An hour and a half later, luggage eventually destined for the airport shared the small station wagon’s cargo space with gear for a limited hike and overnight stay. Rusty had switched his Italian leather sandals for the only other footwear he had with him—running shoes—but he’d dressed for hot weather, stowing his own hoodie and a borrowed, ultralight waterproof jacket in his pack, also borrowed.
“It’ll be hot and humid, I’m afraid,” Nate had said, preparing him. “Although part of the time it might be cool and blustery, and at some point, it will almost certainly rain. Because it’s February, and that’s how late summer works in New Zealand. Especially around here.”
Rusty had shot him a look and let sarcasm lace his response. “Sounds delightful!”
“Well, the hope is the scenery and all that
