THE HUMIDITY OF THE WET SEASON clings like Lycra as we climb the granite steps cut into the headland. It’s only a short trail – 1.7 kilometres, or so the sign says – but I’ve already lost track of how long we’ve been walking. I’m too busy smiling, stopping frequently to marvel at the beauty dished up at every altitude – slivers of sapphire sea, gnarled trees sprouting from car-sized boulders smattered with lichen. The track forks and my friend and I descend towards the sea, somehow summoning butterflies to surround us while freshwater flows down a thin ravine beside our feet. We reach the bottom, a clearing, and endless blue sky
