HMS Penguin, a British survey ship, inbound to Honolulu for supplies during an expedition to make deep-sea soundings in the Pacific at the close of the 19th century, inadvertently discovered the 28-mile shoal or "bank" 180 feet deep, giving it its name.

An account of how the Penguin sounded Penguin Bank is one of the entries in Clark's book "Hawai'i Place Names: Shores, Beaches & Surf Sites," University of Hawai'i Press, paper, $12.95. How Clark came to compile the book is the subject of a lecture at the Hawaiian Historical Society later this week.

At first glance, "Hawai'i Place Names" is a compendium of information, its 2,500 entries the result of Clark's lifelong love affair with Hawai'i's beaches and ocean. But interwoven with the entries are mo'olelo: stories of how shore-related places around the Islands came by their names and why

Thirty years ago, Clark, deputy chief of the Honolulu Fire Department and a former lifeguard, set out to learn the story behind Hawai'i place names whether of Hawaiian, English or other origin. The project evolved into Clark's "Beaches of Hawai'i" book series, which inventories and describes Hawai'i's beaches. As he gathered information, he interviewed hundreds of people, including many Native Hawaiians, who passed on to him mo'olelo — stories, myths, legends about how places came by their names.

"One of the important rules about place names in the Hawaiian language is that you never know the true meaning of a name unless you know the mo'olelo or story that goes with it," Clark said. "Collecting mo'olelo, ancient and modern, is an exciting pursuit ... They are a reflection of the who, what, when, where and why at the time they were given."

Place names also require patience and tenacity.

"Many place names are not formally recorded," Clark said. "And, of those that were, many could only be found in legends, Hawaiian-language newspapers, old books and land court documents."

When original stories were lost, the mo'olelo changed. Sometimes, names moved from one place to another.

Surf spots, for example, were often named for a house or landmark on the beach. Places were torn down, rebuilt in a different location, or simply washed away. Sometimes the name is all that remains.

Clark began interviewing people in 1972; the oldest of his interviewees was born in 1887. Entries span about 100 years — the 20th century. They include beaches, fishponds, shrines, seastacks, reefs, monuments, navigation lights and more than 600 surfing sites with names like "Smoking Rock," "Pray for Sex," "Gums," and "Fin Hole."

Banzai Pipeline, for example, didn't get its name from its tubular wave, but from a construction project aimed at repairing an underground pipeline on nearby Kamehameha Highway. Golden Arches is a dive site off La Pérouse, Maui. South of La Pérouse Bay and 70 feet deep, the undersides of three natural arches are covered with gold and orange tube coral and red and yellow sponges. The name is a play on the famous McDonald's restaurant trademark.

Clark does a formidable job of pinning each entry to a definite place, researching names on old maps, in reference books and in archives. But it is the mo'olelo,

vignettes of life in Hawai'i as told personally to the author, that infuse the book with a vivid sense of Hawai'i', its kama'aina and malihini past and present, such as the story of Oscar Teller as told to Clark by Ralph Sallee in 2000.

"Old Man's, a break at Waikiki, was first surfed regularly by Albert "Oscar" Teller (1909-1995). Teller, who came to Waikiki in 1932, was a bodybuilder with an excellent physique. The beachboys named him Oscar after the movie-award statuette, and he was known by that name all his life. A quiet, calm and gentle person, Oscar spent hours waiting for waves on his long, hollow board off the Kaimana Channel. Sometimes he carried a bag of bananas so as not to have to come in for lunch. He was known as "old man" and the surf spot came to be known as "Old Man's." When the Outrigger Canoe Club moved to its present Waikiki location, they picked up the name, and "Old Man's" it has been ever since.

For almost 30 years, Clark recorded stories such as these in a series of journals, finding people to interview through family and friends and following their recommendations on people to talk to.

"Interviewees would almost always recommend a neighbor or relative — a ripple effect that was effective but simple, and meant I always came recommended by someone they knew," he said.

It helped also that as a former lifeguard, Clark's connection to the surfing community goes back almost 50 years: "I've been absorbing ocean information since I was 8 years old." Clark also credits the Honolulu Fire Department for being one of his best resources: "Almost all our firefighters are connected to the ocean, so they're excellent sources of firsthand information on what's happening in their areas," Clark said.

And sometimes answers to questions turned up by chance: As when he found himself seated next to a couple at a dinner recently who answered a question about Yokohama Bay that had puzzled Clark for 30 years.

"The Hawaiian name for the bay is Keawa'ula or 'the red harbor,' named for large schools of squid that colored the water," Clark recalled. "Yet, squid are clear, transparent and even in a large school, would appear as a shadow, not red."

The woman seated next to Clark told him she had lived in Makena, Maui, in the 1940s. "One of her clearest memories as a child was when her father, a fisherman, took the family to a rocky point at Makena to see the large schools of squid congregate nearshore. The schools would be red, turning the ocean a brilliant color," he said.

Then Clark learned that squid change color when they reproduce. He immediately made the connection with Yokohama Bay. "Finally, after 30 years, I had the answer," he said.

Clark was reared in Honolulu and apart from two years in the Army, has lived here all his life. Outside of his job as deputy fire chief, he consults on water safety and ocean recreation projects and is the owner of Kalaheo Sports Productions, which puts on ocean sports events.

Does he have a favorite place?

"To just go the beach, I love Hanauma Bay," Clark said. "Most local residents have written it off because of heavy visitor traffic, but I go late in the afternoon when it's quiet and the crowds have gone." Clark takes his little guys, Koji, 6, and Sachi, 4, to the bay about once a month. "It's still a special place for us," Clark said.

But as a surfer, Clark's favorites hit a different stride: "Day Star and Himalayas on the North Shore, Wailupe and Diamond Head on the south side."