Kahalu'u in May

    On Saturday morning we got things squared away around the house rather early and I began muttering about going snorkeling.  Sandra was deeply involved with a book about integers, of all things, and was perfectly happy to have me wander off by myself for a while.  Free as a bird, I headed

The salt and pepper cone not found in the books.

down to Kahalu'u for a swim, my first visit to good old K Bay since our return from the lower 48.

   Before I proceed, I must warn you that you will find here a few good photographs and one or two that are truly abysmal, but crucial to the story.  For my human and technical frailty I am truly regretful.  

   The vog wasn't too bad, visibility in the three mile range, and the group holding a baby luau in the shelter at Kahalu'u weren't excessively possessive about their rented space.  So we were off to a good start.   The water is getting warmer ... getting in wasn't too painful and there were a manageable number of bodies to slither between as I made my way out to the bay.

The light spotted sea cumber, H. hilla.  Kahalu'u 2016

   As I swam away from the entry the water changed from remarkably turbid to just a little cloudy with patches of real clarity.  Not too far along I spotted an unusual cone shell.  He was a salt and pepper gray with a rounded crown and sides.  I couldn't identify him from memory, so I decided to take his picture.

   This carnivorous mollusc was between two rocks, seemingly with the snail's head buried in the sand.  Times were when I would have plucked the cone heedlessly, but experience has taught me that I would risk killing the helpless animal, virtually decapitating him as I pulled the snail from the sand.  That is enough to make the Buddha cry.  Instead, I moved the rocks around him and then grabbed on to a larger rock in hopes that I would be anchored near the object of my desire, well positioned for the shot. The rock I chose as a hand hold was not large enough for my buoyant bulk and moved as I grabbed it.  To my surprise, hiding under this larger rock was a light spotted sea cucumber,  H. hilla.  I shot a quick picture of this surprised holotuurian and put the stone back as best I could.  These relatively small pappilated sea cucumbers with the pretty

Irridescent Bristleworm Kahalu'u 2018

buttterscotch colored skin are fine eating for the wrasses, which, having noticed my rock moving activity, were already congregating.  Luckily for the cuke I got the stone back in such a way that his tasty presence went undetected.

   As I was looking for another rock to hold on to, having taken a couple pictures that I wasn't very happy with, I spotted an iridescent bristle worm.  This animal is not terribly uncommon but proved irresistible.  By the time I was done photographing the worm, I was unable to find that cryptically colored cone shell again.  Science is the poorer for my distractability.

    Leaving that episode behind me, and dodging a full complement of fellow snorkelers,  I headed into the middle of the bay.  There I found a great number of orange spine unicorn tangs, perhaps a couple hundred in a school that stretched out twenty yards at least.  This made an interesting sight,

Hundreds of Orangespine Unicornfish

but what was even more interesting was a single more mature individual with lighter sides and long streamers from his tail.  His bright yellow forehead indicated an emotionally charged state and he was racing back and forth, seemingly chasing the dogies back into the herd.  Boy howdy!  With such a large herd he had his work cut out for him. But his interest didn't flag in the time I watched him and, when I eventually left him, he was still chasing the stragglers back into the school.

   I swam across the bay to the east, over by Rescue Beach and there I encountered the studliest Yellowtail Coris ever.  As you can see, this guy was really broad from top to bottom.  and look at that rainbow of colors on his flank.  This guy does not need the Men's Clinic.  In fact, I'm not sure that pack of charlatans even takes wrasses.

Boy Howdy! Chasin' down the Dogies.

    I addition to the coris there was a very cooperative I'iwi that wandered in to photographic range just at the correct moment.  A good close shot of the male bird wrasse is unusual, so I felt pretty lucky.

   As is so often the case, the best was to be found on the beach.  As I slithered my way into the makai sand entry, I passed by an Indian father with his son.  I stood up and said hello.  The daddy was a proud father.  His son is two and a half, same as Colsen back in Camas.  He had his son say mahalo to me, although I don't think I had done anything worthy of thanks, unless you count not knocking him over as I struggled to my feet.  And then we all exchanged shakas.

   On a rock by the entry was an Indian looking young lady and I took a chance, asking her if she was the mother.  She was and we had a nice chat.  Her name was Rada something.  We agreed that my

The Bull Goose Yellowtail Coris

name, at a single syllable, is a lot simpler. They were originally from Hyderabad, in southern India, now living in Folsom, home of that prison made famous by the Man in Black.  he works not at the big house but in some tech enterprise in Vacaville.  I can remember when the only thing that was important about Vacaville was the nut tree restaurant.  Those were the days. Her son is Brandurian and I'm sure in about ten years he will be winning the National Geography Bee.  At about the same time his boreal peer, my grandson, will be slaughtering his first large ungulate.

   And so I leave you under the steely gray sky of Volcanoland.  The fish are here to please but our friends on the beach, past present and future are the best.  E komo mai.

Namaste,
jeff

Friends on the Beach Are the Best.