Peaceful Mahukona

    Thursday morning Sandra and I made our way up to Mahukona. Hawaii Island is still shut down to tourism and so traffic up and down the Kona Coast is usually minimal. Thus we arrived at Mahu at about 9:30. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but not another soul to be seen, either on land or in the water. We had planned the trip to coincide with a high tide and the peaceful sea was lapping the top step of the ladder. Sliding into the bay, we discovered that the water was cooler than expected, perhaps in the very low eighties, and remarkably clear.

A Handsome Mu at Mahukona, August 2020

   August is the month when one can hope to see the juvenile threadfin jack. This strange little fish is diamond shape, about three inches on an edge and trails a number of long threadlike fins from both its dorsal and ventral fins. Our one encounter with this marvel was in the lagoon at the Waikoloa Hilton. This is a peculiar venue, in that although it is obviously man made, it is not stocked; whatever you see there has washed in over the breakwater. In this way it's sort of like a bird feeder (actually more like a crab trap) and so, applying bird watching rules, I believe that the fish you see there, no matter how artificial the environment appears, can be counted. With that single peculiar observation whetting our appetite, we are vigilant as the summer wears on, in hopes of seeing a threadfin in a wilder locale.

  With threadfins on the brain, we entered the water with consummate stealth. A close encounter a year or two ago serves a lesson. If one isn't swimming quietly it is likely that you will frighten this skittish fish. So Sandra and I swam quietly across the bay and saw no threadfins. Only a handsome mu, with creamy body and three dorsal bars was there for our amusement. Throughout our hour in the water we encountered many more mus.  Otherwise know as big eye emperors, the name refers to the title of

Small schooling fish with curious face pattern to be named later.

executioner in a Hawaiian society.  In at least two instances I saw four mus swimming together. Inconceivable! Occasionally we see one or two mus on a swim. This plethora of was unprecedented. 

    A few strokes further and we encountered a huge number of small fish. There were literally sheets of these fish.  Each fish was about two and a half inches long with a faint blueish dorsum and a noticeable lateral line. I had never experienced anything like it. The first school we encountered might have contained a thousand fish. As we made our way around the bay we encountered a few more immense schools of these small fish. 

    Back at the ranch we looked at the pictures of these small fish, which showed a curious face pattern, a series of white and black lines reminiscent of the aku, otherwise known as skipjack tuna.  I then headed for John Hoover's Ultimate Guide.  The bible revealed at least three small schooling fish that might vie for the ID. It seemed most likely that these were delicate roundherring, Spr. delicatulus.   In preparation for the blog I sent the picture to Peter, who has one more week of quarantine to endure up in Kapa'au and, in a separate mailing, to the Great Oz, himself.  Peter noted that several of his friends had alerted him to

The Supermale Fivestripe wrasse cavorts among the rocks.

these huge schools of small fish at Mahukona.  He agreed with me, that they might be roundherrings,based on the behavior noted in Hoover (large schools near the surface.)  John Hoover said that he didn't have any (expletive deleted) idea what they were and would send the picture along to someone more conversant with small schooling fishes.  Actually I made that up...John Hoover would never use such an expletive.

    In any event, it was strange swimming through this mass of tiny fish. 

     Not only had we chosen this day to come to Mahukona based on the tide, but also on the prediction of very calm water. Luckily this was the case and it permitted us to swim safely and easily over the shallow rocky shore of the north cusp of the bay.  This area is renowned as a spot where that very rare fish, the fivestripe wrasse, is a virtual certainty.  Ordinarily one is attempting to photograph these fish while shooting back and forth with the incoming swell over ten or more feet of shallow rocky
bottom.  This is a situation that is both photographically daunting and smacks of a certain degree of personal danger.  On this day the seaward reef gave up like a lamb and we nabbed the pictures you see here.  Probably not the best picture ever of the fivestripe super male, as this golden flanked beauty led us on a merry chase.  But not too bad.

Fivestripe Wrasse, Mahukona August 2020

    We also spotted a couple Christmas wrasse, one as fat as a king salmon.  The islanders among us seem to spear and eat almost anything, but I don't think I have seen a Christmas wrasse, no matter how plump, on a stringer.  This may speak to taste or, more likely, to their propensity to flee. 

I'm including a picture of one of those Christmas Wrasse as well.

    Following our fun on the seaward reef, Sandra and I headed back across the bay.  While still over the outer, deeper section I caught a glimpse of an orange tail, and I expected that far below was a nest of yellow tail filefish.  I waited patiently and what should appear, ever so briefly, but a file fish with a bright orange tail with a terminal

Prettier than a king salmon, but not as tasty.

black band: the ever so rare fan tailed filefish.  In the mid -eighties this fish was super common.  I remember standing on a pier at Honokohau Boat harbor with the boys, aged six and three, and watching these small, pretty fish swim under the dock and around the pilings.  Now I'm lucky if I see one a year peeking out from a rocky hideaway. 

     The fantailed filefish has always been known, like lemmings, to have a boom and crash population.  Around 1990 the population crashed, never to return.  In ancient Hawaiian lore these population fluctuations were known to coincide with important events.  I'm going to predict that when Donald Trump is dragged from the White House kicking and screaming, pacifier firmly planted in his deplorable puss, that we will see a rebound in the population of fantailed filefish.  You heard it here first 

When it comes to pacifiers, the First Crybaby prefers the Sean Hannity autograph model.

    I dove down to try for a picture.  My best effort is about fifteen feet; this time I go deep enough that I could feel the pin prick of pinched facial nerves ... and I wasn't even close to the bottom.  So clear was
the water that I swear I was seeing the fantail filefish form at least thirty feet.  Kohala crystal!

   The rest of our swim did not reveal any special fishies...no barracuda, unusual butterflies or rock damsels.  Ashore there were now plenty of people including one family gathering under a cabana playing birthday music.  The ersatz shower was inoperative, but that may be just as well.  Wendy Noritake warns us that a friend recently got a bit of that water in her mouth and developed a vile dysentery.  So don't get anything nasty in your mouth and I promise in seven weeks the bad taste will be gone.

In seven weeks it will be bye bye birdie!

jeff 

Kawaihae to the Rescue

    It has been a while since I wrote a blog.  Sandra and I have snorkeled Kahalu'u three times in the last ten days, so its not like we weren't out there looking for something entertaining.  Its hard to write a blog featuring an arc eyed hawkfish, a pinktail triggerfish or a black durgon, no matter how many bright blue stripes he has on his forehead. 

Bright blue lines are nice, but are they blog-worthy?

 

   In the meantime, the Kailua pier is heading rapidly in the direction of inaccessibility.  That disgusting algae bloom on Ironman side of the pier had to be associated with a nitrogen source and the county has finally decided to do something about it.  They are repairing the sewer that runs under Palani as it passes in front of the King Kamehameha Hotel.  This involves turning the heart of downtown Kona into a flag controlled one way street.  Beginning with the last 50 yards of Palani, the lane closure rounds the corner at the pier and heads south down Alii Drive until it reaches Hulihee's Palace.   With the Corona virus running full throttle in the lower 48 and picking up steam in the Land of the Rising Sun, its not clear when the hotel will be permitted to reopen.  From the standpoint of guest accessibility, it would be very difficult to operate the hotel for the next month or so. 

   So what is a snorkeler to do?  With the surf up this week, heading south to Ho'okena or City of Refuge didn't seem like a good choice for us old folks, so yesterday Sandra and drove up to Kawaihae.

The tug and barge enter Kawaihae Harbor

  We had been going up there with some frequency as we dropped off yard debris at the Waikoloa transfer station on the way.  This was working out fine until about three weeks ago.  The green waste drop off at Waikoloa is a large lava field pounded more or less flat.  One backs up to the pile of leafy debris and disgorges their contribution thereupon.  On our last such venture our right front tire was punctured by several large bougainvillea thorns.  If you have never pruned a bougainvillea you may be unaware of those inch and a half, razor sharp thorns.  One hundred and sixty four dollars later, not to mention the pleasure of spending a couple hours in the Goodyear waiting room (and me without my MAGA hat), we decided that we would work with the paved facility here in Kona, regardless of the overcrowding. (To celebrate the Corona virus pandemic, Hawaii County has reduced operation at the Kealakehe green waste transfer station to three days a week, thus creating an hour wait for those who lack pluck and creativity.)

No wonder the teated sea cucmber is uncommon!

    On Friday we smiled and waved as we sped through Waikoloa.  We beat the weekend by a day and so at 9:30 on a cool, clear morning we had the facility mostly to ourselves.   At this hour the only other people present were two men and a lady wearing T shirts that proclaimed them to be Hawaii Island Stevedores.   As we approached the harbor, we had noted a pair of larger vessels off shore and speculated that a barge might be coming in. Is that what the stevedores were waiting on?

    We changed quickly and hit the water.  Initially we headed mauka along the beach front, swimming fifty yards in search of the coral head where in resides the psychedelic (aka eye spot) shrimp.  We did not find the special coral head or any flower power crustaceans, but as we made our turn to head back we were blessed with a water level view of the ocean going tug and the barge (which brings good things for girls and boys) making its way into the harbor.  If I were to get no other pictures on this day, at least I would

The gloomy nudi glides among the fouling organisms.

get a shot of Scuffy bringing Sandra her Dewars.  

   Actually, despite not finding Timothy Leary's shrimp, we did see some interesting invertebrates.  For starters, we saw three different cushion starfish.  This unusual animal has become so common in the last few years that when we see one it really isn't all that special.  Nevertheless, three in one day is at the minimum a testimony to what a good year it is for cushion starfish.

    More interesting was a very good look at a teated sea cucumber.  Not incredibly uncommon, this is still an interesting animal.  She was hanging out on the sand in about eight feet of cool cloudy water and, unless I am mistaken she had just produced that string of egg sacks that you see at what must be the south bound end of a north bound teated sea cucumber.  John Hoover tells us that this particular sea cucumber provides especially good trepang, also known as bêche-de-mer.  In Asia, but especially in Indonesia sea cucumbers are harvested, boiled and the resulting flesh smoked, creating this food product which is used to enhance the flavor of some dishes.  Wikipedia tells us that in some cultures trepang is considered to be a stimulant and an aphrodisiac.  In this way, the sea cucumber

A Trembling Nudibranch, Kawaihae august 2020.

can substitute for a dozen oysters, a gram of powdered rhino horn or even a helping cobra blood. 

    I don't know if he has ED, but I'm pretty sure that I recall Andrew Zimmer sampling cobra blood in a Vietnamese market.  Bizarre foods to be sure.  

     Having bid goodbye to that Artemis of holothurians, we made our way across the pond to  the platforms.  Right away we started finding nudibranchs.  On the middle platform we spotted a gorgeous gloomy more than two inches long.  By the time we were swimming out to the third platform, the tug had the barge secured to the wharf.  Fast work!

   Out on the third platform we found a trembling about five feet down on the mauka side and another rapped around a cable on the the shady ocean side.  On one of the inner pillars, Sandra found a painted nudibranch posed between orange and blue sponges.  One has to take into account the effect of the flash, which is to say that the colors you see here, while not altered, are more vivid than what we see with our eyes.  In any event, these are a couple of lovely pictures, if I do say so myself.  If any of you want to print them on aluminum and hang them over the living room sofa, you have my permission.  I might even be induced

A Painted Nudibranch Among Colorful Sponges,  Kawaihae August 2020

to come to your home and, over a glass of cobra blood, or some other beverage of your choosing, sign the art.  

     To top off our nudibranching, Sandra found another gloomy.  Five nudis and three species.  Another good day for nudibranchs at the harbor.

     On the ocean side of the third platform, the army had suspended an aluminum tube about an inch in diameter into the water, presumably to protect some  wires.  This metal tube was home to a veritable plethora of wire coral gobies.  I can still recall when our friend Hai directed me to a wire hanging in the water to find my first WCB.  It was quite a treat.  And it also sort of made sense that the goby would be attracted to the very object that gave its natural habitat its name...the wire in wire coral, as it were.  In this instance, the one inch metal tube did not resemble wire coral in the least. These tiny fish are plankton eaters, deserting their home for quick forays into the open water for a microscopic bite.  John Hoover suggests that there are usually only two gobies, a mated pair for each spot on a wire, or wire coral.  It is likely that this relative profusion of gobies constituted a hatch and these were mostly juveniles.

Coral Shrimp   Just Hangin' Around Upside Down at Kawaihae August 2020

    Finally it was time to head in.  Under the inner most platform we found a number of banded coral shrimp; one only needed to dive down about four feet, hang on to a knob of coral and look back up.  These shrimp are large and relatively patient.  I always enjoy looking at them, even if the experience approximates water boarding.

    Back ashore, the stevedores were still at the table whooping it up.  Now, however, there were several  families, picnic tables full of food, people fishing from the rocks and swimming with the aid of brightly colored tubes and mattresses.  With all these people around, we did our best to maintain social distancing while rejoicing in our delightful morning at Kawaihae.  

jeff

A second look at the Painted Nudibranch and Colorful Sponges.

Heavenly Ho'okena

    Yesterday, being Tuesday, we took the chance that our favorite beach might not be overrun if we got there early.  And so it was that we arrived at Ho'okena around 9 AM.  It was an incredibly beautiful morning with bright blue sky and waves lapping gently against the shore.

The Christmas wrasse shoots up the wall of the old pier at Ho'okena

    As I arrived at the picnic table, in the shade, overlooking the bay, I said good morning to an Asian lady leaning against the adjacent rock wall.  Actually I said something like, "It doesn't look like the dolphins are in today,"  Which is a pretty close to the same thing down at Ho'okena. She turned and

actually smiled.  Then in English heavily accented with the tongue of the rising sun, she told me that the dolphins had been there yesterday and had stuck around until a lady went out and chased them.  They then they swam away.  We agreed that you don't need to chase the dolphins, just let them come to you. 

   About the time my new friend and I were finishing with dolphin philosophy Sandra made it to the picnic table.  Simultaneously,  Mariko-san walked over to join two Caucasian ladies of a certain age who had just arrived in a pick up, had lowered the tailgate and were sorting through their snorkel gear.

Bridled Triggerfish,  Ho'okena, 2011

   After some quick preparation Sandra and I were were making our way down the dark sand beach with the cool waves washing over our feet.  At the far end, the small surf gave my sweetie a little pause, but we entered together during a calm between sets and were soon snorkeling north along the shore. 

   The water was clear initially, but devoid of interesting animals.  When we made it to the foundation of the old pier, the water turned cloudy.  There we encountered a couple fast moving Christmas wrasses.  I did the best to get a picture, but fast fish are tough. 

   We then swam out together over the remaining coral heads until the water was forty feet deep and we were a couple hundred yards off shore.  Turning back and angling south, we were finally rewarded with a bridled triggerfish.  This is a fish we see regularly at Ho'okena and now

here else.  It comes in two flavors; the one we usually see is very dark with a light caudal peduncle.  The bridled trigger is a big fish, two to three times as big as the rectangular triggerfish, and it is always

Find four Potter's angelfish.  Only at Ho'okena.

deep. None of this explains why it is so shy.  I swam after him and dove for a picture, but  the fleeing fish didn't let me get within fifty feet.  The only other large triggerfish with which I have swum is the titan triggerfish.   Instead of being timid, that fish is downright menacing.  Perhaps some day a bridled triggerfish will turn and try to take a bite out of me.  Then I will get a good picture. 

   Nine years ago, I encountered a bridled triggerfish by the foundations of the old peir at Ho'okena.  It made a mistake and fled towards shore into clear water ten feet deep, enabling me to get the picture you see here.  This is a weird photo, but it is the best I have.  As I mention this fish every time I see it,  I thought perhaps you would like to see what one looks like. It's not a very pretty fish, but it is big. 

     Soon we arrived at the coral ridge where we see the angelfish.  It took only moments before we started seeing lots of Potter's angelfish.  I'm showing you a picture in which you will easily count four Potter's angelfish in a tight group. Unusual to say the least!

Flame Angelfish, Ho'okena August 2020

   More importantly, there was one flame angelfish that was exceptionally cooperative.  I was able to dive down about twelve feet and get within eight feet of this fish on several occasions.   Coupling my proximity with clear water and a bright sunny day,  I nabbed my best pictures ever of the flame angelfish.  I was not wearing weights, so my stability wasn't as good as it might have been.  Nevertheless, here are a couple pictures that I'm sure you will enjoy.

     After we exhausted the possibilities with the angelfish, Sandra and I headed over to the small remaining reef near the shore.  This little bit of coral occasionally produces something good.  And it is sufficiently shallow that whatever you see is within range of the camera.

   On this day we saw a large number of Gosline's fanged blennies.  Each year seems to provide a bump in the prevalence of something different.  Recently we went through a period where the beautiful teardrop butterflyfish was everywhere.  This year we are seeing a myriad of fanged blennies.  This little fish,

The flame angel turns showing off his his fancy blue trim.

 which makes its living by nipping scales off other fish, looks a bit like pencil, or perhaps a torpedo.  It is long and skinny and has relatively small fins.  Prior to this year, I would see one or two at a time.  For the last month I have been running into small schools of these fish.  More so than before, these fanged blennies are curious, coming right up to my mask to check me out.  Suffice it to say, I can see them when they come up and look me in the eye.  Not so much when they are checking out the rest of my aging corpus. I am expecting that sometime soon one of the little demons is going to want to see if one of my legs has scales, the better to provide his dinner.

    Often times, when you hear that we have made it ashore, you can predict that the story is coming to a close.  We had gained the beach and were walking in the warm dry sand, noting that at least two tents were set up in the campground that is putatively closed.  From the direction of the car park I saw a bird flying towards us.  It was big as a cattle egret but more compact. As opposed to snowy white, this

bird was a light buff.  A look at its face confirmed that this was a barn owl!  He barely stroked its wings as he sailed by.  For a very few seconds we had an excellent look at the owl, his flat face in profile, flying effortlessly in front of the green palm forest.  It was  heck of an image which I'm sure I will treasure for years to come. 

    We showered and changed and were just gathering our equipment together in preparation to depart when a large lady of a certain age lumbered by our table.  She had obviously been swimming, for at critical spots the wet of her swimsuit showed through the shirt she was using as a cover up.  On her

Barn owl soaring effortlessly   Museum of Natural History

wrist was suspended a red camera just like mine.  After saying hello, I asked her how she liked her Olympus camera.  She liked it just fine, she said.  She had two more at home that she was going to try to get repaired in hopes that her grandchildren could use them when they came to visit.  I wished her good luck with that, since I haven't found anyone that has much interest in repairing my TG 3 that stopped working a couple years ago.  The two that she was aiming to have repaired were both TG 5s, like the one I use currently.  The one on her wrist was a TG 6, which is the newest model and has not been out all that long.  La de dah. She went on to say that she had also had a TG 3.  But not only that, she had gone through three Fuji cameras, like you might purchase at Costco for $150. Those Fujis, she said, didn't last long at all.  (At this point if you listen carefully you can hear Falstaff muttering, "Cannon fodder, cannon fodder..)   And she had also owned a Panasonic and a Sony....  I stopped her before she could add one or more Canons to her list.  My dear old D10, still in the fight, couldn't bear it.   She explained that she goes swimming six days a week, so it was only natural that she would have destroyed at least ten expensive underwater cameras in eight years.  Oy vey!

   Unless I'm mistaken, this leviathan gets the gold medal for camera destruction.  I'm going to take good care of my TG 5 and hopefully we will have more photos for you soon.

jeff

The White Trash River Bash

   Sunday morning we skipped church.  We did so because we have come to the conclusion that it isn't safe in these days of the Corona virus epidemic.  The service is held inside and we can't vouch for the efficacy of the filtration system associated with the AC. 

   

    Instead of church we decided to go swimming.  That morning there was a super low tide which precluded entering at Kahalu'u.  And so we headed north to Kawaihae with the intention of looking for

When it comes to pandemic response the Illini are not so different from the Hawaiians.

the psychedelic shrimp.  We got to the harbor about 9:15 and motored around to the small boat moorage where there are shiny new restrooms for changing.  We were impressed with the number of people who were using their boats; usually the moorage is a ghost town, but several families were in the area getting ready to set to sea. 

    Dressed for a swim, we drove back around to the harbor....where we were shocked.  Along the harbor front for perhaps 100 yards there was a continuous collection of large pick ups and portable cabanas.  Lawn chairs, barbecues smoking, people fishing and drinking their beverage of choice.  Out on the water there was a veritable armada of floating devices: kayaks and windsurfers, but mostly colorful inner tubes and mattresses bearing children old and young.  There was a mob on top of the second platform, which was surrounded by a flotilla of floating revelers.  One can assume that beneath the platform the nudibranchs were cowering in terror.

    Sandra quickly deduced that if we thought church posed an unacceptable risk, this collection of humanity was way out of the question. In any event, snorkeling alon

The juvenile Raccoon Butterflyfish.  Kahalu'u august 2020

g the congested shoreline and around the platforms would have been impossible.  

   On our way back south we nosed in to Beach 69 to find the parking lot full.  Clearly the citizenry north of Kona was out in force on Sunday morning.  I suppose this could have been because collectively they had decided that church was an unacceptable risk, but I doubt it.

   That night the evening news featured the White Trash River Bash which is an annual event on the Illinois River near Peoria.  Major Garrett encouraged us to be shocked that these 500 or so obese and inebriated Illini with their boats and inner tubes would congregate thusly, Trump banners floating in the breeze, during the height of the pandemic.  He had a point, of course, but given what we had witnessed at Kawaihae, it was mighty difficult to generate a full head of indignation.  Could it be that,regardless of our political persuasions, we are a nation united in our hedonism, unwilling to forego social gatherings regardless of the medical consequences? 

   Later that day I made it down to Kahalu'u where the tide was now high and there were just a few beach goers and even fewer swimmers.  I snorkeled for almost an hour in

Rocky and Spotty head off to school.

the cloudy water.  It was a good day for Christmas wrasses, which were too fast for me to capture with the camera, and juvenile fourspot butterflyfish.  Only at the end of my time in the water did I see something noteworthy.  A small, green dragon wrasse was swimming around a rock near the entrance.  He didn't stay out for long, hiding under a boulder before I could get his picture. 

   Right by the exit, but still outside in the bay, I spotted a small juvenile raccoon butterfly.  I may get over my enthusiasm for this fish fairly soon, but for now I am still a fan.  Finally I had a fish that would stay close and out of cover, so you are blessed with a pretty good picture of this amusing juvenile with his well demarcated occulus.  Additionally, I got a picture of Rocky swimming with a fourspot of about the same age.  Undoubtedly they were on the way to Mrs. Flounder's Little Red Fish House.

jeff

   For those of you who are acquainted with Casa Ono, last week witnessed a passing.  The Japanese fellow, who now owns Lonnie's house across the street, had the giant monkeypod tree removed.  Lonnie always kept the tree groomed.  We enjoyed that big fella immensely.  It took three noisy days for the

Peter's Family Tree.. Photo by Don Batkins

tree cutting company to cut it down, chip the branches and haul away large portions of the stump on flatbed trucks.  One of the arborists advised Sandra that they would have to store those trunks until the pandemic was under control.  In any event, my sweetie took several pictures of the giant as it was coming down.  She sent a couple of these photos to her creative cousin in New Hampshire.  Don sent back the fanciful creation you see here.  Sandra sent this along to Peter Krotje who, along with Marla, is in California for a month.  She asked Peter what sort of tree he thought it was.  His reply:  "My family tree!" 

                                                 Aye tear her tattered branches down
                                                 Long has they waved on high,
                                                And many an eye has danced to see
                                                Her leave up in the sky;

                                               Oliver Wendell Homes, loosely