Swimming With the Hokulea

  Amazing as it may seem, we almost missed the Hokulea during its' Mahalo Tour stop over at the Kailua Kona Pier.  Hokulea is a 76 foot catamaran with Polynesian-style lateen rigged tan bark sails redolent of craft that the native Hawaiians sailed prior to contact with western civilization.

Hokulea rests quietly by the pier Friday evening.

    Had my son, Charles, not texted us an Instagram  picture of the Hokulea tied up to the pier, we very well might not have known.  As Hokulea has been in Kona since Monday, you might ask  "How can this be?"

   First, I have been swimming at the pier one day this week, on Wednesday.  If you live in Kona, or you are a faithful reader of the blog, you will know that Wednesday is the day that the Carnival cruise ship comes to Kona.  So on the day I snorkeled the pier, the Hokulea moved up the coast to Honokohau.  Nobody at the pier, before or after my swim mentioned the voyaging canoe.  And the glad handers that meet the sea going Carnival rats were not offering taxi service out to the Honokohau marina for a look at the famous (at least here in Hawaii) craft.  How

could they take a pass on such an opportunity? 

Hula Keikis and Moms Waiting for the Hokulea

    I will parenthetically note that on that swim I didn't see diddly in the way of interesting marine life.  However, coming ashore I did see Flipper.  This was not the trained dolphin of TV fame, but a young lady of 20 or so.  Fit and trim in a black sports two piece, she took a run at the sea wall and did a back flip onto the sand. If only she had told me what was coming,  I would have taken a movie of this athletic, latter day Donald O'Connor.

    But wait! We have yet another excuse.  A moderate amount of our social contact with the village involves the Hawaii Public Library down on Hualalai Street.  Perhaps you will recall our prior observation that these librarians get as many holidays as the Pentecostal Russians that live in Woodburn, Oregon.  In this instance, in a seven day period they received two paid holidays, one for

Whitemouth Moray Lunges at your Faithful Correspondent

Prince Kuhio Day and one for Good Friday.  Hence, the library was only open three days this week.  And one of those was Wednesday.  So we didn't make it in to kibitz with our friendly librarians.  Surely one of them would have asked, "Have you been aboard the Hokolea?"

   On the other hand, we did drink a lot of Hawaiian punch on Prince Kuhio Day.   Don't try that at home.  You wake up with your head feeling like a coconut and every time you move you hear the coconut water sloshing back and forth inside.

   So thank goodness for Charles.  Following Jeopardy last night (the only state admitted during the Grant administration was Colorado, the Centennial State) we motored down to the pier, took a few pictures of the sailing canoe, made friends with the security guard and ascertained that Hokulea would still be there this morning.

    Which brings us up to date.  It was a warm, sultry morning in Kona, the air so thick you could cut

Is it a Juvenile Spectacled Parrotfish?

it with a canoe paddle.  The Hokulea was right where we left her, tied up to the pier in the area used by the cruise ship tenders.  Thanks to the Department of Homeland Security, this area has a fine eight foot security fence, the better to keep Mexicans and Iranians from sneaking in to Kona, which, somewhat to the embarrassment of the Hawaiian community, is still part of Donald Trump's United States.

    While I was putting on my snorkeling gear a contingent of white keikis under the control of their ha'ole maternal units filed by.  One and all were wearing black Ts celebrating the hula.  The inscription was in Hawaiian, wouldn't you know, so I am unable to tell you exactly what it said. 

    Bidding the hula-ettes Aloha, I plunged into the cool clear water.  Almost immediately, I saw a very large whitemouth moray hunting.  he curtailed his free swim and curled into a nearby coral

Badgered Bigeye Bugs Out

head.  I waited for him to come out, but all he did was look at me from his refuge.  Determined to get a shot, I put the camera on macro, which doubles as a telephoto, and dove down for a handhold about three feet away.  Just as I got my grip, the moray lunged at me.  Simultaneously I snapped a picture.

   I wasn't especially worried, as this is, by reputation, not an aggressive species.  A bit further on, I saw a six inch segment of a classic dark chocolate undulated moray in a coral a couple feet down.  This species is renowned for its aggression, but lucky for me, this guy was taking a nap.

   It being relatively early in the morning, I was hoping for an octopus.  There were no cephalopods to be seen, but out by the fourth swim buoy I spied an unusual juvenile parrot.  We will wait for our diligent fish wallah, Peter Kroppje to bless our identification, but it is at least possible that this dull

Raise the sails!

fellow with the yellowish tail is a juvenile spectacled parrotfish...a very unusual species for Kailua Kona. I found a bigeye hiding under a coral.  My efforts for a photograph were sufficiently aggressive ( perhaps I took a lesson from Mr. Whitemouth) as I chased the bigeye into the open for a quick shot.

    Of course the swim was mostly taken as a chance to get pictures of the voyaging canoe from the water.  While I was swimming, the crew raised both sails and we got a few pictures which I hope you enjoy.

    As I got out, a troop of hula dancers filed by.  Sandra was all over the dancers, who were involved in a ceremony to bless the canoe.  Luckily I finished changing before the beginning of the ceremony.  Sandra and I listened to the chanter chant, the dancers responding  in their inscrutable tongue and watched them dance a bit. 

Both of them!

   For those of you who don't live in Hawaii, you may be unaware of the movement to reestablish the Hawaiian kingdom.  Both the hula and the voyaging canoe Hokulea are symbols, to those who claim
Hawaiian heritage, of  this movement.  For those of us who are on the ground here in the 50th state, we have noticed a difference in civic attitude in the last couple of years.

     One might reasonably wonder just which point in history the Hawaiians would like to return to.  I would love to write you a brief history of the Hawaiian Kingdom, but it is clearly beyond the scope of this blog.  Sandalwood, smallpox, syphilis, two strong Christian women (Ka'ahumanu and Kina'u) and a succession of feckless kings saw the Hawaiian population drop from 400,000 to 40,000 in only 50 years.  By 1840 political control had passed to the unscrupulous businessmen who were the sons
of the original missionaries.

The Flag of the Kingdom of Hawaii Movement

    In an amazing turn around, fueled in large part by the native race mixing with other ethnic groups, native Hawaiians have rebounded.  If one includes these mixed race people, the number of Hawaiians in the state is estimated to be between 145,000 and 289,00. (I realize that is a huge difference of opinion, but this is Hawaii, where facts are up for grabs.) In the United States as a whole the population of mixed race Hawaiians may be as high as 560,000.  (The population of our state is currently 1,400,000.)  The survival of native Hawaiian blood appears to be guaranteed.  All of us who live here are grateful for this and hope that our community continues to live in harmony.

     Enough about demographics and the Kingdom Movement.

Hula Dancers in Fancy Dresses Bless the Hokulea

     Due in part to their intimate contact with the sea and the vast separation of the Hawaiian archipelago from any other major island group, those stone age people were able to navigate using the sun, moon and stars, and their knowledge prevailing winds and currents.  For several centuries prior to the arrival of Cook, Hawaiians were sailing regularly to the islands we now call French Polynesia,  2,600 miles as the crow flies.  The current crew has navigated the Pacific for three years without power or modern navigational devices, like GPS.

    So hats off to the crew of Hokulea and the boat herself.  And while were at it, let's raise a glass of Hawaiian punch to the  the population of the 50th state, the most diverse of them all.

jeff

Here Comes the Rain Again. Can the DeLukes Be Far Behnd?

Come for the fish, Stay for the rain.

 
Yesterday Sandra and I were going to attend an outdoor concert at the palace, la de da.  As the afternoon wore on, our omnipresent friend, the Mayan rain god, Chac, raised his soggy head and by 3 PM we were in the midst of a deluge.  While it is pleasant to get out of the house, to sit in the rain or

Cleaner Wrasse Juvenile with Yellow Tang, Kahalu'u March 2018

not to sit in the rain was hardly a question.  The West Hawaii County Band under the direction of maestro  Bernaldo Evangalista went unattended, at least by yours truly.

   This morning we touched bases with Gail DeLuke.  She and her delightful husband, Martin, will be raising their flag over Casa Ono in a few weeks.  After discussing schedules and house sitting duties, Gail mentioned that she had been reading the blog and wondered if the weather, not to mention the ocean, was still cold.  Sandra piped up saying that I had gone swimming recently and that the water was much warmer.

   That was only two days ago at Kahalu'u on the warmest day we have had so far this spring.  Indeed, the water wasn't freezing and there were patches that definitely could be labeled, if not warm, cool.  On that outing there was nothing spectacular, but I did see a juvenile cleaner wrasse doing a job on a

Finescale Triggerfish 2018.  The answer is blown in the sand.

yellow tang, which made for a pretty nice picture.  On the way in I chased a large flounder, doing a magic carpet imitation as he cruised above the sand and rocks.

    Back on the beach, Sandra made friends with a couple of girls from Minnesota.  Even the name of that state, Minnesota, sounds cold.  I said something clever like, "Well, the weather is certainly better here than in Minnesota...unless you want to play hockey."  They indulged me with an understanding smile and proceeded out onto the rocks where they could contemplate swimming in private.

    As we finished our phone call with Ms. DeLuke, she reminded us that she was more than eager to read the next blog.  With that in mind, Sandra said she would be happy to drop me off at the pier on the way to Macy's.  Getting ready, I

Magic Carpet Ride with a Flowery Flounder

noticed that the corn palm outside the lanai still had raindrops from this morning's shower. (No need
to water today!)

   Down at pier, life was overcast with a few swimmers and a Frisbee playing dog.  Employing my mantra, I was able to get into the cold water and start swimming.  As you will recall, the rain filters through the lava, getting cooled along the way, and then percolates into our bays.  Today I could actually see the fountains of cold water as they exited the sandy bottom.   The water near the beach was quite clear with a fair representation of pedestrian fish.  They're playing the Final Four and still no squid. 

   Further out I saw a Finescale Triggerfish.   This guy was engaged in a behavior that I have seen other triggers, in the Caribbean and the Western Pacific perform...standing on his head and blowing

Ever present  the female Bird Wrasse

into the sand, presumably in search of something delicious.  A bit further on I saw a pair.  This was, in my estimation as the Yentl of the fish, a match.  Soon we will have a whole school, a veritable yesihiva, with little finescale triggers wearing yarmulkes.  Oy vey!

    In front of the palace I was lucky to see another large flounder who made a better flying carpet picture than his friend two days before.

     Sad to say, that was as interesting as it got today.  Inshore, the water was still clear so I took a few pictures of the same old fish.  I hope you (and Gail DeLuke) enjoy them.

   The best news of all?  We made it home before it started to rain.  Again.

A lovely ornate wrasse.  Kailua in the Rain 2019

A Cold Spring in Kailua

   If you expect it to be cold, you won't be disappointed.  This has become my snorkeling mantra as winter turns into spring.  And it gives me the power to get back in the briny icebox for another look
around.

Roman wall remnant in Nîmes.  Or what remains of  the Keahou Beach Hotel

   Seriously folks.  Here it is the middle of March and both the air and water temperatures have remained consistently on the cool side.  Most un-Hawaii.  As an example of the moderate climate up here on the slopes of Hualalai, I have taken to wearing clothes in the afternoon.  Without meaning to assault your consciousness with visions of geriatric undress, this is unprecedented.  At two in the afternoon, when I should be sitting still in front of a fan with my shirt off,  I'm putting on a fleece jersey and doing housework.

   Thanks to the mantra, though, I have been snorkeling a few times in the last fortnight. Sandra doesn't have a mantra, so she has been swimming only on special occasions, choosing instead to provide transportation and moral support...not that either of us is getting carried away with morals in the Judeo-Christian sense of the word.

    A few days ago my sweetie dropped me off at the pier, which was barricaded and staffed by angry looking men wearing brown shirts with Sheriff emblazoned across the shoulders.  In hopes of avoiding apprehension, I gave law enforcement a wide berth and sought information elsewhere.  As it

Forster's Hawkfish, Paracirrhites forsterii,  Spring Time in Kailua

turned out, the Kona Brewfest was in full swing.  A small village of canopies had been erected in the campo outside the Marriott, where normally we find our fleet of outrigger canoes resting peacefully in the afternoon sun.  Well there wasn't any sun and pitifully few imbibers of the yeasty froth.  But at least the sheriff's posse was on hand, prepared for an eruption of excessive merriment. 

    As I was donning my snorkeling regalia, a couple of a certain age walked by on the way to the shower.  Being a serial eaves dropper, I overheard the gentleman inquire of his lady friend, "What was that thing?  A nautilus?"

    This being March, I have been on the lookout for squid.  Nautiluses being pretty rare in Kailua Bay, I was hoping that this was what they had seen.  I had a nice little swim in the frigid water, but did not see anything as wonderful as a herd of rampaging cephalopods.   The water was quite clear and I was itching for a photo op, but there were no squid, or anything else of special note.

   Yesterday we made it down to Kahalu'u in the early afternoon.  It had been sprinkling on and off, so

The neighbors will be green with envy when you bring this Lamborghini home.

there were fewer tourists at the beach than one might expect at that time of day.  Disembarking from our faithful steed, I took note of the Keahou Beach Hotel, now in its final stages of dismemberment.  The hotel has been removed one section at a time and now the final fifty feet or so remain, like an ancient and decrepit tower.  In its shabby antiquity, it reminded me of a section of Roman wall standing alone, an ancient sentinel in a park somewhere in the south of France.  I always loved that hotel, spent many a happy moment on the balcony overlooking the tide pools and the sea, and I find the whole desultory affair of its removal Gaul-ing.

   Schmoopie and I made it to the kiosk just in time to hear the last stanza of a Hawaiian song sung by a group of oldsters in red shirts.  As the oldsters packed away their ukes, Sandra sat down in her beach chair to do a seduko puzzle and I plunged into the chilly water.  If you expect it to be cold, you won't be disappointed.

Hey tall, dark and handsome with the snail in your pocket...

   In spite of the fact that the air and water temperatures have not risen as the days get longer, the jacaranda is blooming.  And the seasonal change has not been lost upon our friends with fins.  Among the usual fishies we see at Kahalu'u, there were a couple fine babies. The first to attract my attention was the jauntily clad red labrid wrasse.  This handsome red and white striped fellow, flitting around on the bottom like a barber pole on holiday, attracted my attention to a small juvenile freckle faced hawkfish.  I just adore that little guy, with his chartreuse cap.  This one sat still, tolerating my adoration as I nabbed his photo.

   As I swam along, I happened upon a fine snakeshead cowry.  As you can see, this was a pretty large specimen and in excellent condition, his shell reflecting like the hood of an immaculately burnished Lamborghini.  Très élégant.  

   In the old days, I might have scooped him up and taken him home to the aquarium for a night to see him extend that mantle that keeps his shell so shiny.  Suffice it to say, this marine snail was somewhat bigger than the ones we used to bring home.  Hence, I have this image of stepping out of the water to be confronted by a buxom lady in the style of Mae West. She puffs out her ample bosom, gives my trunks a sultry once over and intones, "Hey there, sailor.  Is that a cowry in your pocket or are you

Juvenile Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse and C. jacator,    Kahalu'u, March 2018

just happy to see me?" 

   As I was making the clubhouse turn, I happened upon a wonderful juvenile, the blue streak baby of the Hawaiian cleaner wrasse.  This little guy, far from a common occurrence, was busy cleaning a Hawaiian toby.  Canthigaster jacator is, of course, a small fish, so together they made a delightful pair.  As I prepared to capture them with my trusty T4, the water was suddenly full of tiny particles, a swarm of some microscopic invertebrate, I assume.  Luckily, they were primarily near the surface.  I was able to dive down, hold on and get a picture of the blue streak and the toby.  For a variety of reasons relating to the cloud of no see'ums and my inability to keep the camera motionless while hanging on to the coral, this picture is not in perfect focus.  But its not too bad and I hope you enjoy it.

    Pretty soon it will be springtime back in the lower 48.  I hope you are looking forward to the smell of freshly mowed grass.  In the mean time, keep your snow shovel handy and dress warmly.  And so will I.  

jeff  

Thanks to Anne Klein for her picture of the Roman tower in Nîmes.