Trick or Treat at Ho'okena

     Up where we live, high on the slopes of Mount Crumpet, there is no trick or treating.  It may be well known among the urchins that we live next door to the Grinch, who is as likely to be as down on Halloween as Christmas. In actuality, I assume that it is because a child afoot would expend more calories going up

Sandra the Good Witch says, "Trunk or Treat"

and down the steep driveways than they would regain in the proffered treats.  I suppose they could go trick or treating on ATVs, but that's just plain silly.

   But this year Sandra and I were lucky.  We were invited to Trunk or Treat at our church.  In years past, this event had been sponsored by the Samoan congregation.  However, our new pastor Sunny (she of the yellow noodle) is a big fan of this quintessential American holiday and had it opened up to all, regardless of which island group you hail from.  Before the nominative candy giving from the trunks of the assembled vehicles, we were encouraged to hobnob (or is it hobgoblin?) with a couple dozen children ranging from 3 to 9.  I went as a pirate and as such was afforded the opportunity to sword fight with an eight year old storm trooper who was determined to make me surrender the booty.  ARR.  Gotta get that kid out on the soccer pitch.  You can teach foot work, but pure aggression is another smoke entirely

Relinquish the Booty!

   Sandra made an adorable witch, especially as she posed in front of her Dia de los Muertos wall hanging which was cleverly suspended in the trunk of our Honda. With a Christmas candle burning on a TV tray, it made for a stunningly creepy tableau.  The material for the wall hanging was brought back from Mexico City three years ago, the witch hat was purchased at K Mart the day before Halloween.  True to the name given this event, after an hour and a half of fun and games (bobbing for marshmallows, making mummies from toilet tissue) the children went from trunk to trunk, filling their plastic pumpkins with chocolate.  They filled those plastic jack o' lanterns in about ten minutes.

   The next morning, which was the actual Day of the Dead, we loaded up early and headed to Ho'okena.  This was the first outing outside Kailua for my rehabilitating knee  It had been over two months since we had been to this beach, which I always list as one of our favorite spots.

    The day was a pleasant high overcast and the sea was calm, just tiny waves hitting the southern end of the beach.   The water was cool, around 80 or so, and super clear.  Very near shore we encountered some unusual sponges growing in the sandy debris.  These turned out to be Vagabond Boring Sponges.  When

Vagabond Boring Sponges

they aren't putting your guests to sleep, they use acid secretions to bore into limestone substrate, poking their noses out of the sand.

   We eventually found a way to disengage ourselves without hurting the sponge's feelings and headed straight out,  making for the coral where we last saw the angelfish two months previous.  Our short term memory (assuming that is what one uses to remember an event less than 90 days in the past) was intact and we navigated right to the coral in question.  For those of you who might want to duplicate this feat, I can now say that this patch is right on the margin, to the north is more coral and to the south (left for the directionally challenged) is the ex-coral..  Or to further paraphrase the great John Cleese, that coral is deceased, it is no more, it rests in peace.  To put it more precisely, it is now sand.

    Just in case you don't feel old enough, I am including a picture from the famous Dead Parrot sketch in which John Cleese attempts to return a dead Norwegian Blue Parrot to shopkeeper Michael Palin.  Both

This Parrot is deceased.

Cleese and Palin are still on this side of the daisies ( and so are you if you are reading this) but my goodness, don't they look just like those smart alecky kids who, at every turn, are trying to ruin your life and calling you, "Gramps".

   Back in the cool clear water at Ho'okena, we found the correct coral patch and over the next few minutes Sandra and I were rewarded with a good look at at least two Potter's angelfish.   As per usual, when I dove to attempt a picture, they retreated into the recesses of the coral.  Some authors have noted that Potter's Angelfish is associated with rich coral growth.  I would amend that to say that these fish are associated with coral that provides a myriad of hiding places.  Back home on Paul Allen's Reef, there is a patch of dead coral which retains its structure and over the years has been a pretty good place to find Potter's Angelfish.  As long as they are able to slip away from the would be photographer, these fish seem to be perfectly happy.   Its not as if they are eating the live coral.

      With that good start we headed across the bay where we spotted a fine cushion star.  I haven't seen one

Ringtail Wrasse Posing at Ho'okena

of these beauties at the pier lately, but apparently it is still the year for this previously unusual species.

    Just after we saw the starfish, we ran into a group of four snorkelers wearing dive skins and speaking alternately in accented English and a foreign tongue that eluded identification by my Henry Higgins-like ear.   Sandra said, "I'm a good girl, I am." and we continued our perusals.  Along the way she drew my attention, under a modicum of false pretenses,  to an especially handsome ringtail wrasse, which posed cooperatively.

    We completed a large loop without seeing too much more and Sandra decided she would head to the beach.  Even though nine (AM) is the new ten, I had just seen a school of manini which hadn't been present earlier and I had a hunch that those flame angels might now be awake.  So bidding my schmoopie a fond farewell, we turned the army around and headed back out to the angelfish coral.  This was a good 

choice, as almost immediately I spotted at least one flame angel.  The water was so clear that I didn't need to

Flame Angelfish on the Day of the Dead 2016

get too close to obtain a picture, which was a good thing as this angelfish did not let me get within five feet before it dodged into the coral.

    On one of those dives, my peripheral vision caught site of a Yellowtail Filefish.  Once again the clear water paid off and I nabbed the picture you see below, with a Potter's angelfish and an aspricaudus in the same frame.  In addition to cushion starfish, this has been a pretty good year for aspricaudus.  In the last six months I have now added it to the lists for Paul Allen's Reef, Kahalu'u and Ho'okena.  One would suspect that they have been there all along, but there is no substitute for actually seeing the slithery little fellows.  I finally got my fill of the fire engine red angelfish and headed towards shore, where Sandra was waiting patiently.   You might think that this was because she loves me, but having the car keys attached to ones swim trunks engenders a special kind of affection.

Yellowtail Filefish left and Potter's Angelfish Right.  Best Aquarium Ever.

Disappearing Wrasse, Ho'okena 2016

   Her patience was further tested as, about thirty yards from shore, I saw a red wrasse on the bottom.  I was fairly sure that this was an eightline wrasse playing hide and seek among the coral about ten feet down.  He let me dive close.  I saw the stripes and nabbed the pictures you see here.  When I had the pictures downloaded to the computer, I noticed that this fish was mighty red.   I referred to the Ultimate Guide, in which John Hoover mentions fine stripes on the disappearing wrasse.  Up to that point I had regarded that fish as plain red without markings and probably found only at scuba diving depths.  Reading John's description more carefully, I found that the very first Disappearing Wrasse was found in a tidepool near Hilo.    My confidence building, I ended up writing an email with pictures to this ultimate adjudicator.  Was this the pinko Pseudocheilinus sacco (which I had seen before) or  the red Pseodocheilinus vanzettii, which was a life fish?

    We held the presses until the word came back form  the Massachusetts State Supreme Court, Justice John Hoover presiding.  The identification was confirmed as Ps. vanzetti (actually evanidus) the

Break Out the Bubbly Before He Disappears.

Disappearing Wrasse.  Well, as Dom Peringnon said, "Brothers, I'm seeing stars and they look like little red fish."  Of course, that isn't exactly what Dom Peringon said, Sacco and Vanzetti were anarchists not communists and John Hoover does not preside over the Massachusetts Supreme court.  Yet. But make no mistake, this was a re-appearing Disappearing Wrasse.  Before moving on, I will call your attention to how prominent those putatively fine lines are.  The difference between the eightline and the disappearing wrasse is not as great as the field guides would have one believe.

   Soon enough I was on the beach, where the minimal wave action made landing a piece of cake.  Sweetie and I enjoyed an early lunch and the the fine folks at our favorite beach park.  On my way back from changing, I ran into the foursome we had seen out by the cushion starfish.  They had parked their minivan diagonally across the sidewalk in such a way that they could take a shower, and not get their feet dirty afterwards.  Of course, if someone like yours truly wanted to use the sidewalk it was
inevitable that you would need to interact with them.

  They were still speaking an inscrutable tongue.  And not only that, but they had spiffy little covers for their

Ps. sacco and Ps. vanzetii.  Judge Hoover says its vanzettii.

side view mirrors, white nylon emblazoned with a stylized double barred cross in red..  I asked them, "Are you from Georgia?"  ( I will admit this was a bad guess, the Georgian flag has numerous single barred red crosses.)  The perkier of the two girls answered in English, "Oh no, we are from Slovakia."  She went on to say, "Its in Central Europe."...just in case I thought it might be between Mississippi and Alabama.  I smiled and assured her that in the Land of the Ironman, we know our obscure central European countries, even if we aren't totally solid on their sundry crosses.

   To eliminate any confusion for you, my faithful readers, I am including a Slovakian flag.  Note that when the flag is displayed vertically, the fanciful double cross arising  from water is rotated.  When it is displayed on a side view mirror the colors are reversed.

  Back at the table, I was checking out my pictures when a size 14  or so with a southern accent wandered through the shelter.  Look  at this one, I said, showing her the previously mentioned ringtail wrasse.  As she

Slovakia, Slovakia ...

admired the picture, she said that she had been living near the Mauna Lani for two months and this was her first time at Ho'okena.  I responded with what a great place this was to see fish, dolphins and campers from Europe.  The only possible drawback, I said, was that sometimes in the afternoon the mood among the  locals became a little dark.  "Oh." she said authoritatively, "I don't have any problem with the locals.  I just set down and have some beer with them."

   A bit later some dolphins swam into the bay.  They lingered just long enough to goad a score or two swimmers to give chase. so quickly id those swimmers appear that they must have been waiting on the beach at the ready.  As soon as the swimmers were well away from the beach the dolphins swam away.  If only the swimmers had thought this through, they would have offered the dolphins a beer. 

jeff

Trunk or Treat

Putting the Sand in Sandy

     Before charging into this weeks tale, I'd like to bring you up to date on the progress of our divine snorkeling student.  Last Friday we moved Pastor Sunny over to the Ironman side of the pier.  She had

Blue Stripe Surgeon, juvenile  Acanthurus nigoris   Kailua Kona 2016

added a new pair of fancy orange fins to her equipment, and along with her full face mask she was ready to go fishwatching.  The sea was flat and the morning was sunny, so our foursome was full of confidence.  A bit of fiddling with the mask (apparently the cumbersome headgear isn't foolproof) and we were off to the races.   As before,  Sandra was guiding Sunny by the noodle, to which she was attached with both hands, like Linus with his security blanket.  In this fashion we made it out to the third swim buoy, seeing a nice variety of usual suspects in the cool clear water.  The big news is that halfway back to the beach Sunny released the noodle and swam free for about two minutes.  One can over do the freedom thing, however, and Sunny was soon clamped back on to her yellow noodle.

   When my son James was three he had a yellow blanket.  To separate him from the blanky was to court disaster.  At times, though, leaving it at home was the sensible thing to do.  In order to discuss the impending subterfuge, my wife and I code named the yellow blanket yerba buena.  Why we used that name, aside from the words beginning with Y and B is a mystery.  Yerba buena refers to the vegetable matter one might find in Mexican potpourri and the blanky was neither Mexican nor especially fragrant.  All that aside, one wonders if that yellow noodle is heading for a code name. 

   You can submit your suggestions for a code name in the form provided below or email them to Yellow Noodle Saimin, shadowfax302@gmail.com.  The winner will receive a lifetime supply of yellow noodles.  No need to ask the origin.

Holy Underwear!  The Christmas Season is Upon Us!

   To prepare for the Friday swim, I had snorkeled the pier the day before.  It was all usual suspects in moderately clear water, except for the cute little fish you see here.  As you see, he was out in the coral rubble twenty yards mauka of the the third swim buoy, chilling with a small school of juvenile convict tangs.  This cutie propelled me to the books.  I've decided it is almost surely a blue lined surgeon, Acanthurus nigoris.   The adult of this species comes in two flavors.  One is dark with the scale lines separated just enough by light bands to give it a finely striped appearance.  The less common fish is a light gray with a white band at the caudal peduncle.  Voila.  In any event, this is an unusual keiki and I hope you enjoy speculating as to what he might grow up to be.  

Albert the Alligator:  My mother said I was goin' to grow up to live in da White House.
Pogo;  I think she said you was gonna grow up to live in the Jail House.

   A day or two after we supervised Sunny as she swam ever so bravely with her noodle, Sandra and I went to Kahalu'u.  It was super high tide, so we were hoping for something good.  We didn't see another octopus, but I was lucky to find this large cone shell hermit crab chilling in the coral.  He let me hold the camera within a few feet and Mr. Olympus did the rest.  Sandra and I call the cone shell hermit crab Stripey and he is one of our favorites.  And, to the best of my recollection, K Bay is the only place we have ever seen this species.

Saint Peter's Little Blue Church.  Pure Kona.

    As we swam across the bay on this calm day with blue sky and fleecy clouds I nabbed this picture of St. Peter's Church.  You have my permission to use it on your Christmas cards, assuming that manner of greeting is part of your repertoire.

    As we were swimming, Sandra noticed that people were getting out over by the smaller kiosk, where the surfers enter.  This is the spot we call Rescue Beach, as we escaped a strong out going current on a blustery

Cone Shell Hermit Crab,  Kahalu'u 2016

day long ago by crawling ashore on that beach.  That was not my finest moment, but nobody died. Usually the shoreline at this beach is rocky, but as the tide was so high, we decided to try  landing there for old times sake.  As we came ashore there were more waves than expected and Sandy got that coarse black sand everywhere.

    She was still muttering about the sandy situation as, après la douche, we passed by the small kiosk.  To our surprise, the entire structure was fenced off.  Back at the main structure we asked our friend Mark the Reef Teacher what that was all about.  He said that the floor of the kiosk was deemed unsafe.  To repair the shelter and the rock wall that protects it, the county would have to get a report from a marine architect approving the plans and this would cost $100,000.  While this figure seems to me to be a little high,  I have no problem with the essence of his remark.  He  further reported that people have come to the county to say they would do the work for free, but that the county was unwilling to spend the money for the report.

      I can tell you from personal experience that, with its front row view of our favorite bay, that little shelter is (was) a fine place for a picnic.  I guess we need to wait for the election of President Trump and he will cut through the obstructionistic regulations.   And peace and goodwill will return to the Kona Coast.

jeff

"OSHA, Smosha." says President Trump.

      

Kahalu'u Happenings

   I must feel like my knee is heading towards a full recovery because yesterday I took it to Kahalu'u for a swim.  Ten years ago, this would have been unremarkable, hardly different from going for a swim at the pier on a calm day.  But from the standpoint of the old and infirm, K Bay has changed.  The level of sand has

The Neanderthals Gather

dropped dramatically leaving a significant barrier of stones to surmount, no matter how you approach the bay.


    The word among the Reef teachers is that this is due to the last tsunami.  However, we have experienced a series of high tides in the last six weeks that have sucked 10 inches of sand off the beach n front of the King Kam Hotel and have further eroded the entry here at dear old Kahalu'u.  Directly in front of the shelter there is now a moat in front of the rocks.  On the makai side there are rocks that one must step on which are frequently wave washed.  That used to be the side for duffers, with a sandy carpet all the way form the beach through what we used to call the sand channel.  The watchword now is tread carefully.

    As I arrived there was a small group of demolition experts removing the lifeguard tower.  My friend Mark, one of the Reef Teachers, said that this had been the last wooden lifeguard tower in the state in daily use.  It

has now been replaced by a plastic and aluminum structure identical to the one at Magic Sands.  This structure has four times the footprint of the old tower and occupies the sand between the shelter and the showers, thus displacing a couple dozen sun bathers and elderly kibitzers.  Mark and I bemoaned the loss of the tower, of wooden roller coasters and what passes for progress in general.

The Old Wooden Lifeguard Tower

The End of an Era

O tear that tattered tower down,
Long has it stood on high.
And many a crab has clacked his claws,
As a lifeguard paddled by.

Where once at Kahalu'u,
Like the Pharos it did rise.
Now a hut of ugly plastic
Heralds its Demise.

   Well, no one told me they were going to tear down the tower and my poem (with thanks to Oliver Wendell Holmes) arrives a day late.  No group of children will contribute their pennies to save the tower, as they did with the USS Constitution.  And so another piece of our Hawaiian heritage is headed for the recycling station.

    I arrived about quarter to nine.  As I donned my snorkeling costume the Neanderthals were noisily removing the signs from the side of the tower.  Strong Currents!  Slippery Rocks!  Vote For Trump!   Late last night it occurred to me that I should have asked for one of those signs.   As I was putting on my sandals apres swim, the workmen cleared the area and pulled the tower on its side.  But I'm getting ahead of the

Day Octopus, Kahalu'u, October 2016

story.

   By no accident, I picked a morning when the tide was not high and the sea was calm.  Hence those rocks were uncovered and dry and I negotiated them successfully...knee intact.  The water was cool, as it had been at the pier earlier in the week.  I believe we can declare victory for the corals, which seem to have made it through the summer without any further bleaching and death.

    As I paddled out, the water was clear.  Thus when I arrived at the coral where the leaf scorpionfish hung out for a couple months, I had a perfect, if extremely brief look at a fish that I thoughtmight be new to me.  The fish had a sharp snout and yellow fiins, which I thught included the tail.  My first impression was that it was the shape of a blacktail snapper, but that it was red with a yellow tail.

   The fish dodged back into the coral as I approached.  I waited a minute or two and he came out for few seconds and like a groundhog on February 2nd, he scurried back inside the coral.  As an extensive review of the field guides reveals, there is no such fish and this was most likely just a black tail snapper. That I was so easily confused about the colors I might try to pass off as a result of the emotional trauma associated with the dismantling of the lifeguard tower.  Perhaps old age is having its way.  In my defense, it was two very brief looks. Not only that, but who among us has not attempted to turn a rock dove into a noddy as they sped by some dusky bird on the shoulder of the interstate.

     But like any good lister, I wanted it to be something else.  I dove down and attempted to look inside the coral.  I was rewarded with a look at a bigeye cruising by the small window, further confusing my identification.

    As all good birdwatchers know,  there is no substitute for studying the  guide books before heading into

Molluscan Yoga...The Octopus Forms and Arch 

the field.. If you can't identify the bird with some degree of specificity before repairing to the books, you are behind the eight ball.  And I confess, I probably do not go back through the books as frequently as I should. 

   Hopefully befuddled I pushed on through the clear cool water, out to near the breakwater and curving pack along the ridge towards the middle.  As I reached the corner across from the shelter, I was rewarded with a yellowtail filefish,  Pervagor aspricaudus.  In all my years of snorkeling at Kahalu'u, this is the first one.  In Bali, where this fish is more commonly seen, they swim free in just such shallow bays.  When I have seen them in Hawaii, they are usually in open water among deeper rocks.  It is probably just luck, but this is the second aspricaudus I have added to a location this year.  The first was adjacent to Paul Allen's canal.  Perhaps they are becoming more common.  I tracked this guy around for a couple minutes trying for a picture, but the water was shallow and he was elusive.  I did get a picture suitable for identification, but little else.

    Before heading out to Surfer's Rock I made a turn towards the beach and was rewarded with my best Hawaiian Day Octopus sighting.  Here was a beautiful big octopus, not especially wary in four feet of clear

The Brave Octopus Stands Tall

water.  He allowed me to approach within five feet and take multiple photographs.  We have discussed previously how the day octopus seems to have a coating on it skin that defeats photography.  I believe you will agree that this guy had his shields down and that this is an octopus, as opposed to a mass of slimy mush.  At times the octopus stood quite tall and at others he was a bit lower with his body and legs forming an arch over the coral.

    I sang the doxology and was preparing to go when a lady swam nearby.  Wanting to share my find,  I gestured for her to look.  Little did I realize that I was addressing Pestilence, the vanguard of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I turned back to the octopus to be confronted by her companions.  As you might guess there were four of them in all, wearing black dive skins and black water shoes, the better for crushing the coral.  One if them, I'm not sure if it was War or Famine, was standing upon the very coral head where mere moments before the octopus had formed his magnificent arch.  I confess, a moan of dismay echoed through my snorkel.  What is the world coming to?

   Soon enough the horsemen paddled away in search of a new area to despoil.  And who should emerge unscathed, but our fine friend the octopus, once again standing tall upon his coral.  A veritable Frodo Baggins

Oriental Flying Gurnard,  Juvenile

standing bravely against the minions of the Dark Tower.  If you wanted a jumbled allegory, you came to the right place!

    Well, my swim was completed without destroying my recuperating knee.  On the final approach in the sometimes sand channel I saw a tiny gurnard.  The keiki seem to have the best colors and this one had beautiful blue patches in his wings.  The water was only inches deep and swishing back and forth so you will have to be satisfied with a picture of another small gurnard on another beautiful day in Hawaii.

jeff

Nehacky's Angelfissh in Honor of John Hoover,  paper mache by the author

    My confusion over the snapper mimicking a longjaw squirrelfish spilled over into John Hoover's lap.  The pain of addressing this pointless investigation was softened a bit by this picture of one of the great author's most prized sightings.  A year or so ago John saw Nehacky's Angelfish while diving off South Point.  He has a super photograph of that fish on his web site, Fish Not In My Book.  Here you see that event captured for posterity in paper mache.  Mark your calendars.  Our collection of paper mache fish of the Pacific will be on display at the Thelma Parker Library in Waimea through the month of November. 

    In this way Dr. J will challenge the world.

 

A Return to the Sea

   I am pleased to announce that I have all but completed my rehabilitation from the knee injury.  The exact nature of this trauma will apparently remain a mystery, the party line at Kaiser Permanente cleaving to the lines of we don't have anyone competent to look at your knee and if its getting better, who cares?

   Despite the stunning lack of orthopedic healthcare on the Big island, I have gone from wading with the Ironmen to swimming with one fin, swimming carefully with Sandra,  and yesterday, swimming solo in a mild

swell on the Ironman side of the pier with both fins, diving seven feet or so. And I did all this with out any

If  I'm swimming With One Fin Why Aren't I Going In Circles?

apparent problems.  Which is to say, this morning I was able to walk from the bedroom to the dining table, where resides the computer, without any obvious discomfort.  O the joys of getting old.

    As you in the Pacific Northwest are hunkering down in the wind and rain, the climate here is damn near iddyllic.  Low 80s, low humidity and soft breezes.  Yesterday, after dropping Sandra off at the church to work on the upcoming rummage sale, I made it down to the pier where there was a crowd from a cruise ship, the third one in so many days.  I actually enjoy the cruisers, who provide the opportunity for first class people watching and occasionally some good conversation.  The down side is that the boats that ferry them from their floating hotel to our village, dock against the pier directly over the portion of reef that I find most productive.  So it goes.

    After unwrapping my ace bandage and placing my cane atop the cubbies, I went carefully down into the ocean.  The word on the street is that a big swell is on the way, but the splash was still mild and the water pretty clear.  And it was cool.  It seems like the coral here is going to be spared the devastation of last summer, when persistent hot water lead to coral bleaching and so much coral death. 
  
    In the wake of the Ironman, there were very few people in the water.  One can only assume that the cruise directors, for whatever reason, advise their charges not to swim at the pier.  Perhaps they are  concerned that these uninitiated cruisers might get run down by one of the tenders as they ply rapidly

Not My Worst Picture of a Day Octopus, Kailua Kona 2016

between the ship and the pier, thus creating one hell of a conflict of interest for the parent company.

   I swam out to the last swim buoy, seeing a pleasant variety of usual suspects, but nothing special, until a ghostly iridescence caught my eye.  Yes, about eight feet down was an octopus!  I watched him for several minutes as he flashed light blue patterns associated with a variety of postures and textures.  I dove him twice, hoping for a picture, but each time he turned a dark chocolate brown and receded into a cavity in the coral head.  Trustingly, he emerged both times I resumed my position on the surface, his eyes perched like a couple of ping pong balls atop his pyramidal body.  What a good octopus!

   As I prepared to swim away,  I sang him the doxology through my snorkel, dove down and swam slowly over his refuge.  I'm certain that as I passed above him he gave me a wink.   Praise Octopus the Holy Ghost!

    Checking my watch, I noted that it was time to head for the beach, lest my beloved languish overtime among the rummage in that sweltering tent.  On my way in, I encountered a rather small boy, pale as a happy octopus, he was wearing a mask and snorkel but no fins.  I looked at him and he looked back at me and waved.

    We were a fair ways out, near the fourth swim buoy, a distance that these days I would not go without my flippers. I had to think back almost sixty years to the time when my parents turned me loose off Newport Beach, California with a three foot air mattress to surf the waves.  I must assume that at the age of eight  (I was in the third grade) they must have thought I was a pretty good swimmer.  I have no recollection of them standing on the beach poised to swim to my rescue.  In my years of swimming these waters I had not encountered an independent child this far out.  I suppose this is because the local children, who are excellent swimmers, graduate from playing on the beach to hunting fish with spears with no fish watching in between.  I Taking measure of the situation, I looked around and no matter how hard I searched the bay, there was no adult to be seen.  This young trout and I were out by there pretty much by ourselves.

    And so I engaged him in a bit of an inquisition.  My first friendly inquiry, along the lines of are you seeing any good fish, revealed that he spoke English as a second language, possibly a dialect of French.  The obvious conclusion was that he was the son of an Ironman.   A couple more questions revealed that there was a mother who had gone for a longer swim and that she would return at some future moment and they would swim in together.

Kailua Bay Never Disappoints, Just Ask the Ironkid!

   I suggested that he was pretty far out and perhaps he would like to swim with me back towards the beach?  Maybe we would see a good fish on the way in.  He was having none of it, though.  Although he was having the tiniest bit of trouble treading water without fins while conversing in a second language, I decided it was safe to leave him.  It was either that or stay with the Ironkid and leave poor honey languishing in the sweltering tent.  Such are the decisions we face in the land of the Macadamia nut. 

    As I prepared to swim away, I said, "See a good fish."  He smiled and said, "Thank you very much."

   On the way in, I saw  a large peppered moray hunting  and a stout moray poking his head out of a coral near the first buoy.  As I looked back, I'm sure I saw the Ironkid swimming in with an adult.  At least I hope that was what I saw.

   Fifteen minutes later, showered and changed, my knee wrapped and walking along with my bamboo cane, I came across two young ladies under our signature banyan tree.  They were wearing attractive summer dresses and standing near a rack of brochures.  At first I thought they might be advertising cell phones or Direct TV, but no, they were Jehovah's Witnesses.  As I am no longer a practicing anesthesiologist, hence not faced with their deadly proscription against blood transfusion, I have a friendlier view of the Witnesses.

    And these ladies in their nice dresses were friendly in return.  They asked if I'd had a good swim to which I replied, "Marvelous!.  I saw an octopus."  Lo and behold, one of them had grown up at Alii Villas in the eighties.  Her family moved away just a few years before Sandra and assumed residence there.  We had a nice chat and she revealed that as a child she would swim in the fishpond (This is our name for the tiny bay bounded by a lava tube where one enters the ocean at Kona Makai...given the right circumstances it can be terrifying spot.) and there were invariably two octopi living in the lava tube. She would dive down and say hi to them and they would respond in kind. Such as sweet childhood memory.

   It is sad, but with all the spear fishing now practiced off Kona MakaiQue triste!  But thankfully there are still a few octopus out in our ocean for us to befriend and children coming along to keep them company.
, the likelihood that there is a friendly octopus living in the fishpond is way less that zero. 

   Until we meet again may you have warm breezes and gorgeous fish.  And may you walk hand in hand into the sea with a friendly octopus.

jeff

Just in case you thought we were kidding, as it were, about the guy and his goat.

    

   

The Ironman Cometh and He Forgot His Pants!

The Ironman Underwear Race

    Many of you out in the blogosphere may be wondering what has happened to your loyal correspondent.  Did he go on a prolonged vacation somewhere boring, somewhere that there are no tropical fish?  Did he move and leave no forwarding address?  Did he (shudder) croak?

Señor Crab says, "Watch out for the rocks!"

    The sad truth is that I had a squamous cell cancer removed from my left cheek, waited the obligatory two weeks before returning to the water and after a single snorkeling experience at the pier.  On that swim I saw an Elegant Hermit Crab hiding between the stones of the pier a few feet below the surface.  That crab would be my last good sighting for the next week.

   The following day I messed up my right knee.  It is likely that I twisted it while gardening down in our jungle, attempting to prune the starfruit tree, while balancing on a pile of stacked rocks.  Stacked rocks are tragically common here in West Hawaii and , I believe we can say with some surety, should be trod upon with caution.

The Award for Best underwear Costume Goes to this Pooch

    The pain came on hours later, as I was sitting on the couch with my sweetie, listening to the Huskies on the radio.   As my beloved Huskies pulled off a nail biter down in Tucson, my knee became progressively more painful.  By the next morning whatever anesthesia I had administered the night before had worn off and I was barely able to get out of bed.  Not only could I not walk, I was unable to drive safely.  I proved this by
driving, of course, and noting that I really wasn't able to get my foot quickly from the accelerator to the brake.  At that point it seemed like the humane thing would be to take away my TV remote and shoot me in the head.

    This deplorable situation persisted for almost a week until my caring physician at Kaiser Permanente saw her way clear to inject the offending joint with the soup de jour, which lucky enough included solumedrol. 
By the next morning I was well on my way to assisted ambulation.  Even more important in this land of non-existant public transportation, I was driving.  Huzzah!

    Thus on Saturday morning I drove the Redoubtable SKG up the church, where I left her under a stifling tent to price items for the rummage sale for three hours.  I made my way back down Palani and hobbled

The Official BVDs of the Ironman World Champioships

from the parking lot to the pier.

    This wasn't just any Saturday in football season, it was the start of Ironman week, arguably the happiest week in  Kailua Kona.  As my cane and I made our way along the malecon, I was passed by a fit young lady wearing a backpack emblazoned with the logo of the Wisconsin Badgers.  "Your team has a big day today." I blurted out before she could make her escape.  She turned around and gave me a quizzical look.   "The Badgers are playing Michigan on TV."  I explained.  "Its the game of the week."

     "I am from Espain." she replied.  "I ran a race in Wisconsin."  Ahh! My first Ironman.  And she was cute as a bug.  "Bienvenidos a Kona!"

Samurai Shorts

 Following that encounter, me and my cane worked our way to the beach in front of the King Kam.  Mr. Cane stayed behind on the rock wall while I gingerly waded in to the water.  I suspected that I was outside the treatment plan, but to quote my dear friend Mike Van Ronzelen, "You can't stay home all the time."  As far as I am concerned, that applies equally to staying out of the water.  My wading progressed rapidly to a little breast stroking without the kicking.   After one such peregrination,  I met a competitor from Belgium

Even Cannibals Wear Underwear

who that morning  had made the swim in 68 minutes.  I thought that was fast, but he said the fastest person that morning was a lady who swam the 2.4 miles in 48 minutes.  That would have been a record time if she had done it on race day.  

On my way out of the water I met an Ironman and his toddler daughter lounging in the shallows.  They hail from New York, which is almost like another country.

   Things progressed nicely and three days ago on a blisteringly hot afternoon Sandra and I went swimming from the King Kam beach.  For this part of my aquatic rehabilitation, I wore a fin on my good leg and

Jellyfish Wear Underwear?

attempted to let the bad leg trail along uselessly.  The water was quite still and we made it across the inlet, about ten yards past the entrance to Paul Allen's lagoon.  Although there was tons of plankton, we saw only usual suspects.  Never the less, I was so happy to be out snorkeling.

    For the last two days we have done our bit in Ironman registration.  Sandra and I both met several score of wonderful competitors from all over the triathlon running world.  This experience is sort of like Disneyland's  "Its a small , small world!"  with really fit characters and minus the cloying music.  Being the kind soul that I am, I will not provide you with a link to that insipid tune.

Spidey and Mary Jane Watson

    On the second morning, as we arrived for work (if you can call it that) we caught an Ironman tradition, the Underwear race.   This event started five years ago with just a handful of participants.  Now it is an official part of the Ironman program, like the Parade of Nations and the Keiki Dip and Dash.  There is an entrance fee and the proceeds go to charity.  The Underwear Race was lots of fun,with some great costumes.  Perhaps a bit like the Bay to Breakers race in
San Francisco.  In this instance the observer, should he or she be so inclined, gets a pretty good look at some well conditioned derrieres. 

   As we arrived at registration, I admonished one of the organizers to the tune that she wasn't wearing her underwear.  "I am wearing my underwear," she responded, "You just can't see it!"  And that was probably a good thing.

jeff

Sandra's Favorite Swiss Time Piece

Waiting for Peter

    This was an eventful week.  On Thursday my lovely wife and I played hosts to Peter and Marla, who made the trek down from Hawi to go snorkeling with us.  On Friday, just two days ago, I had a couple skin cancers excised.  Suffice it to say, the dermatological experience was sufficiently distressing so as to further confuse my already addled sensorium.  I promise to do my best, but If things seem a a bit disjointed, bear
with me.

Aug. 17, 1:53 PM  The last look at the leaf .

    Peter was eager to see the snorkeling sites around Kailua Kona, to put a face, as it were, on the locations we mention in the blog.  However, he was seriously jonesing for a gander at the leaf scorpionfish that had been hanging out under a certain coralhead at Kahaluu at high tide.  So much so, that we had picked a day for his visit when the tide would be high in the morning.  The idea was that we would get in and have a look at the leaf scorpion before the hordes descended on the beleaguered bay and disturbed our target fish.

   If you are an astute reader, you will have taken note of the past tense.  Although my brain may have been a bit scrambled by Dr. Panniker, her scalpels, curettes and electro-cautery,  the photographic record is intact.  Sandra and I first saw the Leaf Scorpionfish, waiting patiently in his watery lair, on May 11.  My last recorded encounter with the scorpionfish was on August 17th and on August 23rd we made plans for Peter and Marla to come to Kona.

   As the days passed, it seemed prudent to check out Kahaluu, reassure myself that that the object of my friend's desire was still where it belonged.    On September 1st, Sandra and I went down on a hot afternoon at high tide.  The water was warm and cloudy.  With a bit of chop, it seemed almost sticky, like struggling through warm molasses.

Red Shouldered Tang, juvenile  kahaluu, Sept 2016

   I might say that the best part was the cold shower après  plongée.  But we did see one good fish.  It was a juvenile red shouldered tang.  About four centimeters in length, he bore a distinct orange shoulder patch outlined delicately in charcoal.  We both got a good look at him on the way out to the vacant scorpion-coral.  On the way back in, Sandra decided to go ashore and enjoy the cold shower while I spent some time capturing the fair picture you see here.  In my defense, this was an extremely active little fish and the water was both cloudy and choppy.  Excuses aside, I'm sure you get the idea.   

As I'm sure you have gathered, the leaf scorpionfish was not found.  He was present at that coral head for three months.

    After taking the picture, I was lucky to find an enthusiast nearby and show her the cute little surgeon.  (not to be confused with Dr. Panniker.)  Back ashore, the lady of a certain age, which happens to be  my age (approximately...I could be older) enjoyed a fist bump.  Snorkelers of the world unite! 

Devil Scorpionfish.   A face only a mother could love.

    I went back to Kahaluu the following morning, hoping that if only I showed up early enough the scorpion would be back where I had left him.  Sadly, this was not the case.  On the way in, I looked for the little red shouldered surgeon.  I couldn't find him, either, but while I was looking, a Devil Scorpionfish appeared.  Having seen one (probably the same individual) in this location a month or so earlier, I wasn't terribly surprised.  This time he put on quite a show, flapping  his garishly colored fins while he promenaded among the rocks.  I got a movie that shows two complete fin flaps.  Being a Luddite, I can't show you the movie.  But here is a fine picture of the fish with his fins extended and a crisp picture of his face.  Did you know that he had a trace of orange at the corners of his mouth?   


    Well, that was that.  We sent a message to our friends saying that, as they had feared might happen, the scorpionfish had found a new home.  Their kind reply was to the tune of, We knew that would happen.  Additionally they asked if they could come on Thursday, a day later.  

Devil Scorpionfish.  Fancy Fins!

    The following afternoon, the day before this highly anticipated visit, I went down to the pier in hopes that I would find something special to show our friends.  I swam out to Paul Allen's reef, seeing a small gurnard in the Inner Harbour, but little else of interest in the water.  Lucky for me, it was Wednesday and the circus had come to town.  In the area around the shower their were lots of finely coifed tourists from the Polyneisian Princess (or whatever they call that behemoth of a cruise ship).  As I stood their stowing my gear in the mesh bag, one of the well heeled ladies exclaimed, "Look!  He's got a kangaroo!"  

    And , blimey, if it didn't look like one of our honored indigents was cradling a wet joey in his arms.   On closer inspection, this particular gent of the Big Island outback had captured a baby goat and placed a rope leash on it.  The kid was shivering in his arms, perhaps as a result of the sudden attention.  The bloke was partnered with a particularly crazy fellow exhorting us to come to Jesus in a variety of aberrant ways, and I left the camera in the bag.  so you'll have to take my word for it that it was a goat and not a kangaroo.

Peter Pursues a Peck of Pickled Puffers

    Finally the big day arrived and schmoopie and I repaired to the shelter at Kahaluu.  As predicted, the tide was high and there were waves washing across the bay.  Peter and Marla had yet to arrive, so I made friends with a young lady with a European accent, it turned out she was Czech, who had just emerged from the less than tranquil waters.  She was wearing a wet bathing suit and carrying a snorkel so this wasn't a feat of extreme deduction.  Or to put it another way, she was not the Bohemian equivalent of the Hound of the Baskervilles. 
   My new friend was Czech, but she lives in Switzerland,  probably works in one of those secretive banks.  She had flown in from Zurch, arriving  late Wednesday afternoon, about the time I was kibitzing with the kangaroo. She had enjoyed her swim, but she wanted to know if it was always so rough.  No, I said, the tide is really high and the surf is up just a bit.  When the tide goes out in a few hours the bay will be much less turbulent.  She should have then asked, "Well, if you know all this, why are you going

Sandra  and Marla Surf K Bay

swimming now?"  And that would have been an excellent question.

    Peter and Marla arrived shortly there after.  Soon enough we were out to the coral head sans scorpionfish.  Following that we all circled around the bay.  Sandra and Marla had fun surfing the breakers while Peter became frustrated... its almost impossible to take a picture of a a fish while you are being swept away by a breaker.  We found a coral with at least one large zebra moray and Peter tried to identify a small toby,  but this was mostly a recreational swim. It was his impression that the small fish had thrown on a camouflage pattern.  We have seen this among the small puffers in Indonesia, but I can not recall a similar shape shifting puffer in these Very Sandwich Islands.  If you watch Peter's blog, onebreathkohala, he may have a picture of this camouflage puffer.  He is an excellent photographer, but was, as we mentioned before, operating under difficult circumstances.

Fingerprint Toby, Eclipse Pattern, Lipah Bay, Bali 2014

    My lovely wife put on a toothsome brunch featuring her new specialty, focaccia bread, along with a variety of other delectables.  After some good conversation (Peter and Marla both recommended Reef.org. as a backbone for a potential island wide fishwatching society) we headed down to the pier.  Knowing that I was having surgery the following morning, Sandra stayed behind to do some things that I could help with before being rendered hors de combat.  

     The surf had been around for a few days, rendering the water on both sides of the pier cloudy.  We looked at the Ironman side first, focusing on that fine patch of coral adjacent to the pier.  Peter removed some fishing debris from the reef, which is a constant problem there.  As I told him, if it had been a bit later in the day there would have been fisherman admonishing us to get away from their fishing hole.  The Bodyglove was moored, so we did  not go out to the reef around her mooring buoy, where we have seen

Focaccia Bread ala Sandra

Potter's angelfish and the shortnose wrasse.  On our way in I spotted a few small colonies of hydras, which at least gave us something to look at. 

   As we walked across the pier to the beach in front of the hotel, the difference between a Wednesday and a Thursday could not have been more extreme.  There were virtually no tourists and the bloke with the goat was nowhere to be seen.  Baah!  

     Not only that, but the Inner Harbour was completely clouded.  Peter and Marla were hoping to see the gurnard, but the poor water quality ruled this out.  As we swam out to the reef the water cleared.  By the time we cleared the entrance to Paul Allen's canal, it was quite good.  And this was lucky.  Peter and I were looking down about twenty feet when a moderately large female parrot took a nip at one of her

Let's get a rope on the little feller and we'll head down to the pier

bridesmaids.  The little witch had an atypical tail.  I thought it was a female regal, but Peter quickly corrected me.  This was a female  spectacled parrotfish.  Steel gray on the sides and broad red terminal band behind a light caudal peduncle.  I'm hoping that I would have made the identification as soon as I got back to a field guide.   This was my first spectacled parrot in several years and the first in the vicinity of the Kailua pier.  She has been happily added to the list.


    Peter says, that like so many good fish, the spectacled parrot is not uncommon at Mahukona.  Dr.Panniker not only resected the hideous growth from my left cheek, but she also scraped off a basal cell carcinoma from my back, all the while admonishing me to wear my new UV resistant swimshirt and lots of sunscreen.   Hoping for a quick recovery, I will be getting up to Mahukona to search for more spectacled parrots in a couple weeks.  If you see some pale ghostlike creature lurking around the pier with a snorkel and fins, be sure to stop and say hello.

jeff