I crumpled up my muesli bar wrapper and tucked it into my pocket, then took a swig of water. I didn’t want to go. I would happily have spent the whole day there being covered in rainbow-coloured mist, but we had the hike back down the hill, then at least a two-hour drive ahead of us, and it was already close to lunchtime.

“We should go soon,” said Josh, standing over me. He reached down a hand and pulled me up.

“Yeah. I don’t want to though—not yet.”

He took my water bottle from me and tucked it away in his backpack. “Mmm. I know what you mean.” We were both quiet for a moment. “So, ready?” I shook my head no. He smiled, leant in for a kiss, then turned and walked towards the trail. I put my shoes on and followed, a little glum. It was hard to leave paradise.

When we got back to the river-stream, I hesitated. There was no kindly hiker wearing waterproof shoes to help me get across. Josh stopped on the bank and I stood beside him. “What do you think?” I asked.

“How about I go first and when I get to the second rock, I reach out for you and catch you when you jump?” I had trouble visualising what he meant, and my concern—okay, it was rampant fear—must have been etched on my face.

“Here, let me show you.” He jumped onto the first rock, which was close to the bank, then to the second rock—that was the leap I’d need his help with. “So, you do just what I did, but I’ll be right here to help you. Okay?”

Oh, screw it. Come on, Adventure Chick.

I pushed aside my fear, pulled up my big-girl knickers, and leapt to the first rock. So far, so good. Then Josh crouched down low and reached out his hand. “All you have to do now is jump to this rock and I’ll grab your hand, okay?” Adventure Chick was not having fun. She preferred misty waterfalls to slipping and falling into a raging river-stream.

I took a deep breath and jumped to the next rock, reaching for Josh’s hand as I leapt. He grasped it and pulled me up, just as my back foot slid down the side of the rock. I ended up in an awkward lunge position, but I was safe and without any scrapes or bruises. He helped me stand and we stood face to face grinning at each other like outdoorsy idiots. “Good job,” he said. I didn’t even find that condescending; I must have been growing as a person.

“You got the last one?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said, as I made the jumps to the next rock and then to the far bank, easily. I turned and waited for him, hands on my hips in self-congratulations. He also made the last two jumps easily, joining me on the riverbank.

“We’re awesome,” he said.

“Agreed.”

“Race you,” he said, and then he was off along the trail before I could even protest. I followed, watching my step so I didn’t turn an ankle on a tree root, and finally caught up to him. He kept up a light jog.