My kid brother cooks and surfs, foot loose, works a resort with reliable water access and moves on after a period, got his diving qualifications from one of their islands. The clarity and richness of blues in his photos, dusky skies burnishing lilac sky rims, underwater life teeming with innumerable species of every kind and colour, beguilingly magical
Then he comes home for a week and instead of missions at the canoeing centre complex in town, he drinks bags of tins fishing down a piss filled canal with his old mates. Island lives draw people to the water, unavoidable, for work food transport and awe. It humbles us. We respect its untamed majesty. Not a fuckin canal full of piss and needles sinking ten cans of Stella though. Hawaii sells itself more as a groan cliche state of mind