I woke up at four in the morning, harkening back to steam filled days behind an espresso machine.

I gathered my little used fishing gear and put on a pair of black, beat up Nikes. I stepped out until warm night. Although it’s a glow of the rising sun over the mountains behind me, it was clear that it would soon be morning.

I rode down to Tsu Tsu with Hayashida, Kozone, and Tate sensei. Tate sensei said a prayer in the car before we left his house that doubled as a church. I’m not religious, but I can take faith in someone wanting to ask for protection before we do something.

When you reach the southern tip of the island, it was immediately clear that the path down to the ocean was not going to be easy to traverse. It was hard to find as all the spring foliage covered up any discernible path. The inlaid steps were covered by 3 to 4 feet of new growth. We bushwhacked our way through a mini jungle down to the Cliffside, where the cement staircase that would lead us for 30 to 40 feet to the beach had been washed away. Instead, a rope had been tied around the base of a fairly small tree to service means for repelling down the Cliffside. It had all the makings of a great story.

The sunrise came with a majesty as we walked along the beach. A reddish hue to the sun made me think of other calm mornings. The rumble of diesel engines from fishing boats out in the bay added to the back trap of our rural existence.