A Christmas Wrasse on Christmas Eve

    Before you begin reading, I have to tell you that blogger is not working very well
this morning.  The line break is down and my drivel is dribbling off into the sunset.
The pictures won't wrap around.  It being Christmas, whoever is supposed to care
about these things is out drinking egg nog.  In spite of all this, if you bear with me,
you still might enjoy the story.

This year we decided to move the designated hunt for the Christmas wrasse up a day, 
to Christmas Eve. Although this may seem as if we abandoned the raison d'etre of the
occasion, we had a very good excuse. Obligations for Christmas Day were mounting 
up. and with the general absence of adult Christmas wrasses in the immediate vicinity, 
we felt that to be successful, we needed to go somewhere else. We chose Mahukona, 
the place we are familiar with, that seems to have the best fish, as the location for our 
hunt. Initially thought that we could make it to Mahu and back, shower, change and 

Mahukona, the Accord and Maui rising out of the cloud bank

get to a Christmas potluck by 12:30. My own little Magus (the singular, I believe, of magi) 
pointed out that this was idiocy. And so, with due respect to the calendar and St. 
Nicholas, we moved the official day of the search to Christmas Eve.

It always strikes me as a little crazy to designate the morning of the 24th as eve. 
Shouldn't eve refer to evening? Like the sun is going down, Mary and Joseph are looking 
for a place to stay for the night, the sleigh is packed and the Grinch is strapping the fake 
antlers onto his unwitting accomplice, Max.

The Ornate Wrasse as interpreted by Phillip Weisgerber

Anyway, Christmas eve was a beautiful morning. We had packed the sleigh the night
 before, and were passing Waikoloa about 9 AM. It was a little hazy in the valley that faces 
Kohala Mountain and it wasn't until we were almost to Kawaihae that we could make out 
the summit of Haleakalā poking his head above a bank of clouds. We were parked at 
Mahukona before 9:30. Haleakalā was clearly visible and the waves were crashing against 
the pier, flicking foam in the general direction of our aging Accord.

Phillip Weisgerber, Artist.  With his pet falcon, Max.

Sandra and checked out the ladder entry and decided that things were no worse than when
we had entered with the Kathy et al a week or so ago, and the water was definitely less cloudy. 
As we entered, I immediately spotted a juvenile Christmas wrasse. This is a small fish that
looks like a trout that you would throw in the creel only if you were desperate. If one wanted 
to be technical, I suppose one could say we had completed the quest. Of course, to us the 
Christmas wrasse is the adult with the bright red and green markings. A big, fat St.Nick of a 
fish. And so, full of Christmas cheer, we pressed on.

The Ornate Wrasse, Halichoeres ornatissimus, Mahukona, December 24th, 2019

Although the water was a bit cloudy, it did not prevent us from enjoying a fine variety of
fish. Our friend Peter will tell you that the variety at Mahukona ain't what it used to be, 
just five years ago, but it is still dramatically better than the Kailua pier. Early on, I spotted 
a nice mature Ornate wrasse. He patiently allowed me to take the picture you see here. 

The Checkerboard Wrsse, H. hortulanus, Bali 2017  Crown me!

The male ornate wrasse holds a special spot in the evolution of my fish watching. I saw 
my first reef fish at Hanuma Bay in 1979. Six short years before, Gar Goodson authored the
first guide to reef fish aimed at hobbyists, The Many Splendored Fishes of Hawaii. The 
book was relatively small, as opposed to the dictionary sized book by Dr. Tinker, and 
contained beautiful colored pictures. These watercolors were created by Phillip Weisgerber. 
It is strange that in an extensive search of the internet, in addition to scouring his books, I can
find virtually nothing about Gar, where he lived and worked.  We now know that Mr. 
Weisberger was a renowned artist and lived in Redondo Beach, California. He looked like a 
hippie with wild hair and bushy muttonchops. I suppose he rode a Harley. 

Pinstriped Wrasse, H. melanurus, Bali, 2017

You may be puzzling as to why I am obsessed by these guys. Well, here's the thing, Gar 
included 25 species of wrasses in his seminal work, several of which are accidental in 
Hawaii. That's bird watching speak "for don't actually exist under normal circumstances." But 
much worse, he omitted the Christmas wrasse. If you are not a birdwatcher, you may not 
realize that a bird watcher goes through his book at the end of each day and checks off the 
ones he has seen. It is axiomatic that the birds in the book are what is possible. I bestowed 
on Gar Goodson the same trust that I gave the sainted Roger Tory Peterson, he of the first 
useful field guides for North American birds. If it wasn't in Gar's book, as far as I was 

Juvenile Ornate Butterflyfish on Christmas Eve

concerned, it didn't exist. For at least a couple years, as I embarked on fish watching in Hawaii, 
the fish included in his book constituted what was possible. To add insult to injury, the only 
picture I had of the Ornate wrasse was the one in Many Splendored Fishes. I can not believe 
that Phillip Weisgerber ever saw that fish alive, even in an aquarium. So unlike the real 
animal is this picture, that I wonder if someone described the fish to him in a letter and he 
made up the rest. I saw a Christmas wrasse the very first time I snorkeled, at Hanuma Bay 
near Honolulu. More than any other fish I saw that day, the Christmas wrasse turned me 
into a fishwatcher. Of course, with Many Splendored Fishes in hand, I identified it as an 
Ornate wrasse. Curiously, Gar Goodson , in his forward written in in 1972, tells us that his 
first snorkeling experience was at Hanuma Bay. Is it possible that he didn't see a Christmas 
wrasse? Go figure. 

A large school of Convict Tangs on Christmas Eve.

   The ornate wrasse is a member of the genus Halichoeres. It is the only member of that 
genus to occur in Hawaii. When we went to Bali a couple years ago, we saw eight species 
of Halichoeres!   The ornatewrasse may be found in Bali, but we didn't see it there.  As a 
Christmas treat I'm including a couple of the Halichores from Bali that I was able to catch 
on film, as it were.

We were expecting to see the Christmas wrasse out on the wave washed north cusp. On 
the way out we saw a juvenile ornate butterflyfish. A Christmas treat in a small package.

Spectacled Parrotfish Female, photo courtesy of Botany Hawaii

As one approaches the north point at Mahukona, he swims over a deeper patch leading to 
a tall lava wall that becomes the reef. In the deeper area we saw large schools of convict 
tangs and whitebar surgeons. We also saw female forms of the large spectacled parrotfish 
and the smaller regal parrot fish. Neither of these fish are very attractive, but for those of
us who live in the south, they are quite special. 


What we did not see was the Christmas wrasse. The wave washed point is often a good 
spot for this fish, but no matter how long we looked, we could not find one. The other fish
we did not see was the Achilles Tang. This was one of the first fish my boys learned to identify
30 plus years ago. Once common, like the Christmas wrasse it is now a rare treat.

Bluestripe Butterfly at the pier in Kailua, January 2014

As we began our swim across the bay, Sandra said we should check the old pier on the
 north shore of the inner bay for the wrasse. Obviously she had no hope for the southern shore.
And she was right. Aside from a nice blue stripe butterflyfish, we saw nothing of interest on 
that side.

Finally we were back at the foot of the bay. As Sandra had suggested, we worked the area by 
the old landing. There was a juvenile Big eye emperor, the third one we had seen that day. 
And he was very cooperative. We were both in our neoprene, so we weren't getting cold, but 
we had been at it for over an hour. It seemed like it was about time to go. We decided that we 
would swim out a bit and then head in.  As we hit the end of the old landing, we suddenly came
across our Christmas wrasse. He was a nice adult, not as big as some, but full of color. We both 
got a good look as he swam rapidly away. Luckily I had the camera in my hand and I snapped
three quick ones. 
 

Our Christmas wrasse swims rapidly away,  Mahukona, Christmas Eve, 2019

We surface, exchanged high fives and Sandra said, "Now we'll have good luck all year." 
Sandra and I wish that for you, as well. 

 Mele Kalikimaka, jeff

By popular demand:  A trio of Christmas Tree Worms at Kawaihae Harbor,  April 2019

O Little Town Kailuaville

O little town Kailuaville, how still we see thee rise,

Upon thy deep and dreamless reef, the silent fish swim by.

Yet in the dark depths shineth, the phosphorescent light.

The sharks and rays who sleep by day will swim with us tonight.

The Keiki dream of sugar cane, while Maui seeks the sun.

Please save the fish and grant this wish:

God bless us everyone.

O little town Kailuaville, how brave on Christmas Day.

While pilgrims pray and palm trees sway, the dolphins swim the bay.

Yet ‘neath your shining waters, the Christmas wrasse doth dwell.

His brilliant colors herald in Our Lord, Emmanuel.

The Girls of the Waimea Canoe! or Christmas is coming and the wrasse is getting fat.

    Christmas Day is just around the corner.  With that in mind, I've been scouting the local venues for a Christmas wrasse to stake out for our annual hunt.  As you loyal readers of the blog will recall, "A Christmas Wrasse on Christmas Day!" is, after all, a major holiday tradition.  Like mistletoe and Easter eggs.

Dragon Boat races are a Christmastime staple in the orient.

    It has now been three successive outings at Kahalu'u without a sighting of our target fish.  Not infrequently at K Bay, we find a Christmas wrasse swimming over the wave washed boulders where the decrepit seawall  meets the Rescue shelter.  And sometimes one is patrolling with the submarine-sized Ember Parrotfish.  This has not been the case of late. Bummer.

    Hoping to find one somewhere else, this week I explored both sides of the pier.  Two days ago I went to the Paul Allen side.  Kona is less interesting at Christmas time without Paul, his beautiful ship the Octopus, and especially, his helicopter flights from the Octopus (who wants a boat that isn't big enough to launch a whirlybird?) to the Thurston estate.  That latter property, which sits majestically on the north shore of Kailua Bay has been unoccupied since the great man died.

    My first, perhaps my best hope, was to see a Christmas wrasse around the small jetty that protects the ancient heiau.  Just inside the jetty there is substantial turbulence as the waves swirl over and around a collection of boulders.  This has been a pretty good spot for Christmas wrasse.  It is the only place that I have seen the rare male surge wrasse ( the big first cousin to the Christmas wrasse) with any regularity.  Juvenile surge wrasse is fairly common, the adult is a rare treat.  Outside the jetty the
boulders that form the shoreline are wave washed and provide another good habitat for Christmas wrasse.  Suffice it to say there was not a hint of St. Nicholas or his favorite fish on either side of the small jetty.  Grinch 1, Nick 0.

    To get to the next Christmas wrasse habitat required a swim across the small bay between the jetty and the entry into Paul's lagoon.  As I made the swim, I spied a dragon wrasse in about fifteen feet.  This is an uncommon sighting for this location.  Of the places we snorkel, only the friendly confines of Kahalu'u bay seems to have a resident population of rockmovers and their progeny, the dragon wrasse.

Teardrops were common on both sides of the pier.

    Did you know that an important dragon boat regatta takes place in Bancock in the weeks leading up to Christmas?  With the paucity of Christmas wrasses, we are forced to look for whatever weak holiday analogies we can drum up.   Rum-a-tum-tum.

    True to his word, our coral croucher was still holding the fort out by the entrance to Paul's lagoon.  While I was checking up on the croucher, a fellow snorkeler swam by.  This would not be worth mentioning except this guy was towing a a buoy with a flag post. He was flying a tiny nautical orange with white slash divers flag.  If he had cared about the blog, he would have topped his buoy with a Christmas tree.  As it was, he was just a geeky curiosity.

    On the very outside, on the coast fronting the Thurston estate, there was a bit of slosh but no Christmas wrasses.  Having exhausted the likely habitat wrasse habitats,  I swam out to the patch of dead coral about twenty yards off shore and was rewarded with a pair of Potter's angelfish.  It's a quixotic mission, but I always try to take a picture of Potter's angel.  So there I was, ten feet down

Lagoonn Triggerfish  Kailua Bay December 2019

holding on to a knob of coral, looking through a coral fenestration at an angelfish about ten feet away, when all of a sudden I heard a loud buzzing.

    Like your life passing before your eyes in one of those 1950s cartoons, this thought raced through my mind: What is the most dangerous thing in the ocean...sharks,no...panicked swimmers, maybe...speeding boats..Yes!

     Well, if I was some kind of sea going mammal like a walrus or a manatee, I could have hung on to that coral for another minute or so, but Mrs. Hill didn't birth no seal pup.  So up I swam to meet my fate.  As I hit the surface one of those UFO parasailing boats went whizzing a scant twenty yards away, bow pointing skyward and making at least twentyfive knots..  That may not seem all that close to you, but to me it was way too

Mele Kalikamaka.  A Christams kiss from Forcipiger flavissimus.

close.  That I am here writing this blog, as opposed to a variety of fragments feeding the crabs, is truly a Christmas miracle.

    Two days later, I returned to the pier to see if Father Christmas was plying his trade on the Ironman side.  After dropping me off, Sandra headed headed up to Macy's to participate in the biggest sale of the year.  Immediately I realized that a high school regatta was in full swing.  Young men and women in colorful T shirts were all over the place.  Snorkeling during a regatta is so much fun and so photogenic, the boats, the paddlers, the flags.

     This was lucky because the fish were not exactly spectacular.  As two days earlier, there were a few teardrop butterflies, which have been dropping off in numbers over  the last few months.  I got a serendipitous picture of a lagoon triggerfish that cruised close by while I was hanging on working on the teardrop.  And a small longnose butterfly gave me a couple close looks, swimming right up and looking me in the eye.

    But the most unusual fish was a black (Friday) morph of the longnose butterfly.  He was in about eight feet about by the third swim buoy.  I had the camera in hand, and nabbed two inferior shots before he raced away, never to be seen again. 

Practicing for the Regatta

    The Black Friday butterflyfish was the closest we came to a Christmas themed fish on our exploration of the waters around the pier.  I got a picture of the Kealakehe crew (our home high school) lounging on the pier.  And, while I was taking my shower, I had a quick chat with the girl's crew from Waimea.

     Waimea sits at almost 3000 feet, so even though it was a cool day in Kona, I asked them if the weather here seemed really warm, to which they readily agreed.

   The lady's crew wandered off before I could ask if I could take their collective picture, posed provocatively with paddles in front of the King Kam

The Keaakehe Crew lounges before the race.

lagoon.  It could have been a great shot.  And think how many people would have read the blog if the title was, "The Girls of the Waimea Canoe!"  If I had worked it just right, I could be writing this blog from a detention cell at the spanking new Kona courthouse.  That I am writing from the comfort of Casa Ono is yet another Christmas miracle.

Mele Kalikimaka,
jeff

Christmas is coming, the wrasse is getting fat.

Won’t you please but a blenny in a lobster trap.

If you haven’t got a blenny, a cuttlefish will do.

If you haven’t got a cuttlefishlfish, then God bless you!

God bless you, snorkelers, God bless you!

If you haven’t got a cuttlefish then God bless you.

      For those of you who are unfamiliar, here is a picture of the much sought after Christmas wrasse hunting with the immensely larger ember parrotfish.  The parrotfish eats coral polyps and the wrasse eats a variety of mobile invertebrates, so it isn't at all clear how this relationship works.  This picture was taken in June of 2016 at Kahalu'u.

    

Mahu-Kathy

    Two days before their departure, we had dinner down at Sea Village with Kathy and her family.If things had worked out well, we would have been dining upon marlin caught earlier in the day by our hosts aboard the Bite Me II.  As it was, we had ono and mahi mahi caught at Safeway.  It was

Sandra and Hai... Kibitzing at Kawaihae

delicious and a wonderful time was had by all.

     The following morning the group was supposed to convene at Casa Ono for breakfast.  However, I had noticed that their time was running short and the surf was coming up.   My go to web based predictors,  Stormsurf Hawaii and Tides4fishing, had convinced me that the following day should still be good on the beaches of the Great Kohala Bight.  And so, exercising the willfulness of my personality, I convinced one and all that we feed them in the little park at Kawaihaie harbor and then head north to Mahukona.

    The morning in Kona was magnificent and Sandra and I, with a hamper full of bagels, cheeses and fruit, headed north brimming with optimism.  At Kawaihae we met our friend Hai, who I had thought would join us for breakfast and then go swimming with us.  Sadly, he had different plans...to go south to the Mauan Kea Beach Hotel.  This required him to head out without a bagel.  (I suppose we should have fixed him one to go.)

    Following breakfast we all headed out for the last short leg up to Mahukona.  The surf looked very mild, as predicted, and I was brimming with optimism.  On arrival, we headed on down to the ladder entry where we discovered two things.  First, there was a two foot swell that was barrelling up the

A nice milletseed despite the cloudy water. Mahukona, December 2019

outflow of the bay, turning the water by the ladder bouncy and muddy.  The second was our good friend Marla, swimming to the ladder, timing the sets and pulling herself up.

    Kathy, being a reader of the blog, recognized Marla for the celebrity that she is and introduced her to her family.  Then it was time for decisions.  I suppose that it came down to it being a long way to come to turn back empty handed.  In any event,  as the waves swished back and forth around the ladder we got in and headed out through the murk. It cleared a little as we rounded the southern edge of the bay, where we saw a small school of milletseed butterflyfish.  The objective was to swim another hundred yards and see the pyramid butterflies.  However, the water was choppy and we were swimming into a current, all of which combined to make slow going.  Sandra and I had a pow wow, following which our small group turned back.

Juvenile mū in the muck,  Mahukona, December 2019

     On the way back in, I spotted the juvenile mū that you see here.  This is a really neat fish, rarely seen except at Mahukona.  This guy was young enough to show exactly the fancy barred pattern with yellow tail flares that you will find in a field guide and he was remarkably tolerant of my approach.

     Ashore, I had a nice chat with Kent who actually enjoyed the challenges that the surf posed. 

   The following day, with the surf up everywhere,  Kathy and friends  went swimming at White Sands Beach.  Kent had a blast body surfing and took a couple tumbles.  He allowed that while he was driving his head into the sandy bottom the lifeguard was making announcements about neck injuries.  Being a stout fellow, he didn't let that spoil his fun *  Which I suppose is the sort of attitude you need when its a rough day at Mahukona.

jeff

*I can remember not so many years back when I enjoyed the same activity with the same neck wrenching result.  That's the trouble with getting old...you stop body surfing.

Faith, Trust and Pixie Dust.

   Saturday morning was perfect.  Cool, relatively dry and a blue sky to die for at the beach at Honaunau.  Some call it Two Step, I call it City and the old Hawaiian's say "Komo mai, No kauai, ika

All it takes is faith and trust.  And a little pixie dust.

hale, welakahau."*  If there was a fly in the ointment, it was the crowd.  As we arrived, it was manageable.  There was Peter Pan and the lost boys, of course.  Tiger Lily and the Indians.  Further up the beach, I could just make out Captain Hook and Mr. Snead.  Patrolling the area around our table was a very large chicken named Nana.  And, last but not least, Wendy.  And Kent, Kathy and Vernon.  Although I don't believe that any of the latter have much to do with Never Never Land.

    As you will recall, Wendy was our new best friend and she had been a bit overwhelmed by Ho'kena, .  We were all hopeful that she would be successful snorkeling this time out.  After greeting and gearing up, our group of six made it through the mob to the Two Step entrance.  Wendy was next to last to get in with the redoubtable SKG by her

Kent and Wendy and the Deep Blue Sea.

side.  If you have to do something scary, it doesn't hurt to have an ace psychiatry nurse watching your back.  I take advantage of this all the time!
  
   With some gentle support and some pixie dust, Wendy swam right past the second star and straight on 'til morning, enjoying the coral and the relatively few fish that City had to offer.  She even posed for a couple pictures with that handsome devil she calls hubby. 

   After about half an hour, Sandra accompanied Wendy and Vernon back to the mob scene at Two Step.  Kathy, Kent and I swam on, out the northern cusp.  There were lots of soldierfish, but precious little of anything else.  Just as we reached the point where we were going to turn back, we saw two young Achilles tangs patrolling the top of a coral head.  They paused long enough for me to get the pictures you see here.

Achilles Tang.  City of Refuge  December 2019

    Over the last five years, Achilles tang has become progressively less common. This day at city I saw three goldrim surgeons to two Achilles tangs.  What's up with that? A few years ago at the Dog Beach, Sandra and I watched a pair of spear fisherman haul out eight or nine Achilles on their stringer.  Having seen that, it is easy to assume that this dramatic drop in the numbers of this signature Hawaiian endemic is related to fishing pressure.  My more rational side tells me that this is probably not the case.  What we call climate change is clearly quite complex.  One might better call it environment change.  For example, coral bleaching is pretty closely related to water temperature, but I'm willing to bet that the cause and effect relationship is far more complex than that.  Same with the loss of the Achilles tang.  And the demise of other fish that are less noticeable, less iconic.  To quote my old friend Pogo the Possum, "We have met the enemy and he is us."  Its obvious enough to me that we have opened Pandora's box.  Identifying just what has escaped from the box is the first part of the solution.  Getting the evil back in the box is the second part of the problem. If only we knew what the evil was.  If the dwindling number of Achilles tangs may be used as a measure, time may be running short. 

At the Corner of the Bay, Honaunau, Hawaii

    Suffice it to say, we were pretty lucky to see those two handsome young fish.

    On our way back, I pointed out a nice chocolate dip chromis and the adult Hawaiian dascyllus.  There is no cauliflower coral left at snorkeling depth at City, so there are no juvenile dascyllus to show off.  If we can get these guys to Kawaihae, we can show them a few baby dascyllus.  Its about the only sure thing that I know for the juvenile dascyllus at snorkeling depth.  These, too, were fairly common only a decade ago.

    As there were relatively few fish, I nabbed a picture of the old house that sits in the corner of the bay.

    As we approached the exit, I spotted by far the largest Argus grouper that I have seen.  I estimate this fish to be 30 inches in length, maybe 25 pounds.   In the back of my mind I was thinking, "Do groupers bite divers?  How badly do I want to find out?"  What I definitely did recall was

The monster of an Argus Grouper

approaching a titan triggerfish and having it turn on me.  That species definitely bites divers and this fish was easily as big as a titan triggerfish.   Discretion being the better part of valor, I chose not to dive this fish for a better picture.  I hope you can gauge size in relation to the coral.  Wikepedia and a couple other sites say that 24 inches is the largest that the Argus grouper will attain. By comparison they list the Titan triggerfish at up to 30 inches.  All I can say in reply is that this was a mighty big fish.  As is the case with many large fish, this brute had lost most of the fancy markings associated with smaller Argus groupers.

    Finally, it was time to go ashore.  Wendy was there to greet us as we crawled out of the sea onto the two lava steps.  I looked at her and told her how proud I was of her swim.  In return, she told me that she had prayed the night before that this would be a success.  Suffice it to say I was left speechless.

jeff

*Lyrics,  My Little Grass Shack  roughly translated as, "Come on in and have a good time."

Another look at the young Achilles Tang, City of Refuge December 2019

Kathy and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Coris

    Thursday broke as a beautiful day.  Blue skies and fleecy clouds.  Although Kathy and Vernon had decided to take the day off, by lunchtime they were clamoring to go snorkeling.  Locally.  At Kahalu'u to avoid the parking problem at the pier.

Calcinus latens.  Strawberry shelled hermit crabs forever

   And so Sandra and I met them at 1 PM at good 'ol K Bay.  By this time the sky was mostly a steely
gray.  This isn't entirely bad because it keeps the temperature down.  If there is a down side, gray skies make for less vibrant photographs.  Kathy has a new water camera which she is learning to use, so this may have been an issue for her.

   This time out, we were able to enter the water leisurely and let Vernon get comfortable.  We all snorkeled together for twenty minutes and then he headed for shore. Picking up the pace, the three of us headed for the middle of the bay.

    The first thing we found to challenge Kathy's camera was a bright orange shell of indeterminate species, roughly the size of a large strawberry, perched on  a coral shelf.  This shell, covered with gorgeous coralline algae, was serving as a home for a hidden hermit crab, Calcinus latens.  the walking legs are definitive.  Sadly we can't see the claws with their constellations of stars.  We took

Black Lipped Pearl Oyster, Kahalu'u December 2019

turns shooting this cooperative little fellow and then moved on.

    At this point there wasn't too much else.  I took a picture of a black lipped pearl oyster whiling away his days encrusted in the coral.  Little did I know that there were not one, but two pearls dead ahead.

   Mrs Yoder and I made the turn for home a beat or two behind the Redoubtable SKG.  As I caught up with her I could she was waving one hand and pointing under water with the other.  As I approached I could see she had an excellent teenage yellowtail coris just below her.  What a treat!  Suddenly, just off to the side there was a small octopus doing the seaside creep at the foot of a rock.  Trusting Sandra to keep an eye on Mr. Octopus, I turned and snapped five or six quick pictures of the coris.

    Later I explained yellowtail coris development to Vernon and Kathy.  As faithful readers of the blog, you probably recall that the yellowtail coris begins life as a very different looking fish, the red

Intermediate Yellowtail Coris, Kahalu'u December 2019

labrid wrasse.  This small red fish has four vertical white stripes.  This pattern causes some morons (don't be so judgemental) to call the red labrid a Nemo fish, by which they mean an anemonefish.  That, of course, is complete nonsense.  It is obviously a tiny wrasse and their are no giant anemones in Hawaii.  After a month or so it changes rather quickly to a female, boasting a blue body with striking white stars and a yellow tail.  Hence the name.  The Star Spangled Coris.

     Finally the wrasse undergoes its final sex change to a super male.  Thus spake Zarathustra.  This guy can be much bigger, he adds a red tip to his tail and a white stripe to his flank.  He is the dude. 

What red labrid wrasse wouldn't want Beverly Goldberg for a mother?

   So where does the young teenage Adam Goldberg come in?  For a very short period of time the red labrid is in complete transition.  The aft part of his body is blue and he has a yellow tail.  But as you head
forward the blue fades into red and he has vertical white stripes, including one on his nose.  This fish is both funny lookin' (in a general sorta way) and quite handsome.   Like Adam Goldberg in the eyes of his mother, Beverly, as played by the foxy Wendi McLendon Covey.  Although you never see her trying to help, I'm sure mama coris is just as proud of this teenager as Beverly is of Adam.

   Regardless of all that, I did manage in that short period of time to get a couple good photographs of the fast moving and elusive teenage mutant ninja coris.

   Immediately after taking those pictures I returned to octopus central.  It couldn't have been more that thirty seconds.  But, you guessed it, the octopus had crawled under his rock.  I dove down and succeeded in driving him further under the rock.  We all waited for a minute or so, then Sandra decided she was going in.

   Kathy seemed willing to stay, so I swam slowly in a circle singing the octopus doxology.  We waited another minute or so and he broke cover.  At first he was the dark chocolate torpedo with short tentacles. Then he plopped down on the sand and did the octopus Christmas ornament, the eight legs

A big, beautiful Humpback Cowry.

arranged symmetrically around him, his head coming to a blunt point.  Then he dashed again to the foot of a rock and changed colors and textures a couple times.  All this went very fast, maybe fifteen seconds for the whole routine.  Somehow Kathy didn't see it at all, even though she was looking right where I was.  Which just goes to prove: the octopus is the holy ghost.  And I have other evidence.  The octopus is of another world.

   On the way in we saw a large humpback cowry.  The way people take things out of Kahalu'u, it is amazing a creature like this still exists there.  As it turned out,  Sandra saw the same cowry on the way in.

   This was a really great snorkel.  Thanks to Kathy and Vernon for inviting us along.

jeff

One more look at the transitional yellowtail coris.

  

Kailua Kona Restaurants and a Snapper

   For the last week we were hosts to our son Charles.  We had a great Thanksgiving dinner featuring Costco Chicken and Costco pumpkin pie, backed up by yams, gravy and cranberry sauce ala Bart.  From Kirkland to Kona... a solid winner of a holiday dinner. 

The Familia Hill enjoys a spectacular breakfast at the Coffee Shack.

   While Charles was here we had breakfast at the Coffee Shack down in Captain Cook.   Unless I am mistaken, this was the only morning his nibs made it out of bed before 10 AM so we took full advantage of the early morning opportunity, heading for the best combination of an old Hawaii building with just the right touch of updating.  The place is a charmer.  We arrived around 8 AM and got a great table in the small enclosed room with the wrap around windows.  The service was heart warming, the view of Kealakekua Bay and Honaunau was fantastic and the food delicious.  A delightful time was had by all.

    We left the restaurant a little after 9 AM. And here is the important part:  At this relatively early hour the line was way out the door; I estimate the wait at over an hour.  A little old lady with an English accent was begging me for our parking spot as her son was minding the car on the shoulder of the Mamalahoa Highway.  Although it is a bit out of the way, the Coffee Shack is not a secret.  Lunch is great there, but their breakfast is famous.  If you don't particularly like standing in the sun on the side of the busy highway, the time to arrive for your petit dejeuner is before 0820.   Synchronize your watches.  And for goodness sake, don't miss the cinnamon roll slathered with cream cheese frosting..OMG!

Not a bushel of shakas will return Chris Peterson to the  Montlake Cut.

    We also had lunch with Charles at the freshly remodeled Harbor House.   Surprisingly, the remodel seems to have left this popular establishment with fewer seats.  The food, the friendly wait staff and the boats all remain for your pleasure.

  I'm sharing a picture of Charles and your faithful correspondent.  I can''t recall precisely the moment when this snapshot was created, and in honesty I can't tell you why I was mugging that grumpy face.  Perhaps I had just heard that Chris Peterson has resigned and Husky Nation is once again a ship at sea.  Is that a fog horn I hear in the distance?  Or is it a sad sob.  Arrivederci, Pietro.  And God speed.

    While Charles was with us we did a little snorkeling around the pier which was as expected.  He didn't really want to drive out of town, which was OK with us.  On his last night, we had an aloha dinner at the Big Island Grill.  He and I engaged in one of our family traditions, loco moco at the

Plenty of goldrim surgeons were cruising Ho'okena

BIG.  As usual, it was superb.  As I was wiping the yolk from my stubble of a beard, who should come in but our next mainland visitors,  Kathy and Vernon Yoder, Kathy's brother Kent and his beaming wife, Wendy.

    We bid our son aloha nui loa the next morning at KOA and then spent the rest of the day washing, gardening and recovering,  Yesterday, we reconnoitered at Ho'okena.  Kathy had invited an additional friend, Misty, who sort of lives in Hawaii.  Like many people who live in Kona, Misty  quickly revealed herself to be an expert on all aspects of Hawaiian life, produce and geography.  How we revel in such a font of information. 

    The burgeoning group, now approximating the cast of your average Russian novel, congregated around one of the shaded tables and prepared for snorkeling.  I had my weight belt on the table and Kent and Wendy had a couple boogie boards. Hmmm. 

    Soon we were all at the south end of the beach and I led the mob into the water.  Or so I thought. It

A rare close encounter with a forktail snapper.

took a while for everyone to get their gear on and start heading out. to sea.  After just a few minutes, Wendy and Vernon were having a con-fab over a boogie board.  The conclusion was, they had had enough fun and were returning to terra firma.  In the words of Jughead, from an old Archie comic, the more the firma, the less the terror.  To be fair, this was only the second time that Wendy had donned a mask and fins and Ho'okeana, however calm, is the wide open ocean.  Thus the novice was provided with the opportunity to experience the claustrophobia of a snorkel mask and the agoraphobia of the wide open ocean all mushed together on a double decker shave ice. I felt bad that the group size precluded me from giving them the extra attention that they deserved.

    Those of us that remained were treated to the big three, the flame angel, gilded trigger and garden eels.  Before we got to the eels, Misty decided to return to shore.

   Sandra and I, with Kathy and Kent in hot pursuit, made our way across the bay where we found a cleaning station.  Among the fish being serviced was a beige guy with an unfamiliar shape.  This turned out to be a forktail snapper, formerly known as a jobfish.  No one ever specified what his job

Kathy and I followed this beauty of a finescale triggerfish back to shore.

was, but I assume it was eating other fish.  This species is not an extremely rare fish, but it is usually encountered at a distance and swims rapidly away when approached.  This guy had been lulled by the narcosis of the cleaning station.  In this blissful state he allowed me to get within five feet and nab the picture you see here.  John Hoover would remind you to appreciate the yellowish hue atop his snout.  the fish's, not John Hoover's.

   After the cleaning station, my lovely wife and Kathy's lovely brother headed for the beach.  Alone at last, we swam out about ten meters where Kathy spotted a nice big finescale triggerfish.  "What a wonderful fish to end the snorkel on, " I thought as we followed this big fella towards the exit.

   When we got there, Kathy wanted to swim a little more, so we went along the shore to the deteriorating reef south of the entrance.  On the way we saw a school of big eye scad that were swimming rapidly back and forth, like a flock of birds.  How different than observing them in a bait ball where they are so languid, puttering along in their hundreds.

Nothing like  the picture of a turtle to bring joy to a gathering.

    When we finally made it back to the entrance, we encountered a medium sized turtle in bright, clear water, posing for a portrait.  This, of course, made a big hit back at the picnic table where we cemented our friendships, new and old.   More good adventures with our friends were in the offing.

jeff