When he looked down the coastline from our hotel on the big island, Ron could see a spot where the beach crawled out into the ocean a bit. He pointed to it.
Let’s go there
So we did. All we needed was each other, a hammock in case we found a killer spot to tie up, our backpacks, water and flip flops. And we went on an excursion to find nobody.
It’s one of our specialties. Finding nobody. Getting to a place where no one else is around. Maybe it’s a rock formation at Arches National Park, a spot along the Colorado River, a peninsula in Idaho, or a cove along the shore of Santa Cruz island at Channel Islands National Park.
It’s amazing to know, in those moments of finding nobody, that you’re the only people experiencing a certain place. And because of that, you capture these exclusive, mental souvenirs.
This hike was no different. Walking along a shore formed by crunchy, sharp lava rock is otherworldly. Especially how that obsidian coast is set off with the vibrantly lime foliage growing to one side and the crystal-clear, impossibly blue water lapping at the rock on the other side.
We were walking along a spot where new Earth had formed. And it had only come to a stop, after ravaging the land behind it, because the water said so.
Can you imagine? The ocean is badass. Apparently more badass than lava, which almost always gets its way.
And in our search to find nobody, we still had a little small talk with strangers. They were the kind of strangers that require us to keep our distance, by federal and state law. The green sea turtles that use all their strength to push themselves up on the shore and catch some rays – they’re protected.
So we waved. Took some pictures. Admired the geometric shapes that covered their heads. And we kept looking for nobody.
We saw a bunch of those guys, though. They were swimming. Sunbathing. Trying to eat something off an underwater rock ledge. They never weren’t magical.
And when we got to the spot Ron had pointed to, we did find nobody. We found a sunbathing ledge made of hardened lava, which doubled as a killer lookout for dolphins jumping in the distance. And we found washed-up coral, so we built a little tower with it.
And then we turned back. But before we made it to the hotel, we swam with nobody in a spot that looked perfectly snorkel-worthy, where the shore curved a little and the underwater ledges looked like they may be promising.
And nobody came. We got to just be, in that place, the only ones experiencing it – with the exception of our turtle friends.