After a long, hard descent through rain forest with being overtaken by ginger -- an invasive species, so you know how dangerous that was (probably brought here by white men, who cause all the problems in the world unless they are socialists and then they are just trying to undo the damage the other white guys have done what with trying to make goods and services people actually want to buy -- ancient Polynesians brought pigs to Hawaii, but it wasn't until the Europeans brought their European pigs that bad pig things began to happen, kinda like when I worked with the indigenous women in Chile who informed me that Mapuche men didn't even know how to make a fist until us white people got there and ruined everything), we got to the bottom of the Kilauea Iki crater.
Regardez: Lots of moonscape. One could walk out two feet onto the cold lava and get the idea of what the next mile would be like, so why bother to walk any further?
But no. SH was determined that we should make the arduous journey across the rugged terrain, even though the scenery never changed and we had nothing but two bottles of water, a bag of Hot and Sweet beef jerky, five cappuccino shortbread cookies, and a diet Dr Pepper and a breakfast of three cafe au laits (OK, with whole milk) and a macadamia nut sticky roll (breakfast of champions) to sustain us. We also had a flashlight in case we didn't finish the hike before dark (this was 3:30 and it's a two-hour hike) and had to signal passing aircraft for help. And two umbrellas. You never know.
Look how dangerous this was! SH was about to go crazy from my being all why are we doing this and you call this fun and the only way I am getting through this is reminding myself that when you are dead, I will wish I could have just one hour with you even if it's hiking, an activity that rates right up there with cleaning the bathroom for me although at least when I clean the bathroom I can listen to the radio.*
He was all I thought you liked to exercise (no, I don't, I like to eat) and isn't this better than going to the gym (no, because at the gym I can look at the clock and know just how much more suffering I have) and what do you mean suffering you're here with me doesn't that count for something?
Thank God there was cellphone reception so SH's friend could ask him if we had gotten that koa wood yet so he can make a guitar from scratch.
* SH read this and asked You really don't like hiking, do you? And I'm all how did you know?