Mike in the Wild

I made the decision a long time ago that when I visited Maui during whale season, I would stay in South Maui.  So during my five-night visit last month, I chose a rental condo in South Kihei where from beaches like Kamaole One, right across the street, I could witness the spectacle of humpback whales breaching in the distance.   Another reason informing my decision was that I wanted to give Northwest Maui and Lahaina some space while they deal with the aftermath of last summer's tragic fire.  While the resorts and beaches outside of the city proper were unaffected and are open for business, it was hard for me to imagine driving through the devastated landscape to have a day of fun in the surf.  The much more practical excuse for sticking to South Maui was that the winter season brings frequent swells to the northern shores of the Hawaiian Islands: great news for surfers but bad for snorkelers.  In fact, the Snorkel Store's morning report was frequently advising against swimming

Two visits to Maui and one to Oahu within eight months is a lot for even me, a person enamored with the Aloha State.  But I had never been to Maui during whale season, when thousands of humpback whales migrate to the surrounding waters for a winter of calving and mating.  While I was disappointed to discover that I had missed the peak of the season by a week, I was nonetheless thrilled to not only see dozens of the giant creatures but to even hear them.  Like when I visited the Big Island three years ago around the same time of year, the whales were easily visible from the shore.  The clouds of mist from their blows were usually the first sign they were present, often followed by their back and knobby dorsal fin cresting out of the water.  If the whales dived, their tail fins sometimes emerged high out of the water.   One evening at sunset on Charley Young Beach in Kihei, I watched a pair of whales far in the distance toward the community of Maalaea have a sort of smack-off as they spl

When I came face to face with my first moray almost thirty years ago in Honolua Bay on Maui, I was terrified.  I was snorkeling in shallow water close to the rocky shore when the animal appeared to lunge at me.  Of course it didn't.  Instead, it was most likely nestled in a rocky crevice with mouth agape as it breathed in water and waited for small fish prey.  I was new to snorkeling, meeting the vast underwater world for the first time, and just the word moray eel was menacing to me.   Today I'm much more comfortable around these members of the eel family.   Hawaii is home to almost forty species of morays, the whitemouth being the most common.  In fact on my recent trip to Maui, I saw at least five different specimens of the whitemouth moray at five different sites.  An especially fat individual was even one of the last fishes I observed off Napili Beach on the last snorkeling foray of my vacation.   Over the course of the week, I also encountered at least one zebra, one undu

I was reminded a lot on my recent trip to Maui that nothing is more exciting for a snorkeler than an encounter with a green sea turtle.  And it's becoming easier and easier to admire how graceful, peaceful and gentle these Hawaiian creatures are thanks to decades of conservation efforts.  The species has been protected since 1978 under the Endangered Species Act.  While its population has increased significantly since then, it is still only at a fraction of its historic level.  Meanwhile nesting sites on the biggest Hawaiian islands are still rare.   Green sea turtles are mostly not afraid of the humans that swim so close to them, gliding right by you as you're exploring a reef.  Sadly, they're oblivious to the harm that mankind is capable of wielding.  Turtles are easily entangled in the lines and nets of fishermen, in addition to the garbage increasingly filling the ocean.  And run-ins with boats and their motors' propellers can harm or kill one of these large reptile

Beautiful Maui.  I'm still pinching myself that I was part of the first wave of tourism when Hawaii reopened their doors to COVID-free visitors on October 15th.  Of course, it didn't take long for me to acclimate to the windward breezes, the tropical sun and, especially, the picturesque beaches with their beckoning coral reefs just an easy swim offshore.  As soon as the surf shop opened on my first morning in the Aloha state, I rented snorkel gear so I'd be ready to dive right in during my seven-day stay.   I only had to walk a hundred feet from my hotel room to find a good site to snorkel: Napili Bay is one of the easiest and most rewarding places for underwater exploration in Maui.  Green sea turtles were feasting on algae at the south end of the cove when I first entered the calm ocean.  While reacquainting myself with these gentle creatures was just what the doctor ordered, it might have been identifying a few new fish that really captured the excitement of my long-dela

Riding the first wave of tourism back to Hawaii when the state started allowing COVID-screened visitors in October, I was starved for the type of travel that had been on hold for most of the year.  Part of that hunger was a drive to swim in the water off Maui and to reacquaint myself with the many denizens of the sea.  I was especially heartened when I quickly stumbled upon a relatively uncommon fish for me, the pink-tailed triggerfish. It's in a family with the reef triggerfish, a fish that epitomizes snorkeling on Hawaii's reefs like no other.    It's impossible not  to spot this animated, striped resident of the coral reef every time you enter the water; no wonder it's the state fish of Hawaii. The triggerfish is called as such because it can erect and lock its dorsal spine to hold itself tightly in a rocky crevice as a means of protection.  It can only unlock this bone by the 'trigger' of a second dorsal spine that holds the first in place. I regularly see a

Last year I wrote about snorkeling at Kauai's Poipu Beach Park.  The spot had something for everyone:  sugary sand, a protected kiddie lagoon, surfing, rest rooms, picnic areas, restaurants, lifeguards, hotels, coral reefs and, yes, terrific snorkeling.   Much more recently, in fact just two weeks ago, I snorkeled at Honolua Bay on the island of Maui.  Its wildness draws quite a contrast with Poipu in almost every way except one: some of the best snorkeling in the Aloha State.  Honolua is in the extreme northwest of Maui, one of the last stops in a string of tourist attractions that starts with Lahaina eleven miles away.  Lahaina is a colorful, lively town that retains many of the buildings and architectural styles from its booming whaling days in the nineteenth century.  To the north is the sprawling beachside resort development of Kaanapali, followed by the snorkeling hotspots of Black Rock and Kahekili Beach.  Up the coast is the affordable hotel district of Kahana and then the