Swanning. No other word for it. Ten days in Hawaii – sun, sand, surf, Maui mountain rain and volcanic rock in all permutations. I’ve always loved the way rocks record the history of a place, of the world; how they both dwarf and shape human existence.
Solidified lava might not be the most beautiful form, but the wave-sculpted olivine pools, reached via a scramble down a cliff of copper-flecked pyroclastic rock, provide a stunning stop on west Maui’s precipitous coastline.
Unlike the experience of driving the coast road, the pace of life here is laid-back. Even the road sign graffiti is mellow: No (cold) Shoulder. Falling (in love) Rocks.
I’m here to catch up with a friend and to clear my head for the next book. I can feel it coming on: that finger-tingling, ready to write, scenes flitting and forming kind of eagerness. HB winter and my keyboard, here I come… just as soon as I shake the saltwater from my sinuses. That done, I’ll be rocking it.