Kahalu'u in May

    On Saturday morning we got things squared away around the house rather early and I began muttering about going snorkeling.  Sandra was deeply involved with a book about integers, of all things, and was perfectly happy to have me wander off by myself for a while.  Free as a bird, I headed

The salt and pepper cone not found in the books.

down to Kahalu'u for a swim, my first visit to good old K Bay since our return from the lower 48.

   Before I proceed, I must warn you that you will find here a few good photographs and one or two that are truly abysmal, but crucial to the story.  For my human and technical frailty I am truly regretful.  

   The vog wasn't too bad, visibility in the three mile range, and the group holding a baby luau in the shelter at Kahalu'u weren't excessively possessive about their rented space.  So we were off to a good start.   The water is getting warmer ... getting in wasn't too painful and there were a manageable number of bodies to slither between as I made my way out to the bay.

The light spotted sea cumber, H. hilla.  Kahalu'u 2016

   As I swam away from the entry the water changed from remarkably turbid to just a little cloudy with patches of real clarity.  Not too far along I spotted an unusual cone shell.  He was a salt and pepper gray with a rounded crown and sides.  I couldn't identify him from memory, so I decided to take his picture.

   This carnivorous mollusc was between two rocks, seemingly with the snail's head buried in the sand.  Times were when I would have plucked the cone heedlessly, but experience has taught me that I would risk killing the helpless animal, virtually decapitating him as I pulled the snail from the sand.  That is enough to make the Buddha cry.  Instead, I moved the rocks around him and then grabbed on to a larger rock in hopes that I would be anchored near the object of my desire, well positioned for the shot. The rock I chose as a hand hold was not large enough for my buoyant bulk and moved as I grabbed it.  To my surprise, hiding under this larger rock was a light spotted sea cucumber,  H. hilla.  I shot a quick picture of this surprised holotuurian and put the stone back as best I could.  These relatively small pappilated sea cucumbers with the pretty

Irridescent Bristleworm Kahalu'u 2018

buttterscotch colored skin are fine eating for the wrasses, which, having noticed my rock moving activity, were already congregating.  Luckily for the cuke I got the stone back in such a way that his tasty presence went undetected.

   As I was looking for another rock to hold on to, having taken a couple pictures that I wasn't very happy with, I spotted an iridescent bristle worm.  This animal is not terribly uncommon but proved irresistible.  By the time I was done photographing the worm, I was unable to find that cryptically colored cone shell again.  Science is the poorer for my distractability.

    Leaving that episode behind me, and dodging a full complement of fellow snorkelers,  I headed into the middle of the bay.  There I found a great number of orange spine unicorn tangs, perhaps a couple hundred in a school that stretched out twenty yards at least.  This made an interesting sight,

Hundreds of Orangespine Unicornfish

but what was even more interesting was a single more mature individual with lighter sides and long streamers from his tail.  His bright yellow forehead indicated an emotionally charged state and he was racing back and forth, seemingly chasing the dogies back into the herd.  Boy howdy!  With such a large herd he had his work cut out for him. But his interest didn't flag in the time I watched him and, when I eventually left him, he was still chasing the stragglers back into the school.

   I swam across the bay to the east, over by Rescue Beach and there I encountered the studliest Yellowtail Coris ever.  As you can see, this guy was really broad from top to bottom.  and look at that rainbow of colors on his flank.  This guy does not need the Men's Clinic.  In fact, I'm not sure that pack of charlatans even takes wrasses.

Boy Howdy! Chasin' down the Dogies.

    I addition to the coris there was a very cooperative I'iwi that wandered in to photographic range just at the correct moment.  A good close shot of the male bird wrasse is unusual, so I felt pretty lucky.

   As is so often the case, the best was to be found on the beach.  As I slithered my way into the makai sand entry, I passed by an Indian father with his son.  I stood up and said hello.  The daddy was a proud father.  His son is two and a half, same as Colsen back in Camas.  He had his son say mahalo to me, although I don't think I had done anything worthy of thanks, unless you count not knocking him over as I struggled to my feet.  And then we all exchanged shakas.

   On a rock by the entry was an Indian looking young lady and I took a chance, asking her if she was the mother.  She was and we had a nice chat.  Her name was Rada something.  We agreed that my

The Bull Goose Yellowtail Coris

name, at a single syllable, is a lot simpler. They were originally from Hyderabad, in southern India, now living in Folsom, home of that prison made famous by the Man in Black.  he works not at the big house but in some tech enterprise in Vacaville.  I can remember when the only thing that was important about Vacaville was the nut tree restaurant.  Those were the days. Her son is Brandurian and I'm sure in about ten years he will be winning the National Geography Bee.  At about the same time his boreal peer, my grandson, will be slaughtering his first large ungulate.

   And so I leave you under the steely gray sky of Volcanoland.  The fish are here to please but our friends on the beach, past present and future are the best.  E komo mai.

Namaste,
jeff

Friends on the Beach Are the Best.

Shark Alert!

   All too often I find myself apologizing for a hiatus between blogs.  In this instance, the hiatus must have stretched to damn near six weeks.  As the Mexican gardeners next door might say, "Lo ciento." 

This bank was recently a forest of Monstera

   The first four weeks, give or take, were taken up visiting our children and grandchildren in the greater Portland area. The last four days of that off island excursion were devoted to my one and only nephew's wedding in San Rafael, California.  The penultimate point of the latter was a conga line, led by my nephew Andrew,  to a stirring Celtic rendition of Scotland the Brave and Smoke on the Water.

   Here is a link to the Youtube video which you migh find useful as a musical backdrop to the rest of the blog.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4aUPC0zMok

   My sister in law claims to have a video of the actual conga line, but it is apparently being with held to protect the innocent.

   Having escaped the redwoods, we made it back to Casa Ono where our worst fears were realized.  During our absence, Beelzebub, who just happens to live next door, had his Mexican gardeners uproot and remove the plantings five feet deep into our yard.  You may recall the previous entry on the coqui frog.  He explained to our house sitters that, in the name of coqui prevention,  we actually wanted him to do

"Menpachiland, Menpachiland!  God shed his grace on thee."

this. A few days before we returned, Old Smoky departed for Japan.  With any luck, a latter day samurai has thrown him into a wok, stir fried him with some ginger and onions and fed him to Godzilla.  That's what I call justice.  Which would be good, because we ain't gettin' any here.  When appraised of the devastation, the local constabulary said that they don't know nothin' 'bout no property lines and they couldn't care less.  But just in case, they took down my name ... as if I was the transgressor.

   Suffice it to say, for the last week we have been doing some gardening in lieu of snorkeling.  We did get to go swimming once, a few days ago at the pier.  The water was cool and cloudy, as until today the surf has been up.  We saw little, literally, except for right by the pier itself, where a family of menpachi has established a stronghold.  Those epaulette soldierfish are living in the no fishing zone created by the Department of Homeland Security.  They, at least, have something for which to thank President Trump.

Swim through El Tenedor del Diablo at your ow risk.

   In consideration of this boon, the soldierfish wrote a little anthem:

Menpachiland, Menpachiland!  God shed his grace on thee.
And shove a stump up Donald's rump from sea to shining sea.

   You should hear them singing on a moonlit night.  Its enough to bring a tear to your eye.

   Before we get too far out into left field, let us give a brisk tug on the line, set the hook and haul the action back to this morning where the vog from Kilauea was no worse than usual and our aforementioned deity had spread oil upon the waters.   The Redoubtable SKG and I sped south, spurred by the observations of Gail DeLuke, who swore that a shark could be found at City of Refuge.  She may not recognize a devil when she sees one, but she not only had identified a shark but
had sent us a photograph of her very own making.

Sandra and Jeff fly through the Colombian jungle

    When we arrived at the beach at Honaunau, there was a tribe of divers crowding the beach and the area around the Two Step entry.  We were later to find that these were young scientists and this was their final day of the course on underwater science in which they were actually take a dive and make observations.

   The thirty or so wet suited Sheldon Coopers kindly gave way and Sandra and I were soon launched on our quest.  Sandra has made a firm request that what follows be not too specific in the way of location, so if it seems that I am obfuscating, that's not just the vog that is producing the murk.  We headed in the direction that Gail had suggested and without too much difficulty found the rock with the hole in it through which some swimmers dive.  Or is it divers swim?

   I assume that you have all watched Romancing the Stone.  This fenestrated bit of lava serves as the watery equivalent of El Tenedor del Diablo.  Diablo, of course, being my next door dickhead.  Oops.  I mean neighbor.

A Southbound Reticulated Butterflyfish

   Anyway, for the girls in the audience you can imagine you are completing this swim with a younger Michael Douglas, while us guys will imagine we are swimming with the lovely (and prone to unfortunate choices)  Joan Wilder.

   Beyond El Tenedor, we spotted a fine pair of Reticulated Butterflyfish.  What you see is the north end of a south bound retic.  I chose the picture that was in focus as opposed to the one that showed the fish in profile but wasn't in focus.  If you want to look at the whole fish, search Google images.

   At about this point, Joan Wilder runs into Juan.  In the movie Juan is played by Alfonso Arau (perhaps best remembered as El Guapo in the Three Amigos )  Here Juan is played by two chubby young women who have heard of the shark, looked for it on several occasions, but never found it.  

Slumbering White-tipped Reef Sharks

Just after the two Juans swim away,  Michael Douglas finds the shark.  He tries to call back the Juans, but they have gone in search of something sweet and edible.  Joan Wilder is at hand, though, and this is her first shark sighting in Hawaii.  Hurray for Joan!

   But wait!  There is not just one shark but two, lying side by side on the sand.  How womantic.  The larger is perhaps six feet in length.  Joan and Michael assume they are sleeping, because they are still except for the occasional open and closing of the gills and a bit of tail movement caused by the current.  We had expected to find a single shark much covered by a ledge.  Although this duo is in a crevasse between two parallel ridges, only their heads are truly under cover.  The water was clear and this was a wonderful look, a great opportunity for a photograph.

   Another couple shows up.  This girl, perhaps recovering from recent head trauma, sees four sharks.  Or possibly in our little screen play, she is portrayed by that wacky comedienne Goldie Hawn. That Goldie!  What a ditz.

   Try as we might, we were unable to wake up the sleeping sharks and so we bid them farewell.  On the way in, we saw an unusual sea cucumber.  This guy had well demarcated black patches.  When we got home we referred to john Hoover's critter book.  Hawaii's Sea Creatures and Other Delights shows 18 cukes in his critter book, this one is not in there.  Hmmm.

 John Hoover, by the way, lives way too close to Kilauea ... half way between the Halemaumau Crater and the twentyone lava spewing vents!  One might suspect that things are gettin' a little hot in Hooverville and we wish John and Marcia our best.  With luck they are riding out the eruption with friends on the mainland.  

Jackson's Chameleon. SKG and her Sanyo cell phone

   On the way home, we stopped by Greenwell's Coffee, which would probably not have made the blog except for a cracker jack look at a female chameleon.  We took a picture with Sandra's cell phone and a few with the water camera set on close up, so one gets that distance metered flash.  The judges have to give this one to the cell phone.   Regardless of one's choice in camera, she was a lovely animal and my only regret is that I am not a male Jackson's chameleon.  Which, of course, is a regret held by many of the people who, by the vicissitudes of fate, are thrust into my wayward orbit.

   You guys be happy and may all your sharks be sleepy ones.

 I can see the palm trees swaying, on the beach at Honaunau.
I can hear the Reef Sharks singing, "Komo mai, no kauai, wanna bitecha welekahau.

With thanks to  Johnny Noble, composer of Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii

The editorial staff at the blog gives a Get Well Soon shout out to our compadre Peter, who is one coronary stent to the good.  God bless ya, laddie.

Black-spotted Sea Cucumber