An Adventure in Aloha Land

   It was one of those steely gray mornings that have become de rigguer here on the leeward side of the Big Island.  Madame Pele casting her sooty veil north from her home at Kilauea doesn't affect our plans and we

Gilded Triggerfish Ho'okena  May 2015

were heading south to one of our favorite snorkeling beaches.   The sad truth is, it requires a little bit of motivation to get us going.  Luckily, we had a guest that was interested in a trip to Ho'okena, our favorite beach, where the big fish play and a different breed roams the shoreline.   

    We got down to Ho'okena a little after ten.  It was two days after a major holiday and at this early hour we had the parking area, the tables and the beach pretty much to ourselves.  After changing, the three of us wandered down the beach.  At the end (where there are fewer shoreline rocks)  the wave faces were only about a foot, so we were able to get in with our gear without any problem.  Back in Kailua, the persistent moderate swell had produced some cloudy water.  Here the water was strikingly clear.

    Always hoping for another flame angelfish, we watched the coral heads carefully as we swam out.   

Gilded Triggerfish  Ho'okena  2015

 Sadly, they yielded nothing special.  Out in front of the old landing, we introduced Andy to the thrill of approaching the old concrete pillars as the water swished between them. There were needlefish hanging about and a single reticulated butterfly swam close by.

     Heading back, we still couldn't find anything special in the coral heads so we wandered over the sand looking for garden eels.  Andy had hired a couple of bad guides...we couldn't find the garden eels, either.    As we got closer to the beach, Sandra decided that she was going to head in.  It wasn't that cold, so it may have been that she was bored.  How sad it is when the reef reeks of ennui.

    Andy and I split up.  Immediately I saw a big Bridled Triggerfish.  I called to Andy who got over pretty quick, which was a good thing as those guys are shy.  And fast on the get away.  We both got a

Devil Scorpionfish  Mahukona 2015

 look at this light brown morph, a very rare sighting for me.  It is interesting that ten years ago this was the fish pictured in both Randall's and Hoover's books.  Then John Hoover switched and the very dark bridled triggerfish with the white caudal peduncle is the one you will find in his new book.  Jack Randall And the one that we usually see at Ho'okena.

       After humoring me by looking at the fleeing bridled triggerfish, Andy announced that when I called him, he was looking at a frogfish.  Well, I guess he knew how to get my attention.  We swam back over to the area where he had seen it.  After looking around a bit I asked him if it was yellow.  No, he said, it was the color of the rocks  on the bottom.  In fact, he wouldn't have noticed the fish if another fish had not annoyed it, making it move and, in the process, display the red and yellow on its pectoral fins.  Personally I was pleased that Andy had spotted, on his own, a Devil Scorpionfish.  I have seen my share of the Devil Scorpionfish, the last was at Mahukona just two months ago.  I certainly would have enjoyed seeing another.  On the other hand,  I don't know how long I would

Devil Scorpionfish hawaii.botany.edu

 have looked for the frogfish...we might still be there.

     Just in case you are unfamiliar with the pecoral fins of the Devil Scorpionfish, I'm including a picture from the internet.  I have yet to capture those flashy pectorals on film, as it were.

     Turning for the barn, I noticed a gilded triggerfish swimming below us, into progressively shallow water.  Soon it was only twenty feet deep and it was mildly cooperative when I dove for some pictures.  That is what you get to look at today.  

    Back on shore, we got cleaned up and spread out our lunch: some sandwiches that Sandra had thrown together along with some cheese and crackers.  As we were devouring this feast, we were joined by a young man.  He sort of sauntered up, checking us out from beneath a broad green headband that sort of matched

Auntie Sandra and the Two Bears

 his trunks.  Cradling a can of Bud Light , he leaned against the post of the shelter, watching us eat.  I asked if he would like to join us and he said something unintelligible and took a seat.  The sandwiches were pretty much gone, so I fixed him a plate of cheese and crackers garnished with bits of mango. As he ate, he made gestures of appreciation, noting that not only was it yummy (rubbing the tummy) but that this would make him big and strong (overhead flexing of biceps).  He also let us know that there were lots of mangoes to be found up the hill somewhere.  Perusing the table, he nabbed a leftover leaf of romaine and a wayward tube of mayo.  Big and strong.


     As he finished, he let us know that the person he had come with was out fishing, catching the big one if his pantomime of fighting a fish with rod and reel was any indication.  He was overjoyed to give a couple hugs and pose for a photo.  I'm not sure about my companions, but I was totally in Aloha-land.  And I hope I'm able to get back there again soon.

jeff

   

Back in the Saddle

 For those few of you who follow this blog, you have perhaps detected a hiatus of a month or so.  In part, this is because Sandra and I went to Mexico for ten days.  More importantly, while we were in Guadalajara

The Author with Chupaflores.  Universidad de Guadalajara

 we got sick.  Now when you tell someone that you went to Mexico and you got sick, they naturally think of Montezuma's Revenge.  In our case, though, it had nothing to do with drinking contaminated water or eating a lukewarm enchilada at Casa Dispeptico.  Most likely we were poisoned by breathing the air provided by American Airlines.

    On the third day in GDL (like Portland, Oregon the Tapatios identify their city by their airport code) I had a sore throat and malaise.  By day five, I was a wreck.  Imagine verifying the destination of a bus with the driver. You are using a language with which you have mediocre skill and unfortunately you sound like Donald Duck.  Except when your voice fails entirely.   This is not a pretty picture but we soldiered on, seeing the churches and museums and taking lots of naps.

   Sandra became ill about three days after I did.  Both of us remained a little sick with this thing until a few days ago.  Talking with friends around the country, it sounds like lots of people have had colds lasting two

The Club Regatta Features Koa Canoes

 and three months, so I guess we should feel fortunate that this cold only lasted four weeks.  This was lucky for all involved, as my nephew Andrew arrived from the Bay Area two days ago, just as I became symptom-free.

   An hour or so after Andy landed, we were down at Snorkel Bob's,  outfitting him with a snorkel, fins and a prescription mask.  This ran to $44.95 for a week.  I live a life of ongoing sticker shock, but even so, this seemed a little high.  This morning I checked out my suspicions with Big Island Divers.  They run a nice shop where we buy gear every now and then.  This week they will sell you a prescription mask, two models and multiple colors to choose from, for only 90 clams.  As there are a variety of snorkels and fins floating around

Casa Ono, it makes this prescription mask seem like a pretty good deal.  Unless, of course, you really want to sit on the bench at Snorkel Bob's while the pretty young lady fits the family from South Dakota with everything from wet suits to souvenir T shirts. 

She was  cute, but not that cute.

    Eventually we were on our way down Alii Drive towards the pier.  As we passed Bubba Gump's, I noticed that a regatta was taking place, replete with koa canoes.   We opted to park at the library and enjoyed the walk through the village.  Paddlers from the regatta were everywhere, mingling with the Memorial Day weekend crowd. 

    Soon enough we were in the water.  It was a pleasant 78 degrees according to the thermometer I  keep hidden behind my hypothalamus.  There had been a bit of a swell and the water had the clarity of diluted milk, but I hadn't been swimming in a month and it felt great.  We were able to see a few fish and enjoyed the ambiance of the regatta.  Every ten minutes the canoes would paddle by and the supporters on

A Choir of Spinners Greets Andrew

 the pier would cheer them on.  How festive!

 Yesterday, Sandra rallied and the entire clan made it back to the pier.  We had decided to go to Paul Allen's Reef, as the surf predictor was forecasting 3 to 4 foot swells.  It was immediately apparent that the swell was not nearly that high, but even from the beach in front of the King Kam hotel we could see an inordinate number of small boats and paddle boards out past the pier.  When we reconnoitered out past the heiau breakwater, we talked about the numerous boats, the message being stay away from them.

     We swam across the small bay enjoying the warmer water, which was substantially clearer than the water by the pier the day before.  We were swimming opposite the entrance to Paul's lagoon, about twenty yards from the shore, when Andrew suddenly exclaimed, "Uncle Jeff!"  I turned to see four or five dolphins, about six feet away, leaping clear of the water.   Looking around we could see the rest of the pod porpoising past us.  So that was what all those boats and paddle boards were about.   It is a sad testimony

Jackson's Chameleon, Andrew Hill I-phone 4

 to the amount of time we have been away from the water that we had not identified the signs of a concerted dolphin-stalking flotilla.

     The pod, as a whole, seemed very healthy.  They were swimming fast, chattering among themselves and bore no signs of sucker shark predation.  We enjoyed a few close passes.  Once a tight group raced right under us, perhaps only three feet below.  It was truly exciting.

      Fairly soon the action ceased, the flotilla dispersed and we made our way through the cold inner harbour and home for lunch.

    We had decided that that afternoon we would take Andy to Greenwell Coffee Farms.  Since his last visit, we had identified Greenwell's as the place to look for Jackson's chameleons.  As we arrived, we saw a

My first chameleon...more to follow!

young man tugging on a branch of the orange tree where one is most likely to see chameleons.  Sure enough, there was a fine three horned male only a eight feet up.  We took turns taking pictures of this studly lizard.  The picture you see here was taken with Andy's I-phone 4 which caught the best image.  If only I knew how convert  those bmp files without losing 90% of the information, I would probably never use my camera (out of the water) again.  After we enjoyed our coffee samples, Andy went on a coffee tour, Sandra took pictures of her Teddy Bear (her new hobby) with various Greenwell props.  And I continued my chameleon hunting.  I found the male again and then I found a large fat female about twelve feet up.  She was brown with green spots, her tail curled around the branch.  I was so proud.  I had never found a Jackson's chameleon on my own before.  Having broken the jinx, I'm hopeful that it is only a matter of time before I spot one of these fascinating animals up here at Casa Ono.  Wish me luck!

jeff

Andrew Waves Aloha From Paul Allen's Reef.

Teddy and Greenwell's Coffee!

   

   

A Night Snorkel at Kahalu'u

    Earlier this week, Sandra and I went snorkeling at night with Bob Hillis.  For a very large number of years I have wondered how easy it would be to go swimming at night at Kahalu'u.  With the Hillises leaving for San Diego this week, the time seemed ripe .

    If I were you, there are a few things that would concern me about swimming at night at Kahalu'u. From the administrative standpoint, I am happy to report that all indications point to the gate remaining open and the lights beaming brightly in the large kiosk until 11 PM.

    I have been a bit skeptical of the crowd that I might encounter at night at this venue.  For sure, there was no lifeguard presence.  Or that of any other authority figure.  We encountered a few adults that were quietly

A small anemone crab and some large fingers.

 eating take out food at the tables.  One family was having an evening picnic dinner.  And there was a father horsing around with his children.  Beyond that, there was a group of youths in the 12 to 14 year range.  They were very friendly and posed no problem.  As we never bring anything of value to the beach, there was virtually nothing aside form a few towels and a mesh bag left on the table when we went in to swim.

   On this night there were no drunks, drug addicts or thugs.  I can not speak for other nights.

    We hit the water a little after 7 PM.  the congregation of youths was on the rocks by the entrance.  One of them made a joke about a shark, but mostly they were supportive, wishing us a good swim.

    The tide was about half point, so the water was quite shallow as we crawled through the sand channel.  We were probably a little early seeing only cardinal fish for the first ten minutes.  As the night wore on we saw a couple bristle worms about two inches long swimming free.  We spotted a small scuttling anemone crab which Bob held while I took his picture.  At this point I must tell you that, aside from that one marginal shot of the anemone crab at very close range, my photographic results were abominable.

My best effort with Octopus ornatus.

     Over the next twenty minutes I saw the expected squirrelfish and soldierfish.  I was lucky to see a stout moray and a dwarf moray.  Dwarf moray is a distinctive yellow, approximately the shade they used to paint the hallways in VA Hospitals.  So its not all that pleasant to look at.  But its better than a BKA.   (Old VAH joke.  Google it for the surprise answer.)  It was the first dwarf moray I had seen in a couple years. 

    The lights were blazing brightly in the kiosk all the time.  After about a half hour of flopping around, we
 followed them in.  Up to this point, we had not seen anything of much interest.  But as we came to the last patch of coral, I was suddenly presented with a small octopus.  It was an Ornate Octopus, with a head a bit bigger than a large lemon.  This beauty is also known as the night octopus.  Although I had never seen one before, one has the sensation that if you went snorkeling every night, you might see one three times a year.  As it is, I go night snorkeling about once a year and I will probably never see another!

    The night octopus preened in the glow of our lights.  His  legs were significantly thinner and longer than one would find on a Day Octopus of the same size and, as one would expect, his head was shaped like

Twist his head 90 degrees and you've got a Night Octopus

 Stewie Griffin, only more pointed on the leading end.  ( In the upcoming movie, the octopus will be voiced by Seth MacFarlane.) 

    Eventually this hit of the evening became bored with our adoration and swam off, spurting some ink as a final farewell.  This sort of thing has happened a lot to me.  Especially in high school.  


   Back on shore, everything was as we left it.  We took our cold showers and headed out.  As we reached our car the group of boys passed Sandra and I, heading up the hill.  We all exchanged a pleasant good night.

    I apologize for the lack of photographs.  And for such a milque toast tale.  Getting a night snorkel at Kahalu'u has been on my bucket list (I hate that term) and I thought it only fare to alert those of you who might have similar aspirations.  It is definitely doable.

jeff

Gardening with the Congers

   Early this week we went snorkeling (again) at Beach 69.  This time we took our super good friend Anita, who has to return to Calgary on Wednesday.  There was a small craft waring posted for our coast, but we

Kickin' Back at Beach 69

figured it was her last chance for at least several months...why not take a chance and go to an excellent snorkeling spot.

    As we drove north, there was no wind what so ever until we reached Waikoloa.  By the time we parked at Beach 69, it was blowing so hard I could hardly get the car door open.  Not for nothing do the Kailua real estate agents call the area Waika-blowah!  Anyway, when we made it to the beach, we were in the lee of  the houses and trees and life at our picnic table was rather pleasant. 
   Soon we were in the water, which was surprisingly clam considering that there were whitecaps 50 yards off shore.  Swimming out along the south cusp the water was getting progressively more turbulent.  Just

Hawaiian Conger in fulll Retreat

 inside the point a large eel swam past me, moving rapidly through the shallows.  He had a pointed snout and irregular gray and brown bands, but no black and white ridge on his dorsal fin, like you see on the Goldenhead Moray.  But then his head was plain gray, not at all golden.  As he swam away from me, I could see fins protruding from just behind his head.  Perhaps because I am not accustomed to seeing fins on an eel, these seemed pretty large.   In my field notes I remarked that they were reminiscent of a Chinese dragon.  As the eel swam away, I was able to squeeze off one good shot before he disappeared in the the bubbling turbulence. 

     Luckily Sandra and Anita had been near by and saw the eel when I called and pointed.  When we surfaced to discuss the sighting, the first thing Anita said was, "That was the biggest, slimiest eel I have ever seen!"  Luckily, both of my colleagues, as I phrased them in my letter to Jack Randall, saw the fins.  I had no idea what we had seen.

    We completed our swim, checking out the crevices and valles around the island.
This afforded good looks at the large chubs. Also near the island, a teenage Mu put in an appearance. He was almost the size of an

Mu, Beach 69, April 2015

adult, but retained the distinct barring and yellow face of an immature.  And he was only twenty feet down, so us wimps had a chance to dive for a picture.

   Back at the ranch, I wrote to Jack Randall and
John Hoover, who quickly confirmed that this was a Hawaiian Conger Eel.  In the Ultimate Guide, Hoover has a picture very similar to the one that I took.  A couple photographers on the internet have better head shots, showing the pectoral fins just behind the head.  I have borrowed one of those so you can appreciate the anatomy.  John Hoover commented that it is rare to see one swimming during the day (i.e. they are primarily nocturnal).  Further, when they are seen during the day they are usually a plain gray.  And all the resources note that they are far more readily observed at diving depths.

     So we were very lucky.  But there is more.  If you read John Hoover's text with care, you will discover

Conger Eel courtesy of MARlin

that there are two distinct sub-families, conger eels (Congrinae) and garden eels  (Heterocongrinae).  I recall seeing my first garden eels in the Sea of Cortez way back in the mid 80s.  You know those guys who live in the sand 40 feet down and poke their heads and necks out into water where they sway back and forth like so many asparagus stalks in a spring breeze.  Since then, I have seen garden eels in Hawaii and the Western Pacific.  In my ignorance, I used the name conger eel and garden eel synonymously, blissfully ignorant of the true conger eels.

    Now, not only have I added the Hawaiian Conger (Conger marginatus) to my life list, but I have correctly added the Hawaiian Garden Eel (Gorgasia hawaiiensis).  If you need the latter, they are a chip shot in about 40 feet at Ho'okena.

    And they say ignorance is bliss.

jeff

This Week on the Beach...April 2015

  Over the last week, Sandra and I enjoyed three nice snorkeling trips made possible by cooperative weather and relatively mild seas.  We went to the old standby, Kahalu'u, where we saw the first immature Hawaiian

Ontogeny Recapitulates Phylogeny  Ooom.

Cleaner Wrasse for 2015.  Looking so much like the bluestreak cleaner wrasse of the Western Pacific, one finds himself muttering ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny into his snorkel.  We also saw a sweet baby stripe belly puffer.  Ashore, we had an extremely pleasant chat with a young Indian family.  Originally from somewhere near Goa, they were very pleased with our hot, humid climate.  If only Kona offered the same tech type jobs as San Jose...  Well, I don't even want to consider the ramifications of that.  Sorry honey, I guess we gotta find a different island that we can afford. 

    Yesterday we went to City of Refuge.  Mercifully, the crowd we encountered a month ago had thinned out significantly.  (Perhaps they all went back to San Jose.)  Way out on the north cusp we saw some nice fish, including a dozen pyramid butterflies, a pair of gilded triggerfish and a single immature mu.  Everybody was deep, deep, deep. That morning my sinuses had joined the other side,

Gilded Triggerfish, Hookena August 2013

preventing me from diving deep enough for a reasonable photograph.   I must note that the Gilded Trigger has never been sufficiently shallow for me to obtain a reasonable photo at City of Refuge.  Or, for that matter, anywhere besides Ho'okena, where deeper water fish seem to thrive at snorkeling depths.

    Sandra and I ate our lunch with a young German couple from Frankfurt.  Daniel showed us the newest bit of tourist tech: a 4 x 6 dry bag that suspends from your neck with an adjustable cord.  You put your $500 cell phone in the bag and it works almost as well as a $200 underwater camera.  Ausgezeichnet!

    I had fun trotting out a few fragments of German.  Herr Weinberger  (my German professor back at Fort Vancouver High School ca. 1969)  would be so proud.  All too soon it was time to say auf wiedersehen. 

Blacktail Snapper,  Beach 69,  April 2015

 As we schlepped our kram back to the car, I was only mildly surprised to meet a petite 20 something heading for the beach with her cell phone tucked into one of those  dry bags.  They appear to have replaced those damnable Go Pro sticks as the must have seaside accessory for the year of the sheep.  And not a moment too soon.   Baaa!

    Leaving the United Nations in the capable hands of Claire Underwood, what I really want to tell you about is our trip five or six days ago to Beach 69.  It was a perfect day up north, light breezes and not a trace of vog.  We were accompanied by our friends the Hillises, who are soon returning to Sand Diego.   Bob is a superb fish finder and we will miss him almost as much as his charming bride.

    Our target species was the Hawaiian Seahorse, rumored to live on the southern cusp of this small bay.   We did not find the seahorse, but we did discover that the southern end of Waialea Bay has vastly better

Big Bad Bluefin Trevally, Beach 69, April 2015

coral than the north cusp, where we had snorkeled before.  We saw five really large bluefin trevally.  .  These brutes were around four and a half feet in length, probably the largest ulua I have seen. One permitted me to swim close enough for a fine portrait.  By the small, rocky island we saw large examples of both high fin and bicolor chubs.  This is one of the few bays where spear and net fishing are prohibited and you can see the difference in the size and behavior of these fishes.  Both Bluestripe and Blacktail Snappers were abundant, as well.

    We have adopted Beach 69 as our favorite place to hang out up on the Kohala coast.  The combination of seaside shade and sugary soft sand is a rare commodity on the Big Island.  Now that we have discovered a large expanse of coral with a fine variety of large fish, we will be going there more often.  

jeff

Bluestripe Snapper at Beach 69

Surf and Turf (Actually Asphalt)

   Two days ago, I was permitted a short swim at Kahalu'u.  The limiting factor was a big Scrabble tournament scheduled to kick off at 11 AM.  In my experience, mid-February through mid-March is the time

Squid!  Kahalu'u February 7, 2013

when one might find squid wandering near shore.  There are few things that I find more delightful than calamari on the hoof and the aforementioned (imagine using that word in a game of scrabble) time period had expired without a single teuthidian.  I figured that I could take a quick swim around the bay, bring closure to Squidwatch 2015, and still get Sandra to Alii Villas for Scrabble at 11.  

    As it turned out, on March 20th we were plagued with a super moon.  It has been pointed out to me that during the new and full moon, the sun and moon are lined up, producing increased gravitational pull and increased tidal exchange.  This phenomenon is known as syzygy.  (Can you imagine slipping that into a triple word score?  Woof!)  This can happen in two different configurations, with the sun and moon on the same side or on opposite sides

Syzygy !

 of the emerald orb that we call home.  In this case, the celestial bodies were on the same side resulting in a solar eclipse seen around the world in Germany.  Ausgezeichnet!

   A super moon, being closer to earth, results in more gravitational pull and a greater tide differential. These are called "spring tides" not because they occur in that season when a young man's fancy turns to the fairer sex, but because the tide seems to spring towards the increased gravitational pull.

     All this physics and astronomy was salient because the low tide that day was at 10:02 AM at minus .21 feet.  The water in the sand channel was only 4 inches deep and your hapless correspondent was forced to slither over the rocks into the shallow bay like some stranded lungfish from The Rite of Spring.  (I assume Stravinsky was referring to the season,not the tide. Silly fellow.)


   My quick spin through K Bay revealed not a single squid.  C'est domage.  As I approached the exit, I noted that I still had ten minutes to play with, time for another quick swim across the bay.  My quick swim

 came to an abrupt halt when I saw a Rockmover swimming with some determination while carrying in his mouth what looked like a small rock.  Something about this didn't seem quite right, so I swam up, took a swipe at the rockmover and he obligingly dropped his burden.  Which I promptly retrieved. 

    To my delight, I found that I was holding a small Lumpy Box Crab, Calappa gallus.  Seen from above, this neat little crab looks exactly like a small rock.  It is lumpy, mottled gray and bits of algae and other detritus attach to its carapace.  When you flip it over, you see the handsome pink legs tucked inside.

     I now had a chance to retrieve my camera and I took the picture you see here of the underside of my box crab.  Looking through the corrective lenses of my mask, I was not able to discern what is obvious from the photo; one leg shy of a majority had been removed by the rockmover. 

The Yellowtail Coris is a Voracious Killer!

     Accidenti!  How was my little friend going to conduct his business with just five legs?  Well, we never got the chance to  find out.  Every time I put him down in an attempt to get a picture of his carapace, the wrasses attacked, not just rockmovers, but saddle wrasse and yellowtailed coris.  I tried putting him under rocks and yet they winkled him out with their sharp beaks.  Three or four attempts was enough to convince me that there was no saving the little fellow.  Last seen, he was in the grip of a yellowtail coris, who swam off with his prize, presumably in search of some tartar sauce and some dry white wine.  I believe my brother would recommend a sauvignon blanc from Marlborough, New Zealand.  Tastes like cat pee, goes well with fish.  Go figure.

  On our drive back up the hill, Sandra explained that far from winning the scrabble tournament she had finished fourth (out of four).  She had, however, managed to frustrate her competitors using tactics that, one conversant with the pub arts, might call "dirty pool".  When a triple word score loomed, she would

Jackson's Chameleon Morte

 occupy the adjacent squares with trivial words like vex, stiff and shaft.  Surprisingly, her competitors have invited her back for a rematch.  Or perhaps its not such a surprise.  Somebody has to lose, right?

   Once we got back to Casa Ono, Sandra set about preparing for the evening feast.  I was dispatched to fix the mailbox, the latch for which had fallen off a few days earlier.  While completing my task, I took notice of a small dead animal out in the road.  Having reattached the latch with some chewing gum and a wire twist, I directed my attention to the decomposing critter in the road.  I expected to find a toad, as a few manage to get squashed every time it rains. A quick glance and I exclaimed, "Holy shit!"  loud enough that Sandra abandoned her culinary efforts and came out to see what was the matter. 

    What we had here, decomposing at my feet was a curly tailed, three horned Jackson's chameleon.  In his prime, which apparently ended within the the last day or so, he had been a proud, handsome, breeding

Jackson's Chameleon Greenwell's Coffee  Feb. 2014

male.  You might think that I would regard this as a tragedy of unspeakable dimensions.  After all, six or seven more feet and he would have been in my yard.  To understand my mixed emotions, you have to understand two things.

   First, I am not too good at finding Jackson's chameleons.  At the chameleon farm, otherwise known as Greenwell's Coffee, I have required the sharper eyes of the proprietors  every time..even knowing that a chameleon is in the tree, I have never spotted one on my own.  And I have never seen one in my yard, despite incontrovertible evidence that they are there.

   Next, you need to the know the rule relating to adding dead birds to your life list.  As long as the bird has not been moved from the spot of its demise, it can be counted.  Many years ago in the rainforest of eastern Australia, my friend Mike

VanRonzelen and I applied this rule to a road killed echidna.  We felt sorry for the little fellow, but we were very happy to add it to the list for the trip.  Albeit with an asterisk.  As relates to this current situation, ain't nobody gonna tell me that someone came along and moved that chameleon.  He is plastered permanently to the asphalt.  And is equally affixed to my mental lifelist.

    I am looking in my trees with more determination, while recognizing my frailty vis a vis spotting chameleons.  And Sandra is studying her scrabble dictionary, prepping for the rematch.   Meanwhile, back down in the shallows the sky remains the limit.  Keep your eyes and mind open...who knows what you will find!

jeff

Editors note:   You will never see the word "syzygy" played in scrabble as the manufacturer provides only two Ys.


Scrabble board courtesy of the Redoubtable SKG.

Its hard to Dance With Only Five Legs.

   

   

   

A Kona Frogfish Tale

   This tale begins about a week ago.  I was supposed to go snorkeling with Bob Hillis on his day off, but I was not feeling quite right and sent him off swimming by himself.  This worked out well, because he went in

We Findum Frogfish.

at Kona Makai, our old home court rarely visited in our dotage, and he saw a frogfish.  Bob emailed me a report along with a photograph that evening.

   The next day it was raining.  We have just lived through a significant period of inclement weather.   (There was measurable rainfall six days out of nine, and here we thought we lived in the desert.)  However, with a frogfish at stake, a little rain wasn't going to keep me out of the water.  And Bob was available to point the way to the frogfish.

    Hence, at about 10 AM me and Chingachgook found ourselves on the rocks in front of Kona Makai.  This day we traded a little rain for very calm conditions.  The tide was midpoint and the sea virtually flat, if speckled by rain drops.  It was almost embarrassing how easy it was for Bob to swim out to the spot where he had seen the frogfish the day before, look up and say, "He is right below you."  

    At this point I need to say a word about frogfish.  They are lumpy and cryptically colored, therefore difficult to see.  This guy was perhaps nine inches in length...a pretty big fish.  He was positioned between two corals and so was more visible than he might have been.  He was a

 light gray green which blended well with the coral.  All this aside, frogfish are renowned for staying roughly in one place for days, weeks or months.  You may recall that last fall John Hoover thought we could find a frogfish over a month after I encountered  him at City of Refuge.  On that day, we did not find the frogfish, but it certainly reinforces the expert's belief that this fish stays in one place.

    Bob and I took multiple pictures of the frogfish.   And I took a couple pictures of Bob with the frogfish, which was about twenty feet deep and at the corner of the lava reef straight out from Alii Villas.  Being a better diver, he was able to descend the twenty feet and hang onto the coral to attempt a photograph.  He had read Hoover and Randall, and on at least one of his dives attempted to count the dorsal and pectoral rays, satisfying himself that this was indeed Commerson's Frogfish. (Lacking his diving ability, I took his word for it!). This says quite a bit about Chingachgook's ability to stay submerged at twenty feet and also a thing or two about the frogfish. i.e.,  He is exceptionally sedentary and remarkably tolerant of  close approach.

    Having our fill, finally, of the frogfish, we swam north along the shore in front of Sea Village, seeing a fine

Chingachgook counts the dorsal rays.

school of bicolor chubs.  John Hoover listed this fish in the Ultimate Guide, providing us with a new fish, and a handsome one, for the list.  Further on, I spotted a large trumpetfish that had eaten something slightly too large for complete swallowing.  He was swimming along with a red tail protruding from his mouth.  Depending upon one's thoughts on indigestion, it was pretty cute.  Definitely photogenic.

    Back at the ranch, Sandra was happy that I had seen Kermit's aquatic brother, but also a bit jealous.  It was no surprise that the next day we hauled all our stuff down to Kona Makai, only to decide that the conditions were just a little too rough.  To compensate for our lost opportunity, we repaired to Kamana Kitchen for a fine Indian lunch, saag paneer and chicken tikka masala.  Yummy.

Find the Lovely Lakshmi At Kamana Kitchen

    The Kamana Kitchen is run by a family from Nepal, where they apparently eat food similar to that served in Delhi.  The pater familias has imported a bevy of young female relatives to serve in his restaurants and at the Nepal shop in the Kona Inn shopping center a few blocks away.  Although our beloved Sri Jana was working in Hilo, where she also now attends the university,  her cousin Lakshmi stood in admirably.  One has to wonder, are all the girls in Kathmandu as pleasant as these two? And is all the food this delicious?  And where is the yak butter?  Food for thought.

   Over the next few days the ocean continued rough, but last night it was extremely still.  So after dropping off our yard debris, we went back to Kona Makai.  Well, the ocean was not calmer than three days earlier.

The Fishpond Entry at Kona Makai Wasn't This Rough!

 But how long is a frogfish supposed to stay in one place?  I was determined to get out there, if only so I could write this blog. And Sandra was darned if she would be left behind.

    So down on the rocks we went, noting sadly that the tide was low, making it more difficult to get out onto our preferred lava shelf.  And modest sets were rolling in.  Brave of heart, we slipped into the water and swam out through a myriad of bubbles, over the lava tube and into the bay.  The underwater topography at Kona Makai is quite distinctive and we are extremely familiar, so it was no problem to find the correct spot. Alas, there was no frogfish.  We swam in widening circles and could not find our friend within five yards of the spot where he had resided so cooperatively four days earlier.

    At least we were rewarded with an adventure.  As we entered the bay the swell increased and my lovely wife required two attempts before she sat triumphantly on the lava.  For us, there is always a sense of

The End of the Tale!

 accomplishment when we complete our swim at Kona Makai.  (It is the inability of the swimmer to accurately pick a time between sets for his or her exit, as well as rapidly changing ocean conditions, that make Kona Makai an intermediate swim on most days.)

    Up on the deck, the residents and tourists were reading their papers and enjoying the morning sun.  As we were waiting for our suits to dry, a brown booby flew close to shore and then swiftly back out to sea.  So on this day we traded an unusual bird for  an unusual fish.  And we are both safe and sound up in Casa Ono to tell the tale.

jeff