Yesterday I told you a bit about Kalalau, a stunning beach in Kauai, Hawaii. That place holds a little piece of magic. The magic is held in the creamy sand. It’s held in the towering cliffs that rise behind you. It’s held in the reds and greens and blues and grays that surround you. It’s held in the enchanting sunrises.
Actually, this picture was taken at sunrise. We camped at Kalalau. Because there are no buildings. There are no cabins or resorts. Kalalau is a part of the Hawaii State Park system. This is one of the reasons Kalalau stays so pristine and untouched — few people set foot on that creamy, yellow sand. This is also the reason I was up before sunrise.
I’m not much of a camper. I don’t sleep well on a 1/4″ thick sleeping pad. I don’t enjoy the heat and humidity provided by a nylon tent in the summer. And I really don’t enjoy attempting to go to the bathroom with a flashlight in the middle of the night. So, yes, my night’s sleep was less than stellar, and I rose before the sun. But for this view? It was worth it.
Pure bliss. Peace. Solitude. Moments like this make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. Because I’m so fortunate. So fortunate to be one of the few that buried my feet in the damp sand on this little piece of island paradise one morning in July. One of the few that showered in the community waterfall. And swam in the freshwater cave-pool. And listened to an old Hawaiian chief sing in the darkness. And swam around a cliff with a group of locals to come upon an even more remote beach, one that even fewer see, with precisely zero footsteps in the sand until we got there. One of the few that jumped into the waves and turned around to see water falling from the cliffs, turning black lava rock green with moss in every direction.
Oh yes, I’m fortunate. And this life? It’s such a magical adventure.