Let me clarify. It’s not actually called Driftwood Beach. I don’t think it has a name. But somewhere in Wailua, somewhere down a dirt road, somwhere off Farrington Highway, is this little bit of perfection; the beach I’ve always dreamed of. You’d probably cruise right by it if a handful of cars weren’t parked out front. You could tell they all belonged to locals — a sign of good things to come. The path to the beach is long and dreamy. I think I skipped along the fields of yellow flowers as birds and bumble bees hula’d over them. The grazing horses saw me and came closer to nuzzle noses. An ancient tree with half-dead limbs loomed over the path and made the whole thing feel like another world.
And then you get to this beach. Naturally, after spotting two huge logs of driftwood, I decided we should trek to the other side of the beach in ankle deep sand to inspect them — and it was worth it. They were the most gorgeous specimens of driftwood I’ve ever seen. Perfectly textured, worn out from long days in paradise, and a shade of gray that I’m pretty sure will be the new color of my apartment. Lunch on the beach was shrimp from Giovanni’s and smoothies from Lanikai Juice — standard North Shore protocol.
Swimsuits by Oahu natives Melissa & Marissa of IssadeMar.