A Dissertation on the Pasta to be Found at Kahalu'u Bay on the Big Island of Hawaii

 

    Yesterday, at long last, Sandra and I made our way down to Kahalu"u .  A few days ago, the entire state had been hit by a major storm involving high winds and rain.   The storm arrived from the west, creating problems on Kauai and Oahu.  By the time it reached the Big Island, the winds had decreased.  However, there  was still enough rain to put an end to our drought and pollute the bay for a couple of days.

Domo Arigato, Yasuko Roboto

  

 By yesterday, the surf, or lack thereof, lined up with acceptable water quality and so, here we were, ready to look for some fish.    As we arrived, so did Kathleen Clark.  Like an alchemist of old, I've been turning clay into hermit crabs to the extent that some required gifting away.  Kathleen was our first victim and from the box she chose a Haig's Hermit.

   At this point our friend Yasuko came along, and she was pleased to pick a Hidden Hermit Crab from the box.  This was one of the better specimens we are giving away, replete with a constellaton of stars on the purple chelipeds.  I complemented Yasuko on her good taste.

   

    Gifting completed,   I was soon on my way into the sea.  Before I could take the plunge, Yasuko appeared and we posed cheek by jowl for a selfie.  It was left to Sandra to coordinate a transfer of that selfie with our Japanese friend.  What you see here is what she sent, apparently a post from her Facebook page. I post it as Exhibit A, proof that we actually have a Japanese friend.

    So, finally I got in the water.   The tide was just right, but the water in the entryway was freezing!  Coldest water yet this winter.  Luckily, as I paddled out into the bay the water warmed up.  But it was still cold.

   Almost immediately I saw a Blue Stripe Snapper, which despite the fact that its an introduced species, is a nice fish.  And over in the inner corner I found a cleaning staion with two cleaners and a nice variety of fish awaiting their service.

   After that, it was not so much.  It's a good year for Rockmovers, which were plentiful.  Its still too early for their keiki, or the Dragon Wrasse, which I hope to see as winter turns into spring.

  

     Out in the middle I finally found something interesting.  Harboring in the lee of a coral was a Medusa worm. Also called spaghetti worms, these critters, with their long pasta-like tentacles, are not particularly uncommon.  Usually, however, one sees only a few arms, not the central point from which they emanate.  

  

   Here we found the center, with arms radiating out like the spokes of a wagon wheel, albeit with spoke created from pasta.   

    Our hero, John Hoover, tells us that although we might have hoped that the thing you see in the middle, the hub of the wheel, as it were, was the animal.   This is not the case.  It's probably a shell or something similar, serendipitously located to look like the origin of all those tentacles.  Much like a feather duster worm, the Medusa Worm  lives in a calcified tube a few inches in length.   Unlike the feather duster, where you can see the tube, jutting up like the handle to the duster, this tube is buried in the sand.  In this way, the only one who gets to see the tube, wherein lies the worm, is a species of cone shell that burrows in the sand with the sole ambition to dine upon said worm.  

   Nevertheless,  it was pretty cool to see the central point with the radiating tentacles, a first for me. Hoover says the tentacles extend up to two feet.  These had to be much longer, requiring a much bigger spaghetti fork.

 

   A word about those tentacles.  I am a big pasta fan.  Here in Hawaii quite a variety of Asian noodles are readily available.  Hence, we can be a bit more accurate and say that these tentacles are not thin like spaghetti, but rather thick, just thinner than your average pencil.  As pasta goes, I'd say they are very much like Udon noodles, which when served in a bowl with broth, soy sauce, spicy mustard, won tons and a bit of chicken make one heck of a soup.   So, who do I write to and suggest a change in the common name from Spaghetti Worm to Udon Worm? 

   Well, that's almost enough nonsense for today.  But since we are talking about pasta, I am reminded of my amigo Mike Van Ronzelen, perhaps the best birdwatcher with whom I have raised a pair of binoculars.  Mike is now watching birds in St, Peter's Wood.  God bless him.

   Among other unusual hobbies, Mike collected palindromes.  In this instance he might invoke: Go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog.  Find yourself a mirror and try it out.  It's a doozy.

   And something to contemplate the next time you're floating in the bay, face to face with an Udon Worm. 

jeff