Michael is forgiven. Having reached the top with its view of Lake Darwin I eagerly slurp from my water bottle, and tell Michael that I confess to a certain pride in having made it to the top in such heat. (Did I mention 'hot'?) "Top?" booms Michael with ill concealed glee. "Top? This isn't the top. The top is up there!" So saying he points up, --- up, up, up --- way up a long hot, trail to a cone of volcanic rock licking the sky like a devil's tongue in search of heat.