Blood on the Toe

Wahines Barbara (left) and Maureen execute perfect social distancing while checking the surf at Hanalei Bay

The island of Kauai is on track to re-open on May 3, according to county officials. This would be two incubation periods following the last known reported case. That is, if there is not a new "community spread" case reported before that date.

All new arrivals are quarantined for 14 days.

Very few arrivals have been reported on the island for more than a couple of weeks. Two visitors stepped onto the Garden Isle on Tuesday. One was was a crew member of an airline.

Islanders must wear a mask in order to enter any retail establishment, including grocery markets, hardware stores, liquor outlets and restaurants that offer take-out food.

We drove to Kapa'a yesterday to procure a few basic essentials including bandaids. I dropped a drawer on my foot a couple days ago. "Ouch!" No one wears shoes inside their home. The wooden drawer took a layer of skin off of my right big toe.

I immediately applied a dab of ant-bacterial ointment, understanding the danger of infection.

I've been wearing a bandaid on that toe since then to staunch the bleeding. The day before yesterday I entered the bay to cool off following a walk on the beach with Barbara, forgetting about the bandaid on my toe.

After the brief refresher in comfortable but stirred-up water, due to a major swell that continues to bring large, pounding waves, I stopped for a cold shower at Pavilions to wash sand off of my feet. The bandaid on my toe was hanging by a thread.

I removed the bandaid and allowed the clean cold water to wash my feet. My toe looked fine so I left the scene with fresh confidence and nary another thought about said toe.

Drifting clouds and drift wood at Hanalei on Wednesday

During our short travel to the bay we noted more vehicles on the road. People obviously want to get out, are looking for a break from sheltering in place. The bay, too, was filled with more people, even with the choppy, stormy surf, many not the most accomplished of surfers.

One wave tossed two would-be riders into each other, their foam boards flying.

"That's not good social distancing," I remarked.

About 50 yards away, lifeguards had staked a "no swimming" sign, as well as another sign warning of  "dangerous rip currents. You could be swept out to sea."

So it goes.

Comfortably settled back at our condo, I happened to look down at my foot. My toe was smothered in red blood that was dripping down both sides in the same way maple syrup covers a short stack of pancakes, yet somehow hadn't reached our bamboo floor.

I limped outside, hosed it off, walked back inside to open a can of beer. I also needed a new bandaid.