Dolphins at the Pier And a Juvelile Peacock Razorfish

Whose sea is this?
I think I know.
His throne is in the Heavens, though.
Yet he may see me swimming here.
Among the dolphins at the pier.



     We awoke today to a torrential downpour.  By the time we had finished our morning coffee, though, the only evidence of the rain was the dripping from the leaves and gutters.  Today was Sandra's day to work on our taxes.  For how is poor Donald Trump to have his chocolate cake at Mar a Lago if Sandra doesn't remit?  At any rate, she wanted some peace and quiet, so I went out and filled the trunk with unwanted verbage (No!  That's what you were hoping for.) Leaves, fronds and rubbish.  That's the ticket.  Me and my refuse headed off for the redoubtable transfer station.  There after, I made my way to the village and parked in one of the available alternate spots.  Illegal sounds so damn judgemental.  Having secured parking, I gave the family bean counter a beep to let her know that I would be committing my flesh to the briny deep.  She said, "Be careful." and returned to her accounts.

A Baptism at the King Kam.  We can do it 50 times better.  

   While I was changing, I heard some cheering over by the King Kam Hotel.  Investigation revealed
 a collection of well heeled youths from the University of the Nations.  With their spiritual advisor, they were participating in a baptism ceremony.  You may recall that very beach was the location, only a few days previous, of Bo Campo's paddling memorial.  What with King Kemahemeha's heiau and all, this is turning into quite the spiritual locale.  I asked one of the handsome young men what was going on.  When he told me that it was a baptism,  I revealed to him one of my dreams:

    I have a long standing fascination with the scene from O Brother, Where Art Thou? in which the trio, having just finished their repast of barbecued gopher, happens upon a white clad congregation singing  Down in the River  (to pray).  I can imagine nothing better than a group of us  standing in line on that very beach, dressed in white and singing this song. And, of course, in turn, getting baptized.

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fztz_Vr9uHk

Six Dolphns, Kailua Pier, February 2019

    My new friend from U of N agreed that this was an excellent idea.  I now know a few good voices of the religious persuasion in our beach community and I'm dedicated to making it happen. 

   Then all my sins would be washed away.  Including that job that Sandra and I pulled at the Piggly Wiggly.  If you want in, be sure to let me know.  This may be a bit of a happening, so if you are an agnostic you are still welcome.  And who knows?  Maybe your sins will be washed away.  Assuming you believe in sins.

    Having concluded the religious segment of our morning's activities, I wandered back over to the Ironman side of the pier.  As I was adjusting to the cold water, I couldn't help but notice that all my fellow beach enthusiasts were looking seaward at a group of small boats.  I saw a splash and it was soon verified that a school of dolphins was swimming off the southwest corner of the pier.

Four Dolphins (five, actually) Kailua Pier, February 2019

   I swam out,  crossing under the swim line just after the second buoy.  I passed over a large school of large scad, shepherded by black durgons, and then a large group of milkfish, for we were over sand.  I got my bearings and verified that there was only twenty yards of open water between the outermost spot where my swim might usually finish and the nearest boat.  In that stretch of no man's land there were actually a few like minded snorkelers.  Soon I was passing tourists wearing inner tubes,

I'll have four dolphin sliders, two Barnacle IPAs, a Longboard and a Squirt.

obviously disgorged from a boat at great expense.  Then there were the dolphins.

   On this morning I had many encounters, but they all involved me diving my paltry ten feet to get close.  The closest I got to a dolphin on the surface was just short of fifteen feet.  Never the less, I had many wonderful looks and there was only a modest mob with which to  contend.  In this instance, because it was a fairly large pod, the number of dolphins and tourists was about the same, perhaps thirty of each.

    I saw no mother and baby combinations, but I did see one dolphin with a common remora attached to his back.  There were a few dolphins with scratches, but none with gaping wounds from cookie cutter sharks.  Those lesions are truly gross and I was pleased both for the dolphins and myself.

Peacock Razorfish, Kailua Kona, 2019

     As I swam back in I came up with that bit of lead off poetry, paying a bit of homage to the immortal Robert Frost.  Maybe I'll include it on our next Christmas card. 

    One would have been justified in thinking that the day was over; we had had our treat.  But one also needs to keep his eyes open.  Near the fifth swim buoy, in about 20 feet of water, I saw something flopping around on the bottom.  It had a singular way of wriggling and light brown vertical stripes.  I was sure as I dove it that I was looking at a juvenile peacock razorfish.   I've seen this fish just once before, in the shallows of the disappearing reef at Ho'okena.

   Somehow my pictures don't catch the light brown of the vertical stripes.  You can see the two occuli, outlined in turquoise if you use your imagination.   And what about that long dorsal filament?  This was a very cool fish.   I watched him for about five minutes, diving him at least four times.  He was deep enough that I didn't get within seven or eight feet.  But he never spooked, never swam away.
 

Peacock Razorfish juvenile.   Love those occuli.

    Its not clear why this fish is seen so rarely.  In Bali we see two species of razorfish, a sand living wrasse, hanging out during the day.  One can dive them and if you get too close, they dive into the sand.  Here in Hawaii, us snorkelers never see them.

   At that moment there was a lady of a certain age and her husband swimming right beside me.   They were wearing those little blue fins, so one knew they were strong  recreational swimmers.  As such, the husband related in an accent redolent of the Canadian prairies, that seeing the dolphins was nice but really not unusual.  Which is true.  If I was out there swimming a mile or more, I would run into the dolphin pod regularly.

     I asked, "Do you see that fish on the bottom?  Its a razorfish.  Super rare."  In fact, I was pretty excited and I might have said super rare three or four times.  They were only mildly interested.  The gentleman gave it a cursory dive and the lady looked down from the surface.  Which I guess was better than nothing.   This casual interest shouldn't have surprised me; us fishwatchers are almost as rare as peacock razorfish.

Jeff


   

A Birthday Blog

    Soixante-huit...huit that sounds like wheat.  Wheaties...Breakfast of Champions!

The Greatest lived to 74.  Am I on pace?

     That loose word association was floating around my head a week ago as I snorkeled on the Ironman side of the pier.  It was a glorious day, relatively dry, with a light breeze and blue skies, which should have lifted my spirits, but last Saturday was my 68th birthday.  I suppose my associations were attempting to put the best face possible on the inexorable aging process.  There is always the old saw, "Consider the alternative."

    I had originally planned on swimming Paul Allen's Reef, but that morning there was a Kai 'Opua (the paddling club based in Kailua Kona) event that took up the entire beach in front of the King Kamehameha Hotel.  I was to discover after my swim that the founder of the club had passed away and that this convocation of paddlers was a memorial to him.  "Uncle Bo" Campos made it to 83.  Quatre-vingt-trois. Not too shabby.

    I didn't see too much that Saturday morning.  On the way out, I encountered a friendly  whitemouth moray that insisted on having his picture taken.   And on the way back in I happened upon this well illuminated two spot lizardfish.  Certainly,  it was good to get out and have swim on my birthday, enjoy the sun, the fishh and the friendly people on the beach.  For sure, our family and friends on the mainland weren't snorkeling, more likely they were shoveling the driveway.  So this was pretty
good.

A whitemouth moray providing me with a happy birthday greeting.

   The week following that nascent event was spent, largely, getting the Casa Ono kitchen put back together, including the installation of new counter tops.  So you see, not only can I still go snorkeling, but I can stand on a ladder and paint walls.  Hoo rah. 

    Yesterday, I made it back to the pier.  Not only are we entering a period of calm seas, but the weather had cleared after two days of torrential rain.  This day I had the beach in front of the hotel virtually to myself.   There was a nice young family from Seattle that permitted me to waste their time while I put on my gear.  Their children were exactly the ages of Colsen and Reid and they had been enjoying the ocean. What's up with that?

Can a lizard fish even say, "Happy birthday?"

     After braving the cold of the Inner Harbour,  I checked in with the coral croucher, still residing in front of Paul's lagoon.  I have just done some sleuthing back through the blogs to discover that this coral croucher was first seen on August 31, 2018.  That's almost six months of crouching in the same
coral.  Is it time to call Guiness to see if its a world record.  Or is it time to raise a pint of Guiness  and say, "Good on ya, Spotty!"

   Around the corner I was striking out until I happened upon a Whitley's trunkfish.  This fish seems to be a specialty of the area around the Kailua Kona pier; it is uncommon both north and south of this single location.   I hadn't seen one for a while, so it was good to get a Whitley's for this year and the experience was augmented by the acceptable picture that you see here.

  

Whitley's Trunkfish, Paul Allen's Reef, Kailua Kona February 2019

     A few minutes later I happened upon a mushroom coral.  Before the great coral die off of three years ago, this species was not terribly unusual in this location.  Like the cauliflower coral, the mushroom coral took a pretty big hit.  Perhaps this coral is a harbinger of good things to come.

Mushroom coral, Paul Allen's Reef, February 2019.

    On my way back to the beach I saw a Hebrew cone that was sitting shiva for Uncle Bo.  Bo has gone to that ocean in the sky, where the skies are blue, the seas are flat and everyone strokes in unison.  I, on the other had, am still here with you and our friends the fishes.  May the dear good Lord bless us, one and all.

Jeff

Kai 'Opua says aloha nui loa to Uncle Bo.

A Winter Swim with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans

     With the jet stream moving south faster than a Hawaiian Airlines747, Hawaii is beset by high surf, high winds and low temperatures.  Our high in Kona yesterday was a frigid 76.  Holy underwear!  Better make that long underwear.

Fly to the Emerald City and take them spam.  Lots of it!

    Thankfully things aren't as bad as they are in Seattle.  When your city makes the national news for its weather it is rarely a good thing.  According to one of our faithful readers, the snow in the Emerald City has been so persistent that the shelves down at the Piggly Wiggly have been stripped bare.  That happens here on the Big Island at least once a year when we are threatened by a hurricane.  Its sort of creepy.

    Like if you were starving, would you have to fight it out for the last can of spam?

    Perhaps in an act of unexpected benevolence, the Wicked Witch will marshal her flying monkeys for an airlift into the metropolis that fashions itself after Frank Baum's fantasy.  It seems like they can use all the help they can get.

   Despite the frigid zephyrs whistling through our tropical paradise, I made it down to the pier for a swim on Saturday.  No surprises, there were relatively few people at the beach.  I mean, what sort of masochist goes swimming in cold water with full knowledge that when he gets out he will be buffeted by cold winds?  In the words of Garfield the Cat, I resemble that remark.  Or so it would appear.

Blackside Hawkfish.  Anybody got an Eskimo Pie?

  Suffice it to say,  I bucked up my courage, tucked in my neoprene and plunged into the cool, cloudy water.  With great surfing conditions being as persistent as the snow on the Space Needle, one might
have anticipated that the water would lack clarity.

    There were only a few fish and nothing remarkable as I made my way out past the last swim buoy.  Out in front of the palace, I spotted one fat freckeld hawkfish waiting patiently, perhaps for an Eskimo pie.  I dove down to capture the image that you see here, enjoying the slightly warmer water that one encounters a few feet below the surface. 

    Working my way back, I crossed under the floating line at the second swim buoy.  To my dismay, there was little of interest over by the pier.  No eels or hermit crabs and relatively few fish.  Sad.

Finescale Triggerfish wounded in action.  Kailua Pier  February 2019

    As I headed towards shore I was surprised to be joined by none other than Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.  Who would have guessed that the King of the Cowboys was also a snorkeling fishwatcher?  There was no doubt that it was Roy because he was yodeling through his snorkel.  Perhaps that is what scared away all the fish.

   As we approached the floating line, Dale, said, "Pardon me, Roy.  But did the cat that chewed your new shoes also take a bite out of trigger?"  Looking towards the pier, I saw immediately what she was talking about.  A finescale trigger (fish) was cowering there in the lee of a boulder, a large chunk missing from his dorsal musculature.  I don't know if the poor triggerfish was a victim of  the puma that roams Roy's Apple Valley Ranch, but you now know how far I will go to slip in an apocryphal reference.

  Happy trails to you, until we meet again.

jeff

If you think Dale looks cute here, you should see her in a shorty wetsuit.

   

Winter at the Pier and A Shark Sighting at Beach 69

   Most of my friends are like me in that we are a little over weight, just an extra pound or two here and there.  Not Sandra, of course...she just keeps on getting thinner and prettier.  But there are more than a few in the land of the malasada, both white and brown, that are way too heavy.  I'm talking in the 350 plus range.

Our new cheerleader.  "Never root for the Ducks!"

   Yesterday morning at the Kailua Pier was glorious.  The sky was blue, the temperature in the mid 70s, with fleecy white clouds floating above.  And by the cubbies above the beach, the lady swimmers were showing off their fancy full length neoprene.

    As I made my way down the steps towards the Ironman beach I was preceded by a very large lady.  She had to be younger than me, but biologically speaking, her knees were ancient.  It occurred to me that if she fell I would be the first responder.  Not a happy prospect.

   As she waddled down the narrow walkway below the sea wall, she ran into a problem.  A lady tourist was sitting on the wall enjoying the sun and dangling her not half bad legs across the path.  When she noticed that she was impeding our large friend, she withdrew them with a quiet apology and the heavy lady passed.  She made her way down to the beach and into the sea.  There, presumably, the buoyant water took the majority of the weight off her tortured knees.  Much like it does in whales. (Who, of course, don't actually have knees, but isn't it an amusing mental image?)

Red Phobas sponge brightens up an otherwise dull afternoon.  Tom Lehrer, loosely

   As I, in turn, trod the narrow sandy walkway, I encountered those same not half bad legs, swinging gaily, just happy to be in Hawaii.  Attached to the legs was their smiling owner.  Under her ball cap, this fifty something was grinning like the Cheshire cat.  "Are you a hazard to navigation?"  I asked.

  "No," she replied, "I'm a cheerleader!"  Well, cool.

   I stepped onto the sand and turned around.  "If your a cheerleader," I said, "why don't you cheer for some good fish... And while you're at it, how about cheering for some warm water."  She smiled and waved and I made my way into the chilly bay.

A trio of milkfish out by the fourth swim buoy. Kailua Bay January 2019

   Cheering for the water was a lost cause.  It was cold and modestly cloudy.  I don't know if she cheered for the fish, but if she did so, it didn't do much good. I actually saw fewer species than on recent outings at the pier.  In the words of the Tweeting Trump, "Sad."  Furthermore, unless you count a couple patches of bright orange Phobas sponges, there was nothing in the way of note worthy invertebrates.  No molluscs or crabs to pique our enthusiasm.

   Thanking our maker for my wee bit 'o neoprene, I made my way past the last swim buoy where I had a nice encounter with the tribe of milkfish.  There were at least seven of these large, handsome fish with the big forked tail.   In the absence of the now usual finescale triggerfish, this was the best species for the day.  Coming back to the shallows, I photographed the ornate butterflyfish you see here.  While it is a

Ornate Butterflyfish, Kailua Bay, January 2019

pedestrian species, to be sure, it is a beauty and this is a pretty good picture.  For me, anyway. 

    Back ashore, our young (relative to me) lady friend was still perched on the wall.  As I walked by, I noticed that her ball cap bore the friendly beaver logo of Oregon State.  Unless I'm mistaken that particular beave is named Benny.  I said, "Oh! You cheer for the Beavers."  And she replied," Never root for the Ducks!"

    So with that as my mantra resonating in my hollow skull, I made my way towards the showers.  "Never root for the Ducks.  Never root for the Ducks."  A guy could get into that one.

     In the shower, I was joined by a young man and his wife.  Young by the same standards as the lady cheerleader, you know...early fifties.

    We got to talking about some better fish we had seen recently and I told him about the nice adolescent Christmas Wrasses I had seen at Beach 69 a week or so ago.  He then told me that about a

Kickin' it at beach 69.  If you stay on the beach you won't need to worry about sharks

month ago, right at dear old Beach 69,  he had seen a white tipped reef shark.

   A couple years ago, following a rumor, Bob Hillis and I explored the crevices around the island that sits about 25 yards off the beach, less than fifty yards to the south of the T, where the trail comes down from the parking lot and showers.  We had no luck in the shark finding arena, but I still look at those crevices when I swim off that part of the beach.  If nothing else, they are a good spot for monster porcupinefish.

    Above, you see some beach enthusiasts on the south side of Beach 69.  You also see the start of that small island, which is only 20 yards off shore.

    My new friend said that he was swimming about fifty yards straight out from where the trail to the restrooms ends at the beach.  It is remarkably rocky right there, so he must have entered either north or south of this reference point.  And he must have been in the open, no coral head or rocks especially close by.  He spotted a white tip reef shark about fifteen feet away, the shark turned and swam towards him, stopping, he said, four feet right in front of him and just looked at him for a minute.  It then turned and swam away.

Snorkel Bob Cares

   At this point in my narrative, I imagine Bob Hilllis, who has videos of real dangerous shark
encounters, rolling out of his chair with mirth.  The white tip should be completely safe.  You never hear about one attacking a human. But this guy said he was a bit afraid and all I can say is, "Boy Howdy."  If looking a six foot shark in the eyes doesn't give you a squirt of adrenaline, you are one cool cookie.  Like Bob "Hang 'em High" Hillis.  Suffice it to say, my friends estimation of distances and time may be off.  If I were four feet away from a shark ten seconds could seem like an hour.  And six feet might seem like four. Regardless,  this is a note worthy tale and if you are snorkeling at Beach 69, its reasonable to keep in mind.

jeff

Here is a picture of our favorite cheerleader, Sandra's daughter Leslie, and yours truly on the north side of
     Beach 69. Since the tsunami a couple years ago, the north side of the beach is rocky.  Better to use the
beach to the south of the T in the trail.

A Visit From My Grandsons...Mauna Lani Hotel is Closed!

Editors Note.  This blog departs from the format of most previous blogs and recounts a family vacation.  If that sort of thing makes you want to hurl, this may be a good time to stop.  

 I am certain that my faithful blog followers have noticed a small hiatus in the appearance of blogs.  In part, this was due to amazingly good surfing conditions here in Kona (and hence poor snorkeling conditions), but mostly the cause was a visit from my son James, his two sons and his lovely wife.  

The murky waters of Anaeho'omalu Bay

 
 Although they putatively came to visit us, they chose to stay in Waikoloa, a 45 minute drive to the north.  For that reason alone, this was a very high maintenance visit.  Deleterious to blogging, to say the least.

 .

   When the trip was in the planning stages, I had visions of Colsen, who is now three and a half, putting on goggles and riding my back,  taking short spins to look at the fish.  For whatever reason,
he was not sufficiently comfortable in the ocean to put his face in the water.  He did enjoy the water slides at the Waikoloa Hilton, having the surf swirl around his legs at Black Sand Beach 49 and riding a boogie board in tiny waves at Beach 69.  He seemed to have a great vacation, so from that standpoint things were a success.

Otherwise known as false advertising.

    However, snorkeling was not on the front burner.  James and I attempted to snorkel at Anaeho'omalu Bay, which is now surrounded by the Waikola development.  I had been here once before in the early 80s and never went back. As it was so convenient to Tara's dream lodgings, I was willing to give it a try.  The water had all the clarity of pea soup and the entry was plagued with sharp rocks.  Fish watching was out of the question.  Luckily that bay is so protected that there was relatively little surf at the shoreline and we were able to extricate ourselves without serious injury.

    On our first full day we went to the nearby Waikoloa Hilton.  Colsen got to play on the kiddie size water slides and I had a chance to swim in the man made lagoon.  This was actually a good thing as on that day the ocean was wild.  In the lagoon I had a quick look at a juvenile great barracuda.  As you may recall, they do not stock the lagoon, so like wild birds at a feeder, this is countable.  It had been a long time since I had seen one of these guys and I enjoyed my five to ten seconds of barracuda watching.  The juvenile great barracuda is a curious animal.  Unlike most fishes, whose juveniles are miniature reproductions of the adult, the juvenile barracuda has a head disproportionately large in comparison to its body.  I suppose if it wanted to, it could bite you.  This guy was the size of a modest rainbow trout, 12 inches max, and he was gone before you could say Sphyraenia barracuda. 

     Did I mention that Colsen had fun on the water slides?

    A couple days into the visit, we were able spring James for a trip to Kawaihae Harbor.  On arrival,

The juvenile ornate hermit crab.  Name that shell and win a nudibranch.

we were shocked to see the parking lot full of cars. The most we had seen there before was five or six.  This day there must have been 50.  Fortuitously there was one spot for us.  At first, I thought that there must be a large school of edible fish close enough to fish them from shore.  But no!  These were surfers.  There was a nice big break about fifty yards off shore and entry was made possible by the stout metal stairs that lead down to the ocean from the small park.  We left Sandra to read and watch the surfers while James and I went swimming in the harbor.

    As we entered, it was immediately apparent that things had changed.  The water had never been crystal clear, but now it was quite cloudy.  On all previous visits we had swum through a rich broth of plankton.  This day there were none.  We worked the columns thoroughly and did not see any nudibranchs.  On the middle structure we found a cauliflower coral with a single tiny dascyllus.

   As we swam across to the breakwater, I spotted a hermit crab.  As you can see, it is difficult to tell

Hai rides the waves at Kawaihae.  Picture by SKG

just what sort of shell he is inhabiting.  Perhaps that highly encrusted structure isn't a shell at all.  In any event, I'm confident that we can call him a juvenile ornate hermit crab.  Way back in the day, Marta Demaintenon, PhD taught me that hermit crabs change their coloration as they develop and it is my recollection that it was this very species that spurred the discussion.

    Back ashore, Sandra had encountered our friend Hai, who is the godfather of Kawaihae snorkeling.  We had seen his distinctive jeep in the parking area and she had spotted him surfing.  Hai verified that the columns in the lagoon seemed to be fouled, that the sponges are in decline and the nudibranchs are currently absent.  Bummer.  It seems we were lucky to see that hermit.

    One afternoon apres la nap we attempted to go to the Mauna Lani to look at the large koi pond at the entrance to the hotel.  As we made our final approach, I was shocked to find that the hotel is closed for renovation.  A large barricade is in place and a guard is posted.  He obviously doesn't work for the federal government. (Later in the trip, Sandra and I stopped at the Foodmart located in the Mauna Lani shops. While sampling the poke, we interrogated the fishmonger. He informed us that the hotel will be closed for a year and a half!) 

Getting Wet at Black sand Beach 49

   Back on the road, I made like Napoleon and turned the army around.  Although we really weren't
dressed for the beach, we motored to Black Sand Beach 49.  In the late afternoon there were few people there and the bay was a bumpy sea of moguls, which is not to be confused with oligarchs.  Three girls were body surfing the tail outs and Colsen was thus emboldened to get near the water.   Holding hands with one of the adults he proceeded to let the warm surf soak his clothes.  Reid sat patiently up the slope making the sort of faces you make when you really wish you were somewhere else.

    Two days later James et al made it down to Kona.  The first stop was the Inner Harbour in front of the King Kam hotel.  This has to be the easiest spot for children to swim.  Sadly, despite the best of support, Reid was unhappy in the water and Colsen was willing to look at what few fish could be found while firmly in his father's arms.

   James was permitted (I wish I were kidding) to take a short swim with me.  Despite the large waves

Colsen the Surfer

elsewhere on the coast, the north cusp of Kailua Bay was pretty flat and the water was fairly clear.  In the short time allotted to us, I turned him on to the coral croucher.   Paul Allen's ghost provided a nice assortment of usual suspects and we made it ashore in time to avoid a scene.  That was a close one.

   Our last outing with the familia was an afternoon at Beach 69.  This was an excellent choice because it was on Tara's list of places to look at.  Colsen had no interest in looking at the fish, but he did enjoy a bit of boogie boarding.  James was given permission to swim for twenty minutes.  (See above)  As it takes me about twenty minutes to take a good picture of a fish (and also because the water was rough and I suspected very cloudy) I left the camera with Sandra.  Perhaps she could add

to her fine collection of flipper walkers.

    As it turned out, this was a regrettable choice.  Both on the way out and the way back in, we saw two adolescent yellow tail corises, both with the face markings of the red labrid stage.  I love these little guys.  More than any other fish in Hawaii, the yellowtail coris bears juveniles with dramatically different coloration from their parents.  The degree of difference is such , that the first observers thought they were two different species.  I don't see this intermediate form very often, perhaps less often than once a year,  and it is always a treat.

 Included here is a picture i took back in 2012 showing the red labrid juvenile and his older brother.  the fish we saw were just a bit further along with only the nose spot and one stripe remaining.

    As we made our final approach to shore, a leatherback joined us.  This fast moving jack is

maximally streamlined, a veritable dart in the water. Usually it is a uniform silver with that tiny black and white flight of a dorsal fin.   Perhaps it was the suspended sediment or the angle of the sun, but this guy was an iridescent golden green... just lovely.   Even more remarkably, he swam with us for almost a minute.  I'm not sure I could have taken his picture, but I certainly regret not trying.  Included here is my interpretation of this leatherback in the form of a heavily doctored photo.

    We had a great time visiting with our grandsons, not to mention Tara and James,  and spending time on the beach with them.  And chasing them around, baby sitting...all that good stuff.  Its the stuff that dreams are made of.  If you're a grandparent. 

jeff

Down came the Reaper, mounted on a Hippocamp.

Death is a black durgon that swims with us all.

With Saint Peter's accountants:  One, Two Three. 
"Where's that Coral Croucher? You've got him in your tucker bag!
You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me." 

Up jumped Paul Allen and plunged into his fell lagoon.
"You'll never take me alive!" cried he. 
And his ghost may be heard when you swim beside Kailua's shore ,
"You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me." 



   

    

Swimming in a Winter Wonderland

   Over the last week or so, the weather in Kona has been spectacular.  Bright blue days, relatively dry with gentle breezes and frosty cold nights requiring hats, fleeces and slippers.  Temperatures plunging into the mid 60s.  Brrrr.

Guess which one just went swimming in Kona?

    Yesterday Sandra dropped me off to go snorkeling at the pier while she went foraging up Palani at the KTA and Foodland.  While I was adjusting my neoprene vest, I attempted to make friends with a lady of a certain age.  She smiled and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather.  All the while she was donning a diveskin, its weathered appearance revealing that it, too, was of a certain age. 

    While we exchanged our few words, a group of lady recreational swimmers came ashore.  One, with remarkably blue lips, intoned, "I've got to get a full length wet suit."  Most likely she had just swam a mile or two, which puts the lie to the idea that swimming hard keeps you warm.  I don't think so...not that I actually swim hard very often.  But sometimes Sandra says that to me.  "I'm going to swim hard over to the breakwater to warm up."   Maybe she wants to get away for some time to herself.  Who can blame her?

Swim buoy floating.  Its all the rage.

    Although yesterday the ocean was quiet, over the last week there have been some excellent surfing conditions on the Kona coast.  Such a winter surf washes away the sand at Magic Sands Beach and, in my humble opinion, brings the cold water ashore.  Whether or not this is so, there could be no denying that the water at the foot of the pier was chilly.  My guess is that it has dropped another three or four degrees in the last ten days and is now at the winter temperature of about 75 degrees F.  That's F as in freezing.  Blue lips may not sink ships, but they are not necessarily all that desirable, either.

    My new found almost a friend followed me into the water.  As she got knee deep I called out, "If you're hoping  for warm water you're going to be disappointed."   While we were were getting ready to swim,  I noted that she had one of those nautical orange swim buoys that have become all the rage.  Now that she was getting in, I saw that not only was she carrying the swim buoy and her tiny fins (the type worn by recreational swimmers

Nasty, little, good for nothing blue fins

that provide marginal additional propulsion) but she was still wearing her cap and dark glasses.  Now what was this about?

   A word about those diminutive fins.  If you find yourself with a new snorkeling companion and he has brought a pair of those tiny blue fins, beware.  When you wear those tiny fins you have to keep kicking because, as one might expect, they are ineffective by design.  Ergo, your snorkeling buddy is more likely to be into exercising and less into fish watching. They will swim about furiously and scare away the fish.  Which is what Sandra's father accused her of doing when he took her ice fishing in Michigan, where the water was only marginally warmer.

    I shoved off and headed out into the bay, swimming back and forth while thanking the Almighty for my tiny bit of neoprene.  After a few minutes I looked back to see my sometimes friend resting her elbows on her swim buoy as if it were an inflatable noodle the shape of a fat piece of macaroni.  She was looking around and enjoying the beautiful day, making no effort what so ever to swim. This seemed like the sort of inactivity that one might practice in the middle of summer.  By this time I was too far away to tell if her lips were turning blue.

Watch out when he starts to dance away from the facts

    Warding off the chill as best I could I made it out to the fourth swim buoy.  On a coral about sixteen feet down, I spotted a large cone shell with a high pointed crown.  Research in Hoover's critter book and Hawaiian Shells by Mike Severns leads me to call this an Imperial Cone, Conus imperialis.  This was my first time identifying this species.  The books say it lives from 50 to 100 feet deep in rocks and attains a length of three and a half inches.  I thought it was four inches, so I was close.  At any rate, it was clearly a shell that was out of place.  Our mantra for finding hermit crabs is, "Look for the sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells."   No.  Wait a minute...its "Look for the shell that doesn't belong."  Yeah. That's the ticket.  

Conus imperialis with a peeking hermit crab

   I dove it three times, finning hard to counteract the buoyancy of my neoprene, and got within a few feet of this not so handsome cone shell.  On each of my descents I nabbed a couple pictures and this is the best of them.  I think you will agree that there is a hermit crab observing my struggles and he has a big, fat white-tipped cheliped.  Claw to the lay people.

   Now for your riddle: What's big, fat, white and crabby?  The obvious answer is Donald Trump.  The left handed hermit crab, Calcinus laevimanus, was my second guess. Does President Trump live fifteen feet below the ocean surface?  Not by the hair on the nearest playboy centerfold, he doesn't.  And neither, apparently, does the left handed hermit crab.  In fact, John Hoover says he lives only inches below the surface.

Milkfish, Kailua Bay January 2019

   So lefty is out and, all kidding aside, the picture is totally inadequate to identify the crab.  If we were forced to guess,  I would say hidden hermit crab, Ca. latens, which lives down to 30 feet.  

   A bit further on I ran into half a dozen milkfish.   The water was nice and clear so I dove them with a photo in mind.  They swam towards the shore and then turned back, giving me my opportunity.  This may be my best picture ever of this opalescent beauty with the fine tail.  Stormy Daniels eat your heart
out. 

    At the furthest extent of my swim I was overwhelmed with the beauty of Hulihee's Palace on this bright winter day and I nabbed the picture you see here.  Does it make you wish you were in Kona? 


   Before getting out at the end of the swim, I checked out the area on the far side of the swim line by the pier.   There were some fine patches of orange sponge near the floating line.  A bit further, as I neared the spot where I might find some choice flotsam that had escaped the clutches of the cruisers, I ran into a huge peppered moray.  This muscular beast was out of his niche, extending his head a foot or more above the coral.   I swear that in my quest for trinkets I darn near collided with the brute.

The Palace from the south on a bright winter's day.

    On shore I enjoyed my cold shower and had a chance to spy my erstwhile friend from the start of the swim.  And yes, she had blue lips. 

    The doctor orders a hot toddy for one and all.  Put it on my tab. 

jeff
    

Snorkeling With Kathy

    It requires a certain brashness to write a blog about swimming with someone else's beautiful young wife.  In fact, this blog is about our adventures with four visitors, Kathy, her husband Vernon, Sandy Harris and her husband Steve.  I ask rhetorically, how do you fit all that into a title?  And not only

Two compañeros birdwatching in Ecuador. 

that, although Kathy is still beautiful, she is young only in relationship to my ancient age...she turned
60 the first day we went swimming together.  Kathy is an amazing operating room secretary and Sandy (who has been Kathy's friend since grade school) was a crack operating room nurse, but now hangs IVs for a living.  What a waste.

     I, as you probably know, have not been near an operating room in about six years.   In the words of my departed compañero, Mike Van Ronzelen,  "Think of the lives that were saved."  A little later in this rambling missive we will look at some ghosts.  For now, take a moment to think how someone special, who has touched your life, lives on through your memories.  Now imagine sitting in the pouring rain on the edge of a muddy trail in Ecuador waiting for some stupid bird.  We miss you, Mikey.

   Our first day swimming together was the day after the quartet arrived.  Both the ladies had fond memories of City of Refuge and so that is where we had our inaugural dip.  Ever so long ago Sandy Harris returned to Salem (Oregon) Hospital from a vacation on the Big Island and told me about

Sandra will bring you home safely.

swimming with dolphins at City.  For years after, as a sign of esteem tinged with the green of envy, I called her "girl who swims with dolphins."  The operating room is a jocular place, so you can get away with shit like that.  Plus, back then, social media and cell phone cameras were the stuff of science fiction.  Yes, for many of us smarty pantses the world is a trickier place.

   Prior to this dip on the beach at Honaunau, I had consulted the wave predictor, which said the sea would be clement.  And it was right.  As the six of us hit the gentle  water, it was apparent that we had a variety of motivations and abilities.  I had wondered how I would keep six of us together.  This was not an issue.  Kathy pushed me to swim out with her in search of Gail Deluke's reef shark.  Sandy Harris and Steve headed off together in another direction and it looked like Sandra was going to shepherd Vernon. Not that Vernon necessarily needed shepherding, but in our experience, who knew? 

   Sandra is the shepherd, I shall not want.  She guideth our guests upon the still water.  She comes and gets me when they freak out.  She restoreth my soul.

   Kathy and I made a big loop, not seeing any sharks or anything else unusual.  The water was super clear, and as we approached the drop off into the dolphin pond, we saw a turtle swimming about forty feet down.  Over in the north corner, I relinquished the camera to Kathy.  She took a dozen pictures from the surface, of

Cleaner wrasse and yellow tang.  City of Refuge Dec. 2018  Photo Kathy Yoder

fish that were really far away.  It is a testimony to the camera and the water clarity that she ended up with a couple usable pictures.  This one of the yellow tang and the cleaner wrasse was taken from the surface of fish that were roughly 30 feet down.

    As we swam back to the two step entry, I commented to Kathy that I hoped that no one was mad that we had sort of ditched them for 40 minutes.  She replied, " Well, Vernon doesn't get angry."  And I thought,  "I wonder what that is like?"   How far might I have advanced in this world if I never got angry?  Simultaneously I felt a small wave of relief, because Vernon is a big guy who could probably pick me up and throw me like a dart.  If he got angry.

   Actually, in my dotage I have taken to consuming Costco muffins in much the same way that Homer Simpson goes after a box full from Winchell's..  So I am no longer a 90 pound weakling.  You

Mmmm...Costco muffins.

have to double that.   And its hard to get a good grip for throwing. Lucky me.

    Back on the beach, we compared notes and discovered that on this day Sandra was the big winner.  Swimming by herself after Vernon headed for the exit, she had bagged Potter's Angelfish..

    The six of us went to the Coffee Shack for lunch.  The big winner and I shared a turkey and ham sandwich on luau bread, which includes mac nuts and pineapple.  Yummy.  Over lunch, we decided that on the morrow, the Fishfinder Six would head to Ho'okena.

    Once again, the ocean gave up with out a fight.  I had been worried about getting our flipper walking gaggle through a surf entry.  Lucky me...there was no surf!  This day the group stayed together.  Soon we found the coral with many Potter's angels and one solid look for one and all at a flame.  A bit further out, we found a few gilded triggers for the multitude.

Vernon and your humble correspondent in the shallows at Ho'okena

   The pressure was off, so we swam near the shore.  Our friends had some good looks at the usual Quell domage.  
suspects.  This was a nice swim in clear water with lots of fish, but nothing unusual.   We had a good time talking at the table, from where I first saw the dolphins at Ho'okena.  This day there was lots of good company, but no dolphins. 

     On our last day of swimming together, we went to the best kept secret.  Our flat seas held and our flipper walkers were able to flop down the small sandy beach on the Ironman side and into the cool water without a hitch.  Thankfully, the fish showed up.  There was a nice representation of butterflies and everyone got a good look at a Mu.  And they all got a great look at the palace, which isn't a fish, of course, but I think that look from the ocean at the palace is perhaps my iconic image of Kona.  Certainly worth the swim.   

Milkfish, Kailua Pier, Feb 2015.  Silvery ghosts swim over the sand

    By this time Vernon was really comfortable in the water and he and I looked at a couple fish, including a small school of milkfish.  There have been times when milkfish were pretty regular out by the fourth swim buoy.  Currently that is not the case, so this was a pretty good sighting.  In their own way, milkfish are pretty cool.  They are bigger than most of the fish we see.  And with those large forked tails they are almost shark-like.  Being pearly white, they are a bit like fast swimming ghosts as they cruise above the sand.  I hope Vernon enjoyed them as much as I did. by the fourth swim buoy.  Here I am including the best picture I have taken so far of this school, from about two years ago.  Suffice it to say, a fair amount of processing went into that picture.

  Kathy and I were the last to hit the beach and we got a great look at the baby gurnard.  Its hard to get tired of this handsome fish which scratches out a living in the sand with those magnificent little claws.  Here is the best picture from that day. 

Helmeted Gurnard Juvenile,  Kailua Pier  December 2018

    That night we had a farewell meal at the Big Island Grill.  Vernon and I enjoyed my special loco moco, bed of fries, roast pork with pork gravy and an egg easy over.  Better than a box of donuts, to be sure.  I thought we were done swimming, but Kathy said she might try to squeeze in one more

Lined Butterlyfish  Kahalu'u December 2018

swim in the early morning.

 And so it was that at just before 0700 she texted me to say she and Vernon were headed to Kahalu'u.   We were the first ones into the shelter at K Bay, but by the time we were ready to go in the water, there was a mother with two kids who were racing between the tables.  Vernon had decided
that swimming at 7:30 was just too crazy, and he bid us good luck as we hit the water.

   The water was clear and calm, but Kathy later remarked that this was the most current she had experienced.  That is the funny thing about Kahalu'u; from the shore it looks so safe.  Luckily, Kathy is a recreational swimmer (who knew?) so her observation did not imply any risk.

    For me, 7:30 is early, and so I didn't really know what we might see.  I was hoping for an octopus.  As it turns out, we saw a lot more diurnal fish than I had expected.  Remember, this was one of the shortest days of the year and the sun was barely up, but yet there were twelve wrasses swimming, eleven parrots chomping, ten surgeonfish...

The luminous juvenile of the Hawaiian cleaner wrasse

    Over by the breakwater we enjoyed a close encounter with a pair of lined butterfly.  They stuck around long enough for us to both get a few photos.  The one I am showing you was taken into the
rising sun, as opposed to having the sun behind me, so I am surprised that it turned out as well as it did.  My swim buddy had been doing a little work in the old Hoover that we had loaned her and the lined was her target fish.  Suffice it to say, we aim to please.

   We swam across the bay to the mauka side by the Rescue Shelter and there, plying his trade in one of the remaining  Everman's coral was a tiny juvenile cleaner wrasse.  This fish has such a luminous blue against a black stripe, a blue so deep it might remind you of a male indigo bunting, perched on a branch on a hot, humid New England spring morning singing its heart out.  Quite a bird and quite a fish.  I'm showing you a

The male indigo bunting courtesy of NestWatchers

picture of the juvenile cleaner wrasse from that morning.  Not the best picture I have taken of this fish, but it gives you the sense of its size in the space and the intensity of its color.  The bunting picture is borrowed from the internet.  I hope you agree with me that the intense dark blue is pretty close to a match.  And by the way, like the juvenile cleaner wrasse, you don't see an indigo bunting every day you go bird watching.  Both are pretty special.

   We met Vernon on shore and soon we were saying our good byes through the car windows.  Perhaps the nicest thing one can hope for a friend is that they end up with a wonderful companion.  Especially one that will come along when you are looking for a new fish.

jeff

Kathy and Vernon Yoder at the Kailua Pier.