Making our steep and winding way through the wind sculpted grooves of the mountains, we were presented with unbelievable vistas. Each time we rounded the outer edge of a groove, we saw everything from a new perspective.
Final leg to Kalalau beach, the strip of sand tucked into the mountain valley.
Leaping the river that feeds into the ocean by the beach.
The fresh waterfall to shower or fill up water bottles. Goats like to send rocks scattering down though, so beware.
We promptly stripped down upon our arrival at the beach and made a beeline for the ocean. Within seconds of warning each other about possible undertows, I was pulled underneath, tossed around, coated in sand, slammed by a second wave and unceremoniously deposited on my belly onto the beach. So...enough of that. Passing the river on our way to the beach, we saw a few other hikers (and a couple residents of the beach) bathing and soaking in the fresh water. We walked the half mile back to the river, and laid on smooth stones under the cool rushing water, feeling as refreshed as I believe it is possible to feel.
Exploring the beach we waited for the sunset and stars that were surely going to eclipse all past night skies. This enormous beach, untouched by any industrialization, is like a kept promise to yourself. As the sun began setting, I tried to start releasing the doubt, the disbelief, the worry that I carry along inside of me. I willed myself to be as present as possible, opening my senses to where I was and the hugeness of life started to carry itself up within me. I felt the uncomfortable vertigo feeling of the smallness of myself against so much grandeur and wonder in the world. It is an immense effort of will to get beyond this overwhelming feeling and to emerge on the other side of introspection, maybe understanding our place in the universe a little bit better. At some point that night, it all just became so big and I had to take a deep breath and come back into myself.
That night, looking up at the most incredible night sky I have ever seen (even better than quiet nights at sea), the deep purple of space seemed even broader and deeper. I wish I could have captured that night sky, with its swirls and dustings of stars.
Friday morning, Sus and I caught the middle of sunrise as we started the 11 mile trek out. It seemed the hills were even steeper, the path even narrower, but we completed the hike quickly (relatively) and promptly treated ourselves to cookies (me) and Haribo (Sus). This was an experience like no other, alongside my friend and buoyed by nature's gift of peace incarnate.
Sunrise.
Daylight streaming in.
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