A Sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park

A small park on the northwest coast of the Big Island of Hawaii. Another stop along our drive. My wife and I left the car to check the snorkling conditions. A few people braved the strong waves, and kicked around in the rough current, but those conditions weren't for us.

My wife took her painting kit to a picnic table. I opted for my comfortable seat, and added color to my sketch of Richardson Beach. Gradually, the clouds moved, exposing the front seat to full sun. 

Even with the windows down, I grew hot. The sketch paper reflected the sunlight into my eyes. I left the car, and walked around to stretch my legs.

More cars arrived, filling the parking lot. I didn't feel like drawing cars. My wife was immersed in her painting. What could I do?

I sat at the picnic table across from her, enjoying the cool shade. The relaxed spirit of the place called to me. I got out my pencil and sketch pad, and attempted to capture it.

I combined the elements that I most liked into my composition. When my wife finished her watercolor, I had completed the penciling and begun coloring the grass. Then we continued our tour of the northwest corner of Hawaii.

Later, I studied my sketch, and frowned. Had I not begun coloring it, I could have erased it, or added something to the foreground. Instead, I had just strewn a few objects in a horizontal slash across the page. What had I been thinking?

During our stay on Hawaii, we returned to Richardson Beach several times. While my wife did other paintings, I added color and detail to my initial sketch. When we returned home, I continued working on the Richardson sketch until I completed it. 

After that, I went on to other projects. My remaining sketches from Hawaii, including the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park, languished in my book, forgotten, unloved.

Recently, I took out my sketchbook, and reconsidered the sketch of Kapa'a Beach Park. So what if it was just a horizontal line of items? So what if I had too much grass? 

Perhaps it could not evoke as much interest as the Richardson sketch. But I should not try to compare the two. Nor, I thought, should I attempt to forecast the result. I would never know what it could become until I finished working on it.

I got out my colored pencils, and tried to breathe life into it.

The result surprised me. The picture calls to me. I'm glad I finished it.

Someday, I may have to return to Kapa'a Beach Park.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids at Seven Sisters

In John Wyndham's novel The Day of the Triffids, Bill Mason attempts to make a new life in the Sussex Downs. These are a range of chalk hills that terminate along the south coast of England with the Seven Sisters.

During our 2013 stay in Brighton, we took a bus trip to Seven Sisters. From the visitor's center, we braved the wind and the rain as we hiked out to the coast. I can imagine retiring to one of these cottages, such as Sherlock Holmes did in the Arthur Conan Doyle story "His Last Bow." I can envision a pleasant life there filled with relaxing strolls along the shore, walking past fields with grazing cows, watching the farmers working, and sketching all the beautiful scenery. 

Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I probably would not raise bees.

If like Bill, I lacked basic necessities such as power, clean and running water, and a nearby source for groceries, my time there would prove less pleasant. If Triffids were  constantly trying to break through the barriers I've constructed around my home and farm, that would also make the situation less than idyllic. 

Another complication Bill faces, which I would not have envisioned, is that with few people occupying and working the land, the roads deteriorate, and the land reverts to marsh. He sees a future in which driving a car or truck will be impossible, and he will have to rely on a half-track (a vehicle with wheels in front and tank-like tracks in back) for transportation.

Seven Sisters, England

One thing I discovered, during our day there, was how isolated you are. My wife and I simply hadn't realized how long it would take us to walk out to the beach. The rain and wind slowed us down, and made each step precarious. Narrow, rural roads my wind their way through the area, but I suspect most who live along these coastal hills have four wheel drive vehicles.

We encountered few other people during our walk. If I had slipped in the mud and broken a bone during our walk, my wife would likely have had to phone for a helicopter. Assuming the people in these cottages were home, I'm sure they would have sheltered us until an ambulance or helicopter arrived. If they weren't home, and the stormy weather interfered with cell coverage, my wife could have tracked down a farmer like Bill, who could have given us a ride back to the main road on his tractor.

While we returned from our trek uninjured, we had not taken food with us, and only a small bottle of water each. We returned to the Visitor Center well past our normal lunch time, and boarded a bus back to Brighton. By the time we found a place to disembark and eat, fatigue and exposure had gotten to us. Both of us caught colds, and my sore throat persisted for weeks.

I imagine the farmers who live here get used to the cold and wet weather. Unlike Bill Mason, they have access to power, fresh water, and nearby grocery stores. So they can concentrate on growing enough food to feed their families, even if they have to take care of a few blind friends too. At least they don't have to worry about fending off the Triffids, or developing an effective pesticide to wipe out the Triffids, whether they have a home laboratory or not. That might not be the most fun, or stress-reducing hobby, they could pursue.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids in Brighton

Brighton, England

In Wyndham's novel The Day of the Triffids, some communities prove less open to strangers than others. Those living in the picturesque community of Brighton, for example, block all roads leading into the city. Anyone who attempts entry is shot on sight.

The principle reason for this is the disease, or plague, that sweeps through the population. The blind suffer worse than the sighted because they cannot see what they are eating. It's also likely that they pick up infection with their hands, since the blind must be more tactile than the sighted.

The disease is made worse because all essential services have broken down. With so many blind, there is no one to operate the water system, work at power plants, deliver goods and services. There are definitely no disposable wipes. The only way to protect against the plague is to isolate and quarantine. Even one infected person can wipe out an entire community.

A church mentioned in E. F. Benson's novel The Blotting Book

I'm glad I got to visit Brighton back in 2013. E. F. Benson set his 1908 novel The Blotting Book there. I enjoyed walking the streets, and visiting locations E. F. Benson used in his novel. One was a church that has since been turned into a homeless center. I gather the homeless situation has worsened since my visit, and Brighton hosts one of the highest homeless populations in the U.K. outside London.

I have no idea what the homeless situation in Brighton might have been like in the early 1950s, when John Wyndham wrote his novel. San Diego county certainly attracts the homeless, and seaside communities struggle to deal with and care for these poor people. I wonder if, while on a seaside holiday, John Wyndham noticed the homeless in Brighton, and that prompted him to include the city in his novel.

In The Day of the Triffids, Brighton is taken over by a militaristic regime. The leaders declare that each sighted person is responsible for ten blind people. It seems a hard life, and an untenable one to Bill Mason. He also worries about the leaders' talk of building an army to unify the country. But then, when John Wyndham wrote the novel, World War II would have been recent history.

 

The West Pier, Brighton, England

During our stay, one monument to the past my wife and I noticed was the West Pier, which had been closed for decades. The West Pier would have been standing in 1951, when The Day of the Triffids was published. It would be interesting to see Brighton with two active piers back then, along with the life, energy, and fun they would have brought. So if the Doctor's reading this, I'd gladly accompany you on a ride through time and space to Brighton 1951. Is that wheezing and groaning I hear coming from the TARDIS? I'd better sign off now, so I can look outside.

Dragon Dave

John Wyndham and Triffids in London

 

Piccadilly Circus, London, England

Recently, I watched the 1962 film "The Day of the Triffids." In this post-apocalyptic tale, most of Earth's population turn out to watch a dazzling light show caused by a meteor shower. The next morning, everyone who watched the light show is blind. The meteorites bring spores, from which plants sprout and grow. Unlike terrestrial plants, these tall plants rove about, killing people and threatening the Human race with extinction.

Impressed by the movie, I read the 1951 novel upon which it was based. In John Wyndham's novel, the Triffids have terrestrial origins. Russians bioengineered these plants--that can move under their own power, and injure or kill Humans--for industrial applications. When a plane carrying seeds was shot down, winds carried the seeds all over the world. Despite the danger the plants pose, corporations have built Triffids into an industry that grows and invigorates the economy. 

Likewise, the dazzling lightshow in the sky has terrestrial roots in Wyndham's novel. Whether one country initiates the conflict, or the calamity is driven by malfunction, all the orbital satellites activate. The explosions create terrific green flashes in the atmosphere that burn out a person's optic nerve. As nearly everyone goes out to view what the media terms a once-in-a-lifetime event, this results in a world in which ninety-nine percent of the world goes blind.

The Houses of Parliament, London, England

Prior to the light show, Bill Mason was injured while working on a Triffid farm. Even wearing protective gear, the plants' poison and stinger caused significant eye injury. He has lain in bed for days, recovering from an operation to restore his sight. When no one comes to remove his bandages, or bring him his breakfast, or assist him in anyway, he pulls off his bandages, and finds everyone else in the hospital is blind. 

He stumbles onto the streets of London, and finds society in chaos.

With most of the Human race blinded, and unable to secure food, or otherwise take care of themselves properly, many fall prey to disease. Meanwhile, the Triffids break loose from their confines. Bill knows that civilization has fallen, and the world has been changed forever. 

Other view the situation more optimistically. They believe that by working together, the sighted can save the blind, and build a new society from the ashes of the old. But the methods they choose seem harsh to many, and unworkable to Bill.

Trafalgar Square, London, England

While the protagonists in the film soon leave the chaos of England to see how people fare in other countries, more than half of Wyndham's novel takes place in London, and all of it occurs in England. So as I read Wyndham's story, I watched Bill battle and evade the Triffids in locations I visited in 2011 and 2013. I knew these places. I loved these places. I wanted to visit them again.

Yet Triffids were killing people there. The way people ordered their lives, and the way society functioned there, was gone. John Wyndham's novel offers a sobering look at how Humans tolerate, and sometimes even cultivate, the things that can harm them most.

Dragon Dave