My cell phone didn’t work. We’d just gotten off the small dirt-bike that a stranger graciously let us hang off the back of as he raced towards our isolated beach and fresh-from-the-tree coconuts. But my cell phone didn’t work. And we needed to check in with the family who’d only hours earlier sent us on this crazy journey. Long story short, a machete wielding man leads me up a steep and tree filled hill, to a special crooked tree where overlooking a steep drop down, when placing a hand on one of the furthest reaching branches, one would get reception enough to make calls. I hadn’t had the heart to tell him, on the 15 minute hike up a hill, that my phone had actually died half way up. He was doing me a real solid here. So, we reached the top, laughed about it. He used the machete to cut down some fresh coconuts, and I used his phone to tell my uncle we were alive. And in the meantime, I got this wonderful picture that I fell in love with.