To get from Ehime to Miajima, you pass through Hiroshima, home of the famous atom bomb dome.

It's best to leave this behind quickly. The atom bomb and it's memories are an adventure to themselves, not to be mixed with beach revelry. Miajima is famous for its tori in the sea. I didn't see this popular tourist photo op. Maybe next time. We had much more important things to attend to, like practicing cartwheels on the beach, skinny dipping, and playing drums.

Did I photograph any of this fun? Of course not. Only later, when the sun dropped and the festival proper began, did I take out my camera. Good thinking, Zach. Here are my friends.

I spoke of the festival proper. Did I take any pictures of this exciting activity? Did I capture the taiko drummers, the Navajo drummers, the African drummers, the ska band, the jazz band, or any of the DJs? Of course not. But I danced. And danced and danced and danced. So I got sweaty.

Maybe I had been in the sea at that point. The sea, what a sea that night. It was the first time for me to see bioluminescent plankton first hand. I always thought people were exaggerating when they told stories. The plankton glow when disturbed. Everywhere you move in the water, it lights up around you with hundreds of yellow-green sparkles. No, sparkle isn't quite the right word. The light is a bit to slow and constant, for a sparkle, yet still gone in a second.

Well, my camera obviously couldn't accompany me into the sea, so it was returned to the tent. And the rest of the night went unphotographed, recorded only in my mind. What a night it was. More dancing, more swimming, swinging fire poi to the music, drumming, talking, meeting cool people.

Just before sunrise a man named Joe passed where I was sitting on the beach. He had a massive beared, very bushy. He said hi and walked on, which was a bit odd. There wasn't really anywhere more to walk. The campfire I was enjoying was very near the end of the beach, where a small point jutted out into the sea. A few minutes later, just as the sun broke the horizon, or at least seemed to through the mist, fireworks shot up from the point. Joe had done well.

The morning was mostly lazy. I sat by fires that others, like Thomas, tended.

I watched some Japanese men work with devil sticks against the background of mist.

I ate pancakes that a goddess called Danette cooked.

I finally made myself useful by giving Diane a massage.

Diane enjoyed the massage and said it made her feel weightless. Soon this weightlessness spread to Catherine. They had to clutch the ground to keep from floating away.

A different Catherine, fearless leader of the small posse that departed Ehime together the morning before, finally made the call. It was time to return.

We bid a sad farewell to the many fine people on the beach, like Rie and Krysten, who also had a long return journey ahead of them.

And to people like Caroline, who were already at home in Hiroshima.

Wow. What a trip. Was it worth cutting my foot and getting an awful infection in my leg? Was it worth two days of cold sweats and dizziness? Three days unable to walk? Trip after trip to the hospital for antibiotic injections? Yes. Without a doubt, yes.