A dozen or so years ago we were on Molokai.  We stayed in an amazing cottage belonging to dear old friend Cynthia McKenna.  You had to scramble up boulders hanging on for dear life with your hands to reach it’s aerie perch, hauling whatever might be needed in backpacks.  No amenities. Just incredible isolation, quiet, and primitive beauty.  This week Elizabeth was back on the island doing her botanical work for the National Park Service.  She sent a new picture of this  –um — interesting natural rock formation.  And I found the original shot of her “conquering the summit.”

And underneath this picture in the little frame I found:

I think she is about eight here.  Her godparents had taken her off for a weekend of house-boating fun.  I’m sure she is yelling “faster, please.”