The Usual Suspects

     My choice of swimming venues is currently limited, so it seems I am seeing fewer species that might qualify as blog worthy.  Still, I'm seeing some fish that made me very happy when I first started snorkeling in Kona.  Recently the surf has diminished, and the water clarity has improved, providing the opportunity to take some better pictures of what we disparagingly call the usual suspects.  

     A few days ago, I went swimming on the Paul Allen side of the pier and saw painfully little.  That night I dreamed of swimming with eagle rays, perhaps because my best eagle ray encounter, lo these many years ago, took place just seaward of the entrance to Paul Allen's Lagoon.

    As an aside, some of you may wonder about Paul Allen's legacy.  Paul was never a big time fish watcher, but he did provide some serious cash in pursuit of PNW sports franchises.  Immediately after the Seahawks won the Superbowl, their current owner, the Paul Allen Estate, put them up for sale.  His will dictated that his assets, including the Seahawks and the Trailblazers be sold and the proceeds go to charity.  

Pearl Wrasse, Kahalu'u 2026

    Seattle fans have a dream:   MacKenzie Scott (Jeff Bezos's ex), Melinda Gates and Jody Allen (Paul's younger sister and primary heir, who manages the trust that currently owns the Seahawks) will team together to buy the franchise.  It is possible, despite what one hears in the Seattle media, that this is only a dream.  But such a grouping of three fabulously wealthy ladies in the Jet City, coming together to buy the favorite sports team, is the stuff that dreams are made of.

   And what about the Thurston estate, which provides the sea front for Paul Allen's Reef?    Following Paul's death, the estate was sold to Sam Altman, CEO of Open AI for 47 million.   I have not seen anyone using the estate for several years, and now it is back on the market for 49 million.  If one were considering this simply for a base from which to watch fish, there are probably better bargains.

    A couple days after that disappointing swim, I went to Kahalu'u.  To be honest, the highlight of that excursion occurred as I was sitting on a rock in the entry, putting on my fins.  As I sat there, over the seaward lava came a middle-aged foursome.  Walking on those rocks on your way out of the bay is never a good idea.  In this instance, one of the gentlemen had copious blood dripping down both shins.  A true "Oh my God" moment.  Could he have attempted to crawl onto the lava knees first?  Note to swimmers:  swim all the way in and sit in the sand to take of your footwear!

Yellowtail Coris, supermale, Kahalu'u 2026

     At any rate, the water was clear, not too cold, although it wasn't pulsating with marine life.  I did see a couple nice fish, though, including a female Pearl Wrasse near the Rescue Shelter. 

    On my last spin up the middle, I photographed a nice male Yellowtail Coris. This species has four distinct patterns.  The keiki are red and white, sometimes called the Red Labrid Wrasse.  I had been lucky to see one at Ho'okena last week.  There is an intermediate that is fascinating as its coat turns from red and white to the female pattern, which is the most common.  And then you have the big males with the striking cobalt blue and lime green face pattern.  This is certainly one of the most striking among fish we see regularly.

   As you can see, usual suspects in calm, clear water are dramatically better than no suspects in choppy current! 

Teardrop Butterflyfish, Kailua Kona Pier, 2026

   Yesterday, conditions were the most calm yet.  It was one of those days when the tides varied little; it was going to be about half a foot, which is pretty shallow, for most of the day.  Since I wasn't excited about crawling over the rocks at Kahalu'u, we went to the pier.  

    There has been a different cruise ship in port every day for a week.  Yesterday Kailua Kona hosted the Ruby Rainbow, or something like that.  The ship was huge, home to 3,000 guests.  As I stepped into the water, I was greeted by the welcoming smell of diesel exhaust, courtesy of the multiple tenders ferrying the myriad cruisers from ship to pier and back again.  Keeping an eye on those floating buses, I swam out into some exceptionally clear water.  It was as clear as Ho'okena had been last week.  This time I had the camera at the ready, but would I see some worthy subjects?  

     Out past the last swim buoy, over a coral reef, I spied four Teardrop Butterflyfish .  The top of the coral was about eight feet down.  It rose from the bottom perhaps fifteen feet below. I got a picture of all four and one of a single that floated up a little nearer the surface.  This is a nice picture, but it would have been better if the fish was faced more forward.

Oval Butterflyfish, Kailua Kona Pier 2026

   I had seen some Oval Butterflies on the way out and then again among the coral in the deeper water near the fourth swim buoy.  As I worked my way in, I found a cooperative pair in the coral near the second swim buoy.  The water was very clear there and only six feet deep.  

   This is one of my favorite Hawaiian fish.  The bright gold surrounding the pectoral fin reminds me of those illuminated houses made famous a few decades ago by Thomas Kincade.  His publicist portrayed him as the painter of light.  Can these ovals be the butterflies of light?  In any event, they are a jewel among the usual suspects.

jeff

Monarchs Mating in Our Front Yard!

Monarchs doing what they do.

    



Two days ago, in the late afternoon, I was preparing a papaya for dinner. It was a juicy one and messy. Suddenly I heard Sandra (who had climbed our driveway to retrieve the mail) yelling for me. Thinking she was in trouble, I dashed to her aid.

"Are you all right?" I queried.

"There's two butterflies on the ground!" she yelled back.


Now here is a lady in touch with her priorities. This butterfly shit is an emergency!

I made my messy papaya way up to where Sandra was standing. There on the stone step, as advertised, were a pair of Monarch Butterflies, one on top of the other.

Schmoopie had already enjoyed an eye full, so she was dispatched to get a phone (ten years ago it would have been a camera) while I watched the action. What I witnessed was surprisingly violent. One has to assume that it was the male who was on top. He changed position frequently, always keeping the damsel underneath.


Sandra returned with her phone and attempted to take a video. Following that, she took several still shots, which was a good thing, because between the two of us we were unable to produce a video. All of this fetching and photography took five minutes. I said something like, "How long do you think they will go at it?"

Photos courtesy of SKG Studios, Sherman Oaks, Ca.




Sandra is an excellent reader and so she had a much better idea than I. She replied, "The books say this can go on for up to16 hours." We have since verified this, looking specifically at mating behavior in Monarchs, with Mr. Google. After a few more minutes of observation, during which I alternately felt like a voyeur or perhaps that I ought to call the domestic violence team down at Kailua PD, it was apparent that this was going to go on for a while and we might as well leave them to it.

As it turned out we went in and watched the news and had dinner. When we went out after, it was getting dark and the butterflies were either going at it somewhere else, or they had completed the transfer of genetic material and conjugal gifts.


As above, the movie may exist somewhere in Schmoopie's phone, but if it does neither of us can find it. We did have four serviceable still pictures, however, and you can see the two best here. We sent two to Caitlin back in the lower 48 and by the next morning she had replied. "Yes," she said, "that's two butterflies doing what they do."


That Caitlin LaBar is one delicate wordsmith.


For my part, I'm wondering if that male Monarch should be applying for work at one of those seedy video establishments in Sherman Oaks.

jeff

 

A Crazy Morning at Ho'okena with one interesting fish

     Yesterday we went to Ho'okena.  This was our first time at our favorite beach in almost a year; Sandra having hung up her fins and mask has made a substantial difference in where we go.

   We arrived just after 8 AM and, according to the thermometer, in the car, it was only 69 degrees.  That's pretty cool for Hawaii at sea level.   As we had hoped (relying on the StormSurf wave predictor and what we could see from our lanai as the sun came up) the ocean was calm.  It had been raining as we made our way through Captain Cook, up at 2000 feet, but here it was dry with high overcast. 

Ho'okena Jeff.

      For no good reason that I can think of, I had decided to wear my long dive skin, along with my vest and weight belt.  Once tucked into this costume (see picture) I was cozy warm.   Thus attired, I left Sandra in her beach chair, crossword puzzle book in hand, and made my way down the beach to our usual entry.

   Only a small swell was washing up on the black sand.  As I waded in, I considered my get up, coming to the conclusion that the camera was most inconveniently located in my swimsuit pocket... it would require something unusual for me to go to the trouble of retrieving it.   So wouldn't you know it,  I had just started my swim when I saw a fish that I couldn't identify, in eight feet of water, schooling with some goatfish.

   At this point I came face to face with my wardrobe miscalculation.  I undid the weight belt, held onto it while unzipping both the vest and the dive skin, and somehow got the camera out of my velcro pocket, without dropping anything.   I then secured the weight belt and vest flapping, took some pictures.   The best I can think of is Ichabod Crane goes snorkeling.

Barred Jack, Ho'okena, 2026

      So, take a look at the fish.   I could make out the forked tail, but the black markings were confusing me.  Certainly this fish had been the victim of a serious mugging.  Could that have something to do with the odd black markings on its flank?  

    I shared the picture with John Hoover, and he thought it was probably a Barred Jack.  I, too, had noted those faint vertical bars.  More importantly, he commiserated with us about Sandra not swimming, saying he hasn't swum in Hawaii for several years, limiting his diving to warm water like you experience in Indonesia.

    Finally, I had enough photos.   The camera got stuffed in my suit and I secured the weight belt over the dive skin, but under the vest.  Amazingly I was able to get the vest zipped up while wearing a glove. Unless I'm mistaken, this episode pretty much defines a FUBAR.  If only I had dropped the camera, it would have completed this foolish picture.  And after all that, the camera was once again inaccessible!

    

    Although we didn't have sunlight, the water was painfully clear.  Perfect for the photos that would never be.

    

    Shortly thereafter I saw a single male Gilded Triggerfish, only five feet down and hanging in a cattywampus posture, as they are wont to do.  

     I swam out over our tried and true coral patch and bagged both the Potter's and Flame Angelfish.   The coral at Ho'okena is slowly detiorating, giving way to the sand.  It's fortunate that this highly productive patch remains a viable home for these sought after species.

   At this point I was about 75 yards from shore and all alone.  So,I headed back in on an angle, which took me over the coral, which extends up to the decrepit footings of the old pier.   Here I saw a smallish moray, extremely light in color, working with a goatfish.  He was mostly hiding in the coral, so despite me diving for a better look, two good looks from the surface, 12 feet away, were the best we could do.  Uniformly light colored, moray eels are unusual.  I assume this was a stout, based on color and size.

   

Welcome to Ho'okena! (recr3eated by Chat GPT)

    Getting in was easy on this day with virtually no surf.  Soon I had made it to the shower, washed off my excessive garments and found Sandra hiding on the beach side of the little wall that defines the picnic area.  As I got ready to change, I took note of a pair of ladies having a chit chat while enjoying a spliff.   You guys are probably hip, but that is a new word for me this year...a cigarette from which a portion of the tobacco is discarded and replaced with marijuana.  So welcome to Kona.

     After I changed,  my sweetie and I wolfed down our lunch.   Swimming in the ocean and doing crosswords on the beach is hard work deserving of an early lunch!  We washed off our feet and headed to the car.  As we got there, we encountered the picnic table ladies, but they had been joined by four friends.  And everyone had his own joint, puffing away, and enjoying a spirited conversation.  For a moment there, I thought it was 1970 and I was back in a dorm room at the University of Washington.

    Just the other night Keahi Tucker, our local news personality, told us that the legislature is going to be looking into legalizing recreational marijuana.  Obviously, this can't come soon enough for our beach buddies at Ho'okena!

See you at the beach,

jeff

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.

the K Bay Cleaning Station

    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.

Medusa Worm, Kahalu'u 2026

  

     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.

Time to make some soup!

 

   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

   Last night Ken Jennings and his writers at Jeopardy! taught us a new word, incredibly pertinent to this blog:  Spaghettification.  When a body, be it a marine worm or your best friend, enters a black hole he or she is torn to shreds and this is what scientists call that process.  Sadly, it has nothing to do with some boiled noodles and a bottle of Prego.