“Well, if we see any looming black clouds—or feel the first drops—if we’re in any danger whatsoever of getting rained on again,” I said dramatically, “we’ll know ahead of time, so I vote for yes.”

“And, the air and the sun will help dry us off.”

“And there’s that.”

*

The drive took several more hours, because we’d bookmarked a few more sights along the highway. And each time we stopped we left the roof up. Of course, it didn’t rain again.

We went to the best banana bread stand on the Hana Highway—according to TripAdvisor, that is—called “Aunty Linda’s Banana Bread”. I didn’t know who Aunty Linda was, but I agreed with the hundreds of other people who’d rated her banana bread as five-out-of-five.

Josh and I ate a slice each, sitting in the car, and then I went back to get two more for the road. It’s okay to eat two slices of banana bread for lunch when you’ve climbed over giant rocks, swum in freezing water, and got caught in a rainstorm—just so you know.

We also stopped at Black Sand Beach. Seriously, who came up with these names, the Committee of Half-Assing It? The beach was beautiful, though, and the sand really was black, as were the ubiquitous volcanic rocks. These contrasted against the brilliant blue of the water and the rich green of the foliage that cupped the cove. It was another stunning location on a stunning island.

We parked the car, slipped our shoes off, and locked up, both of us bringing our phones to take photos. Without any discussion, we wandered off in different directions.

I walked the length of shoreline where the waves met the sand, playing a game of tag with the water, and squealing in delight when it nearly caught me. At the far end of the beach, I turned and looked for Josh.

He was further away from the water, his eyes focused on the screen of his phone which he was holding up in front of him. I figured he was taking a photo and it looked like I was going to be in it, so I lifted my hand in a wave. He took the shot, waved back, then jogged over to me. “I’m running out of words to describe Maui,” he said, a little out of breath.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

“I think you’re gonna like that shot,” he said as we started walking back to the car.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you look great in it.”

“Thanks. And how many have you taken without me knowing?” I teased. He laughed and shook his head.

In Greece, he’d taken some shots of me without my knowledge and when I discovered the photos, I’d thought it was a little stalker-ish. He’d been sheepish at the time—embarrassed that I’d caught him out—but they were terrific shots. One of them—me on the boat, my face tipped to the sun—ended up being my favourite photo from the whole trip.