Today, my father visited me as I drove to a hike. I thought to myself, driving on the wrong side of the wrong and trying not to get distracted by every sight that passed, ‘Dad would love it here’.

And suddenly, my car felt like it had taken on a passenger. I felt close to him again.

I When he’d passed away, he became. more distant than ever. He was a solid solo traveler and seemed to prefer solitude. Craved it. So it’s no coincidence that he’d come to me at a moment of feeling alone in a foreign place just prior to an 8-mile trudge up an escarpment.

As I drove to the trailhead, feeling him close, tears in my eyes, I switched on the radio. A song, quintessentially one of his, came on. A confirmation.

It felt good to have him with me. He would’ve loved this country and its people. He would’ve soaked all of it in. He would’ve climbed mountains with me. Watched me make a fool of myself doing an accidental and quite terrible Kiwi accent.

But we would’ve laughed through it all.