Snorkeling in Purgatory

     Yesterday was Easter.  For many of us, this means a sunrise service at church and a big family dinner with the grand children (Vera, Chuck and Dave) and, of course, Uncle Albert.  This year those activities were precluded by social distancing.  Another activity that might have been precluded by social distancing rules, not to mention common sense, was swimming.  Which is just another way of saying snorkeling.

The Easter Chorus, February 2012, Kailua Pier 

    In my pantheon of holiday themed target fish, right below the Christmas wrasse, is the Easter Chorus.  Some of you may know this fish, which is also a wrasse, as the elegant coris.  I gave it a new common name to suit my needs.  It is well established, except perhaps in the case of bird watching (where the American Ornithological Union is very strict), that anyone can apply a new common name whenever he or she wishes and nobody can say "boo!" about it.  In the case of the Easter Chorus, the name derives from the cross prominently displayed on the forehead of the adult supermale.  Also this fish displays a singular, writhing motion as it swims, as if it is anticipating, or maybe even experiencing, crucifixion.

   As you by now know, the best place to see this fish, Kahalu'u Beach Park, is locked up tighter than the operculum on a strawberry drupe.  In fact, the only legitimate snorkeling venue available on this day that might yield the eponymous coris, was the Kailua pier.  And so, I spent a goodly portion of Good Friday planning just how I could conduct this yearly ritual, the hunt for the Easter Chorus, safely.

Easter Chorus Transmogrification or What did the priest put in my wafer?

   My plans were set and Sandra dropped me off mid-morning at the pier. Having observed the paucity of visitors to the pier through out the preceding week, we were surprised by how many people were there.  Seemingly normal people.  Hopefully un-infected people.  At least half a dozen of these stalwarts were employing the cubbies in time honored fashion, leaving their clothes and towel in a cubby while they swam.  My beloved and I had discussed that piece of beach side furniture in detail and decided that, unlike the checkout conveyor at Costco, this was not cleaned after each use and must be considered contaminato.

    To outfox the contaminated cubby situation I had brought a folding chair upon which to store my belongings. Thinking that the less stuff I wore into the ocean, the less would be contaminated at the shower after my swim, I entered Kailua Bay without a stitch of neoprene.  And, yes, it was cold.  But we were on a crusade.  Onward Christian Snorkelers!

   As I was putting on my fins, I saw the best fish of the day.

White Saddle Goatfish  Kailua Pier August 2018

    The white saddle goatfish, P. porpyreus, is one of those fish that back in the day, we might have hoped to see on a ten day family snorkeling vacation to these very waters.  It has become progressively rare and I can not recall for sure the last time I saw this fish.  It was never common, however. This violet colored goatfish with the nominative white spot on the caudle peduncle is supposedly the best tasting of the goatfish. There was a time when I thought this might account for its rarity.  I can now say with some authority that spear fishermen do not look for obscure goatfish.  Rather, they kill whatever is the most convenient, perhaps without any consideration to it edibility (Is that a word?  I wouldn't want to try it in Scrabble!) 

   So here, on Easter Sunday, swimming among the coral rubble, (and oblivious to the human rabble, of which I am a prime example) was a small trout of a white spot goatfish, perhaps three to four inches in length.  The water was cloudy and I didn't even have my fins on yet, so I didn't even consider taking a picture.  The picture you see here, taken 20 months ago, was of a much larger fish.  The younger fish that I saw had a deeper violet hue.

Pearl Wrasse female,  Mahukona April 2017

   I swam out to the last swim buoy and back in closer to the wall, in shallow water that I hoped would appeal to the elegant coris.  To a large extent, this was a quixotic mission, although at the start
of the day I would have said that I was much more likely to see an elegant coris than a white saddle goatfish on the Ironman side of the pier.  I would have amended the statement to indicate that I was most likely to see neither.

   On the way in, I had a great look at a female pearl wrasse.  I did get a picture of this pretty fish as it swam away through the milky water, but in the interest of your delicate sensibilities I'm showing you one taken exactly three years ago in the crystal clear waters of Mahukona.  the pearl wrasse is a pretty fish, but its relationship to Easter is obscure at best.  The expression "pearls before swine" comes from Matthew 7:6, in which he reports the Sermon on the Mount.  That's as close as I can get.

    Back on shore, it was time to perform my ablutions and this was the part that had everyone worried.  I wasn't able to retrieve my sandals without creating a mess, so I walked to the shower barefoot.  As I had feared, this required me to run a gauntlet through a throng of homeless gentleman, way more than a dozen between the ages of 25 and 50, that were congregated in the vicinity of the only public restroom and shower currently available in Kona.  In our multiple discussions about the corona virus, Sandra and I have decided that the epidemic is in part a socio-economic phenomenon.   And these guys represent the bulls eye for that particular dart board. Suffice it to say, I showered there and then once again at home, using lots of soap. 

  I'm not sure what Anthony Fauci would say about this, but Governor Ige wants me to get out of the house and go swimming.  I trust that he is happy.  As for Easter and the chorus, all I can say is, "He is risen."

jeff