Snorkeling in the Nuclear Winter

     Over the last few weeks we have been pleased by the number of people who have emailed us or called, expressing concern as our volcanic island makes the national news night after night.  By and large, we are minimally affected.  Like all of you, we marvel at the destruction going on over in Pahoa.  The lava geyser on the news last night was especially interesting.  Not to mention the video

of the guy holding his fellow Pahoan at bay with a pistol and the heavy equipment building a new

Coming soon to Keahou Cinemas:  Slim Pickens in Nuclear Winter

road across virgin lava as a crude escape route.  If you haven't seen this stuff, I'm sure you can google search it.

     Perhaps the next time around, the people who are contemplating living near the volcano will take the words of JRR Tolkien to heart.  “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him.” Knowing the people who live in the Puna area as I do (which is mostly second hand, thank God) I imagine that many of them will move right back.  

    Here in Kona we have not experienced running rivers of red hot lava nor flying volcanic rocks the size of an Escalade hurtling through the air.  But there is no doubt that the weather has changed and that our air quality is not what it should be.  The most obvious thing is the loss of the horizon.  Back in the good old days , which ended a month ago, from our perch about 750 feet above the sea we would experience a bright blue sky and a crisp horizon twenty miles away.  We have not seen a crisp horizon from up here since our

Golden Pompano on parade at Foodland

return. 

   Over the last two weeks the visibility has been about two or three miles.  So if you are at sea level and it is relatively clear, you might see a fuzzy horizon.

   Although the air quality is abysmal, and if you truly have airway disease and a choice in the matter you might consider moving somewhere else until the volcano settles down  There has been one significant advantage. The air temperature, especially in the afternoon, is remarkably lower than usual.  This isn't just my unpublished data, but that of my friends, as well.  All three or four of them.  By mid-afternoon, we should be sweltering in front of a fan with an iced drink at hand, but that isn't the case now.  Yesterday afternoon, I was actually wearing real clothes. Shocking.

    I have been reminded of the prediction of  a nuclear winter.  The scenario goes that if we were to exchange thermonuclear devices with the former Soviet Union, the explosions would throw so much

Aku Aku.  Skipjack Tuna at Foodland

particulate matter into the atmosphere that the sun's rays could not penetrate, the earth would cool and those of us who did not die in the initial blast would suffer through a long nuclear winter.  Presumably, like the dinosaurs, we would run out of food and cease to exist.  To a small extent, we are currently conducting that experiment on the leeward side of the big island.

    Due to the kind recommendation of some friends, Sandra and I are now Elks. This  affords us the opportunity to go down to the Elks Club, a frumpy facility in the old industrial district of Kailua, and enjoy Taco Tuesday.  And this we did a couple days ago.  As we arrived, it was overcast.  But then, its always overcast.  From the lanai at the Elks Club one would ordinarily have a peek-a-boo view of the ocean between the towers of the King Kamehameha Hotel and, a little further south, over Kailua Town.  Those were the days.

Snakeshead Cowry, Kahalu'u 2018

   As we sat awaiting our tacos, the town filled up with a smoky haze.  There was no hope of seeing the ocean...one was lucky if he could see the traffic backed up at the corner of Kuakini and Palani, a scant two blocks away.  By the time we finished eating, this event was dissipating.  Surreal, to say the least.

   We are all eager for the volcano to settle down, but in the meantime life goes on. This week we enjoyed a small bit of fish watching at Foodland.  One of the advantages of living on an island in the middle of nowhere is the opportunity to see whole live fresh fish of varieties not usually encountered on the reef.   These fish are are quite still, looking back at you through a thin plastic film in the cooler at the neighborhood grocery.  Hawaiians will eat damn near anything pulled from the sea.  In the past, we have seen a variety of surgeonfish and even a school of razorfish, those unusual wrasses with the cephalic spine that usually lie buried in the sand.

   This week Foodland featured two jacks and the beloved milkfish.   The first was pompano.  This is

Yellow Cone, Kahalu'u 2018

clearly not the fish known as African pompano, which as an adult is a large silvery game fish and as a juvenile is that diamond shaped fish with the long trailers off its fins known as the threadfin jack.  These sad fellows are probably snubnose or golden pompano, Trachinotus blochii.   Google searching this species leads us to believe that it does not occur in Hawaii, but occurs wild as close as Samoa and southern Japan.  It could be wild here and Mr. Google is simply oblivious to this.  More likely, this species is employed in aquaculture and, I suppose, that was the origin of these pescados.

   The second was a brace of skipjack tuna.  Just last week we saw a fishing show where they were angling for these relatively small tuna.  Indeed, all  skipjack tuna  are line caught in Hawaii.  They are

Hebrew Cone hunting in a mayonaise jar 2006

known as aku and occasionally one sees them for sale on the side of the road.  Not only are they a handsome fish, but they are reputedly delicious. As you can see, these guys at Foodland might run about four pounds, which Mister G states is the lower end  for skipjacks.  A big one might run thirty pounds and be dwarfed by some of those monster ahi that end up in the Honolulu fish market. 

   I had a chance to go snorkeling yesterday at Kahalu'u where I saw very little in the way of new or interesting fish.Certainly no pompanos or skipjacks.  I did see a couple molluscs, however.  Out in the middle between two rocks I saw this elegant Snakeshead cowry.  Such a mean name for such a pretty shell.  John Hoover tells us that at night it extends a green mantle with papillae sometimes tipped with red.  If you go to pinterest, you can find a picture of this.  You will also find pictures of choice cowries used as hair ornaments.  How sad.  
 

Hunting cones always remind me of the Tarkus.

    Speaking of John Hoover, we offered him a place to stay if his home is destroyed by the Volcano ...he actually lives in Volcano!  He thanked us but said that there is no ash and no vog in Volcano and (this really hurts because it is so true) things are probably worse in Kona.

    Elsewhere on the reef I found this yellow cone shell, somewhat the worse for wear.  No risk of this guy being turned into a hair ornament.  One of our readers has expressed an interest in cone shells hunting and so I am leaving you with a picture of a cone shell in a mayonaise jar aquarium hunting at night back on our Alii villas lanai in 2006.  Before I knew better.

    On the way in I said hello to a group of female ember parrotfish.  On the beach I was greeted by a young couple from San Francisco who had had their flight delayed.  They wanted to know, was this a good place to see some fish.  And here is my advice:  When all else fails, go snorkeling at Kahalu'u. 

The Ember Parrot says, "You can't go wrong at K Bay."