It's Jan. 19th, and the beach has finally been re-opened after 3 days of somber reverence for the mega storm. The storm proper lasted maybe 36 hours from Friday, with its killer waves and currents continuing on through the weekend. Today broke clear, the waves are standing at a 20-foot minimum, there are 50+ surfers and surfettes and the actual lineup on every break is at least ten death-wishers. So far, uncountable guys have busted their boards in half. Another one staggered past on the beach with his board in 3 pieces. Looked a little shocky. A Waring Blender comes to mind.
Yesterday, the 18th, I think I finally landed. Four things tell me this: I took a nap in the sunny hammock, rode bikes down past the Banzai Pipeline to Waimea Bay, did a face-plant in a heavenly, dead-ripe papaya, and wound up the day riding up to Sunset Point, where locals like to sit in silence, while they drink a sacramental beer and watch the glorious sunset. It's like church, so while I did wear my hat, I did not take my camera. I'll try not to make that mistake again.
As I look out through my knees, I see a swarm of eensy-weensy surfers way out there on the green green waves, looking eversomuch like sea lions to sharks. Meanwhile, no matter what the big dogs holler at him, a genuine sea lion is flopped out for a snooze on the warm sand over at the Point. I wonder if the sharks know the difference. Or care.