A Cold Spring in Kailua

   If you expect it to be cold, you won't be disappointed.  This has become my snorkeling mantra as winter turns into spring.  And it gives me the power to get back in the briny icebox for another look
around.

Roman wall remnant in Nîmes.  Or what remains of  the Keahou Beach Hotel

   Seriously folks.  Here it is the middle of March and both the air and water temperatures have remained consistently on the cool side.  Most un-Hawaii.  As an example of the moderate climate up here on the slopes of Hualalai, I have taken to wearing clothes in the afternoon.  Without meaning to assault your consciousness with visions of geriatric undress, this is unprecedented.  At two in the afternoon, when I should be sitting still in front of a fan with my shirt off,  I'm putting on a fleece jersey and doing housework.

   Thanks to the mantra, though, I have been snorkeling a few times in the last fortnight. Sandra doesn't have a mantra, so she has been swimming only on special occasions, choosing instead to provide transportation and moral support...not that either of us is getting carried away with morals in the Judeo-Christian sense of the word.

    A few days ago my sweetie dropped me off at the pier, which was barricaded and staffed by angry looking men wearing brown shirts with Sheriff emblazoned across the shoulders.  In hopes of avoiding apprehension, I gave law enforcement a wide berth and sought information elsewhere.  As it

Forster's Hawkfish, Paracirrhites forsterii,  Spring Time in Kailua

turned out, the Kona Brewfest was in full swing.  A small village of canopies had been erected in the campo outside the Marriott, where normally we find our fleet of outrigger canoes resting peacefully in the afternoon sun.  Well there wasn't any sun and pitifully few imbibers of the yeasty froth.  But at least the sheriff's posse was on hand, prepared for an eruption of excessive merriment. 

    As I was donning my snorkeling regalia, a couple of a certain age walked by on the way to the shower.  Being a serial eaves dropper, I overheard the gentleman inquire of his lady friend, "What was that thing?  A nautilus?"

    This being March, I have been on the lookout for squid.  Nautiluses being pretty rare in Kailua Bay, I was hoping that this was what they had seen.  I had a nice little swim in the frigid water, but did not see anything as wonderful as a herd of rampaging cephalopods.   The water was quite clear and I was itching for a photo op, but there were no squid, or anything else of special note.

   Yesterday we made it down to Kahalu'u in the early afternoon.  It had been sprinkling on and off, so

The neighbors will be green with envy when you bring this Lamborghini home.

there were fewer tourists at the beach than one might expect at that time of day.  Disembarking from our faithful steed, I took note of the Keahou Beach Hotel, now in its final stages of dismemberment.  The hotel has been removed one section at a time and now the final fifty feet or so remain, like an ancient and decrepit tower.  In its shabby antiquity, it reminded me of a section of Roman wall standing alone, an ancient sentinel in a park somewhere in the south of France.  I always loved that hotel, spent many a happy moment on the balcony overlooking the tide pools and the sea, and I find the whole desultory affair of its removal Gaul-ing.

   Schmoopie and I made it to the kiosk just in time to hear the last stanza of a Hawaiian song sung by a group of oldsters in red shirts.  As the oldsters packed away their ukes, Sandra sat down in her beach chair to do a seduko puzzle and I plunged into the chilly water.  If you expect it to be cold, you won't be disappointed.

Hey tall, dark and handsome with the snail in your pocket...

   In spite of the fact that the air and water temperatures have not risen as the days get longer, the jacaranda is blooming.  And the seasonal change has not been lost upon our friends with fins.  Among the usual fishies we see at Kahalu'u, there were a couple fine babies. The first to attract my attention was the jauntily clad red labrid wrasse.  This handsome red and white striped fellow, flitting around on the bottom like a barber pole on holiday, attracted my attention to a small juvenile freckle faced hawkfish.  I just adore that little guy, with his chartreuse cap.  This one sat still, tolerating my adoration as I nabbed his photo.

   As I swam along, I happened upon a fine snakeshead cowry.  As you can see, this was a pretty large specimen and in excellent condition, his shell reflecting like the hood of an immaculately burnished Lamborghini.  Très élégant.  

   In the old days, I might have scooped him up and taken him home to the aquarium for a night to see him extend that mantle that keeps his shell so shiny.  Suffice it to say, this marine snail was somewhat bigger than the ones we used to bring home.  Hence, I have this image of stepping out of the water to be confronted by a buxom lady in the style of Mae West. She puffs out her ample bosom, gives my trunks a sultry once over and intones, "Hey there, sailor.  Is that a cowry in your pocket or are you

Juvenile Hawaiian Cleaner Wrasse and C. jacator,    Kahalu'u, March 2018

just happy to see me?" 

   As I was making the clubhouse turn, I happened upon a wonderful juvenile, the blue streak baby of the Hawaiian cleaner wrasse.  This little guy, far from a common occurrence, was busy cleaning a Hawaiian toby.  Canthigaster jacator is, of course, a small fish, so together they made a delightful pair.  As I prepared to capture them with my trusty T4, the water was suddenly full of tiny particles, a swarm of some microscopic invertebrate, I assume.  Luckily, they were primarily near the surface.  I was able to dive down, hold on and get a picture of the blue streak and the toby.  For a variety of reasons relating to the cloud of no see'ums and my inability to keep the camera motionless while hanging on to the coral, this picture is not in perfect focus.  But its not too bad and I hope you enjoy it.

    Pretty soon it will be springtime back in the lower 48.  I hope you are looking forward to the smell of freshly mowed grass.  In the mean time, keep your snow shovel handy and dress warmly.  And so will I.  

jeff  

Thanks to Anne Klein for her picture of the Roman tower in Nîmes.