Thursday, June 20, 2013
Ocean Watch Premium
Even with dozens of South Pacific visions dancing in my head, my own island still dazzles. During a Lanikai beach walk at dawn last week — the first since my return — I watched great frigate birds and red-footed booby birds glide over my head, tripped over ghost crab sand pyramids and nodded hello to a dozen Homo sapiens come to marvel at sunrise on Oahu.
The first leg of my South Pacific voyage is over. It took me three months to outfit the boat in Mexico, sail to the Marquesas, explore the Tuamotu Archipelago and get Honu put up in a Tahiti marina. Now I'm going home.
FAKARAVA ATOLL, Tuamoto Archipelago » To pass the evenings at anchor here in the South Pacific's winter, Craig and I often watch movies on the boat's computer.
The hardest part of writing about the marine life here in the Tuamotos is staying focused. With turquoise water so clear I want to drink it, so warm I can snorkel for hours and so teeming with fish and invertebrates that I feel I'm living inside a South Seas aquarium, I change my topic every five minutes.
KAUEHI, Tuamoto Archipelago » With laundry done, the galley loaded with mangoes and a crew change (my husband, Craig, replaced friends John and Alex), it was time for my 37-foot boat Honu to sail on.
NUKU HIVA, Marquesas Islands » I have so many fish under my sailboat, Honu, that I can hear them from inside the cabins. At first the sounds were gentle splashes, but at dawn several loud bangs against the hull sent me flying out of my bunk to see what I hit.
TAIOHAE BAY, NUKU HIVA, Marquesas Islands » Twenty-six days after leaving Mexico on my 37-foot sailboat, Honu, I dropped anchor in a bay so stunningly beautiful I felt I had landed in the middle of a movie set.
Latitude 8S, Longitude 138W, Day 26 » I am typing these words with water-wrinkled fingers in a sailboat rolling so hard side-to-side that I can barely stay seated.
We crossed the equator on Day 20. It was a joyful event for my two crew members and me on our 2,700-mile voyage from Mexico to the Marquesas aboard my 37-foot sailboat, Honu.
OCEANIA, latitude 7N, longitude 120W » My voyage from Mexico to the Marquesas on my 37-foot sailboat, Honu, continues. This is Day 13 at sea with as many, or more, left to go.
Latitude 17N, longitude 109W » Five days ago two friends, Alex and John, and I set sail on my boat, Honu, from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
LA CRUZ DE HUANACAXTLE, Mexico » I've been trying to enjoy the wildlife during this visit to Mexico, but some days it seems like it's another chore to squeeze into my work-filled days.
Reader Gerrie Quinn of Sydney emailed a question about stinging marine worms. During an October 2009 vacation in Fiji, Gerrie jumped off a tour boat for a swim and crossed paths with a swarm of worms.
LA CRUZ DE HUANACAXTALE, Nayarit, Mexico » I'm back in Mexico, where for the past year I've moored my 37-foot ketch, Honu.
My walk down the length of Kailua Beach on a recent blustery day brought back memories of another windy day there in 1983.
Why is it that tons of people and organizations are not trying to catch as many crown of thorn starfish as possible as we learn that the great reefs are greatly endangered by them?"
My recent column about the successful elimination of rats from Palmyra Atoll, a National Wildlife Refuge 1,000 miles south of Hawaii, garnered some good questions and comments.
Last week I braved the North Shore's bone-chilling cold to go snorkeling. It was worth the chicken skin. I got to look down the throat of a spaghetti worm.
Last week I came home from a trip to a good-news email. A year after a team of workers made an enormous effort to get rid of rats on Palmyra Atoll, a national wildlife refuge 1,000 miles south of Hawaii, its islands remain rat-free.
It's January, and our most famous winter visitors, about 10,000 humpback whales, are stirring the sea.
One windy January day in 1983, shortly after moving to Hawaii, I ran into my University of Hawaii physiology lab partner, born and raised on Oahu. Staring at the mask and snorkel in my hand, he asked where I was going.
Flounders know that good things come in small boxes. But do they know how hard those boxes can pinch?
Today marks the end of my 25th year of writing this column, but no worries. I plan on getting in at least another 25 years' worth, maybe more.
When I rent a slip for my sailboat, as I have been doing on and off in Mexico for the last two years, I don't have to take the boat anywhere to have memorable wildlife experiences.
TRES MARIETAS, BANDERAS BAY, Mexico » When my husband, Craig, and I sailed Honu to this volcanic island group last week, we found the ocean floor 30 feet below the boat exquisitely visible.
In 1988 when visiting the Galapagos Islands, I met my first blue-footed boobies. The seabirds nested nearly everywhere on the ground there, some raising their chicks right in the middle of paths trod by countless human visitors.
On a moving sailboat, darkness hides danger. At night I can't see rocks, reefs or debris in the water. Small lights in the distance might be a nearby dinghy that I should veer to avoid, or a distant container ship speeding my way.
As much as I love sailing, snorkeling and visiting wildlife refuges, my true obsession is beach walking.
Today and for the next few weeks, I'm writing from my sailboat, Honu, currently moored in a marina in Mexico's Banderas Bay, famous for humpback whales, tropical fish and national park islands loaded with seabirds.
When I go snorkeling I sometimes get very little exercise because I stop so often to check out an animal or look at a plant.
While riding my bicycle on the bridge near the center of Kailua Beach Park last week, I spotted a cushion star dead on the sand.
Last week, while snorkeling off Lanikai Beach, I found a huge, gorgeous black-and-white wana strolling along a stretch of white sand with all the confidence of an armored tank.
My friend Valerie, an avid snorkeler, recently emailed her observation of two lizardfish on the North Shore: "They were nose to nose, about an inch apart.
My husband, Craig, came in from snorkeling the other day with news. "I saw a school of baby trumpetfish, about 20 or 30 together."
Ishare a sailboat with family and friends in the Ala Wai Boat Harbor, but nine years ago, when the state condemned our finger pier, we had to walk a plank to get aboard. In addition to that wobbly hurdle, several of us had frightening encounters with transients in the neighborhood. As a result, we rarely used the boat.
I love the idea of eating aliens, but a Sept. 19 article in this paper about Samoan crabs ("Invite the invaders to dinner") left me with questions. What, I wondered, are crabs from Samoa doing in Hawaii?
In my Sept. 10 column, I wrote that rays have been reported giving birth while leaping from the water, but I never knew anyone who saw it. Now I do.
Last month a reader sent a note about snorkeling with a large barracuda off Waimanalo's Kaiona Beach Park.
Reader John Floyd emailed that on his daily walk to the north end of Kailua Beach, he crosses the bridge over the Kawainui Canal.
I don't have many traditions in this column, but writing about the comings and goings of kolea, the migratory shorebirds also known as Pacific golden plovers, is becoming one of them. After my recent report on the birds' return, the mail poured in.
When I recently led several California friends on a short swim to see an endemic green lion-fish, the fish made me look good.
Hawaii's favorite birds are back. My first email regarding the return of a Pacific golden plover came July 30 in an unsigned note: "I live in Mililani Mauka and came home to see my favorite Kolea in my back yard this afternoon! :)"
Last week I emailed a Texas friend and longtime reader that I was going hiking in Yosemite National Park. Shirley replied, "This time of year must be nice in Yosemite. Bet you will get some good subjects there, too."
When my 12-year-old friend Naia said she wanted to show me some shrimp she found, I didn't know I had to suffer to see them.
One of the most tedious tasks after a sailing trip is editing and filing new photos. But organizing is crucial. If I can't find my pictures, I can't share them.
JALISCO, Mexico » Last week, while sailing the Honu out the Barra de Navidad channel, I spotted a white round float.
After a day of sailing near Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, I jumped off the boat in an anchorage called Yelapa Cove. The water gave me instant relief from the summer heat, but it also gave me pause.
ISLAS TRES MARIETAS, Mexico » As our sailboat, Honu, motored along in glassy flat water, a sparkling, 2- to 3-foot-long needlefish astonished me by getting up on its tail and "walking" on water.
During a morning beach walk here in Banderas Bay, Mexico, I spotted the largest iguana I have ever seen.
La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, Mexico » While working on my sailboat and waiting for my husband to join me here, I went snorkeling and got an ear infection. Now I have to stay out of the water.
I arrived in Mexico last week to sail my 37-foot ketch Honu one last time before the hurricane season.
I am rarely spooked by anything in the ocean anymore, but last week a reef animal caused me to leap from the water with a cry of alarm.
I have on my desk several new items of interest for marine animal fans. One is made of paper, and the others swim among the colorful reefs of my iPad.
I wasn't going to write about the recent Hawaiian monk seal killing, because it seemed futile.
On an early morning beach walk last week, I found on the North Shore a faded pink toy washed ashore. The 4 1/2-inch-long plastic figure, pictured at right, had big rodent teeth hanging from a smiling mouth.
While walking my dog last week, I saw a male kolea prance across our path. The bird was at the top of its game, so fat and fabulous in its spring breeding outfit that I had to stop and stare.
In my recent column on jacks and goatfish hunting together, I wrote that papio is the name for young jacks under 12 inches long.
While snorkeling off the Kaneohe Bay sandbar, reader Shannon Garcia took several photos of a striking moray eel. When she got home and couldn't find the species in books or online, Shannon asked me via email whether she could send the picture for identification.
I spent the recent long weekend with two new friends, a couple I liked but didn't know that well.
As I was examining the new book “Certainly More Than You Wanted to Know About the Fishes of the Pacific Coast, a Postmodern Experience,” it fell open to a photo of a fish I don’t know and a passage that caught my eye: “Scandinavians report that oarfish flesh sucks big time and even dogs won’t eat it. However, I imagine dogs would roll in it, big time.”
Did you see a lot of bioluminescence?" a friend asked me last week after I returned home from my Mexico voyaging.
During a voyage last week off Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, the wind grew light, and Honu's speed dropped to 3 mph.
My sailing trip along Mexico's Pacific coast is nearing its end.
I kissed a frigate bird. This isn't something I've been dying to do. I've seen these seabirds' hooked beaks and sharp claws in action during their aerial attacks on booby birds.
For a seabird fan like me, a little splash of guano is no big deal. But last week, during a nighttime voyage from La Paz to Mazatlan, Mexico, a booby and a frigatebird tested my limits.
Afew years ago in winter, I sailed my boat down the west coast of Mexico's Baja Peninsula, from Ensenada to Cabo San Lucas.
Singapore reader Ben Nottle sent me a 41-second eel video, goo.gl/fOJ6E, so entertaining I watched it half a dozen times. Ben's circumstances while filming were not ideal for cheering — he's scuba diving — yet you can hear his whoops of joy.
My column last week about my fine day on the North Shore prompted several emails from readers asking if I would please share the location of my newly discovered sea horse pasture.
I spend a lot time working on, sailing to and marveling over wildlife and scenery on Pacific islands.
Last year, after I gave a slide show about Midway's albatrosses to a Honolulu seniors group, a woman raised her hand.
Afilm I saw recently, Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," and a book I'm enjoying, Stephen King's "9/22/63," are stories about people who visit the past.
For Christmas my husband gave me five dead animals and two shark teeth topped with several tumors from tortured oysters.
My columns bring back good memories. Last week, though, while scanning my 2011 headlines, I made a shocking discovery. I had not written about one of the year's best fish experiences.
One of the highlights of my recent voyage in Mexico's waters was an unexpected face-to-face encounter with a whale shark, which I described in this column as a giant, harmless, plankton-eating fish.
One of my greatest joys is sharing my boat with awesome animals. Dolphins play in Honu's bow wave, seabirds perch in the rigging, and at night, light-making organisms reveal twinkling trails of fish on the go.
It's enough to worry about stepping on one of the bazillion stingrays that inhabit the bays here in the Sea of Cortez, but I need to worry about getting electrocuted, too?
My sailboat has a new cylindrical light atop its main mast. This is not your grandmother's mast light. It's an energy-efficient, exceptionally bright LED, red on the left side, green on the right and white at the back.
I did it off western Australia years ago on an organized tour. Last year I did it by myself in the northern Sea of Cortez. A week ago I did it in the southern Sea of Cortez with my husband, Craig.
I have had some memorable experiences swimming with California sea lions here in the Sea of Cortez, but none as thrilling as two incidents last week.
Loreto, Baja Sur, Mexico » This week I'm sailing along the coast of Mexico's Baja Peninsula, my boat's location for the last two years.
While snorkeling in four feet of water recently, I startled an invisible flatfish. The fish shot forward in a cloud of sand, undulating to a new spot like a fringed flying carpet.
Stony seaweeds are hard in more ways than one. My visiting niece recently collected a handful of warty, purple-and-white spheres on a North Shore beach. She though they were coral.
I recently wrote about an armchair-size coral head I named Fuller Brush Rock after the dozens of bristly shrimps I found clinging to its top. The striped, 2- to 3-inch-long shrimp in fur coats hung there for weeks. One day they were gone and I never saw them again.
Our humpback whales are back. Well, at least three are back, one spotted Sept. 26 off the Kona Coast and two more seen last week near Lanai. The rest of their cohorts will arrive from Alaska within the next month or two.
When I saw a new book called “Lonely Planet’s 1000 Ultimate Sights,” my first move was to check the index for Hawaii entries. If Hawaii wasn’t listed often for awesomeness, I thought, the book missed the boat.
Stony corals rank high on my please-don't-ask-me-to-name-it list. I understand the basics of how these reef-builders eat, secrete, breed and build, but there are so many species and so many forms, colors, shapes and textures of each of those species, I've given up trying to identify them. I enjoy them nameless.
In June a reader sent me a photo of a rarely seen creature she found in Hanauma Bay.
I'm revisiting the subject of seahorses because they've been revisiting me.
The tradewinds have been blowing steadily this week, bringing to our shores the good, the bad and the ugly. Good first. Joren of Laie emailed that he found near the shoreline some blue floating creatures that look like they have wings or legs.
Earlier this month, a news release from the Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument office stopped me in my tracks.
Last weekend I swam to my favorite underwater massage parlor, where I counted nine turtles, a record there for me.
If a science-fiction writer invented a fish with a horse head, monkey tail and kangaroo pouch, made the males get pregnant and called the thing a sea monster ("campus" in Greek), well, it would be easier to believe in dragons.
When an adult male orca dives beneath your kayak, is it reasonable to feel a tinge of fear? The question crossed my mind last week as I sat, barely breathing, listening to the whale's whistles and wondering where the big guy would surface.
While I was reading a newspaper in a mainland airport several weeks ago, a two-sentence news story caught my eye.
The first leg of my South Pacific voyage is over. It took me three months to outfit the boat in Mexico, sail to the Marquesas, explore the Tuamotu Archipelago and get Honu put up in a Tahiti marina. Now I'm going home.
FAKARAVA ATOLL, Tuamoto Archipelago » To pass the evenings at anchor here in the South Pacific's winter, Craig and I often watch movies on the boat's computer.
The hardest part of writing about the marine life here in the Tuamotos is staying focused. With turquoise water so clear I want to drink it, so warm I can snorkel for hours and so teeming with fish and invertebrates that I feel I'm living inside a South Seas aquarium, I change my topic every five minutes.
KAUEHI, Tuamoto Archipelago » With laundry done, the galley loaded with mangoes and a crew change (my husband, Craig, replaced friends John and Alex), it was time for my 37-foot boat Honu to sail on.
NUKU HIVA, Marquesas Islands » I have so many fish under my sailboat, Honu, that I can hear them from inside the cabins. At first the sounds were gentle splashes, but at dawn several loud bangs against the hull sent me flying out of my bunk to see what I hit.
TAIOHAE BAY, NUKU HIVA, Marquesas Islands » Twenty-six days after leaving Mexico on my 37-foot sailboat, Honu, I dropped anchor in a bay so stunningly beautiful I felt I had landed in the middle of a movie set.
Latitude 8S, Longitude 138W, Day 26 » I am typing these words with water-wrinkled fingers in a sailboat rolling so hard side-to-side that I can barely stay seated.
We crossed the equator on Day 20. It was a joyful event for my two crew members and me on our 2,700-mile voyage from Mexico to the Marquesas aboard my 37-foot sailboat, Honu.
OCEANIA, latitude 7N, longitude 120W » My voyage from Mexico to the Marquesas on my 37-foot sailboat, Honu, continues. This is Day 13 at sea with as many, or more, left to go.
Latitude 17N, longitude 109W » Five days ago two friends, Alex and John, and I set sail on my boat, Honu, from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.
LA CRUZ DE HUANACAXTLE, Mexico » I've been trying to enjoy the wildlife during this visit to Mexico, but some days it seems like it's another chore to squeeze into my work-filled days.
Reader Gerrie Quinn of Sydney emailed a question about stinging marine worms. During an October 2009 vacation in Fiji, Gerrie jumped off a tour boat for a swim and crossed paths with a swarm of worms.
LA CRUZ DE HUANACAXTALE, Nayarit, Mexico » I'm back in Mexico, where for the past year I've moored my 37-foot ketch, Honu.
My walk down the length of Kailua Beach on a recent blustery day brought back memories of another windy day there in 1983.
Why is it that tons of people and organizations are not trying to catch as many crown of thorn starfish as possible as we learn that the great reefs are greatly endangered by them?"
My recent column about the successful elimination of rats from Palmyra Atoll, a National Wildlife Refuge 1,000 miles south of Hawaii, garnered some good questions and comments.
Last week I braved the North Shore's bone-chilling cold to go snorkeling. It was worth the chicken skin. I got to look down the throat of a spaghetti worm.
Last week I came home from a trip to a good-news email. A year after a team of workers made an enormous effort to get rid of rats on Palmyra Atoll, a national wildlife refuge 1,000 miles south of Hawaii, its islands remain rat-free.
It's January, and our most famous winter visitors, about 10,000 humpback whales, are stirring the sea.
One windy January day in 1983, shortly after moving to Hawaii, I ran into my University of Hawaii physiology lab partner, born and raised on Oahu. Staring at the mask and snorkel in my hand, he asked where I was going.
Flounders know that good things come in small boxes. But do they know how hard those boxes can pinch?
Today marks the end of my 25th year of writing this column, but no worries. I plan on getting in at least another 25 years' worth, maybe more.
When I rent a slip for my sailboat, as I have been doing on and off in Mexico for the last two years, I don't have to take the boat anywhere to have memorable wildlife experiences.
TRES MARIETAS, BANDERAS BAY, Mexico » When my husband, Craig, and I sailed Honu to this volcanic island group last week, we found the ocean floor 30 feet below the boat exquisitely visible.
In 1988 when visiting the Galapagos Islands, I met my first blue-footed boobies. The seabirds nested nearly everywhere on the ground there, some raising their chicks right in the middle of paths trod by countless human visitors.
On a moving sailboat, darkness hides danger. At night I can't see rocks, reefs or debris in the water. Small lights in the distance might be a nearby dinghy that I should veer to avoid, or a distant container ship speeding my way.
As much as I love sailing, snorkeling and visiting wildlife refuges, my true obsession is beach walking.
Today and for the next few weeks, I'm writing from my sailboat, Honu, currently moored in a marina in Mexico's Banderas Bay, famous for humpback whales, tropical fish and national park islands loaded with seabirds.
When I go snorkeling I sometimes get very little exercise because I stop so often to check out an animal or look at a plant.
While riding my bicycle on the bridge near the center of Kailua Beach Park last week, I spotted a cushion star dead on the sand.
Last week, while snorkeling off Lanikai Beach, I found a huge, gorgeous black-and-white wana strolling along a stretch of white sand with all the confidence of an armored tank.
My friend Valerie, an avid snorkeler, recently emailed her observation of two lizardfish on the North Shore: "They were nose to nose, about an inch apart.
My husband, Craig, came in from snorkeling the other day with news. "I saw a school of baby trumpetfish, about 20 or 30 together."
Ishare a sailboat with family and friends in the Ala Wai Boat Harbor, but nine years ago, when the state condemned our finger pier, we had to walk a plank to get aboard. In addition to that wobbly hurdle, several of us had frightening encounters with transients in the neighborhood. As a result, we rarely used the boat.
I love the idea of eating aliens, but a Sept. 19 article in this paper about Samoan crabs ("Invite the invaders to dinner") left me with questions. What, I wondered, are crabs from Samoa doing in Hawaii?
In my Sept. 10 column, I wrote that rays have been reported giving birth while leaping from the water, but I never knew anyone who saw it. Now I do.
Last month a reader sent a note about snorkeling with a large barracuda off Waimanalo's Kaiona Beach Park.
Reader John Floyd emailed that on his daily walk to the north end of Kailua Beach, he crosses the bridge over the Kawainui Canal.
I don't have many traditions in this column, but writing about the comings and goings of kolea, the migratory shorebirds also known as Pacific golden plovers, is becoming one of them. After my recent report on the birds' return, the mail poured in.
When I recently led several California friends on a short swim to see an endemic green lion-fish, the fish made me look good.
Hawaii's favorite birds are back. My first email regarding the return of a Pacific golden plover came July 30 in an unsigned note: "I live in Mililani Mauka and came home to see my favorite Kolea in my back yard this afternoon! :)"
Last week I emailed a Texas friend and longtime reader that I was going hiking in Yosemite National Park. Shirley replied, "This time of year must be nice in Yosemite. Bet you will get some good subjects there, too."
When my 12-year-old friend Naia said she wanted to show me some shrimp she found, I didn't know I had to suffer to see them.
One of the most tedious tasks after a sailing trip is editing and filing new photos. But organizing is crucial. If I can't find my pictures, I can't share them.
JALISCO, Mexico » Last week, while sailing the Honu out the Barra de Navidad channel, I spotted a white round float.
After a day of sailing near Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, I jumped off the boat in an anchorage called Yelapa Cove. The water gave me instant relief from the summer heat, but it also gave me pause.
ISLAS TRES MARIETAS, Mexico » As our sailboat, Honu, motored along in glassy flat water, a sparkling, 2- to 3-foot-long needlefish astonished me by getting up on its tail and "walking" on water.
During a morning beach walk here in Banderas Bay, Mexico, I spotted the largest iguana I have ever seen.
La Cruz de Huanacaxtle, Mexico » While working on my sailboat and waiting for my husband to join me here, I went snorkeling and got an ear infection. Now I have to stay out of the water.
I arrived in Mexico last week to sail my 37-foot ketch Honu one last time before the hurricane season.
I am rarely spooked by anything in the ocean anymore, but last week a reef animal caused me to leap from the water with a cry of alarm.
One of the things I love about marine biology is discovering how little I know.
I have on my desk several new items of interest for marine animal fans. One is made of paper, and the others swim among the colorful reefs of my iPad.
I wasn't going to write about the recent Hawaiian monk seal killing, because it seemed futile.
On an early morning beach walk last week, I found on the North Shore a faded pink toy washed ashore. The 4 1/2-inch-long plastic figure, pictured at right, had big rodent teeth hanging from a smiling mouth.
While walking my dog last week, I saw a male kolea prance across our path. The bird was at the top of its game, so fat and fabulous in its spring breeding outfit that I had to stop and stare.
In my recent column on jacks and goatfish hunting together, I wrote that papio is the name for young jacks under 12 inches long.
While snorkeling off the Kaneohe Bay sandbar, reader Shannon Garcia took several photos of a striking moray eel. When she got home and couldn't find the species in books or online, Shannon asked me via email whether she could send the picture for identification.
I spent the recent long weekend with two new friends, a couple I liked but didn't know that well.
As I was examining the new book “Certainly More Than You Wanted to Know About the Fishes of the Pacific Coast, a Postmodern Experience,” it fell open to a photo of a fish I don’t know and a passage that caught my eye: “Scandinavians report that oarfish flesh sucks big time and even dogs won’t eat it. However, I imagine dogs would roll in it, big time.”
Did you see a lot of bioluminescence?" a friend asked me last week after I returned home from my Mexico voyaging.
During a voyage last week off Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, the wind grew light, and Honu's speed dropped to 3 mph.
My sailing trip along Mexico's Pacific coast is nearing its end.
I kissed a frigate bird. This isn't something I've been dying to do. I've seen these seabirds' hooked beaks and sharp claws in action during their aerial attacks on booby birds.
For a seabird fan like me, a little splash of guano is no big deal. But last week, during a nighttime voyage from La Paz to Mazatlan, Mexico, a booby and a frigatebird tested my limits.
Afew years ago in winter, I sailed my boat down the west coast of Mexico's Baja Peninsula, from Ensenada to Cabo San Lucas.
Singapore reader Ben Nottle sent me a 41-second eel video, goo.gl/fOJ6E, so entertaining I watched it half a dozen times. Ben's circumstances while filming were not ideal for cheering — he's scuba diving — yet you can hear his whoops of joy.
My column last week about my fine day on the North Shore prompted several emails from readers asking if I would please share the location of my newly discovered sea horse pasture.
I spend a lot time working on, sailing to and marveling over wildlife and scenery on Pacific islands.
Last year, after I gave a slide show about Midway's albatrosses to a Honolulu seniors group, a woman raised her hand.
Afilm I saw recently, Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris," and a book I'm enjoying, Stephen King's "9/22/63," are stories about people who visit the past.
For Christmas my husband gave me five dead animals and two shark teeth topped with several tumors from tortured oysters.
My columns bring back good memories. Last week, though, while scanning my 2011 headlines, I made a shocking discovery. I had not written about one of the year's best fish experiences.
One of the highlights of my recent voyage in Mexico's waters was an unexpected face-to-face encounter with a whale shark, which I described in this column as a giant, harmless, plankton-eating fish.
One of my greatest joys is sharing my boat with awesome animals. Dolphins play in Honu's bow wave, seabirds perch in the rigging, and at night, light-making organisms reveal twinkling trails of fish on the go.
It's enough to worry about stepping on one of the bazillion stingrays that inhabit the bays here in the Sea of Cortez, but I need to worry about getting electrocuted, too?
My sailboat has a new cylindrical light atop its main mast. This is not your grandmother's mast light. It's an energy-efficient, exceptionally bright LED, red on the left side, green on the right and white at the back.
I did it off western Australia years ago on an organized tour. Last year I did it by myself in the northern Sea of Cortez. A week ago I did it in the southern Sea of Cortez with my husband, Craig.
I have had some memorable experiences swimming with California sea lions here in the Sea of Cortez, but none as thrilling as two incidents last week.
Loreto, Baja Sur, Mexico » This week I'm sailing along the coast of Mexico's Baja Peninsula, my boat's location for the last two years.
While snorkeling in four feet of water recently, I startled an invisible flatfish. The fish shot forward in a cloud of sand, undulating to a new spot like a fringed flying carpet.
Stony seaweeds are hard in more ways than one. My visiting niece recently collected a handful of warty, purple-and-white spheres on a North Shore beach. She though they were coral.
I recently wrote about an armchair-size coral head I named Fuller Brush Rock after the dozens of bristly shrimps I found clinging to its top. The striped, 2- to 3-inch-long shrimp in fur coats hung there for weeks. One day they were gone and I never saw them again.
Our humpback whales are back. Well, at least three are back, one spotted Sept. 26 off the Kona Coast and two more seen last week near Lanai. The rest of their cohorts will arrive from Alaska within the next month or two.
When I saw a new book called “Lonely Planet’s 1000 Ultimate Sights,” my first move was to check the index for Hawaii entries. If Hawaii wasn’t listed often for awesomeness, I thought, the book missed the boat.
Stony corals rank high on my please-don't-ask-me-to-name-it list. I understand the basics of how these reef-builders eat, secrete, breed and build, but there are so many species and so many forms, colors, shapes and textures of each of those species, I've given up trying to identify them. I enjoy them nameless.
In June a reader sent me a photo of a rarely seen creature she found in Hanauma Bay.
I'm revisiting the subject of seahorses because they've been revisiting me.
The tradewinds have been blowing steadily this week, bringing to our shores the good, the bad and the ugly. Good first. Joren of Laie emailed that he found near the shoreline some blue floating creatures that look like they have wings or legs.
Earlier this month, a news release from the Papahanaumokuakea Marine National Monument office stopped me in my tracks.
Last weekend I swam to my favorite underwater massage parlor, where I counted nine turtles, a record there for me.
If a science-fiction writer invented a fish with a horse head, monkey tail and kangaroo pouch, made the males get pregnant and called the thing a sea monster ("campus" in Greek), well, it would be easier to believe in dragons.
When an adult male orca dives beneath your kayak, is it reasonable to feel a tinge of fear? The question crossed my mind last week as I sat, barely breathing, listening to the whale's whistles and wondering where the big guy would surface.
While I was reading a newspaper in a mainland airport several weeks ago, a two-sentence news story caught my eye.
‘Soul Sessions’ feat. Taimane
Star-Advertiser Print Replica
What is a Print Replica?
The Print Replica of the newspaper is a page-by-page replica of the day's printed newspaper - including all stories, sections, photos and ads - not including advertiser preprints - in PDF like form. It can be viewed on your computer's web browser, iPad, iPhone and some e-Readers.
•
• Print Replica FAQ's »
The Print Replica of the newspaper is a page-by-page replica of the day's printed newspaper - including all stories, sections, photos and ads - not including advertiser preprints - in PDF like form. It can be viewed on your computer's web browser, iPad, iPhone and some e-Readers.
•
• Print Replica FAQ's »
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