Aquinnah up close and personal

I will write more about Aquinnah in the next few days (probably when I'm being pounded by Hurricane Danny, which is reportedly on its way), but I wanted to share a photo I took when I was there Wednesday. I had mistakenly believed you could only see the clay cliffs from a distance, that the beach itself was private. A kind police officer told me the real story: If you are willing to pay a rather steep parking fee ($15 for the day -- ouch) and take a fairly lengthy walk, you can leave your car and stroll down to the coast. If you keep walking down the beach, you will be directly in front of the cliffs, which, in my opinion, are the prettiest sight the island has to offer. They absolutely mesmerize me.
I had photographed them from afar and I was thrilled to have the chance to actually stand beside them; I was reminded of the Painted Desert. Although they look quite solid, they are definitely a combination of colorful clay and rock; you can break pieces off and mash them up in your hand. It is not a good idea to do this too flagrantly, however, since the cliffs are the property of the Wampanoag tribe and they are protected under law.
While speaking to a long-time Aquinnah resident, I learned the cliffs -- impressive as they are -- are but a shadow of what they once were. Erosion, the tides and tourists have taken their toll. As far as I'm concerned, however, they are still pretty spectacular. More pictures will follow to show what I mean.
Back in the 1960s and early 1970s, I am told, the cliffs were a prime hangout for hippies and the "living off the land" types, who would rub the clay all over their bodies and then bathe in the unruly surf. Rubbing the clay on your skin makes you look like something out of "Quest for Fire" since it dries fairly quickly and leaves you brilliantly colored. Please do not ask how I came upon this information. I do not want to tangle with tribal authorities.