spots in Kailua to picnic, fish and just hang out.

    This spot is at the end of the trail that boasts beach access.  On the makai side is the handsome wedding chapel maintained by the hotel.  Just up the bay and anchored into the beach side lava is a small house that, although well maintained, boasts ropes and Kapu! signs.  Long ago it housed the dive operations for the property.  Now it is a handsome small house with a killer view that is never, ever used.  Between the chapel and the small house are some large, old trees, a flat grassy area ideal for lawn chairs and, of course, the killer view across Keahou Bay.

Multibar Goatfish, Kailua Kona Pier, February 2018

   Having established our picnic area with folding chairs and a grass mat, Charles made his way down
onto the rocks to fish.  On his first cast he caught a small multibar goatfish and called for me to bring him some tools to disgorge the poor little thing.  As I approached him with a mosquito clamp, I saw a few yard away a new aluminum ladder attached to the lava shoreline.  Eureka!

   This ladder wasn't the complete surprise you might think.  Over the last few months, roughly corresponding to the time since the hotel turned their free lot into paid parking, a kayak rental has been established beside the beach access trail. Obviously the swim ladder was meant as an aid to the kayakers.  That it is a boon to snorkelers is undoubtedly inadvertent.  When I went over to examine the ladder, I encountered two Japanese ladies preparing to kayak and a third well kitted out Japanese lady who was apparently going to serve as their guide.  It was a month or so after Pearl Harbor Day and we exchanged pleasant kanichiwas, with the appropriate folding of hands and bowing.. 

Swim Ladder and kayak Launch.  Kanichiwa.

   It has been a number of years since I have swam happily in Keahou Bay.  When we first started coming to Kona in the eighties, there was a small bridge and swim ladder on the rock immediately off shore, on the lava right below the dive shop.

   Back in those days this property was known as the Kona Surf.  Even before the Surf hotels abandoned this property, the swimming aids had been removed and the dive operation decommissioned.  For the last 25 years, if you wanted to swim here, you needed to crawl in and out over the lava rocks.  I have done this a few times in that span of decades and, although I always managed to get out, I always ended up with a few nasty cuts.  It must be coming on to ten years since I have subjected my aging carcass to this lacerating situation.

Awash in Keahou Bay

   Suffice it to say, I was intrigued by the new swim ladder; in fact, I could hardly wait to use it.   We didn't have snorkeling gear with us on that excursion and shortly there after the swell picked up.  For about two weeks there has been great surfing on the Kona shore and snorkeling has been less inviting.  Sandra's daughter, Leslie arrived this week and on the first morning of her visit, the ocean was remarkably calm.  and so we packed a lunch and headed down to the Sheraton for reading, relaxing and snorkeling.  

    On this day, I was the only one to go snorkeling.  Knowing that the Sheraton provides no support at all, I had brought some fresh water in a two liter bottle that I placed on the lava to warm while I swam.  Then it was off to the new ladder.

   Sandra came along, it is just a short walk around the little house on a maintained trail.  There was a man just getting out, possibly a decade older than your ancient correspondent.  He must have been staying at the hotel as he informed us that the water was more clear than it had been on previous days.  And he had seen an eel!

    After I went down the ladder she threw my fins to me.  The water was fairly clear and there was just a little bit of surge.  I was pleased to see that some coral still exists in this area, although the

Mr Freckleface perched on a dead Pocillipora,  Keahou Bay 2018

branching coral is long gone. I swam out as far as the hotel, where the water gets a little deeper and the current a bit stronger.  As an indication of this, there were white barred and spotted surgeons cavorting around the rocks and a nice fat Christmas wrasse raced by.   On my way back in,  I swam through an outbound school of Polynesian halfbeaks, a pretty good fish that is seen only occasionally.

   On both this occasion and on the morning that we came with Charles, we witnessed an unusual event out in the bay.  Accompanied by the blowing of a conch, about eight kayaks headed off from the head of the bay, the conch blower standing erect in one of the boats, intermittently sounding his mournful trumpet.  The kayaks congregated at the mouth of the bay and paddled in a circle for a bit, the paddlers tossing hibiscus blossoms into the water.  They sat their craft in repose for about fifteen minutes and then paddled back in.  The first time we saw this, we thought it might be a kayaker's funeral, scattering of ashes or some such.  Having watched a second episode we now wonder if it some new water borne church service.  Or perhaps kayakers are dropping off like flies.

Polynesian Halfbeak, Kailua Pier, 2016

   This snorkeling experience was about as good as any here in Kailua.  The fact that the Sheraton does not encourage this activity is manifest.  There is no shower and no place to change.  I went back to the car to change and did so as unobtrusively as possible while numerous people paraded by on their way to an event taking place in the hotel exhibition hall.  If you are willing to bring your own water for an apres snorkel ablution and don't mind the possibility of becoming a hotel exhibition, I recommend this strongly.  And for goodness sake, don't forget your lawn chair, paperback, and picnic.

jeff

 

So blow your conch and beat your drum, the happiest days are yet to come.

Dancing With the Cannibals

    Last night Sandra and I went to the Valentines Day Buffet and Music Fest, a benefit for the graduating high school seniors, at the Kona United Methodist Church.  You may be thinking that this has absolutely nothing to do with fish identification, but if you just give me a moment, your honor, I promise that I will demonstrate the relevance.

Dancing With the Cannibals

   As you may recall, over fifty percent of the congregants up at our house of worship are either Samoan or Tongan.  For those of us that are neither, festive evenings such as the Valentine's Day Benefit provide a window into their lives.   In this instance we were entertained by the Tongan choir, a well dressed group whose music sounds more like opera than something from the South Pacific.  As a counter point, both the men and women from Samoa performed dances in what we must assume was traditional attire, accompanied by raucous shrieking.  If one closed his eyes, one might have thought he was at a rodeo.

Opelu at the Cleaning Station  Kailua Bay, 2013

   Dinner, which was donated by a small group of local restaurants, was preceded by hors d'oeuvres.  The Big Island Grill nor Sammy Choy's had nothing to do with this portion of the menu.  The appetizers featured a platter of chunks of fried fish.  As many of you know, I will eat almost anything, so I took a couple chunks.  I asked a Samoan friend who was nearby just what this fish might be and she said it was opelu.

   Out on the reef, we delight in seeing opelu.  They are a small, fast moving fish of the mackerel family.  Opelu occur in small schools, each individual zig zagging, regardless of his fellow's course.  They boast bodies of sky blue and tails of yellow; assuming that they are not excessively talented, they could play for UCLA.  

   When I got my pre-dinner repast back to the table, I deduced that these small fusiform fish had not been cleaned, but had been chopped into cross sections about an inch in length,  lightly breaded and fried.  My two portions were oily, had a surfeit of small bones and a remarkably fishy taste.  Isn't it paradoxical, that when we use the term fishy to describe the flavor of a fish , we do not mean it as a compliment?  If one is lucky, an upscale fish, salmon and ahi tuna for example, will have no "fishy"

Could be opelu.  They certainly look "fishy".

taste.  I have had trout that were virtually tasteless, which, as it turns out, is vastly preferable by comparison to those opelu. There is no amount of chardonnay that would have improved this situation.  

   Loving these fish as if they were my brothers, I felt like a bit of a cannibal.  And so, as a fan of the opelu in their natural environment, swimming fast and free (not unlike that Samoan woman who could not be restrained from dancing with the men) I am thankful that they are so genuinely "fishy."

Jeff

  

Marta Comes Through Again

    On our last full day in Pemuteran, near the northwest corner of the Island of Bali, Sandra and I spent the morning snorkeling.  It had been raining ferociously in the afternoons, but this morning dawned clear with blue skies.  From the beach in front of Reef Seen Dive Resort, one could look west thirty miles to the Island of Java rising out of the sea bearing the same name.

   The ocean itself was pleasantly warm, in the upper 80s, and we were therefore able to swim for over two hours without getting chilled.  We had snorkeled this spot once before, a relatively flat reef of  sand and coral rubble, interspersed with patches of sea grass that extended at least fifty meters from the shore. Over this large patch, the depth varied from four to ten feet.
Although it was not beautiful, it was never

A look at the Reef Seen Reef from the Sea

the less a treasure trove for the curious muck diver.
  
    If you have been following the blog, you may recall a description of this outing and I will not repeat it here.  Suffice it to say that we made lots of interesting observations and our experience, growing every day, permitted us to put names to many of the animals that we found.  However, we were unable to classify two animals in particular, taking several pictures of each in hopes that these photographs would later aid in identification.  As the months have worn on, such would prove most definitely not to be the case.
 
    The first of these creatures was a damselfish with a distinct caudal peduncle of light ochre.  He has remained unnamed and I need to get back to work on this fish, which I have tentatively named the Java Damselfish.   The second was far more obscure. To me, it looked like a jumble of bright blue

The yet to be identified java damsel

sticks.  There were five or six of these aggregations, bright blue branches and the size of a tumbleweed.  Residing in an area about thirty meters from shore at a depth of about five feet,these clumps were rather close together, not widely dispersed over the reef.  Like the Russian thistle of the American southwest, these clumps rose eighteen inches to two feet from the sea bed and a certain anarchy seemed to rule the disposition of the branches.

    As with the damselfish, the interested parties that reviewed my pictures really had no idea. Could it be a coral, a gorgonian?  Who knew?

    With the paper mache fish exhibit finally complete, resplendent in the Thelma Parker Library, I felt that it was time to renew my efforts to identify the enigmatic clumps of blue sticks.

     For a number of years now I have plagued Marta de Maintenon, a professor of invertebrate

zoology at UH Hilo.  I have never met Marta, but over the years I have had the opportunity to ask her for help with identifications and such via email and she has always been helpful.

Marta Demaintenon  paddling for science

   Preparing for this blog, I did a little troll work on Marta. The University of Hawaii has a site where you can rate your teacher.  Marta scored just over a three with six reviews.  One guy didn't like her because she made him learn too much taxonomy, which I believe was the purpose of the course, and that pulled her average down.

   And she has a Facebook page, which wasn't very helpful.  Her profile picture is of a healthy younger woman paddling an ocean kayak, with a Nature Conservancy Banner and the admonition, "I'm With Science."  Our dear friends Brad and Dale back in La Conner, outdoorsy academic types, are with science, as well.  These days being "with science" must be a sad and lonely situation.  Other than being with science, Marta's Facebook page suggests that she might remind you of the girl with the pearl earring.  In the spirit of social media, I sent her a friend request, along with a link to the blog in which Donal Trump says that thinking of crabs give him an itch.  Certainly anyone who is "with science", especially an invertebrate zoologist,  should like that.

Haliclona kormella Reef Seen reef, Pemuteran 2017

   So two days ago I sent Marta a request for an identification: the jumble of blue sticks.  The blue sticks had stumped the California Academy of Science Naturalist experts, among others.  Marta is interested in gastropods, snails to the lay person (Dumb and Dumber loosely).  Back when I was courting her participation in my invertebrate education, I sent her a night photo of  a money cowry, extending its mantle, on our lanai at Alii Villas.  Not exactly a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

     Curiously, I can not recollect ever asking her about marine snails.  So on a few instances where I have needed  help, Marta has referred me to the appropriate authority.  This time she served as my advocate, sending my picture on to Gustav Paulay, who is the curator of the Florida Museum of
Natural History and an ace marine biologist.  In less than a day Gustav replied:

  Hi Marta - It is a Haliclona, close to if not matching Haliclona koremella.  Cheers - Gustav

and Marta added:   And there you have it! Gustav knows all...

Gustav Paulay Wearing Husky Purple.  Go Dogs!

     A few words about Gustav.  He graduated magna cum laude from Yale and then received his PhD in zoology from Washington, arriving in Seattle seven years after I departed those ivy covered walls after majoring in, you guessed it, zoology.  One would guess that we knew some of the same people.  Go Huskies.

   One last thing about Dr Paulay.  Early in his career he emigrated from Budapest, Romania.  Don't tell Trump.  Budapest is nowhere near Norway... he'll probably have him sent back, sponges or no sponges.

    So now that we have an identification, what about this tumbleweed of the coral reef?  Haliclona is a genus of sponge.  If you scan back up the page, you will note that when I (and everyone else, as far as I can tell)  was attempting to identify this beast, sponges were not part of the discussion.  Once I had this information, I looked at the picture differently and it wasn't terribly difficult to imagine that I was looking at a sponge, however unlike the thing I use for washing dishes.

     Haliclona belongs to the class Demospongiae which includes 90% of all sponges.  They have "skeletons" consisting of spicules of the protein spongin and the mineral silica.  Obviously, most sponges don't grow into long thin branches, but that explains how, in this case, H. koremella manages that open branching structure.

Black Vase Sponges on the wall at Mangroves, Menangen Island

    Obviously Gustav looked at my picture and recognized that he was looking at a sponge.  Its very possible that he had seen this widely distributed sponge in the wild and recognized it immediately.  There are over 200 species in the genus Haliclona.  I doubt that he is able to identify them all, but then I never graduated magna cum laude from anywhere, much less Yale.

   We saw a lot of sponges in Bali.  being first and foremost a lister of fishes, I hadn't considered how many species of sponge I may have seen.  Certainly we saw some amazing barrel sponges and vase sponges.  The cumbersome field guide we have at home, Coral Reef Animals of the Indo-Pacific, says that to identify a sponge from a picture constitutes a good guess, at best. 

    So thanks to Marta and hats off to Gustav.   Our thanks to the nice people at Reef Seen Divers'  Resort for the fine job they have done preserving that special habitat and the warm welcome they extend to visiting snorkelers.  

   And Go Huskies

   



    

A Day at the Pier with Charles

Haig's Hermit Crab Goes to War Against the Donald  Graphics by Don Batkins

  
Early in my son's visit, we went down to the pier for a get reacquainted snorkel.  Considering his full beard, the mask and he got along swimmingly.  The water was cold, but we had such a good time swimming together that we swam happily until it was time to get out and head to the shower.

   It didn't hurt that the water was clear and all the usual suspects were out and about.  Not only that, but we saw a couple pretty good critters.  The first was a large reticulated  cowry, harboring in a coral head about three feet down.  Just like most invertebrates in Kona, these aren't as common as they once were and its always fun to see one.

    But the best was yet to come, on the way in I spotted a cone shell high up in a coral crevice.  As cone shell snails, with their poisonous spears, live in the sand, it was highly likely that this was a cone shell hermit crab.  I dove down and repositioned the shell with the aperture facing up.  With luck, the crab would emerge from the shell in order to resume his preferred aperture down position. 

The Cone Shell Hermit Crab, kailua Kona Pier, January 2018

    As we watched, young Mr. Stripey did indeed come out of his shell and stayed out long enough for both of us to dive down for a good look and for your humble correspondent to nab this wonderful picture.  Don't you just love those fancy legs?

    I can't say for sure how they compare to the gams on Stormy Daniels.  Perhaps we should let the first lady vote.  Or maybe the first philanderer himself should weigh in.  If he'll give me $130,000 I will disqualify all the other voters on some trumped up technicality.

    And what if he prefers the crab? Is it an impeachable offense?  Do we need to call on Robert Mueller to get to the bottom of this?  Too many questions in these politically charged times.

    It should be noted that while some hermit crabs are found on occasion around the pier, this is not one of them.  While we see the cone shell at Kahalu'u with some regularity, this may be the first time we have spotted him at the pier. 

All this talk about crabs is giving me an itch.

The Exhibit at Thelma Parker and the Bird Wrasse Harem

    More than one of my innumerable fans out there in the blogosphere have noticed the relative paucity of material coming out of Casa Ono over the past two weeks.  I'm genuinely sorry about this, but I have my excuses all lined up.

   First, just today Sandra and I installed our boffo fish exhibit at the Thelma Parker Library in Waimea.  Two large display cases, more than a hundred paper mache fish.  It took us three hours and at the end my ever so patient sweetie was at the end of her rope.  Suffice it to say, I didn't get extra time to tweak the fish.

   The exhibit is titled, "From Karangasem to Kohala...How Hawaii Got Its Fish".   The librarian who made the banner spelled its It's and while we were finishing up an elderly school marm came up and corrected her to her face.  We who had noted the error but had bitten our tongues were amused.

   I posted three explanations in the exhibit:  The Cradle of  the Coral Reef, The Journey and Hawaii's Endemics that together explain how reef fish made it to Hawaii and then how they evolved into endemic species...according to those atheist scientists.  The Cradle goes like this:

  The Cradle of the Coral Reef

   Scientists believe that virtually all tropical marine life, not just fish, 
but invertebrates like coral, starfish and marine snails, originated
in the waters around those Indonesia and the Philippines. The origin 
of life is an awesome concept and this is where it may have taken place! 

And that is why both Jesus and Barrack Obama were born 
in Indonesia.

Sandra and Charles flip a snorkel shaka.

    Well, maybe we made up that last sentence for the purpose of the blog.  Never the less, I can't wait for Sunday when I plan on getting up in the Methodist Church for the "Joys" and reveal that I have an exhibit that explains evolution right here in Hawaii.  I'm guessing that a couple of my friends will rocket from their seats like Roman candles shot out of the holy sepulcher.  Whoosh.

    Well, that is excuse number one.  Excuse number two involves my elder son, who visited for ten days, returning to the greater Portland area on Sunday.  Charles kept us busy; some of our exploits will be the focus of upcoming blogs.

    From the fish watching perspective, the most interesting thing we saw while Charles was here involved a bird wrasse at the City of Refuge.  Charles has had lots of experience snorkeling here in Kona and really wanted to hit City, one of his favorites.  Sadly for him, the day we had to tool down to Honaunau was overcast.  There will be no postcard caliber pictures from that trip.  The day was cool and overcast and the water was chilly.

City of Refuge Beach showing the small inlet

    The three of us had a pleasant swim out along the north cusp of the bay.  On the way back, in that small inlet just north of entry, I spotted a male bird wrasse in the throes of testosterone storm.  He was fluttering his little pectoral fins and swimming in circles.

   And why did this handsome I'iwi perform his imitation of hummingbird?  Why do males of any species do something stupid?   Money frequently explains otherwise inscrutable behavior, but when it come to doing something really dumb, I'd think about sex.  Just ask the commander in chief.  Or the first Lady. 

Add caption

     Every minute or so the I'iwi would corner one of four or five females that were hovering in the vicinity.  One hears about alpha males and their harems, but I have not seen such a remarkable example before.   This was all taking place about ten feet down.  The water was clear, but apparently I was too lazy to open up my protective layers and haul out the camera.  You must be satisfied with pictures from another day.

   Thanks for your patience.  The exhibit is up, Charles is back in Oregon and the blog is back.

jeff