It was our last morning on Kaua‘i and I was determined to get a photo of the sunrise over the beach at Kapa‘a. I set the alarm on several other occasions, only to awaken to the sound of rain—which, for Kaua‘i, is not wholly unprecedented, unexpected, or unwelcome.
This was my last chance. I listened for a moment, and not hearing falling sheets of water, I pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbed my camera, and jogged down to greet the day. I staked out a spot on the sand and waited for the sun to break over the horizon.
The dawn began to color the bottoms of the clouds pink, then orange, and then… an interloper, an older, bandy-legged gentleman with a massive camera setup, staggered down to the water’s edge just in time to stand right in front of me as the sun exploded into dazzling light.
My first thought was, “What the… ? Buddy, you’re wrecking my shot!” To be quickly followed by, “He doesn’t look like he has many sunrises left, let him have this moment.” I ceded the beach and turned around to go grab a much-needed cup of coffee when I was given this gift.
Everyone else on the strand was focused on the arrival of the Sun, and I stood facing the “wrong” way—basking in the spirit of aloha.
Photo/Ray Larsen
Román Leão 
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