Beach exfoliation

A few days ago The C and I headed out to hang at a beach and do some reading, napping, floating in the ocean and maybe a little journal entering if the energy was to be found. Wanting new views we headed further north than Kua Bay (the only beach we'd been to on this trip) (http://www.hawaiiweb.com/Hawaii/html/beaches/kua_bay.html), a beach I mocked as it passed. A part of me regretted those words as soon as I uttered them.

Hapuna Beach State Park (http://www.hawaiiweb.com/Hawaii/html/beaches/hapuna_beach_state_park.html) is a beach with sands neither The C nor I nor had ever walked. How come? Well, it's popular. Quite popular. Just down the road is a lesser known beach that lacks the seas of humanity. On this day we found the parking lot at Hapuna mostly empty despite the clear skies. Blaming the lack of cars on the early hour (early for us. Not most people. It was after 9am) we congratulated ourselves on our luck, grabbed our towels, locked the car and commented on the wind. Above us palm trees swayed in the wind, an idyllic beach scene.

Within minutes of making the beach a new opinion on the emptyness of the beach surfaced. Maybe the wind was keeping people away? Not the wind so much as the skin-scrubbing sand getting blown in gales across the empty beach. Two pairs of rapidly disappearing footprints that led to a small secluded cove of sand showed our beach savvy. Once there we wrestled to get our blankets on the ground, making liberal use of our books and water bottles.

"What a beautiful beach! Aren't we lucky to have it so empty?"

No response from The C.

Putting sunscreen on couldn't have been harder if we'd first swum in the ocean and then rolled around in the sand. Somehow we covered up and then laid down to relax.

Just down the beach from us an older lady in pink bottoms and a black shirt hunched her way to the water, arm up over her head, jerking around every 10 seconds, at one point dropping to her knees and shielding her head with her arms. When she finally made it into the water she dove under, surfacing every 30 seconds for a gulp of air before ducking back under. I watched and giggled at her show while sand hit my lathered body and clung, forming a moss-like structure. By the time she fumbled her way out of the water a thin layer of sand covered me. The C had rolled over under her blanket asking why we'd not yet left.

The poor woman got not further than 20 feet from the water before getting stuck by the wind and sand. Her husband came to her rescue with a snorkel, mask and umbrella. She slumped to the ground, snorkel pointing skyward and he had to literally drag her up the beach to their chairs. When I tried to roll over and pull back The C's blanket to show her their antics, I found that I couldn't move.

"Hey, The C. Could you dig me out? I can't move."

Instead of helping me out she stood, cascading sand from her towel on top of me. She grabbed my bag and said she'd see me in the car.

There I lay. Stuck, but still giggly. As the sand crept up over my face I wondered at the dedication of the lifeguard who called out advice from his stand. Nuggets like: "Get up," and "go home!"

My savior appeared in the guise of a blue heeler. At some point he'd run away from his owner, a leash dragging behind. The mound of sand that was me caught his attention as something needing marking. A quick fssss and sand pawing. The leash dragged across my mouth and somehow I glommed on hard enough for the now frightened dog to drag me up out of the sand.

After a quick dip in the ocean I fought my way upwind, passing the old lady and her husband forcing themselves to have a good time on their last day in Hawaii. Wind be damned.

Ten miles back down the highway the wind ended and the vog began.

My words didn't taste too bad because Kua Bay was sunny for a good two hours before the thunderstorm rolled in.

I'm still digging out sand.