The Character of Little Beach

I was sitting on the beach yesterday morning after our initial paddle ball game and my first dip in the ocean, taking in the beauty around me, writing in my journal.  Mark was out swimming laps, which is part of his morning and afternoon ritual.  He's moved in closer to shore after the jelly fish incident.  He swims from one end of the beach to the other, which is framed by arms of rock underwater, the north one an extension of the rocky spit pictured above.  The total distance is probably about 125 yards each way.

Mark loves to swim, but he cannot swim in a regular pool due to an allergy to chlorine.  So he's making the most of this time in Maui to swim in the ocean.

I think this trip marks the first time I've swam in the ocean.  I've been to the Atlantic a few times.  Went to Daytona Beach for spring break when I was in college, and the summer after my senior year in high school, I camped on Assateague Island just yards from the surf, but I don't think I actually swam in the ocean.  Same in Vancouver.  I've been to the beach many times in spots near Vancouver, but I don't believe I actually swam.  The water was too cold and I stayed closed to shore.

But I digress.  As I was sitting there on the beach, writing in my journal, I thought of a recent conversation Mark and I had had about people who come to Maui and spend their entire vacation beside a pool at some hotel.  This made me think about what makes the beach special.  In short, why do we go there every day?

Well, as Mark pointed out, one cannot go swimming in the ocean at a pool.  But beyond the obvious, there are, first of all, the views.  The variations in the various shades of blue, for example, are simply amazing.  The azure blue of the sky.  The turquoise of the water near land, the darker blues further out.  The mixture of turquoise and tan from sand in the waves as they roll in to shore, enhanced by translucent light from the sun.  I tried to capture some of this in this photograph:

Then there are the views of Molokini and Kaho'alawe; the rock changes colors as the islands are lit by the sun and framed by sea and sky.

Then there is the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore.  I think this is my favorite thing about the beach.  I find it so tremendously soothing to close my eyes and simply listen to that primordial sound of the ocean breathing.

Then there is the atmosphere at Little Beach.  Mark has commented how much he enjoys the feeling of simply being on the beach with other gay couples/men.  He likened the experience to being in the Castro in San Francisco last September, when we were surrounded by gay men, where who we are is the norm, rather than the exception.

This past week, we have seen all shapes, sizes, color and age of gay men.  There were, for example, the couple from Vancouver (pictured below) whom Mark dubbed "Picasso" and "Matise" because they paint together.   We have seen them every day this week, and they spend most of their days sitting and painting.

We also saw a younger gay couple with their two children the other day.  The men appeared to be in their early 30's, and they had a boy and a girl with them, both of whom looked to be about eight.  It was an amazing sight to see these two naked gay fathers frolicking with their children (who were wearing swim suits) in the water.  I tried to imagine what it would be like as a parent to not have to hide any part of yourself from your children and to feel totally comfortable being naked in front of them.

Then there was the latin couple, also from the Vancouver area, that sat next to us a couple of days last week.  They were there with a woman who we assumed to be the sister of one of them.  They liked to sit and smoke small cigars, occasionally going into the water.  We asked them once if they'd like to borrow our paddle ball paddles and ball, "if they were feeling energetic," as Mark put it.  The older of the two men looked up and smiled, replying, "Do we look energetic?"

Of course, a large part of the unique character of Little Beach flows from it being clothing-optional.  One cannot sit around a pool sans swim suit.  On Little Beach, however, its kind of like being gay - nudity is the  norm, rather than the exception.  

Mark commented that he was somewhat surprised at how easily I took to not wearing a swimsuit and how comfortable I have been with the whole scene.  I suppose I was a bit surprised myself, but it has seemed so natural to me.  I thought nothing, for example, of going up yesterday afternoon to the man constructing an amazing sand castle on the rocks (pictured below) and asking if I could take his picture.  He was naked, except for his hat, and so was I.  

Another aspect of Little Beach's "character" has to do with use of alcohol and marijuana ... but I think I'll save writing about that to a later post.

I'll close with a couple of pictures that were taken late yesterday afternoon that also highlight another aspect of beach culture, i.e., that it is alive, vibrant and ever-changing.  Mark and I were sitting reading, and we looked over at one point and noticed that a group of 6-7 Hawaiian boys had arrived and were boogie-boarding down at the other end of the beach.  It was just such a neat vignette, that exuded the vitality of life.

Finally, just a note about how and what I felt as we were leaving the beach last night after the sun had set.  As we climbed the hillock that separates the two beaches, I looked back upon the ocean behind me, and I felt an intense sense of mystery, power and presence almost brooding over the ocean, palpable, real, breathing; and I felt I had been blessed by this presence to truly recognize and feel it for the first time.  Then, a few moments later, I felt the same as I gazed upon the view of Big Beach and the ocean that stretched out to the horizon.

One cannot feel that sitting beside a pool.