The French surfer is flying home tonight; a few of us are headed over the hill to Auckland.
Only the German woman is at the start of her trip, excited about all the places and people ahead of her.
I give away most of the staples from my traveling pantry: a bag of rice and mango chutney and oatmeal although I'm bringing home the jar of Marmite.
It's a perfect, peaceful spot, so we're lingering until the last possible moment, kicked out of paradise.
I hope this place is still here next time I come.
In the mean time, it's back to civilization.
Eventually.
It's just over the horizon
extinct volcano in the distance
past the vanishing point.
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