Speeding out of the lovely lagoon at Midway, your Clipper turns from the flood of early morning sun and cruises leisurely westward. The second flying day out from San Francisco takes you past the world's half-way meridian, the queer "Date Line" where international custom projects a traveler arbitrarily from one day to the next without a second's passing. Then on to the most unique of all communities - the tiny islands known as "Wake". Over an unbroken expanse of sea and sky and fairy-land cloud formations, you enjoy a mid-morning nap, a game of bridge, luncheon. Then far ahead a horseshoe of bright turquoise, framed in flashing white, stands sharply out against the indigo blue of encircling ocean. Wake Island! A tiny pin point on the vast Pacific's map - five thousand miles from America's mainland. A land unheard of until a few years ago - uninhabited, until the coming of the airway pioneers - became the scene of one of the most dramatic struggles in the history of American transportation. Here hardship, toil and thrilling courage overcame tremendous odds to set in final place four thousand tons of materials. Scarcely eight hours from Midway - another change in time - you are ashore in the early afternoon and the island is yours to explore. Barely a mile long, less than half a mile wide, Peale Islet, on which the base is located, is an exciting spot. From the cool veranda of the hotel you look across the beautiful lagoon, whose lovely colors change constantly before your eyes. Beyond, the fascinating crest of the surf beats high as it dashes itself on the barrier reefs. Down paths lined with magnolia are living quarters for the base staff, the power plant, the big refrigerators, a little hospital, a pergola where you will find an unusual collection of the little atoll's lore - bits from ancient sailing craft that came to grief on the treacherous reefs that so effectively shelter the lagoon's water for the flying clipper ships; heaps of coral in fantastic designs; sea shells of every form. Along the arcs of glistening beach you can find all these for yourself - and perhaps a dozen little hollow balls of glass - floats from Japanese fishing nets that have drifted half way across the Pacific. Through crystal clear water so ideal for bathing, you can see literally hundreds of tropical fish, in a brilliant array of colors, darting about the coral heads, themselves intriguing. If you wish, attendents will provide you with a glass-bottom "bucket" through which to watch this interesting sub-sea life. Or with a pair of bamboo framed goggles, a bow and arrow, or a spear you can try your own Kanaka under-sea fishing. Overhead, birds of brilliant plumage - bos'un birds, frigates, man o' war birds, the lovely snow-white terns - are fascinating to watch. Across the lagoon, you may ride on the famous "Wilkes Island Rail Road," two city blocks in length, over which all Wake's buildings and supplies were hauled from the sea-landing to the lagoon for ferrying to Peale Island. Or you may board the big sea-going launch for some deep sea fishing in this angler's paradise where almost all species of the world's finest big game fish are found in abundance. Wake Island, so newly added to the world's travel map, is already becoming a favorite vacation spot for travel-wise voyageurs. A beautiful, unspoiled land a world away from the hustle and bustle of modern life. A land reserved to those who fly, where every comfort and convenience, excellent food and expert attention are as much a part of your stay as the breath-taking sunsets, the soft thundering of the sea and its magnificent thirty-foot surf. Not soon can one forget these rainbow waters, soft deep sands, the friendly sun, the cool sweet trade winds blown from across the broadest sea.
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