As a toddler and child, I would go to the beaches of southern California with my parents and play in the sand and the shore-break. When I was nine-years old, or so, I read The Pearl Lagoon by Charles Nordhoff and fell in love with the lyrical descriptions of Polynesia. The sequel to that tale, The Derelict was also devoured. As I grew older, I remember looking offshore to Catalina Island ('26 miles across the sea...') and wanting to travel there.
Listening to my Dad talk of his travels in the Navy throughout the Pacific just prior to World War II and his living in Hawaii just before Pearl Harbor, further inflamed by wanderlust for the tropics. I went to Catalina Island with the Sea Scouts every weekend in my teenage summer-years and later sailed there on my own sloop. I was often teased that I had salt-water instead of blood in my veins.
My first tropical adventure was when I flew to Hawaii (too young to rent a car, I had to take a bus or walk everywhere, I didn't mind at all!). Later, it was off to French Polynesia and the islands of Tahiti, Moorea, and Bora Bora. Then, living on the Big Island of Hawaii and multiple trips to French Polynesia followed.
Now, all these years later...my obsession has been defined:
Nesomania: an obsession with islands.
It is a most pleasant addiction.
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