Wednesday, October 01, 2008

A Deanna Day

I did crazy things when Deanna was here. She's quite the instigator, and I have the bruises on my legs to prove it. A few days before she jetted off to Amsterdam we went to our favorite beach, Lanikai, where a certain boat is often anchored a little bit off shore. She suggested we swim out and touch it. My careful nature protested that it was too far and too deep. Suddenly, there beside us in the water was the owner, whom we had seen on multiple occasions swimming out to his boat, pushing his little float with fishing tackle ahead of him.

I'm sure he didn't hear our conversation, but he did pause, tread, and invite us for a ride. To be honest, we'd often wished for just such an invitation. Several careful glances at each other were exchanged, and one verbal warning was given -- "As long as you don't kill us," said Deanna. I thought it a good deal, although afterward I realized he never actually agreed to that condition. Swim we did, then, after retrieving our stuff from the beach and plopping it on his floatie. When I knew a ladder was waiting for me at the end, I suddenly lost my fear of going out so far from the shore. (Although I discovered later that clambering into moving boats using tiny little ladders is a good formula for getting pretty bruised up.) These sights greeted us once we were underway...

The little island above is one of two which had been tantalizing us for months. People kayak out there, but not being experienced in such things (or such waters) we'd hesitated to try it ourselves. The islands (the "Mokes") have small beaches and are sanctuaries for sea birds. Once our new friend, Dave, had anchored off shore we jumped into the water again and swam in. I cannot describe the crystal clarity of this water, though you may be able to see a little of it in the photos. The floor is a patterned, light and dark mix of blond sand twining between dark rocks.

Behind us is the island we went to, which is covered with holes in which baby sea birds, all fluffy and weak, are nested. One per hole. They're waiting for a parent to bring food. Dave showed us these, and took us barefooted around the back to the ocean side, where sharp black rocks secreted a little "queen's bath". The process of jumping in, swimming about, and hoisting myself back onto the rocks while avoiding the spiky urchins left a trail of blood running from my knee down my calve, but it was worth the wound. I just wished I'd had my flipflops--those rocks are sharp!

On the way back he dropped us off at his beach house, which had darling stone steps leading up the stone wall which keeps the water away when tide is high. He had to motor off someplace else, so gave us the keys and told us to just drop them over the courtyard wall once we'd left and locked the gate. Nicely toweled off, we left our luxurious afternoon behind and regrouped at Sam's rusted out island beater (the one with the fern growing from the wheel well), ready to "beat" our way back to real life.

It was definitely a treat (even moreso in hindsight, once I knew we'd made it back to the beater alive :). The only unfortunate part of the whole affair is that we owe it to our pretty faces (according to Dave), and Jordan preached a sermon on Sunday about how terrible it is to show preference to people based on things like looks or wealth. On the other hand, Deanna's smiley friendliness and God's desire to show us some of His pretty handiwork were likely the real reason for the afternoon. In which case, I freely accept! :)

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