A Boxing Day Spectacular at Kahaku'u

    Christmas Day went off as planned.  We saw Kathy and Vernon in the morning before they left for the airport.  They bestowed upon us, as a sort of Christas gift, some of the stuff left over from their family vacation and returned car seats and boogie boards.  This meant we didn't have to drive to the airport, which was a Christmas blessing in and of itself. 

Ember Parrott, Kahalu'u Boxing Day 2025

    Back at home, Sandra and I collaborated on a big bowl of garlic alfredo mashed potatoes.  These were consumed on the lanai of the Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity, along with all the elements of a potluck feast, such that we struggled home and took a Rip van Winkle caliber nap.  Whether the nap was well deserved, I leave it to you to decide.  

    We shared a table at the Christmas feast with a couple of about our age, read: just this side of decrepit.  They hail from a very smalltown north of Milwaukee.  Mabel (the names are changed to protect the innocent) was very sweet and couldn't abide a football rivalry where you actually hated the opposing fans.   She's obviously never been to Autzen Stadium.  

    The Badgers, who are blessed with a devoted following in a state best known for Pabst beer, are long time denizens of the Big 10, which has now expanded like the British Empire.  That's right, the sun never sets on the Big 10.  There are so many new teams that Mabel and Barney needed to know who the bad guys were.  

The only thing missing from this picture is a target.

      In fact, it wasn't the Ducks that I was attempting to indoctrinate her against, not that with Phil Knight and his Nike filthy lucre don't deserve it, but the University of Spoiled Children.  Most especially, if you really want to despise something, you can start with the USC marching band, their fake Roman red and gold uniforms and that martial refrain that would make a self-respecting Centurion run screaming into the Visigoth horde.  

    Mabel said, and I'm not making this up, "If the children are spoiled it must be the parents fault."   I think Mabel may live a little too far out in the woods.

    For Barney's part, he noted that in his business he'd never met anyone from California that he liked.  Maybe he was just humoring me.  FYI, there's a shitload of people in California, some of whom are really nice.  And excellent fish watchers!

    Anyway, as Mabel was so precious, that on the way home I composed her a limerick.  I'm going to print it and give it to her at church, so she can put it on her refrigerator. 

Apparently, Badgers don't hate anybody

   We live fifty miles north of Milwaukee 

   Where we fish for bass and play hockey. 

   We never say f*** 

   When we're hit with a puck. 

  And the bass are not spiteful or cocky.

   And this brings us to Boxing Day.   December 26th dawned clear and bright, just like it says in Mele Kalikimaka.  This made it ideal for doing yard work.  I filled up two barrels with leaves, Monstera leaves, Buddha belly leaves, leaves from the lemon tree, the Bodhi tree, etc.  I may have more dead leaves than there are people residing in California.  I've got a call in to Gavin Newsome's office to verify this.  I let you know when the governor gets back to me.  

Christmas Wrasse on Boxing Day 2025, Kahalu'u

   At any rate, when I finished with the leaves I went out on the lanai and was pleased to see that there was absolutely no surf.  My long-lost swim buddy, she'd only been gone for 24 hours at this point, had refreshed my religion, Fishwatching, as if there was any doubt, and I knew I had to answer the call.  Thus, Sandra was throwing me out of the car at exactly 11 AM.  The shelter at Kahalu'u was packed, but a nice Indian family from Mountain View made room for me.  Soon I was changed and headed for the rocky entrance.

    Noticia para esnorkelers!  Some person, possibly a well-intentioned reef teacher has placed four flagstones just past the first set of rocks at the K Bay entrance.  If they only had about hundred more of these paving stones, they could get their foot friendly trail all the way out to deep water.  But these four stones provide one's tender footsies a respite for about three feet.  Does the phrase "pissing in the ocean" seem appropriate?

Nothing's impossible, simply impassable.

   I soon had my flippers on, ready to take on the real challenge.   There was a plethora of people crowding the entrance.   As I had suspected, as I stood on our lanai, the water was quite still.  If one had water shoes this apparently made it ideal to just stand in the entry, no swimming necessary, no inconvenient waves to knock you over.  This created a forest of legs for me to negotiate.  I must have seen fifty pairs of water shoes as I slithered over the rocks. The main channel was so clogged as to be, in the words of the doorknob in Alice in Wonderland, impassible.

   As the people were standing still, this turned out to be somewhat less difficult than I anticipated.  Soon I was swimming in fairly clear water with no waves or current to speak of.   And, considering the crush of humanity at the entrance, very few fellow swimmers. Soon I was out among the coral, and a gentleman near me pointed out a large Pictus moray eel that was hunting ten feet away.  This is a big eel, so the size of this guy, big, didn't surprise me.  

Milletseed Butterfly, Boxing Day 2025

    Almost immediately, right here in the middle, I saw a male Ember Parrotfish.  This is not an unusual sighting at Kahalu'u. but this is an edible fish, spear fishing is allowed, and these guys are shy.  This fellow, on the other hand, swam away so slowly that I was able to get three good shots.  As you will see there was something in the water that was slowing down these otherwise wary fish.

    Over by the Rescue Shelter, among some coral that has seen better days, I encountered a beautiful big Christmas Wrasse.  Like his buddy, the male Ember Parrot, this guy was in no hurry to get away.  Ordinarily a Christmas Wrasse swims quickly by.  It's like, "Adios amigo, see you next year." This fellow allowed me three good shots and then swam up the middle at such a leisurely pace that I followed him for a couple minutes.  I kept taking pictures, but they were of the south end of a north bound fish, so you won't see any of those here. 

Pearl Wrasse male, Boxing Day 2025

 

    By the time I looked up, I was fairly far out.  There was no risk of being run down by a surfer.  Although a surprising number were out on surfboards, and there was no surf to speak of.

    Eventually I swam back in where I encountered what must be the one resident Milletseed Butterfly.  Kathy and I saw what must be the same fish the day the SD card was missing.  

   At this point I was swimming towards the exit when I ran into the male Pearl Wrasse.  As with the Milletseed, this must be the same fish I saw the day before Kathy arrived.  This time the conditions were better, and I'd had more recent experience with the camera.  I followed the fish until he got to a patch of water that was clear of temperature effect and well lit.  It's a good picture, and it reveals a bit of an injury just below the dorsal fin.  One has to suspect the reason we are seeing this otherwise wary fish is that he is not quite up to snuff.  Lucky for him he has a protected place to spend his golden years.  Do I resemble that remark? 

jeff 

A second look at the Christmas Wrasse on Boxing Day

The Christmas Wrasse Cometh 2025

    If you are a friend of the blog, you must have been on edge as Christmas bore down upon us like a load of fertilizer inadvertently dumped into a Mustang convertible.  Would he, or would he not, see the Christmas Wrasse on the appointed day.  That day moved a few years ago to December 24th, as Christmas Day has become excessively cluttered with sundry obligations.  

The Big Fish is no longer in the King Kam Hotel

    Yesterday, as you probably know, was both Christmas Eve and a Wednesday.  Wednesday is important here in the land of swaying palms and avocado tree blight, as it is not only one of the three days in a week that the Kealakehe Transfer Facility accepts yard debris, but it is also the day that the Carnival Cruise ship drops anchor in Kailua Bay.  Like clockwork, every Wednesday morning finds us motoring down the hill towards the Kuakini Highway.  a can or two of leaves and branches bouncing around in the back, as we simultaneously admire the monster cruise ship, gleaming a dazzling white on the sunlit bay.  This day, to the contrary, we had a load of snorkeling equipment in lieu of leaves and branches.

   Sandra was driving the sleigh when we, doing our best imitation of Mister Grinch and Max, passed Ka'ahumanu Place.  Our customary drop off area was suffering a double dip of pandemonium with the cruise ship crowd piled onto the mob associated with Christmas Eve in the Sandwich Islands.   We had anticipated this situation, and she dropped me off in front of the Marriott.

Ornate Hermit Crab Christmas 25

   Walking through the hotel on the way to the beach, I was admiring their Christmas tree when I ran smack dab into a black hole.  The Big Fish, an enormous world record Marlin, posed as if leaping against a thousand-pound test fishing line, was gone!  The Big Fish had been our family landmark for decades, as in, "I'll meet you at the Big Fish."  I was able to lasso an employee who said that the fish had been moved to the Royal Kona Resort.  No reason given.  We'll have to check it out.

   I made it through the hotel, which was almost deserted and out to the lagoon, which was an absolute mob scene.  Lucky for me, Kathy was right there in front of the Kona Boys shack.  Aside from my swim buddy, the first thig I noticed was that the water was really high, lapping at the sea wall.  As we donned our swimming attire, standing ankle deep in the high tide, I noticed to my surprise that the water was warm.  In the Inner Harbor the water is usually 75 degrees, maybe colder, but these lapping wavelets were possibly over 80 degrees.

    As we turned to go in, two teams of paddlers came ashore.  We stepped aside while they rolled their canoes into the yard, each on its large tired canoe dolly.  All part of the Christmas circus.  

     Once in the water, the madness receded and we were alone in the watery world.  Knowing that the little bay might be our best chance for a Christmas Wrasse, my head was on a swivel, but there were relatively few fish and no Christmas Wrasse.  We searched the area beside the heiau and both sides of the rip rap that forms the breakwater.  There were a few Koles, (Kathy's new found friends), looking back at us with their watery gold rimmed eyes, but no Christmas Wrasse.  

    As we crossed the little bay, heading for Paul Allen's lagoon, we ran across a couple stands of meandrina coral.    In the second I found a guard crab relatively out in the open, a cute little guy that was a yellowish orange.  I slipped aside so Kathy could get a look and by the time I returned he was gone.  No picture, hence, identification is impossible beyond saying that it was a guard crab.

The dependable Red Pencil Urchin, Christmas 25

    A few feet away I noticed a shell wedged among the branches of the coral.  I dove down about three feet and repositioned the shell with the aperture facing out.  Almost immediately I was rewarded with an emerging Ornate Hermit Crab.  It took a couple dives in the shallow moving water, but I finally snapped this picture, using the automatic flash and focus.  It is a long-standing maxim in photography that the flash stops the action.  Another maxim is that you ought to hold still while you take the picture.  With bobbing down and back up the three feet and the current moving me sideways, I was far from still.  So here is the best picture I got.  The flash startled the crab, so after that one effort he was back in hiding.

    These were the first crabs I had seen since our return, and I was much relieved to find them.  Despite my poor photographic efforts, these small animals are a magnificent addition to our local fauna.  In these days of climate change, with one species after another drizzling off the palette, one doesn't know, until he sees his long lost friend, just who might have disappeared forever. 

   We finished crossing the bay and scoured the area outside Paul Allen's Lagoon, another likely spot, without seeing a Christmas Wrasse.  Here I got a mediocre picture of a pair of teardrops to go along with my crabby effort.

Juvenile Christmas Wrasse like I saw.

    On the outside, along the wall that defends the Thurston Estate, we saw very little.  The tide was high enough that we were able to swim over the reef flat and back into the bay.  Once I saw a male shortnose wrasse in one of the depressions here.  And wouldn't that have been a fine Christmas present!  But wrasses, shortnose, five stripe and Christmas, were not to be found. 

    By the time we swam around the rip rap and were patrolling the edge of the heiau, I was working up my excuses and justifications, wondering if I could somehow squeeze a snorkel at Kahalu'u  into my Christmas Day obligations.  Se deep was my remorse that I took a picture of one of our best invertebrates, the Red Pencil Sea Urchin, that is nowhere better represented than in the entryway to the Inner Harbour.  

Its going to come together.

    Now here is an animal you can count on.  It's always there, and it holds still to get its picture taken.  All urchins should take a lesson from this fine fellow.  And fiddlesticks on the Christmas Wrasse.

    Just as suddenly, as I neared the inner corner of the heiau. a juvenile Christmas wrasse swam right in front of me.  I yelled, "Here it is!" into my snorkel and pointed as the little trout did a loop de loop around a rock and swam away.  A ten second look at five feet was more than good enough! 

   I turned to Kathy and asked if she had seen it.  "Oh yes!" she said.  "It was yellow!'

   Well, the little fish that I had seen was bluish, sort of like those characters that tormented Ringo and Paul in their Yellow Submarine adventure.  The submarine might have been yellow, but my little fish, and their Meanies, were blue.  

    Once we cleared the shallow water, my swim buddy and I had a discussion.  Clearly, we had seen different fish.  Kathy had done some due diligence (good for her) the previous evening and she knew what a Christmas wrasse looked like.  I noted that a Christmas Wrasse is usually checked red and green. to which she replied, those colors might have been present, but this fish was yellow.  We left it at that and darned if, trailing just a few feet behind me, she didn't see the same fish again on the way to shore.

Kathy... "This is exactly what I saw."   photo Waikiki Aquarium

   If anything, the circus in the vicinity of the Kona Boys shack was worse than when we embarked on our quest.  We got our showers and said our Merry Christmas Wrasse goodbyes. 

     This was a great week of snorkeling with Kathy, and it couldn't have ended any better.  I hope you had a wonderful Christmas with wrasses darting between the sugar plums (whatever they are) in your dreams.

    Mele kalikimaka, 

    jeff

Merry Christmas from Pepper-land!

   

Kahalu'u and the Pier with Kathy ... Long Jawed Squirrelfish and friends!

          Kathy and I took a second run at Kahalu'u on Saturday.  The shelter had been reserved by a group that was meeting for business, as opposed to a banquet, a baby luau or such.  We arrived early and they kindly allowed Vernon, who is recovering from knee surgery, and Sandra to sit in the shade while Kathy and I had a quick swim.

Tiger Cowry Kahalu'u December 2025

         The current was manageable, and we did the usual circuit, counterclockwise around the bay.  We didn't see as many fish as on our first outing.  There was no shortnose wrasse by the break water and although I turned over a come shell and a drupe, both of which had crawled (presumably) up onto the coral, I could not coax out a hermit crab.   In the middle we finally got lucky with a fine tiger cowry that was hanging out at the base of an Evermann's Coral, about three feet down.  It's always fun to photograph a stationary animal!  

    On the shore side by the Rescue Shelter, we saw a lone blue stripe snapper, and Kathy found her first Lagoon Triggerfish for the trip.  Before heading in, we scored a Whitemouth Moray.  This should be the easiest moray to see, but in this month, I had seen three other species before nabbing this individual.

Green Sea Turtles remain a highlight at K Bay.

   To polish off this swim, Kathy spotted a turtle.  He was being pursued by one of our fellow snorkelers who got so close that part of his equipment was dangling onto the turtle's shell.  Finally, he cleared out and we swam within a respectful ten feet and got some pictures.

    Yesterday, we finally snorkeled the pier.  Figuring that my swim buddy would enjoy a smattering of the usual suspects, we swam on the Ironman side.  The tide was high and there was more wave action on the bit of sand than I had expected.  (The wave predictor had said it would be flat.)  Along with this bit of surf, the water was a little cloudy.  

    By the time we made it to the last swim buoy the visibility was under ten feet.  In addition to making it hard to see the fish, cloudy water, at least in my mind, is associated with shark attacks.  Fortunately, as we turned around the swim buoy the water became much clearer.  

Long Jawed Squirrelfish

    A pair of milkfish, silvery with deeply forked tails, swam beneath us and we got a good look at the group of adult Hawaiian Dascyllus that I expected to find in that area.  As we swam in, a nice pair of Teardrop Butterflies swam around a coral ten feet below.  

    About that time the Marian, the glass bottom boat that attempts to show non-swimmers the coral and the fish, came swooping into the area.  Knowing that we were a bit out of bounds, we had been watching for boats and easily kept clear.  

   At this time, we were in that excellent patch of lush coral growth, about ten feet deep, that surrounds the large mooring buoy.  I alerted my friend that this was the place where we might see an angelfish, affording us the opportunity to sort out Moorish Idols and the colorful but shy and damselfish shaped true angelfish.  

    We didn't see any angelfish, but for a quick few seconds, we saw a large red fish swim in a gap between

Devil Scorpionfish, Kailua Kona 2025

 corals.  One might have expected such a red fish to be a Bigeye.  However, this guy was not as deep in the body and had a distinctive sharp face.  Back at the ranch, a little book work revealed this to be a Long-Jawed Squirrelfish.  Luckily, although seldom seen by snorkelers, this fish is not uncommon on the Kona Coast.  I dove down in hopes of another look, but this furtive fish had gone to ground.  He probably won't be the fish that Kathy remembers from her visit, but it will certainly be the one that I remember.  

   At about this time, the pilot of the Marian started yelling at us, telling us we were in the boat only zone.  We were nowhere near his boat.  We saw him and he saw us. Perhaps he didn't want his customers getting the idea that they could see more fish snorkeling without the inconvenience of his little cruise.

    "What are those people looking at?  How much do they have to pay to swim there?"  Too many inconvenient truths for the Skipper.   At any rate, to avoid a chat with the harbormaster, I yelled thank you, kept the Navajo good luck sign out of the skipper's view and we made our way back across the floating line.  

    This wasn't the end of the world.  I immediately saw a small school of Aholehole swimming against the pier.  This fast moving school of silvery fellows was not all that dramatic, but not all that common, either.  Then a small adult colored Christmas wrasse swam by.  A handful of strokes later, I spotted a large Devil Scorpionfish looking much like the stones between which he was positioned.  So much did he look like a stone, that Kathy had trouble seeing him.  I took a picture in the event that she needed convincing.  The water was cloudy, and the picture suffered accordingly.  But there is no doubt that we got Mephistopheles in repose.

   We took one more pass out to the third swim buoy where we spotted a brace of Kole.  These handsome lavender brown fish with the distinctive golden eye ring made a fine finishing touch to a pretty nice collection of the usual suspects, with a few Christmas treasures thrown in.

jeff

The picture of the Kole is brought to you courtesy of some nice guys who would like to sell you a few that you can pass out as stocking stuffers...jh

Instructions to Beach 69 along with some friends and fishes

       Yesterday we got together, finally, with Kathy and Vernon.  We met at Kahalu'u for some socializing and some fish watching.  Before we made it to our friends, we encountered Kathleen Clarke in the car park.  She had just finished giving her gang of Reef Teachers their marching orders, so we felt free to accost her and present her with her Christmas gift.  

Mele Kalilimaka to Kathleen!

    It wasn't actually a gift per se, but a personalized card.  It's always hard to tell if someone is genuinely happy with what you are giving them, but she seemed happy and promised to put it on her refrigerator for well into the new year.  And I ask you, what higher accolade could an amateur card maker aspire to than to have his art attached to a pretty reef teacher's ice box?  

    To say that I have gone crazy making AI tooled greeting cards is a bit of an understatement.  If you are a friend of the blog, there may be one in your future.

    After we gave Kathleen her card, we told her we were on our way to meet some friends, to which she replied, "I think she's already here.  And she was asking about sharks."

    Yes.  That would be Kathy.  The previous afternoon she and Vernon had stopped in at K Bay to check it out and what did they see but a sign saying the beach was closed because there had been a shark sighting. She interrogated a reef teacher, who had nothing else to do as the beach was closed.  April (that was the culprit's name) told her that it might be a Galapagos shark.  And that if she was going to swim in the morning, she might wait for the lifeguards to arrive.  Apparently, the lifeguards are better shark spotters than us swimmers.  Or perhaps she was thinking that they would hop on their surfboard, if the need arose, and haul your bleeding corpse out of the water.  

    Either way, we had pushed our meeting back half an hour to accommodate the arrival of competent civic supervision.

    Kathy and Vernon looked fantastic and soon she and I were threading our way out into the bay.  The water was surprisingly warm, maybe 80 degrees, and we saw a few fish.  

    As the current was moderate, we swam near the shoreline to get to the area near the Menehune Breakwater.  There we saw a lovely pair of Saddleback Butterflies.  Two days ago, Kathleen had alerted us that another couple (I guess they have taken our place as the ace husband and wife fish finding team) saw a male Shortnose Wrasse in that area.  I was looking hard but did not find one of those smallish beauties.  If you are going out, you should be alert!  

   As we swam back to the middle, a gorgeous fat Christmas Wrasse cruised by in the opposite direction.  We both got a good look.

   As we made the turn, my swim buddy spotted a hunting Zebra Moray.  This was a great fish, maybe four feet in length.  He was about ten feet away.  I retrieved the camera as I closed in on him, but by the time I was ready he had receded into the coral, never to return.  So, we didn't get a picture, but as you will soon see, this was a moot point.

   Clockwise we went and over by the Rescue Shelter we saw a fine, healthy Milletseed Butterfly.  This is the fish that used to be so common here at K Bay.  Now we feel very lucky to see one.  And this one was a beauty.  

Milletseed Butterflyfish, Kahalu'u December 2023

    In the middle we saw a small juvenile Hawaiian Dascyllus.  As Kathleen had mentioned two days ago, he seemed to be taking refuge among some long spined urchins.  These keiki dascyllus are revered among the local fish watchers, but as we said in the last blog, they ain't no Bengai Cardinalfishes.

   Before Kathy and I headed for the barn, I spotted a fine Snakehead Cowry in the sand beside a coral.  

   Once we were ashore and showered, I pulled out the camera, pushed the play button and got the message that there was no card in the camera.  Remember how I said that I had made kissy face with the SD card reader?  This, I suppose, was my morning after surprise.  We had seen some wonderful stuff, but luckily, I guess, nothing that would require a picture to verify a truly unusual sighting.  

                                         Instructions for getting to Beach 69

     As we were getting ready to go, I was telling Vernon and Kathy that I had recommended to their son and his family, also on this trip, that they go to Beach 69 (otherwise known as the Waialea Extension to Hapuna Beach Park) as it is very family friendly.  Overhearing my expostulation, a lovely young mother asked me what I could tell her about getting to Beach 69.  So, for all you young families, or simply the young at heart, here is the rundown.

    Beach 69 was once fairly primitive.  Now it is thoroughly developed with a large, modern car park, requiring a fee for non-residents.  There is a good walkway down to the beach and excellent shower and changing facilities.  At the end of the walkway, you can turn left to find picnic tables in the shade or turn right to find a short sandy beach where your keiki might boogie board on small waves.  Please exercise appropriate caution with your children around the ocean.

    To get to Beach 69 from the south, take the exit marked Puako, which is about a mile south of the turn into Hapuna.  Descend on this road for a short distance and take the first right onto a windy up and down road that is well paved and go for about a mile.  Here you will find a large sign as note above ... Waialea Extension ...  And there you are. 

   We had a wonderful morning at the beach, and I hope you do as well.

jeff

   

     

Old Acquaintances at Kahalu'u

     On Monday we were at the Keahou Shopping Center and, although the surf was still high.  We stopped by Kahalu'u on the way home.  The nice lady who collects the outrageous parking fees told us that our friend, Yasuko would be working the following morning.  Even better, she consulted her laptop and proclaimed that the surf would be down the next day and on Friday.  A veritable palantir it was.

If your name was Yasuko, you could have one, too.

    Dutifully the next morning, we arrived at dear old K Bay to find incredibly flat water.  And shooting to our side was our dear friend, still speaking English with a bit of Japanese thrown in for good measure. We presented Yasuko with a paper mache butterfly fish with Mele Kalikimaka  emblazoned on a Christmas ornament.  She and Sandra settled down for a visit while I plunged ahead into the water.  

    Tuesday was one of those days when there is very little tidal exchange.  At 8:30 it was at half a foot and around 1:00 it was going to peak just above a foot.  So, as I entered, there was plenty of water to float me out into the bay.

   The water was fairly clear, although blurred by cold and warm water coming together.  Almost immediately I saw the fish of the day, a male Pearl Wrasse who was in no hurry and let me get what should have been some good pictures.  Unfortunately, I have not made best of friends with the Olympus recently and most of my pictures were inexplicably blurry.  The good news is that this morning I made kissy face with my SD Card reader and so I have the best of a sorry lot to show you. 

Pearl Wrasse male, Kahalu'u December 2025

   There was just enough current to inhibit an old guy who hasn't been swimming very much, but I lasted 45 minutes.  There was a nice variety of fish, including a school of Keel tailed Needlefish, which used to be routine at K Bay.  It was a great day for long spined sea urchins, of which we will speak later.  And I enjoyed a cleaner wrasse who had set up shop conveniently on the shore side of the first corals. 

   On the way in, I photographed a Spotted Linkia Starfish, about five inches across.   Look carefully and you will see the red dotted markings on an otherwise flesh colored sea star.

    As we were getting ready to leave, Kathleen Clark, Queen of the Reef Teachers, dropped by for a chat.   I complemented her on her fine collection of long spined sea urchins.  I couldn't help mentioning one of our favorite fish of all time, the Bengai Cardinalfish, which we saw at Weedy Pirates, Permuteran, Bali.  There, it was harboring among the spines of some super long spined urchins.  It was an unforgettable sight.  

Spotted Linkia, Kahalu'u December 2025

    A fortnight ago in our immediate past, Sandra and I were reminded of this fish in a most unexpected way. My son and his family, having moved to Boise, of all the God forsaken locations, were celebrating my daughter-in-law's birthday, at great expense.  This, apparently, is what yuppies these days do. Anyway, they found a swanky hotel on a lake in McCall , Idaho.  While Tara was at the spa, James and my grandsons were in the game room where they encountered a large saltwater tank full of Indonesian fish.  La de da. And among them was a Bengai Cardinalfish.  At my request, James texted me a picture and so, phone in hand, I was able to tantalize Kathleen with his photo.  And now I'm tantalizing you.  Some fish, n'est pas?  

   Until I was appraised of the nightly rate, I thought I might go the Shore Inn and spend a few minutes gazing at their fish.  Instead, I looked up my favorite spot to stay in Permuteran, and discovered that for the price of one night at the Shore Inn I could spend 10 nights at Pondok Shindu.  Lovely tropical breakfast and flowers on the bed included.  

Bengai Cardinalfish, Shore Inn, McCall Id.  photo James Hill

  To paraphrase Dire Straits, Money for nothin' and the fish are free.

    Kathleen noted that the baby Dascyllus are hanging out in her long urchin spines.  We agreed that she really needs to get to Bali, but that appears to be for a later stage in her busy life.  Hopefully the ocean and its wonderful creatures will be there when her time arrives.  

jeff

   

Christmas is Coming, the Wrasse is getting fat.

    It has been pointed out to me that my blog production has not been up to snuff, bordering on pathetic.  Not only that, but Christmas Day, that high holiday when we celebrate the birth of the eponymous wrasse, is rapidly approaching.   So get it together, old timer!  Dust off those flippers and hit the water.  

A Fat Christmas Wrasse, 2016 

    We have been back in Kona for well over a month and, counting today, I have only been snorkeling three times.  the most recent was three weeks ago.  I went swimming by myself on the Ironman side of the pier.  There were very few swimmers and a smattering of the fish that one might expect.  Not enough variety, I reasoned, to justify a blog.

    Early on that day, I had a good look at a Finescale Triggerfish and towards the end, a very good look at a medium sized Undulated Moray.  This chestnut hued eel is the bad boy notorious for biting careless swimmers, so I kept my distance.  

    And then the swell came in.  Kona has now experienced excellent surfing conditions daily for almost two weeks. 

      Today, goaded by two of my most faithful friends, I went swimming with the intention of churning our something in the way of a blog.  I started my swim in front of the Marriott and swam out to Paul Allen's Lagoon.  The water close in was quite chilly, but by the time I was finning past Kamehameha's heiau, it wasn't too bad.  Not warm, but tolerable.

Finescale Triggerfish on the Ironman side, 2024

    Beside the heiau I saw the green fringed tail of a modest Yellow margin moray as he slid under a rock.  That fringe is a very pretty chartreuse and that alone might have made my swim worthwhile.    Which is a good thing, for in the next half hour, out in the bay, it was usual suspects.  And not too many of those!  

    On my way in, just over the breakwater, I had fleeting glimpse of a bright orange filefish tail.  Of course, I wanted this to be an aspricaudus, the Yellow Tail Filefish.  Unfortunately, there were lots of Barred Filefish around.  The big guys remind me of tin garbage can covers.  The smaller Barred Filefish, probably females, have more color and a yellow tail.  I hung around, dove down and looked at the space between the rip rap into which the fish had disappeared.  Aspricaudus is a furtive fish, and my efforts yielded nada.  So, we might have seen this unusual filefish just inside the opening past the heiau.  If you happen to be swimming there, keep an eye peeled.

Yellowtail Filefish 

    I don't have a good picture of this handsome, but exceptionally shy fish.  Here you see a photo borrowed from a talented fish photographer, Scott Rettig, taken on the Kohala coast.  Maybe Mahukona, or there abouts.

    As the persistent swell is coming from the north, there was very little wave driven surf on the north cusp of Kailua Bay.  The water was cool, but remarkably clear considering the persistent swell.  I saw nary a Christmas Wrasse, hardly any wrasses at all, but this can change.  My swimming buddy, Kathy Yoder is arriving later this week and with luck we'll have something exciting to report. 

    If you're in the lower 48, stay warm and be safe.

jeff

I've been to Prescott, Arizona, all the way to Sedona

    Last week our family spent 5 days in the highlands of Arizona.   Our son now lives in Scottsdale, but temperatures, even as September rolled over into October, were in the mid-nineties in the Valley of the Sun.  And so, we opted to drive two hours northwest to Prescott.  We were exceedingly lucky to get an Airbnb a few miles south of town in the oak pine forest at 5,500 feet.  Phoenix is at a mere 1500 feet and that 4,000 foot altitude difference corresponded to a twenty degree difference in temperature.  

White Checkered Skipper, Goldwater Lake, photo Chuck Hill

    The day we arrived,  Phoenix experienced its greatest single day rainfall in eight years.  Our flight was delayed three hours in Portland, and when we finally landed, the Sky Harbor Airport was a disaster.  The facility had flooded and the Skytrain, which is the only transportation around this large airport, was out of service.  It took us over two hours to get to the rental car center and had it not been for the generosity of a fellow traveler, who had spent 40 minutes procuring an uber, we might still be there.

   Life in Prescott, which the fine folks in Arizona pronounce press-kitt, was laid back.  Cool in the mornings and after the first day, when it was still raining, pleasantly warm in the afternoon.  

The Acorn Woodpecker is the most common bird in Prescott

   On our second day there, when the sun finally came out, we made our way to Goldwater Lake.  At the end of Senator Blvd., this park with two man made lakes which once served as reservoirs.  It sits at an even 6,000 feet.  Our first stop was a mile deep in the park at Lower Goldwater Lake, created by a second small dam.  I spied a Pied Bill Grebe among the Coots on the lake.  But on the shore my son, Charles, spotted, and photographed this skipper which landed conveniently in the rushes.  

    Curiously, I had brought a bird book but no tome sufficient to identify butterflies.  Luckily, over the next day, Bob Hillis and Caitlin LaBar weighed in, and it was decided that this was a White Checkered Skipper.  Apparently, this is a common butterfly in southern states, but it was a life butterfly for us.  We were lucky that Chuck was turning into a lepidopterist. 

    We then went back to Upper Goldwater Lake where a helpful lady, who was interested in photographing Stellar's Jays, had sprinkled ample quantities of bird seed on stumps, tables and the ground.  This baksheesh resulted in a profusion of birds, squirrels and chipmunks.  The Acorn Woodpecker, which is easily the most common bird around Prescott, was present in large numbers.  But we also saw Pygmy and White Breasted Nuthatches, Moutain and Mexican Chickadees,  and Mexican Junco.   For a little color, we scored a Townsend's Warbler.   

Mountain Chickadee, Upper Goldwater Lake

    Try as we might, we found no more butterflies.

    A highlight of our trip was an excursion to Sedona.  It is a mere 45 miles as the eagle flies, between Prescott and Sedona.  In this mountainous country, however, one either takes a circuitous route or a very slow mountain road. Going up we opted for the faster roads and made it into Sedona in an hour and a half.  The sculpted red rocks are the show in Sedona and they still do not disappoint.  This despite tremendous development.

    My first trip here was in 1979 as a young birdwatcher.  At that time there was a single small road passing through a virtual crossroads of a village.  I've been back twice (it really is a pretty cool place) and each time the development was just a bit more advanced.  It had now been thirty years since my last visit and I gotta tell ya, the development has over run the rocks.  Bell Rock, perhaps the most iconic of the russet features, is virtually surrounded by shops and condos.  Nevertheless, we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Iconic Bell Rock is surrounded by development.

    After the obligatory rock watching and shopping, we went to a portion of the Coconino National Forest, adjacent to Red Rock State Park.  In this picturesque setting, we were to try for our target butterfly.  As I explained to my co- adventurers, this is a variant of the Lorquin's Admiral, found in Arizona And  one that Bob Hillis had photographed a few years ago.  

    So we walked into the park.  For the first hundred yards it was a cement sidewalk.  The walkway deposited us onto a rough dirt path that hugged Oak Creek.  After half a mile we came to a fork.  We took the fork that led away from the creek and were soon rewarded with a tiny yellow butterfly.  I took a swipe at it, missed and then chased it back down the path until it flew into the meadow.   As I returned to Sandra and Charles, another of these tiny sulfurs appeared.  This time my son commandeered the net and did a fine job of catching the little devil.  

Chuck and Spirit dine on the red rock lip.

    Prize in the bag, we returned to the creek trail where, after another hundred feet, we found the red rock shelf that promised the magnificent view the park had to offer.  Luckily, as there were none of the picnic tables the ticket taker /money changer had promised at her entrance booth/extortion vault, we found a red rock lip ideal for sitting while we dined al fresco.  I'm including a picture of our rock lip dining site.  Someone doesn't want her name or photo on the internet so she, like the ghosts you will read about in short order, has been relegated to the spirit world.  Personalities aside, doesn't this look like good butterfly habitat?  

    Towards the end of this feast, I spotted a medium-sized black butterfly hovering above the nearby willows.  Not trusting the gerontocracy that was supposedly leading this quest, Chuck grabbed the net and sped off in pursuit with yours truly doing his best to keep up.  We rounded the stand of willows and waited patiently, but no butterfly appeared.  Could this have been the Lorquin's Admiral variant?  Stay tuned. 

   On the way back we drove through Jerome.  This is the shortest way betwixt Prescott and Sedona by mileage, but if you take it easy on winding mountain roads with sheer drops, it is much longer.  Jerome itself is a curiosity.  A former copper mining town, its old hotels now trade on being haunted.  The town hosts a Halloween party and if you are into that sort of thing, it might be worth a night's stay.

   The pass between Cottonwood and Prescott tops out at over 8,000 feet!

  Back at the ranch we refrigerated our little butterfly and then took his picture.  Here you see a good ventral look and a hint at the two black markings that occur on the dorsal front wing.  Both Caitlin and Bob Hillis quickly identified him as a Dainty Sulfur.  Like the skipper, this species is common in the southern states but, as it does not occur near Portland, it was a life butterfly for us.  

The Dainty Sulfur Butterfly, Sedona, Arizona 2025

    A few things about this butterfly.  First, the Dainty Sulfur is seriously small.  I thought it was about the size of the Echo Azure, the tiny blue butterfly we see in the spring around Dougan Falls.  Additionally, it is not butter yellow like some sulfurs.  Instead, it has a very pleasing yellowish green cast to its dorsal surfaces.  Lastly, once he warmed up, he turned out to be a better than average cribbage player.  

    The refrigerator at Casa Rebecca (which I name after our wonderful Airbnb hostess) was extra cold.  On our first day I left our ice bottles in the refrigerator and they did not melt overnight.  As a consequence, this little butterfly got more than its fair share of cold and was slow in awakening.  My son, being the soft-hearted soul that he is, took him outside, placed him on a leaf and warmed him with his powerful mechanics flashlight until he took wing. 

The ventral side of the Arizona Sister

   On more than one occasion this blog has resembled the journal of confusion and misplaced efforts.  This foray into natural science turned out to be no exception.  In preparation for writing, I asked Bob Hillis for his picture of the Arizona morph of the Lorquin's Admiral.  He replied that he didn't have such a picture, only the variant of the California Sister, known as the Arizona Sister.  iNaturalist confirms that Lorquin's Admiral does not occur in Arizona.  

   Luckily, I suppose, we didn't find either.  But if we had netted that butterfly near our Oak Creek lunch spot, I presume it would have been an Arizona Sister.  One can only hope that at that juncture we would have figured it out.

   As a final post script, there are rumors that Pierre Lorquin's ghost can be seen reviewing his specimens in the dark of night in the dining room of the Jerome Grand Hotel.  So if you choose to lodge in that ghostly edifice, be sure to take your Kauffmann's field guide and prepare for a night of spirited lepidoptery.

jeff

Mount Hood 2025 Part Two

    Our second day on Mount Hood, departing around 9 AM from the Withering Woods Resort in Welches, gave us the opportunity to put Mount Hood Meadows at the top of the list.  The gate at the ski resort, which opens into a huge parking lot, had a large sign saying that the lot was closed but that we were welcome to use the trails.  Seeing a line of parked cars up by the lodge, roughly one hundred yards away, we drove into the lot regardless of the warning and found a sign in the middle of the lot advertising events, such as wildflower walks that were to occur over the next few days.  And so we proceeded up to the line of cars near the lodge and parked.

Mount Hood Meadows  Summer butterfly parking up by the lodge!

    The lodge was locked, which only limited access to restrooms.   Back in the enormous parking lot, I found a nice young lady a few cars down the line.  She was preparing to go on a hike with her small terrier, showed me her prospective route on her cell phone and reinforced the idea that no one was going to bother our car.  

   Our newly found friend disappeared up a dirt road on the north edge of the lot and in a couple minutes Sandra and I headed that way.   This road was familiar to us.  About five years ago, when we were in our infancy as butterfly hunters, we successfully netted a Hoary Comma on the shoulder of this road only 100 yards in.  This is a magnificent butterfly, big and colorful with the oddly shaped wings distinctive to its ilk.  We didn't know what to do with it, so we attempted to take its picture inside a jar, which aided identification but was far from perfect.  Ever since then we have checked out this road, never with much success.

Blue Bells or similar, Mount Hood Meadows

   As we started up the road, we passed an Asian lady with four young children standing cheek by jowl in one of those plastic wagons that are now so common.  One of the children commented on our nets (she might have said, "What the f*** are they doing with the nets?) and as we walked away their mother  (I mean, why in God's green earth would you have four children in a wagon if they weren't your children?) was explaining about catching butterflies. 

   Enough with the F bombs.   Not too far up the dirt road, which, as we will see, is used for ski lift maintenance, we happened upon a patch of wildflowers.  Lo and behold, there was a fritillary butterfly in the flowers and I netted him.  The bag I pulled from my pocket was one of those soft green suckers that are designed to indicate organic vegetables.  They may decompose when allowed to molder with rotting vegetables, but it wasn't our intent to keep the butterfly in the bag so long that it started to rot.  So from that point, decomposing bags, we were probably OK.  Of course, these bags are more or less opaque, so we had little chance of identifying the butterfly by looking at the bag.  Note to self...bring clear bags.  

    Anyway, I stuffed our organic butterfly in my knapsack and we headed up the trail.  Up, in this instance, is the operative word.  This is Mount Hood, after all, and so it was natural that the road would involve elevation gain.  This is not a highly sought feature on the gerontology ward.  And, sadly, in the words of Garfield the Cat, we are beginning to resemble that remark.

Butterfly Watching in Style

    We saw a few birds, identifying some Pine Siskins.  And, at one point, a couple hundred yards up the road, we stopped to photograph some charming, blue, bell-shaped flowers.  These may very well be called blue bells. 

    At this point I owe you a confession.  I inadvertently left my phone charging on the bathroom counter
back at Withering Woods.  Hence, the pictures you see, like the Blue Bells here, were taken with Sandra's phone.  They are perfectly good photographs, so why should you care?  Well, a month or so ago I loaded Google Photos onto sweetie's phone and it conspired to overload her memory. Choosing to avoid the fuss, she had me remove Google Photos.  Thus, on this montane morning, my career as a budding botanist suffered a setback.  The Microsoft tool, which is what we are left with, is not nearly so precise as GP.  Hence, I think they are Blue Bells.  But who the f*** knows for sure.  Whoops.

    About this time we were passed by a nice young man toting a large camera and tripod and accompanied by a rambunctious dog.  Sandra was permitted to throw a stick for the frisky quadruped, making both her and Fido happy.  

Mormon Frit on Goldenrod, July,  Mount Hood Meadows

    As the man and the dog romped their way up the trail we heard a rumbling.  In short order we saw an approaching tractor.  We stepped out of the roadway and soon he was passing us, going downhill, with a trailer full of ski lift chairs in tow.  Sandra looked longingly after the trailer full of ski lift chairs.  Much like Toad in Wind in the Willows, having his Gypsy Cart upset by a passing motor car (or in this instance a ski lift repair tractor) my sweetie had a new desire, which was to go in the direction dictated by gravity.  

    "Poop, poop ,poop," said the Toad. 

    "Down, down, down." Said Sweet Sandra.

    As we descended, we stopped for a moment to enjoy a pair of Gray Jays cavorting in the spruce.  Had we come for bird watching this would have been more satisfying.  But for most of this hike, from the standpoint of flutterbies, we were bereft.

    Finally we made it to the spot where the road leveled out, with that patch of wildflowers where we had nabbed the hydaspe just ahead.  To our right, on the mauka side of the road, there was another patch of wildflowers, leaning heavily towards the dreaded Goldenrod.  Among those gilded blossoms I spied another hydaspe frit.  

Let's fly somewhere. Say Salt Lake City?

   Since I already had one in the organic vegetable bag, I borrowed the Sandraphone, and snapped a few pictures.  Isn't it amazing how a given butterfly can be so cooperative when they want to be?  If I do say so myself, these pictures turned out pretty darn good.  

    We admired our handiwork, completed our ramble in the woods and trudged across the enormous parking lot to the car.  Soon we were back at Withering Woods with our organic butterfly contemplating his sins in the refrigerator.  "If only Father O'Brien were here," I heard the butterfly mutter, "he would give me the wafer and the wine, my sins would be absolved, and I would merit a reprieve."

   As it was, sweetie wanted to take full advantage of the high life that Withering Woods might afford her.  Thus, after a few minutes and a short walk down a small parking lot, I found myself immersed in the hot tub.  There, up to my Adam's apple in hot water, I sat and listened to two gas bags discuss, at infinite length, the multiple strategies involved in getting the most out of time share points, memberships, ownerships and who gives a f***?  Now I knew how the butterfly felt.   

Hydaspe Fritillary, Mount Hood Meadows July 2025

    A short time later, after a well deserved nap, Sandra and I were looking at our pictures.  I should have said something really clever, like, "Do you hear the Angel Moroni's trumpet?"  But instead, we just got a little excited and forwarded the pictures to our Inquisitor back in Longview.   In short order, Caitlin gave us two heavenly words...Mormon Frit.  

   So that impulse back at Mount Hood Meadows had paid off big time.  And we could hardly wait to see what was in the organic vegetable bag.  Sadly, the organic butterfly had not yet consumed enough sacramental wine and wouldn't hold still for a picture.  This was a big mistake on his part.  He could have, after all, been released at Withering Woods.  But no!  

 His is recalcitrant behavior earned him a trip to the Vancouver, Washington laboratory. 

    It was just before lunch the following morning when our organic buddy emerged from the cooler.  He was a little floppy, but I barricaded him in and he sat for a great number of pictures.  In fact, after the José Jalapeño routine (on a stick) he allowed himself to be taken outside where, perched on a rhododendron leaf he posed for another half hour. 

Hydaspe Frit, Mount Hood Meadows Dorsal.

 

   The day before I had tallied our frits.  At first, I thought we had seen and photographed all the frits in our area in 2025.  After a while, however, I realized that we were missing the Coronis.  Rats!  So, in looking at these pictures, I was dwelling on all the white in the wings, both ventral and dorsal.  And this butterfly was a lot lighter than the hydaspe we had procured at Alpine, photographed and adjudicated as Hydaspe.  Obviously, there is an ocean of difference between chestnut brown and yellowish orange, the portion of the palette that Pyle and LaBar use to describe the dorsal Coronis.  As far as the ventral ground color goes, they say it is highly variable and location dependent. 

   It ain't for nothin' that the expert lepidopterist, Jeffrey Pippen, had Bob Pyle identify his frits when he butterflied Mt. Rainier. 

    Suffice it to say, we sent Cait numerous pictures, but she sent us only one answer:  all the pictures are Hydaspe Frit.  

    It's a fair jaunt from Timberline Lodge to Mount Hood Meadows, 17 miles and a combined elevation loss and gain of about 4500 feet taking over half an hour by Mr. Toad's motor car.    In actual miles, say as the gray jay might fly, it's less than three miles.  At that altitude three miles gets you about a quarter of the way around the mountain, from a southern exposure to an eastern.  It's sort of interesting how much difference we found between our two Hydapspe frits. found so close together on the mountain.   As for the Coronis, there is always next year.

jeff