#the inner lagoon corals that were annihilated and are struggling to creep back

[foxbirdy]

can you please tell me more about the island at the equator? the one you drew about? i'm planning on becoming a sailor and i want to know what it was like way out there. can you tell me about the stars and the manta rays

I would love to tell you more about that island.

It's a tiny atoll, with a little over 4.6 square miles of permanent land. The hottest sun and most furious rain I've ever seen in my life, often in the same 24 hours. There are no freshwater sources here; everything you drink must come from the sky. Coral reefs surround the lagoons and islands, in vivid terraces that cascade from crystalline shallows to water so deep and blue it confuses your eyes. Sand flats and coral rubble beds stretch around the margins of the lagoons, and sometimes the water is so still and glassy that you can see the ripples from the spotted eagle rays and lemon sharks and schools of awa from a half mile away. Blue bottle jellies come up with high tides every new moon, and the manta rays gather in winding circular trains when the moon is full. Bioluminescent plankton is a rare and treasured guest, making the wave tops glitter cyan and green, illuminating each wingtip on the manta rays as they ruffle the surface of the water. Over one million seabirds make their homes there, and sometimes the chatter of the 'ewa'ewa is so constant and deafening that you stop hearing it at all, fading into the background sounds of wind and water and trees. The 'iwa fly in the highest wind currents, pirates of the sky, with their big forked tails and sharp lightning-bolt wings. The manu-o-Kū catch the tiniest silver fish, the length of my pinky, and flutter down from their perches to chitter at you as you move through the forest. The 'ā - red-footed boobies - crane their heads from side-to-side as they look at you, and when they open their mouths, you remember that birds come from dinosaurs. The stars are close and bright, despite the heavy humidity, and on clear nights the milky way is like a hundred pearl necklaces stretched across the sky, and you can walk with just the light of the moon. You can see the Southern Cross from one side of camp, and Polaris from the other. Cassiopeia sits in pride of place, and her daughter Andromeda is a lightblur in the crook of her knees. Meteors there sometimes fall like brilliant green balls of fire, so bright they put spots in your vision. On nights under one of those big dark storm cells that walk across the ocean like giants, the thunder and lightning moves around you in transient peaks and swells, inconstant, distant and then close. These are the only times you cannot hear the birds, gone silent, as the downpour takes up the place where their voices live.