Going to the Beach

I think we've discovered our perfect beach. Simply by default, never being allowed into Mauna Kea, we were reduced to 69 beach but have learned that it is the best. The torrential trade winds are ravaging Waimea where we live. It sometimes is dangerous to get out of the car because the car doors become lethal weapons in the wind's grasp. The ocean is also behaving wildly - white caps everywhere and at Hapuna - very large boogie waves. But for some reason little 69 bay is almost perfectly calm. Once in awhile a large swell, but mostly just gentle and there are wonderful coral areas that don't get too stirred up with flailing sand so visibility is actually quite good. I think we spent 6 hours yesterday just snorkeling then resting in the shade of the big trees. We met our little turtle friend taking a breather on the sand. When her eyes are closed you swear she is dead. I got a kick out of her beach path - the flipper marks on each side of the deep tail trench.

I had to replace Kyr's snorkel mask, I think it was irreparably damaged in the ferry tsunami we endured that time we all were at Pender 4 years ago. Kyr has heroically endured a leaky mask ever since - even in Greece. It was to the point that he was emptying it every minute. We collectively decided that it was somewhat of a safety feature as it forced him to see where he was at all times. With a good mask it is almost too easy to find yourself way out, with huge distances ahead trying to get back. Harris bought himself some flippers and is enjoying the speed they enable him while snorkeling and diving. Apparently diving is way easier with flippers, something I'll probably never know.

I became engrossed yesterday in a crab collective. At least 10 crabs were whipping in and out of their holes all within 2 feet of where I stood. By standing very still I witnessed their comings and goings and interactions with eachother. Mostly they liked to stand poised at their hole openings and train their eyes on me. I felt like a conductor. The brief movement of even my hair would send them scuttling down only to reappear moments later when they would arrange themselves facing me. I wonder what they eat?

I've quit suggesting other outings ie) volcano because I'm going to wait and see if the others ever tire of beaching it. I don't tire but I feel the normal anxiety that plagues me that we should be doing other things.

We're eating very gourmet. Last night while making supper a gecko sprinted across the kitchen floor and unnerved me - that flash of fluorescent green!

I've even quit harassing everyone for an early start - now that we've found 69 beach there is no big hurry. As you can see from the last three photos how we start our day - me making breakfast sandwiches and delivering them to the computer people and then the slow realization as I make lunch that perhaps we will have someother demand on us during the day, we might actually have to go somewhere, even though the winds rage around dear little Morning Fire.