I'm at some sort of resort, as if on an island, or somewhere I had to get to by boat. I meet my parents at the front door, and they invite me to go with them on a hike up this nearby mountain. I say sure, just give me a minute, to run down to my room and get my camera. I am wearing light-colored cargo shorts, and the only thing in my pockets is my phone. I'm expecting some good views, so I want a real camera.

On second thought, don't wait, go ahead, I'll catch up.

I go downstairs to my room, passing through a multipurpose basement room, where some people are setting something up. One biggish girl is sitting and a table, and she seems to know me. She asks me if I'm a good bettor.

"I dunno," I say, "I think I'm pretty good." But you know, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, what's a good bet?

She says she's setting up a game with some people, but it's soon, and I'm heading off for this hike. I'll check back in later in the evening.

I get my camera, and my old leather cowboy hat. I start back upstairs, then I think that maybe I should wear my straw shady hat. I'm indecisive. But I'll give the leather hat a chance, maybe the leather will feel really cool in the heat.

I also recognize a couple of younger people that I think were working on the boat when we came here a week ago, and I think now they are staying here overnight, to work the return boat in the morning. I think to ask them if they're from the Oriana (*), but - dang it, I gotta get going and catch up to those guys.

(*) The Oriana was the boat on which I went to New Zealand in 1973.