When we came across three sweaty-faced hikers walking uphill towards us, I called, “It’s totally worth it,” as we passed them.

Josh added, “And you’re nearly there!” I heard a half-hearted, “thanks,” behind us.

When we came to the bamboo forest and the trail gave way to the wooden-slatted path, Josh picked up the pace. I’d been sorry to leave the waterfall, but running down a shady mountain path was its own kind of fun.

We emerged from the forest into bright sunlight, and Josh slowed back to a jog. I jogged up beside him. “Keep running?” he asked. We were both fit enough to keep up the pace, but I wasn’t sure how wise it was to run in full sun. I figured we still had another couple of miles to go. I dropped back to a fast-paced walk.

“Uh, I need some water.” We stopped and he fished out the water bottles—both were more than half empty.

“We should probably walk it,” he said after taking a gulp of water. “Obviously it takes longer, but I’m worried about over-heating.”

“Yeah, me too.” We each drank half of what we had left and continued downhill at a brisk walking pace. When we got back to the car, we were both dripping in sweat, out of water, and grinning.

“That was incredible,” he said.

“Agreed. It was brilliant. I need some new words, though. I’m running out of ways to describe things,” I replied.

“Yeah.” We climbed into the car. “I’ll find somewhere to buy water,” said Josh, starting the car.

“Also agreed.” I leant my head back against the car seat, filthy, exhausted, and gloriously happy. What a wonderful way to see out the year.

*

The drive back to the resort took a lot less time than our drive to Hana, because the only stop we made was at Aunty Linda’s Banana Bread stand. After our morning of adventure, we had two pieces each. We added some dried pineapple to our order—delicious—and two more bottles of water, having already finished the ones we’d bought near Seven Sacred Pools.

On the road again and contentedly stuffing my face with banana bread, I was in my own little world and wishing I could move to Hawaii. I knew it was a cliché. Surely, everyone who visits Hawaii must think exactly the same thing.

But I also knew, deep down, that the reality was much more like my life in Sydney than the idyllic island life we’d seen as visitors. People had to work and pay rent and shop for groceries and clean their houses and pay their taxes and drive in traffic. They also had to navigate around hordes of tourists whenever they went anywhere. What I was fantasising about, was living a life where I was essentially on holiday—all the time.

“I’ve had a lot of fun with you,” said Josh, intruding on my thoughts.

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, me too.” I added a smile and reached over to squeeze his thigh.