372 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1952 



solidly lined with walls built of neatly arranged coral heads or boul- 

 ders from the shore or offshore reefs, or of trimmed blocks of sur- 

 prisingly easily cut limestone from inland quarries. It boasts good 

 stores, government buildings, schools, and a famous and conspicuous 

 weather station with a long record of uninterrupted service. 



In the 6 days of collecting there, we touched at least the major 

 spots, the east, west, and southern coasts, the northwest peninsula 

 with the village of Kabira, carefully studied by the ethnologist Dr. 

 Allan Smith while in special residence there, and points en route. 

 We climbed the central mountain (pi. 9, lower), though our guide, a 

 local forester, missed the overgrown trail to the highest peak and we 

 viewed our goal from a no less botanically satisfactory, but slightly 

 lower, outlying knob. Of special interest was the work of the forest 

 office, which kindly provided space for our work and housing for Mr. 

 Tawada. The director proudly showed us lumbering operations, 

 forest control, promising forest nursery stock, and experimental plan- 

 tations, especially unique stands of Podocarpus marcophyllus, and of 

 other species in an abandoned stream bed. 



All these islands are beautiful, but the beauty of Ishigaki stands out 

 most vividly in my memory, recalled often with the aid of my color 

 photos. From an eminence, Kara-dake (pi. 9, center), close to the 

 eastern shore, scenes of incomparable beauty and color stretched out 

 in all directions. The deep blue of the open sea, separated by a 

 white surf line from the varied light greens, whites, and yellows of 

 the coral lagoons and shore; the rich yellowish greens and browns 

 of the wind-rippled grass cover on the rounded hills marked off by 

 narrow stream valleys studded with rice paddies, sparkling in the 

 lowering sun; the dark forested mountains to the northwest like a 

 great backdrop (pi. 9, lower) ; and beyond and above the great billow- 

 ing clouds reaching up to the blue of the sky — such memories cause 

 others, well forgotten, to fade away. Equally vivid was our depart- 

 ing view of Ishigaki Island, from the little pulsing Wakdba Maru, as 

 we skirted its northern coast heading homeward on September 7. The 

 sea was glassy, absorbing and enriching the intense azure of the sky, 

 and throwing it back from the smooth curve of the foam-flecked bow 

 wave. Beyond this curve the sea took up the greens of the shore from 

 the dark shadows in the mountain forest to the bright yellow-greens 

 of the two rounded and suggestive knobs at Kabira. Above were 

 again the billowing clouds, so ever-present in the Tropics. Indeed, 

 plant collecting is not all sweat and toil and dull, dead, enigmatic, 

 pressed specimens for musty museum cases. 



The Wakaba Maru dropped anchor at Miyako Island, and again I 

 was a grateful guest at the United States Army's establishment. So 

 highly cultivated is Miyako and so devoid of almost any habitats for 



