I am one of the sole inhabitants of this place; having landed on this sandy beach with almost no anchorage because the very fine silt bottom. There is nothing to anchor to, and walking on the bottom is close to walking through quick sand. I want to land; I have to land now. In doing so my boots sink and then fill with the silt, and the only instrument I have to maintain my balance is the paddle I used to cross a vast section of water to get here. There is a point to exhaustion where dealing with it overrules the need to go further—obey it now. With great effort the kayak I was rowing and the stand-up paddle board I am towing were left on the beach to dry during my absence. I am heading up the beach to find something interesting to photograph. The ascent from the beachhead is steep and composed of very loose sand. It is difficult and fatiguing; but the beautiful tree line and waist level high plants at the top paid generously for this toil.
These scenes being all encompassing and fully occupying my attention, I remained on the banked summit to obtain a better view. An abundance of small shells is found on the top and sides of the hill suggesting a tidal condition which is definitely being taken advantage of by the local bird populations. The formed calcium carbonate structures are observed protruding from the caked ground on every part on the sandy summit. I inferred that the level of the water must be at its lowest level enabling me to stick around for the remainder of the late afternoon.
In the early evening I got under way again, using my paddle board to skim over to the entrance of the small harbor; examining the patterns of the sand bars I equate them to an interesting remnant of natural art or sculpture. After satisfying myself on this extensive sandy beachhead, and choosing a spot within the entrance to exit at a higher tide, I got full paddle; crossing the sandbars not less than twelve and a half feet below the surface of the water, nearly exiting about the time of high tide.
My current direction is about fifty meters of off the western shore, and not more than three kilometers from the entrance to the next interesting harbor; convenient for my purposes, as the shoreline was abundantly more interesting than the place I beached my kayak loaded with dive gear. I am protected against the winds which seem to be blowing at a higher elevation. Although the surface of the water has small whitecaps the tips of the higher trees sway with greater exacerbation. By the proximity of the cross currents I am leading, I am successfully using my fully upright position on top of the twelve foot board to act as a sail. Because of this I am literally gliding ahead of the chop and surfing on two to three foot waves.
This place and time together equal paradise. I cannot wait to land on the opposite shoreline so that I can write this down and review the photographs. And I cannot wait for tomorrow to begin, so that I may repeat this all over again.