Viewing page 28 of 69

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

Wednesday June 14 10am
On the beach. Kealia

I was to leave last night for town. Had waited so long for the things but now I’m still here on this island, and am perfectly content. Yesterday I reviewed Kealia Beach – with its ever-changing reef + river mouth + found it ever captivating. And now, at Kealia, hiding snugly from a sudden rain in some fisherman's wind-break made of dried golden-yellow reeds and sticks. The beach is strewn with them. Beautiful, natural, a bit sad. When rain comes over the sea, the horizon is very soft, and the water is an opaque light blue. 

I imagine it is the same color over the world, whenever rains come over the sea. I remember Virginia's description in her letter of the English coast where sea-spray drips from the trees. I desire now to travel + spend a winter at some spot where great storms rage + cold winds blow. Four years ago I was to tell Mike, my roommate of a strong yearning to live in Salchalin – “Ice + snow + a cold wind blowing.” 

The spindrift is now blowing over the coast at Kealia. The village is one of the most ideally situated – along a bay, with great waves rolling, + a river pouring reeds, grasses + mud into the sea. 

I remember Sunday's adventure – to Kilauea – hiked a mile + discovered a most exciting cliff above the sea. I peered over the cliff, (570 ft!) directly over a little bay. A sheer drop, in parts of solid black rock, in one part of pure red earth. I don't think anyone has ever been on the beach below – it being enclosed by the flanks of the cliff. In all, a most dramatic sight. 

Many times I should like to be the first one to see a certain spot – for the sake of "discovery." But then – each man discovers the world for himself for discovery is the encountering of strangeness.