Under the Boardwalk...The Kawaihae Wharf

   Yesterday was another beautiful day here in Kona.  Unfortunately, we are getting ready to head back to Portland in a few short days and Sandra felt she needed to stay home and clean and pack and do all those other things necessary to prepare for departure.  Thus, I found myself driving solo, no

A bright, sunny Saturday on the beach at Kawaihae Harbor.

Lieutenant Uhura to send my friends and relatives text messages, to pass me drinks and to watch for goats and other roadside hazards.  When you think about it, I was lucky to make it to Kawaihae.

   At about 9:30, under the shade of an accommodating jub jub tree in the pretty little park by the open ocean, I was joined by our good friend and guide, Hai On.  We mounted up and Hai led me back toward the entrance, past a growing crowd of families that were setting up for a day of swimming, parties and relaxation beside the harbor.  We parked in an unlikely spot about 50 yards beyond the tidal wash, looking at Kawaihae wharf perhaps 70 yards away.

   In preparation for a swim, Hai has a signature routine.. two sets of wet suits and a weight belt that makes him look like a singer from Men At Work. I have not yet got him to do YMCA, but I'm sure its just a matter of time.  Suspended from his weight belt are multiple pouches for things like scissors, knives, a Go Pro and a still camera.  The good news is that he finds lots of cool

White Humped Nudibranch Kawaihae Harbor

stuff upon which to take amazing pictures with his camera.

   I, being an aging fatso, have a simpler routine, just a swim shirt and a dirty red bandana. And my snorkel, through which I blow softly while Sandra sings the blues.

(For those of you that miss the reference that is Willie Nelson singing the Chris Christofferson all time hit, Bobby McGee...it's Sandra's favorite.)

   Having dressed for the occasion, I was guided to a spot on the embankment which required only a three foot drop to the level below.  At this point we were looking at the rip rap shoreline of the harbor.  We strolled down near the water's edge, to a spot where the rip rap broke up creating at this hour a very shallow pond.  Following Hai's instructions, I waded in utilizing tiny patches of sand, flattened out and crawled over the scattered rocks, which were inconveniently covered with sea urchins and only a couple inches of water.  The fact that we were hitting this at extreme low tide made this part more difficult than it might have been. 

    It was an easy swim across the harbor to the wharf.  This is a big structure which weekly receives much of what we consume on this side of the island in the way of food and sundries.  Container ships, sea going tugs, and large, ocean-going barges tie up to this structure, which Google maps suggests stretches  more than 300 yards.  It is important to note, that this excursion took place on a Saturday, a day of rest across this part of the industrial sector. Suffice it to say, if one is going critter hunting in such an environment, it is best to avoid the ocean going

The cryptically colored Painted nudibranch

barges and tugs and all the accompanying machines and activity associated with unloading.

 The wharf, the raison d'etre for the large harbor, is supported by an infinite forest of cement pilings, and it was into that enchanted wood that we now entered.   The first set of piling is several feet back from the edge of wharf,  the under side of which was roughly ten feet above the surface of the water.  As such, this area does not get all that much sun.  Below the surface, almost everything is red and orange...red seaweed and a variety of orange sponges.  Of course there were gray sponges, black sponges and purple sponges, as well.

    Almost immediately, Hai found some nudibranchs, a pair of white bumped nudis overlapped in such a way that one might have suspected some hanky panky.  Several groupings of white margin nudibranchs followed.  In much the same way that a highly sought after bird becomes, shortly after the first sighting, a dirt bird, these white bumped and white margin nudis took on the aspect of the prosaic; there were lots of them.

    This doesn't mean they were easy to photograph.  First, they were not very large, perhaps 3 cm in length, 2 across the beam.  Second, there was the soft swell to contend with.  If one wants to take a really good picture, he needs to hold the camera still.  Very still.  Immobile!  If he is being swished around, to even a small degree, that is a bad thing.  One might think that with all those pilings, which

The gorgeous Caloria #3 , Under the Boardwalk

occurred at two foot intervals off to infinity, there would be plenty of opportunity for bracing.  One must remember that these potential supports were thoroughly encrusted with sponges and coral (and bears, oh my!), all of which can produce substantial skin irritation.

  Note to self...next time wear a full body suit.

   And then there was a third issue with which we needed to deal...the relative lack of light.  Usually when I am taking pictures underwater, I am, if not in bright sunlight, at least out in the open during the day.  Here we were in pretty dense shade.  It took a bit of work, but I was able to locate the shutter speed on the file for the photos I took under the wharf.  Using available light, I was frequently shooting at 1/25th of a second.  Back in the summer of 1970, when we was stuck in the Huntsville Penitentiary, my brother taught me to use a Nikon F, which the warden kindly loaned us for use in the yard.  It was Chuck's contention, as I recall, that a 60th of of a second was the slowest one should employ for a hand held picture.  On dry land.  Holding real still. 

   As above, not only was I holding the camera in my hand, but, to at least some moderate extent, my body was continually in motion.  Of course, one overcomes the motion problem by using the flash.  That blast of light stops the image cold.  But a flash picture usually does not look

Snowflake Coral Blooming Under the Boardwalk

like one taken with natural light, which I find preferable. Under the boardwalk, though, there was no choice.  Use the flash or suffer the ignominy of a blurry picture.  

   One final caveat.  Hai had offered me the use of a weight belt, saying that the weight would permit me to remain more still in the water.  I eschewed his kind offer, opting for maximum buoyancy in this unknown (dare I say a bit intimidating) situation.  That, of course, is only one of many reasons why his pictures are better than mine.

   Despite all this hanging of crepe, all the pictures you see here are mine, except for the "Inidan" nudibranch, which I never saw.

    We saw several more species of nudibranchs, seven total, unless I am mistaken.  Eight if you count Thompson's nudibranch, see below.  Early on, my guide hooked me up with a painted nudibranch, which contrary to what one might expect from the name, is "painted" rather cryptically.  We also saw the drop dead beautiful Caloria #3, which slithered over its spongy substrate like some mythical Chinese dragon.  And we saw plenty of gloomies and a couple tremblings that you will recall from the blogs about the landing craft pylons.

"a corallimorpharian of some sort"  John Hoover.

    And there were lots of other strange animals to look at.  One of my favorites was a large colony of snowflake coral.  The Bible says that the polyps are extended in this soft coral only at night or when there is a strong current.  We had entered on a very low tide and it was now rising towards a big high tide.  Hence, although undetectable to your humble correspondent, this constituted a big current for this spot.

    Along the way, I photographed this strange animal that looks like a ciliated silver dollar.  I sent this one off, along with the picture of the giant hermit crab, to John Hoover.  He is going to consult another expert, but his preliminary ID is "a corallimorpharian of some sort."  Just try using that word in a game of scrabble.

    I had just surfaced following one of many quixotic attempts to photograph the nudibranchs when I heard voices.  At first I thought it was workers up on the wharf, Saturday be damned.  But swimming out into the clear, I saw that Hai had been joined by another diver.  And this one was wearing the same dive cap as the accomplice in the giant hermit crab photos that you will hear about in another

A Tiny Slendertail Moray Eel courtesy of Lottie

blog.  Low and behold, it was Hai's good friend, Lottie.

   Lottie was immediately shown to be charming and generous.  I think she might also be on the dishy side, but when one is in a wet suit,  cap and snorkel mask, its a little hard to tell.

   It was no surprise that Lottie turned out to be an excellent swimmer and diver.  Like Hai, she was also an excellent finder of the aquatic fauna.  Perhaps her best find was a tiny eel that was living in a crevice among the sponges.  His head was no bigger around than my little finger and he was very patient as I took a few snapshots.  As you can see, one of them actually turned out.  Research back at the ranch revealed this to be a small slendertailed moray eel.  Life fish for Jeffrey!

A Trio of White Margined Nudibranchs

    On one of her deeper dives, Lottie spotted what she called, "one of the Indians."  I attempted to
duplicate her effort, but it wasn't possible for me to dive ten feet and find the tiny critter she had pointed out. If I had found it, it would have been the eighth or ninth species of nudibranch on the day for me.  A few minutes later, Hai and Lottie combined to find an extremely small nudi.  It was yellowish and for a moment it was adhering to Lottie's glove, much like a small globule of snot.  As best as I can put it together, this may have been a white spotted nudibranch. I thought I had a picture, but either I discarded it by mistake or missed the critter fair and square.

    A little research, this time using Keoki Stender's site, suggests that an odd, gray lump that I photographed may be another nudibranch, Berthelia  sp.   Some prankster has named the dullest, grayest colored butterflyfish and surgeonfish after the illustrator at the Bishop Museum, John W. Thompson.  Wouldn't it be appropriate to name this guy Thompson's nudibranch?

Berthelia  thompsnii  Thompson's nudibranch.  Hill 2019

    After that encounter we split up.  I discovered that I was able to find some of these little jewels on my own.  A gorgeous Caloria #3 played hide and seek with me, dodging around beneath a leaf of that red seaweed.  Despite my neck breaking work, I couldn't get a picture.


   By this time, we had been swimming for almost an hour and half, although Lottie had been with us for only half an hour.  I bid the happy duo adieu and swam across the harbor, luckily finding my way to the spot where we entered (and where I had left my slippers.  In the two hours that had elapsed

An Indian Nudibranch, photo by Hai On

since we had first entered, the tide had risen substantially and the urchin infested rocks were now under a sufficient amount of water to make reaching the shore fairly easy.  I used my fins as a movable walkway to gain my slippers, enjoyed a lovely ocean side shower back at the park, and I was on my way.

    Hai is a good friend and a super guide.  Both Sandra and I are looking forward to more outings with both Hai and Lottie.  Perhaps I will even get to see Lottie sans snorkel!


jeff

Below a Caloria # 3 heads for the barn.  Photo by Jeffrey Hill!