The local cliché is true - this really is the place where the forest meets the sea, with only a thin spread of sand lining the dead space between. But the sand, the blank lining, is for me where it counts. Where the sea leaves something behind. Where the coconuts fall and roll for a journey into the Pacific. Where you can see the spiders before they see you. Where the heavy, muddy smell of the forest is blown dry by the salty, brown haze. Where you can stand up and walk, and look, and adopt a perspective. The sand, however narrow, is a spot for us.