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on thin black girders 800 feet high.
     Always the sea, the lava cliffs. Same day Paauilo coast.
     This is a place for gods and poets.
     I wandered from the railroad station and found myself on the high edge of the Mamakua Coast. This must be several [[strikeout]] hundred feet high. The deep sea is directly beneath me. So straight and sudden is the drop from land to sea that I don't dare walk too close to the edge. Many ironwoods have fallen into the sea, with hunks of earth and buffallo grass -- some old pigstys are here, and several are hanging over the edge, about to go.
     The cliffs are black and orange. I can see them for a mile to my right and another half mile to my left.
     Black sea birds are flying over the water and at the crumbling edge of black boulders where the waves beat and [[strikethrough]] climb the coast. there is a waterfall pouring over the precipice into the sea. I saw a swollen blue wave break under my eyes. It is monstrous. The spendrift blows up over [[strikethrough]] cliffs in swift [[strikethrough]] clouds.
     Maui is over the horizon
     I walked a long stretch toward Paauilo town, and hitched a ride. Two columns of rainspouts and two rain storms were over the long white horizon.

Sunday, 29th Dec.
     At Kailua, near Kona Inn.
     The ride from Pasuilo to Kailua took me over beautiful land. The Waimea cattle country is silvery yellow, very much like Peter Hudd's New Mexico landscapes. The hills are like