The Beach 2

Gardner atoll lies as close to the middle of nowhere as I have ever been. From ten miles out it is a speck of nothing, and any farther out it becomes the horizon. With palm trees, coconut crabs, boobies, terns and huge spiders, it lacks any semblance of humanity. During World War II it was briefly inhabited first by the british, then the U.S. and finally the Kiribatis only to be abandoned within a few short years due to the paucity of any fresh water.

We were steaming home to American Samoa after 50 days of mapping the pacific ocean floor and the captain decided a little exploratory mission to Gardner would alleviate some of the tension that being cooped up on a 200 foot ship had borne.

Surrounded by breakers thundering against ancient coral, the waters were too deep off the reef to anchor and too shallow close in, so the skiff was launched and ten of us went ashore. Swimming over the breakers and being tossed absently by the ocean onto a dulled rock ledge, we then waded the remaining 150 yards to shore.

The sun was unbelievably hot and only ten am high while the water was 88degrees ten feet down, and upwards of 92 ankle deep. And yet, the bleached white coral, the empty lobster carapaces, the swaying palms, the racing mare’s tails in the sky all ignored the heat and offered a tropical eden that traced its way back to time immemorial.

I sat on the old coral, white and bony looking, my tan toes scraggling the calcified relics and looked up and down the most beautiful stretch of deserted beach in the world.