From here, half gloating and half recovering, I can see when the mules emerge from the trees. They’re about 90 seconds behind me. A cab driver arrives to pick up a hiker who has yet to arrive. He looks at me and, impressed, says, “Under an hour, huh?” I nod, feigning humility. And then I see the older Australian guy, the one who started on the trail near me and then mysteriously disappeared. He’s leaning against a tree, bored.