Finding the Lost Pond - Guam
Turning the corner towards Shark Cove Beach on my search for the Lost Pond
As the sun lowered over Tumon Bay, the twin shadows from Tanguisson Power Plant’s smokestacks stretched out across the beach and pointed me in my intended direction.
The plant, built by the US Navy in the 1970s, is one of my favorite places to photograph. Through my camera lens, its candy cane towers possess a rare industrial charm that compliment, rather than mar, the otherwise natural landscape.
Tanguisson Power Plant with its twin red and white columns
A few shutter clicks later, I turned my back to the power station and set off northeast up Tanguisson Beach at a brisk pace. The lowering sun offered me approximately two hours to locate a notoriously hard-to-find jungle oasis, the Lost Pond. Putting my head down and stowing my camera, I walked Hilaan beach with intention. The photogenic mushroom rocks received very little of my attention. I visited them only briefly to take a photo and remind myself not to take them for granted.
The mushroom rocks at Hilaan Beach
In a way, the mushroom rocks act as a kind of gate. The beach south of the volcanic mushrooms is heavily trafficked, close to civilization, and popular with tourists, while the beach to the north offers a space for adventure. Those who venture north will have the privilege of seeing beaches less affected by human hands, a wider variety of wildlife, and sites that don’t appear in Guam’s tourism publications.
After passing the mushroom rocks, the beach is lined with coconut palms
It was approximately three quarters of a mile from the parking area to the end of Hilaan Beach where the sandy shore trail turned into a tunnel through jungle brush. It was impossible to tell where the trail led, but having consulted my map, I deemed it worthy of my trust. Ducking to keep my hat from being snagged by the ceiling of vegetation, I slowly made my way through an abundance of fluttering butterflies to the other side.
Shark’s Cove Beach stretched out before me in the warm light of golden hour. The sand, with its slight red tint, made the whole scene more inviting. Tiny crabs of all kinds were animating the beach, scurrying under rocks or curling into their shells for protection against the strange two-legged alien who had just invaded their piece of paradise. I took a few moments to scan the beachline for other visitors but didn’t see anyone. One thing I did notice was my shadow on the shore. It was nearly three times the length of my body and I was running out of time.
Hilaan Beach is a great place to see some cotton candy sunset skies. This picture was taken on another trip to Shark Cove as the sun was setting.
Perhaps the hardest part about finding Lost Pond is finding the proper trail leading into the jungle. The trail dives into the dense jungle in an unmarked spot on the backside of Shark Cove Beach. I found what looked like a trailhead about halfway down the beach and decided to check it out. After cutting my head on a low hanging branch, I spotted one of the trail marking ribbons commonly used throughout Guam and took it as a sign I was headed in the right direction.
The red tinted sand of Shark Cove Beach
Stepping off the beach and into the jungle was like stepping into another world. The sun vanished as a canopy of towering palms cast shade into the leafy world below. Life, in an abundance of varieties, could be touched, seen, and heard. Huge trees threw their sprawling root systems across the ground and thick green moss had laid claim to every stony surface. The trail was overgrown in many places, which gave me the feeling the jungle was trying to ensure my destination remained “lost.” Entering the jungle, I immediately knew it was a place that had to be respected, but also a place of great wonder.
Many of the old trees in the jungle have extensive root systems that spread out further than the tops of the trees. Be careful, as these root are experts at tripping unsuspecting hikers.
Five minutes into my jungle walk, my map told me I should be getting close. Sure enough, after passing the last trail marker and meeting a friendly Hilitai, I noticed a clearing in the trees with a small amount of standing water. The main trail has hikers approach the pond from the back side and it is necessary for them to walk all the way around the water to get the best view. I tripped over several rocks as I attempted to circumnavigate the space and made so much noise, I scared away a heard of wild pigs. But finally, after disturbing the peace with my lumbering gracelessness, I reached my destination. The Lost Pond was lost no longer.
A friendly Hilitai (Chamoru language). This particular monitor lizard (Varanus tsukamotoi) was 2.5-3 feet in length.
Surrounding its shamrock waters were plants of the deepest green. Dragonflies danced on top of the sea of glass and mocking the hungry fish watching them from below. Several birds had made nests in the surrounding trees and were dipping and diving through the maze of branches. Even among the plentiful life of the jungle, Lost Pond is an oasis. It is a tiny and beautiful gem hidden away from the rest of the world.
The deep green waters of the Lost Pond. The water is clean and safe for swimming.
I walked back to my car in the dark that night. I was exhausted but felt very much alive and privileged to have witnessed such beauty.
If you ever find yourself uninspired and lifeless, a journey to the oasis may be just what you need. Hopefully, the Lost Pond will remain largely lost to the masses but will always allow itself to be found by those who need it’s refreshing the most.
