Swimming in a Winter Wonderland

   Over the last week or so, the weather in Kona has been spectacular.  Bright blue days, relatively dry with gentle breezes and frosty cold nights requiring hats, fleeces and slippers.  Temperatures plunging into the mid 60s.  Brrrr.

Guess which one just went swimming in Kona?

    Yesterday Sandra dropped me off to go snorkeling at the pier while she went foraging up Palani at the KTA and Foodland.  While I was adjusting my neoprene vest, I attempted to make friends with a lady of a certain age.  She smiled and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather.  All the while she was donning a diveskin, its weathered appearance revealing that it, too, was of a certain age. 

    While we exchanged our few words, a group of lady recreational swimmers came ashore.  One, with remarkably blue lips, intoned, "I've got to get a full length wet suit."  Most likely she had just swam a mile or two, which puts the lie to the idea that swimming hard keeps you warm.  I don't think so...not that I actually swim hard very often.  But sometimes Sandra says that to me.  "I'm going to swim hard over to the breakwater to warm up."   Maybe she wants to get away for some time to herself.  Who can blame her?

Swim buoy floating.  Its all the rage.

    Although yesterday the ocean was quiet, over the last week there have been some excellent surfing conditions on the Kona coast.  Such a winter surf washes away the sand at Magic Sands Beach and, in my humble opinion, brings the cold water ashore.  Whether or not this is so, there could be no denying that the water at the foot of the pier was chilly.  My guess is that it has dropped another three or four degrees in the last ten days and is now at the winter temperature of about 75 degrees F.  That's F as in freezing.  Blue lips may not sink ships, but they are not necessarily all that desirable, either.

    My new found almost a friend followed me into the water.  As she got knee deep I called out, "If you're hoping  for warm water you're going to be disappointed."   While we were were getting ready to swim,  I noted that she had one of those nautical orange swim buoys that have become all the rage.  Now that she was getting in, I saw that not only was she carrying the swim buoy and her tiny fins (the type worn by recreational swimmers

Nasty, little, good for nothing blue fins

that provide marginal additional propulsion) but she was still wearing her cap and dark glasses.  Now what was this about?

   A word about those diminutive fins.  If you find yourself with a new snorkeling companion and he has brought a pair of those tiny blue fins, beware.  When you wear those tiny fins you have to keep kicking because, as one might expect, they are ineffective by design.  Ergo, your snorkeling buddy is more likely to be into exercising and less into fish watching. They will swim about furiously and scare away the fish.  Which is what Sandra's father accused her of doing when he took her ice fishing in Michigan, where the water was only marginally warmer.

    I shoved off and headed out into the bay, swimming back and forth while thanking the Almighty for my tiny bit of neoprene.  After a few minutes I looked back to see my sometimes friend resting her elbows on her swim buoy as if it were an inflatable noodle the shape of a fat piece of macaroni.  She was looking around and enjoying the beautiful day, making no effort what so ever to swim. This seemed like the sort of inactivity that one might practice in the middle of summer.  By this time I was too far away to tell if her lips were turning blue.

Watch out when he starts to dance away from the facts

    Warding off the chill as best I could I made it out to the fourth swim buoy.  On a coral about sixteen feet down, I spotted a large cone shell with a high pointed crown.  Research in Hoover's critter book and Hawaiian Shells by Mike Severns leads me to call this an Imperial Cone, Conus imperialis.  This was my first time identifying this species.  The books say it lives from 50 to 100 feet deep in rocks and attains a length of three and a half inches.  I thought it was four inches, so I was close.  At any rate, it was clearly a shell that was out of place.  Our mantra for finding hermit crabs is, "Look for the sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells."   No.  Wait a minute...its "Look for the shell that doesn't belong."  Yeah. That's the ticket.  

Conus imperialis with a peeking hermit crab

   I dove it three times, finning hard to counteract the buoyancy of my neoprene, and got within a few feet of this not so handsome cone shell.  On each of my descents I nabbed a couple pictures and this is the best of them.  I think you will agree that there is a hermit crab observing my struggles and he has a big, fat white-tipped cheliped.  Claw to the lay people.

   Now for your riddle: What's big, fat, white and crabby?  The obvious answer is Donald Trump.  The left handed hermit crab, Calcinus laevimanus, was my second guess. Does President Trump live fifteen feet below the ocean surface?  Not by the hair on the nearest playboy centerfold, he doesn't.  And neither, apparently, does the left handed hermit crab.  In fact, John Hoover says he lives only inches below the surface.

Milkfish, Kailua Bay January 2019

   So lefty is out and, all kidding aside, the picture is totally inadequate to identify the crab.  If we were forced to guess,  I would say hidden hermit crab, Ca. latens, which lives down to 30 feet.  

   A bit further on I ran into half a dozen milkfish.   The water was nice and clear so I dove them with a photo in mind.  They swam towards the shore and then turned back, giving me my opportunity.  This may be my best picture ever of this opalescent beauty with the fine tail.  Stormy Daniels eat your heart
out. 

    At the furthest extent of my swim I was overwhelmed with the beauty of Hulihee's Palace on this bright winter day and I nabbed the picture you see here.  Does it make you wish you were in Kona? 


   Before getting out at the end of the swim, I checked out the area on the far side of the swim line by the pier.   There were some fine patches of orange sponge near the floating line.  A bit further, as I neared the spot where I might find some choice flotsam that had escaped the clutches of the cruisers, I ran into a huge peppered moray.  This muscular beast was out of his niche, extending his head a foot or more above the coral.   I swear that in my quest for trinkets I darn near collided with the brute.

The Palace from the south on a bright winter's day.

    On shore I enjoyed my cold shower and had a chance to spy my erstwhile friend from the start of the swim.  And yes, she had blue lips. 

    The doctor orders a hot toddy for one and all.  Put it on my tab. 

jeff