Posts Tagged With: big island

Here She Blows

There are two major factors that afford Hawaii its famously congenial climate: that big, fat temperature moderator known as the Pacific Ocean, and the trade winds. The trades blow from the northeast, though big storm systems can disrupt or even reverse that flow as we saw a week or two ago. But on a typical day the winds around the Big Island appear as they do on this screen snap from a weather app on my phone, taken earlier today:

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You might expect from this image that you’d get the strongest and most constant winds at the three vertices where they whip around the edges of the island: the eastern-, northern- and southernmost points. And you’d be right. Today the winds there appear to be blowing at about 15 mph (25 kph), which is somewhat milder than usual. This worked to my advantage yesterday, as you’ll see in a moment.

You might also reason that those would be good places to build wind farms to get some renewable energy action going, and you’d be mostly right about that too. They’ve never done it at the eastern edge, an area called Pahoa that is most famously on the eastern slope of Kilauea volcano. Building a wind farm on the slopes of an active volcano is probably not the best idea, so it hasn’t happened. (That hasn’t stopped people from building homes there though, more than a few of which are currently underneath tens of meters of lava.)

But they have built wind farms at South Point, the southernmost point of the island, and at its mirror image at Upolu Point up at the very north. The South Point installation was an economic failure and was shut down in 2012, though the Mad Max-ish rusting towers, several with missing blades, stand there to this day, as you can see.38446415390_e2610fb019_hBut the Upolu installation near the town of Hawi has been operational since 2006 and generates over 10 MW of power, enough to power a few thousand homes. It has had some hiccups, including a couple of occasions when it had to be shut down when the winds were too strong.

But the winds were mild enough yesterday for me to achieve a goal I’ve sought for the past year, namely flying my drone over the windmills. So here are a few drone photos of the towers. To give you an idea of scale, each blade is about 75′ (23 m) long.

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And here’s a 3-minute video flyover, with a guest appearance of the island of Maui on the horizon at about the 0:55 second mark.

You’ll also notice a small runway. Upolu Airport is a very small general aviation airport that, having little infrastructure and being in relatively remote area of the island, does not see a lot of traffic. When we lived here in the 1980’s it was a favorite place of mine to practice my touch-and-go landings, usually landing towards the northeast into the reliable trade winds.

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So Long, Jim

I’m writing this blog post on February 16, two days later than I ought to, because Valentine’s Day was the 240th anniversary of the death of Captain James Cook, whose third exploration voyage on the HMS Resolution brought him to Hawaii in January of 1778 and made him the first European to see these islands.

Cook initially spent about a month around Kauai and then headed north to explore what is now northern California, Oregon, Vancouver, and southern Alaska. Astutely noticing that those places were cold, he eventually made his way back to Hawaii, cruising around the archipelago before making landfall on the west coast of the Big Island near the village of Kealakekua. (If you’ve ever heard the song “Little Grass Shack” you know how to pronounce it.) He stuck around for about a month, then set sail again, at which point things began to go to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

Shortly after getting underway, the Resolution’s mast broke, and the ship was forced to return to  Kealakekua Bay. A quarrel broke out between the crew and the locals, however, and in the melee a number of men from the village stole one of the Resolution’s cutters, which were small auxiliary boats. Vowing not to negotiate with terrorists, Capt. Cook decided to overreact by attempting to kidnap the king, an effort that ended about as well as you’d expect. Cook was clubbed down, then stabbed to death along with four other crewman. It would be left to future generations to revisit the island and develop the first timeshare condos.

Now Kealakekua Bay is a beautiful marine reserve with crystal waters and abundant fish and coral, marked with a monument to Cook on the shoreline. Here was the scene today, captured by my trusty drone.

Kealakekua Bay 0950-Edit

You can see the monument at left. The boat at right is the Fair Wind II, a local tour operation that brings snorkelers to the otherwise nearly inaccessible bay.  (It’s quite a fun outing: I recommend it if you’re here.) Here are some closer shots of each.

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The inscription at the base of the obelisk reads, “In memory of the great circumnavigator Captain James Cook, R.N. who discovered these islands on the 18th of January, 1778, and fell near this spot on the 14th of February, 1779.” The Hawaiians, needless to say, take issue with the word “discovered” since, having lived here for several hundred years, they knew where it was all along.

(And as for the Fair Wind II, those two long skinny things at the front of the boat are exactly what they look like: water slides. I’ll post some video later showing them in action.)

One of the interesting sidelights to Kealakekua Bay is one that most tourists miss, since it is at the opposite side of the mile-wide bay (and, as it happens, exactly where I launched the drone from). Capt. Cook was brought here to a temple, known in Hawaiian as a heiau. The Hikiau heiau is a solid rectangular stone structure, originally nearly the size of a football field but smaller today. Here’s a view of it from the air:

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The smaller structure at the lower right end is believed to be the lele, the altar. This particular temple is called a luakini, which is a type used for human sacrifices. Sacrifice victims were usually war captives, though sometimes slaves were used. If this practice were followed today I suppose they could grab tourists, but it’s probably a gamble since I imagine that the gods have very mixed feelings about them.

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Back on Top

I’ve rarely felt more like an astronomer than I did during my postdoc in Hawaii in the early 1980’s, freezing my butt off and oxygen-starving my brain atop Mauna Kea at 13,800 ft (4200 m) above the Big Island’s tropical beaches. Its resident telescopes — six at the time, something like 14 now, depending on how you count — have always evoked a strong emotional resonance in me. I’ve written about it before (click here) but MK is always worth a revisit.

Our motivation this time was a visit from Laura and Brian, our old friends from Honolulu, who despite their decades in the islands had somehow never made it to the summit. Fortunately our Lincoln Behemoth Navigator has four wheel drive, so up we went, not without a little wariness: conditions at the summit were reported as below freezing temperatures and nearly 50 mph (80 kph) winds. We did have the good sense to bring along long pants and assorted sweaters and jackets.

Our first stop was the visitor center at Hale Pohaku at 9200 ft (2800 m) altitude. That site was chosen carefully: it is just below the elevation at which altitude sickness sets in for those who are susceptible to it. We stayed long enough to put on warm clothes, use the facilities, and — in my case — purchase my new favorite teeshirt and cap:

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I worked at the United Kingdom Infrared Telescope (UKIRT), whose name you can see on the cap and whose relative telescope mirror size you can at the upper right on the shirt. (Imparting this fact to the cashier got me a 10% discount on my purchase, which pleased me no end.) At the time I worked here, UKIRT’s 3.8 m mirror was the largest on the mountain; now it is not even close. Here is what it looks like from the outside.

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I spent some 200 nights inside that dome.

The view at the summit is spectacular and rather Martian-looking, an expanse of lifeless rusty volcanic rubble and cinder cones.

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But we couldn’t linger; the weather wouldn’t allow it. Here is a worker chipping ice off one of the domes:

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…and here are some icy stalactites hanging off another:

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And if you want to get up close and personal with the weather, here is what the guardrail of the summit road looked like as we parked in the lee of one of the domes:

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As I said, we could not linger.

There is a lot of controversy at the moment surrounding Mauna Kea’s astronomy enterprise. There are very advanced plans to build the largest telescope of them all, the Thirty Meter Telescope, known as the TMT. For my non-metric readers, that is a mirror nearly 100 feet across, a truly giant and enormously capable instrument that would break new astronomical ground but take up a very visible spot on the mountain. But the island hosts a vocal minority of activists who view all of the telescopes — and certainly this planned one — as a desecration of a sacred place: Mauna Kea reaches to the sky, close to the gods. Their view is certainly not universal: there are many Hawaiian traditionalists who feel that since their ancestors were voyagers, the telescopes on the mountain are another form of voyage, honoring the ancient tradition by sending our eyes and minds to the stars. Needless to say, I subscribe pretty strongly to this view. But as a result of the uproar there is a real question as to whether the TMT will be built here; the planners are seriously consider siting the telescope in the Canary Islands (where there are already several other observatories) to avoid the controversy.

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Strumming

There are a number of places on Earth that you can identify solely from a traditional musical instrument: bagpipes, didgeridoo, shamisen, banjo . Hawaii is on the list, and the instrument is of course the ukulele.

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The name translates literally as “jumping flea”, though no one is completely sure why. One theory is that it simply refers to the way a player’s fingers jump around on the frets. Another is that refers to an individual, Englishman Edward William Purvis, an officer under Hawaiian King David Kalakaua in the 1880’s, who was an expert in the instrument but was said to be rather flea-like himself, i.e. small in stature and rather twitchy. Take your pick. In either case, it’s known to be a fairly recent instrument, developed in the 1880’s by hybridizing a few Portuguese stringed instruments brought to the islands by immigrants, brought from Madeira and the Azores to work in the sugar cane fields.

If you’re in the market for a uke in the Kona area, or are just looking for lessons or a dollop of local lore, your go-to place is the Holualoa Ukulele Gallery, which is something of a local institution, occupying a former post office dating from the early 20th century. Holualoa itself is a pleasantly seedy hillside village reminiscent of what an Old West town might look like if the sheriff’s office and saloons were replaced by art galleries.  There are quite a few of the latter, some of very high quality. There is a lot of beautiful art to be found there, much of it created with local woods, e.g. koa and Cook pine. You can count some of the ukuleles among these.

The owner of the gallery is Sam Rosen, himself something of a local institution.

Sam is a ukulele maker, the term for which is a luthier. (Though a lute is a very old instrument, the word luthier itself dates from about 1850 and technically refers to any maker of stringed instruments.) Sam is full of history, a genial raconteur of such gentle persuasion that Alice has felt forced to warn me that she will not tolerate my taking ukulele lessons. Well, boo.

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Poke Your Eyes Out

That’s “po-keh”, which sort of rhymes with “okay”, as opposed to “poke” that rhymes with “croak”. But I am getting ahead of myself.

We are back on the Big Island, comfortably ensconced in our beautiful annual rental house for the next month or so, and enjoying our view of the blue, blue Pacific while all our East Coast friends and family gnash their teeth in envy. Feel free to gnash along: it’s gorgeous here. Photos in later posts.

Our first order of business upon arrival was picking up our rental car, which was, um, shall we say, more “expansive” than anticipated. Expecting a midsize SUV or large Jeep, we were presented with a Lincoln Navigator, a Brobdingnagian exercise in libertarian consumerism of such exuberant eco-criminality that Greenpeace now has a price on my head. A technology-laden behemoth, it is the size of a full-grown bull elephant and has a fuel economy measured in “crushed dinosaurs per mile”. At speeds above 60 mph, or whenever in four-wheel-drive mode, it requires its own convoy of refueling tankers. But it is roomy, quiet, and comfortable, so we’ll live with it. At least until I have to parallel park somewhere.

But mostly I wanted to talk about food, that being one of the sybaritic mainstays of our annual sojourns here. As you may know, the de facto state food of Hawaii is…. Ha! You were going to guess poi, weren’t you? But no. Poi is indeed a traditional staple here, but for historic reasons dating from World War II rationing, the go-to food in these parts is pig parts in a can, i.e. this stuff:

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Hawaiians eat more Spam than any cohort in the known universe, or at least the U.S., an average of 5 cans per year for every man, woman, and child in the state. And as you can see from the photo, it comes in a wide variety of disguises flavors to suit every taste. That is, every taste except ours, since we never touch the stuff.

What we do eat a lot of here, is poke, which is a genuinely traditional Hawaiian food that has gone mainstream. Poke (remember, it is pronounced po-keh) can take many forms but is most commonly served as marinated ahi, i.e. raw yellowfin tuna. The word itself is Hawaiian for “sliced”.

Japanese cuisine has a strong influence on poke’s preparation, Japanese being the second largest ethnic group in the state, slightly behind Filipino. For one thing, poke is prepared with an enormous variety of marinades that include both Japanese and Hawaiian influences, such as soy sauce. And for another, at even the most hole-in-the-wall poke restaurants, it is presented with a certain symmetric Japanese aesthetic, as you can see from this photo of my lunch a few hours ago:

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We had this little masterpiece at “Da Poke Shack”, just down the road from our house; it is possibly the mostly-aptly named restaurant in existence. That’s seaweed salad in sesame oil at the upper right, white rice with dried seaweed and sesame seeds at lower left, and two flavors of ahi poke in the other two diagonal corners. It is a little bit of culinary heaven that has now made its way to the mainland US with varying and usually dubious degrees of authenticity. I can assert from personal experience that if you are eating it anywhere outside of Hawaii with fish more than 10 hours old, you are not experiencing the good stuff.

Having thus officially alerted our digestive systems to our arrival in Kona, we moved on to the largest local farmer’s market, a frequent stop of ours. We bask for a while among the tropical fruits, a spectral riot lilikoi (a.k.a. passion fruit), rambutans, soursops, mangoes, tiny “apple bananas”, carambolas (= star fruit), and of course pineapples. The faces there are comfortingly familiar: we see the same multi-ethnic smiles at the stalls every year.

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(This picture dates from three years ago, and we bought lilikoi from the same woman today. I showed her this photo on my phone; she gave Alice a big hug and asked me to email it to her.) We loaded up with a few bags of fruit, our eyes ever larger than our stomachs, before moving on somewhat reluctantly to the more conventional and cringingly expensive grocery shopping at the Kona Safeway. We will be entertaining a lot of visitors during this year’s stay; there will be many such trips to the farmer’s market, the Safeway, and to the KTA, a local family-owned grocery chain.

So in summary, we’re here, happily nestled into our house in the delightfully-named area of Kahalu’u-Keauhou. More posts later as this year’s adventures unfold.

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Hawaiian Sky

It is for several very good reasons that Mauna Kea is the premier astronomical observing site in the world: the summit is above half the atmosphere and its attendant water vapor (astronomers hate water vapor); it is accessible with good local infrastructure; and — I know this will shock you — it is dark. Very dark. The entire population of the Big island is only 150,000, and the nearest towns are tens of miles away from the telescopes, their lights often concealed under a layer of clouds. And so the night skies on the Big Island are nothing short of glorious.

You do not have to be atop a mountain to enjoy the stellar show — in fact, in some ways it’s better if you’re not. (And despite our plans, we have not made it to Mauna Kea’s summit on this trip: conditions have been too cold and windy.)  So my friend Jim and I struck out from Kona with our cameras and tripods, to a point well away from town about 10 miles inland and about 2500′ (760m) up. With the exception of a couple of hillside dwellings, it was, as they say, as dark as the inside of a dog. Dark enough, in fact, that the unwary photographer can stumble around blindly and knock over his tripod at the end of the night. Fortunately the tripod mounting mechanism made the supreme sacrifice and absorbed the blow of the fall, sparing my camera with its rather expensive lens. But now I need a new tripod mount.  In any case, here are some samples of our work from two nights ago:

Saddle Road Night Sky-005That tongue of stars sticking up from the middle is indeed the Milky Way, as you no doubt suspected. The dots of light at the very bottom of the picture, about one-third of the way in from the left, is Jim setting up his camera by flashlight. And the red glow that you are wondering about is real, neither a Photoshop fake nor the incandescent lava from a distant volcano. It is the actual color of the night sky in the opposite direction from the Sun, i.e. eastward at 9 PM when this picture was taken. I’ve exaggerated it in intensity (thank you, Photoshop) so that you can perceive it in the image. It is a well-known celestial phenomenon called gegenschein, the reflection of sunlight off of interplanetary dust orbiting in the plane of the solar system. In very dark locales it is just barely visible to the naked eye, but a long (6 second) camera exposure of the dark Hawaiian sky brings it right out. Pretty cool, huh?

If you don’t believe me — and I don’t know why you wouldn’t, since I am a professional and not to be taken lightly, dammit — here’s an equally long exposure taken in the opposite (westward) direction:

Saddle Road Night Sky-008No red glow. If you are wondering why you can see the spooky tree and the grass since I earlier stated that the scene was pitch dark, the answer is that I was standing off to the side shining my cell phone flashlight onto the tree in order to get this precise effect. (Photographers call the technique “light painting”.)

One of the things that we tend to forget in this age of crowded cities and light pollution is that there are a surprising number of glorious astronomical objects that are visible to the naked eye or in small binoculars.  The camera sees them just fine in these dark island skies, though. Here is zoomed-in portion of a shot of Orion, the hunter:

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Those are the three stars of Orion’s belt at upper left, visible even in cities. But what’s that big blob in the middle? It is the Orion Nebula, a.k.a. M42, an enormous cloud of gas and dust 12 light-years across, a stellar nursery where massive, hot stars are condensing and igniting. Here’s what M42 looks like through an actual telescope.

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Obviously one cannot see that kind of detail in a photo taken with a conventional mid-sized camera with a 17mm wide angle lens, but if you look at it in my photo you can  clearly see the shape and a bit of the color. Slightly below the nebula in my picture you can also see two bright stars. The upper is called Iota Orionis. The lower is actually a double star system called Struve 747: if you look carefully at it you can see the dim companion star.

So it was a photogenic night. Here I am in situ, taking the above pictures and illuminated by the light of Jim’s flashlight:

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You’ll note that I’m wearing a sweatshirt and long pants, not my usual attire here. But it was an unusually cool night and we were a few thousand feet up; the temperature was about 55°F (13C).

I’ll close this post with a photo that has nothing at all to do with the sky but which I feel like throwing in because it is a night shot, albeit not looking heavenward. The Aloha Theater is a venerable performing arts venue in the nearby delightfully-named town of Kealakekua (pronunciation lessons available for a small fee). It was built in 1932 and is still in use — they’re performing Beauty and the Beast as I type this — and its architecture is typical pre-war (and thus pre-tourist-boom) Hawaii. It has a pleasantly anachronistic feel to it that I tried to capture.

Aloha Theater-002This year’s stay on the Big Island is winding down; we go to Honolulu in 4 1/2 days, followed by eight days on the mainland (California and Arizona) and then home. We’re going diving tomorrow, and in the following day or two I hope to shoot some drone footage of downtown Kailua that I can post before we depart.

 

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Crashing Waves

The Big Island is built out of three active volcanoes (Kilauea, Mauna Loa, and Hualalai), one dormant one (Mauna Kea), and one extinct one (Kohala). The Kona coast lies in the shadow of two of the active ones: Mauna Loa and Hualalai. Most of the Kona district, in fact, sits on the slope of Hualalai, which last erupted 200 years ago and is waiting patiently to play serious havoc with the local real estate market at some time in the indefinite future.

So as you would imagine, lava rock is not exactly a scarce commodity around here; as you’ve seen from my previous photos, most of the coastline is lava rock in various degrees of pulverization. One of the most dramatic illustrations of that feature is a locale called “End of the World”, a line of lava cliffs pummeled by high surf that puts one to mind of what the beaches might look like in Mordor. Here are a couple of photos to give you the idea. (The first is from the drone, directly offshore, and the second is taken from a hillside a few hundred meters down the coast.)

End of the World aerial-003End of the World Canon-003

Not your ideal swimming locale, a rather obvious fact that does not prevent the occasional idiot from going mano a mano again Darwin and losing. (Two years ago, just around the time we moved into the house, one of these benighted daredevils jumped into the water from the top of the cliffs and — surprise! — was unable to figure out a way back up.  A helicopter was dispatched but was too late to save him.)

So although I am not even remotely tempted to perform that particular stunt, it is an ideal venue to snag some dramatic aerial footage via drone, so here is a short video of our visit yesterday. (Stick around till the end of it: there was a sightseeing boat about a mile offshore that I was able to catch up to and play peekaboo with.)

We went back again today. The surf was far calmer than yesterday, but we don’t need the drama to have a nice end to the day here: a Hawaiian sunset will do nicely. So here it is:End of the World Canon-002

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“Da Drone, Boss, Da Drone!”

We arrived on the Big Island yesterday afternoon, about 30 hours ago as I type this, and though we are still coping with East Coast-to-Hawaii jet lag — I woke up at 4 AM today — we have nonetheless settled right in to our tropical home away from home. And it feels like that, too, i.e., the home part: this place is real easy to get used to, doubly so since this is our third winter here. Our goal has now become convincing all of our family and friends to move here so we can stay for good.

We have spent the day variously basking on the lanai (known as a patio just about anywhere else) and running various errands, the latter mostly in the form of grocery shopping or buying items that we forgot to bring. Those missing items included hats (I would not recognize Alice without her floppy garden hat) and the wall charger for my camera batteries.

But I did manage to execute a couple of short drone flights so that I can give you a bit of a feel for the environs.  I am still very much learning the fine points of getting good photo and video results from the thing — you know, niceties like steering and camera settings — but nonetheless here is today’s result:

You will notice the ubiquity of lava rock, e.g., the rather uninviting jagged ebon expanse adjacent to the swimming pool at about the one-minute mark in the video. That’s what the whole complex would look like were it not for the intervention of developers. In fact, in significant measure that’s what this whole side of the island would look like.

You’ll note similarly that the shoreline — about 250 meters from our house as the drone flies — is quite rough-looking. It’s that lava again, pretty much up and down the coast. But there are a number of nice beaches, mostly of the black sand variety where the lava has eroded. There’s quite an attractive one just another couple of hundred meters up the coast, just beyond where the video ends. (I started getting some radio interference and so brought the drone home earlier than planned rather than risk losing control.) You can also see that the water is quite clear, with coral reefs visible in the shallows. The snorkeling around here is superb.

About 45 minutes up the coast from here is an enormous, picturesque, and very popular white sand beach called Hapuna. I confess to being puzzled by its geology. Black sand I get; it’s just broken down lava. But where did the white sand come from? Some research is required, but not tonight.

My drone expedition was cut short when the property manager — a cheerful mustachioed man — tootled over in a small vehicle and rather apologetically asked me to knock it off. It’s not forbidden to fly drones in the complex, he allowed, but a couple of the residents were freaking out so would I please stop? So I did. I had in fact canvassed a couple of the neighbors in advance to make sure they were OK with it (they were) but I obviously couldn’t poll everyone and apparently missed the paranoid ones. Jeez, you’d think that they had all received some kind of false alarm on their cell phones about incoming missiles…..

 

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Hawaii Sky-O

We return to the Big Island in a couple of days, and will be there and in Honolulu for about a month. Now, reading those words, you may think that our time in Hawaii consists of watching the sunset from our lanai as we sip absurdly sweet drinks with little paper umbrellas in them, or swimming among riotously multicolored fish in an azure tropical lagoon. And you know what? You’re exactly right! HAHAHAHAhahahahahaaheeeeeheeeee…..

Ahem. Sorry. The weather has been miserable in the Washington area for the past few weeks — snow, sleet, and Arctic cold — so I am feeling somewhat uncharitable about the fact that we are able to escape it. Pardon my schadenfreude. I will try and make it up to you with some cool photos. Speaking of which —

I hope that my photo reporting from the islands will have a new flavor this time: an aerial one. In preparation for this trip (and because I succumbed to a spasm of self-indulgence) I have purchased a snazzy drone with which I hope to take a lot of aerial photos and videos. The drone itself, for those of you interested in the details, is a DJi Mavic Pro. You can click the name to see all of its wonderful properties, but two of its most important ones for my purposes are (1) it shoots very high quality, rock-steady 4K video and 12 MP still images; and (2) it weighs only 740 grams (26 ounces) and folds up into a little rectangular brick that fits easily into a backpack. It has a 4-mile (7 km) range and can stay aloft for about 25 minutes.

Here are some shots (4 stills and a video) from its maiden flight, only a few days ago. You can tell at a glance that we are not living in a tropical paradise: this is an area called Kent Narrows, at the upper end of the Chesapeake Bay, where the one-word description of the environs is “icy”.

…And here are three minutes of video from the flight:

Cool, huh?

In the sacred tradition of guys anthropomorphizing their favorite toys, I have christened the drone Deneb, the brightest star in the constellation of Cygnus, the swan. Cygnus flies along the Milky Way during the northern hemisphere summer months, so it’s kind of apt. (Astronomical Fun Fact: Deneb, a.k.a. Alpha Cygni, is also one of the most luminous stars in our galaxy, roughly 100,000 times as luminous as the Sun. If it has planets, you could get a helluva tan.)

My good friend, travel buddy, and “dronemate” Steve, whose own purchase of an identical model filled me with envy and techno-lust and ultimately inspired my own purchase, has in Yoda-like fashion chided me for my attachment to ephemeral physical objects. This from a guy who named his drone “Icarus” and recently installed  a 10-foot-wide 4K video display in his living room that plays a continuous loop of swimming jellyfish.  Steve is my hero but I may have to slap him around a little. (If I can reach him: he’s about 6″ taller than me.)

I seem to be digressing. The point is, we are very excited about our return to Hawaii, so watch this space for some eye-in-the-sky photos and videos over the next several weeks. Aloha!

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Something Fishy This Way Swims

Not much to report today other than an afternoon snorkeling session at Kahalu’u Beach Park here on the Big Island, a few miles south of downtown Kailua and less than a mile from our house. But first a word about beaches…

Say the words “Hawaiian beach” to someone and their immediate mental image is in all likelihood a vast expanse of white sand, lined with palm trees. And it is true that there are a few beaches like that in the islands, most notably Waikiki in Honolulu, though at that particular locale there are probably as many hotels as palm trees. There’s one like that on the Big Island as well, called Hapuna, located a good half hour north of Kona. But remember that these islands are volcanic, which means that most of the beaches are made of coarse black sand, usually punctuated with some ropy hardened pahoehoe lava. (The palm tree part of the mental picture is still accurate, though.) None of this means that you can’t lay out a blanket and pick up a nice case of skin cancer as well as on any white sand beach, but at least now you have the right picture in your head.

Kahalu’u Beach Park is a typical black sand beach in this regard, especially well suited for a beach outing because it fronts on shallow Kahalu’u Bay, protected from the not-always-pacific Pacific by a coral reef a few hundred yards offshore. The bay is in most places less than 7′ (2.2 m) deep and studded with coral outcroppings, making it an excellent snorkeling venue. Its only difficulty is occasional strong currents as the tide goes in and out. But from where we stay, it’s hard to beat both for convenience and for the variety of sea life it supports (notably a colony of green sea turtles, known in Hawaiian as honu). So here are some photos from today’s outing:

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Honu. Some of the turtles in Kahaluu have tracking devices on their backs, courtesy of NOAA researchers

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Ornate Butterflyfish (Kikakapu)

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Yellow Longnose Butterflyfish (Lau Hau)

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Black Surgeonfish (Pualu)

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Left: Threadfin Butterflyfish (Kikakapu). Right: Yellow Tang (Lau’i Pau)

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Left: Yellow Tang (Lau’i Pau). Right: Parrotfish (Uhu)

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A school of yellow tangs (Lau’i Pau)

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Clown Wrasse (Can’t find the Hawaiian name!)

There are many other colorful species that live in the bay, notably a healthy number of reef triggerfish. The reef triggerfish is the state fish of Hawaii and sports one of the best native names of any creature anywhere, ever: humuhumunukunukuapua’a. I once got a discount on a tee shirt by pronouncing this correctly.

Categories: Hawaii | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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