Manini Beach 3 August 2017

Up early to meet up with Auntie Sandy, found her throwing bugs into the jungle in back of the community garden. The leaves of the plants demonstrate the health of the Kona entomological establishment.

Sandy had four eggs (Can't just give two, she says) and three short bananas in their fullest prime. (If you want 'em)

A little later we go back for a snorkel before the wind and waves pick up.

But a little truth first. Commonly this place is called Manini Beach, it has a more ancient and honorable name, Kapahukapu. You might see kapu and think forbidden, but it also means sacred (and therefore forbidden to the likes of YOU!) So many oceanic languages use shadings and doublings to express shades of meaning. Kapa means heart (or say Auntie informs me) and she takes the name to mean Place where the heart is sacred.

That's Tita Francis in the shade. Nothing gets past her, and everything is met with Aloha (if sometimes also puzzlement.)

My first buddy on this morning's voyage was this young Green Turtle, who kept her (his?) eye on me as long as I hung in the water ...and paddled closer. As I took this, she satisfied herself I was only a voyeur, and continued on her mysterious, weightless way. Something about the fluidity of oceanic encounters: the species to species, eyeball to eyeball connection is protracted -- seconds -- and somehow more tightly connected through water than through air (where the eye-to-eye is seldom so lasting.)

My second buddy was this little white-tip reef shark hustling away into the murk, knowing I'm more likely to eat him than him me. For just a moment I tried to pursue, but he glided quickly out of sight. (The camera doesn't see through the water as well as the human eye does when suitably goggled.)

Flights of Raccoon Angelfish (kikakapu) this morning, browsing on coral polyps. I have always thought coral to be at the nexus of vulnerability: all these fish eatin', storms crashing, then boats dragging anchors, and a world population acidifying your medium! Ain't fair!!

The ace gobbler of polyps, the Parrotfish. These tanks run their beak-like lips against the living coral -- you can heard the crunch of impact -- and come away with a mouthful of polyp and reef. From time to time, these beauties issue gouts of sand from their vents.

Drove up to Highway 11 for lunch at Sundried Sprecialties, a warehouse with a kitchen service counter, a couple big tables, a lot of refrigeration, and two smiling Kanaka Maoli to take your order ...anything you want so long as it's fresh fish.

Rochelle ordered Crabby Cakes (I didn't get it at the time) and I the Ono fish plate. $23. Fresh, well-breaded, and enough brown rice for a week. Right after we arrived, lunchtime hit, and everyone was scurrying and twitching Hawaiian style (meaning: not much.)

Next stop, Pu'uhonua o Honaunau, a sentimental return for me. On the way, a nod to our one-time favorite, now over-run, snorkel spot, now famous the world over as Two Step. (It takes two steps to get in the water.)

This place thrills me. The story of the fugitive warrior who has mortally offended his chief and has escaped despite pursuit, makes it around the little death house and the kapu statues and behind the great wall, and *IF* (the Ranger always leaves this part out) the kahuna on duty buys the story, his transgression is forgiven.

Back home, the fans working overtime, it gets cool enough to make a picture in our canopy bed. 

Dusk, and Rochelle is making our evening salad. Fans still whistling, still a bit too warm for us, but the ennervation is kinda nice. 

Onward tomorrow around the Big Island the hard way (around through Na'alehu, Volcano, Hilo, and Hamakua) before roosting in Kamuela. Tomorrow's transmission may be late.