We made it nearly to the summit of Hanging Rock today, but made less progress in the peanut butter sandwich department. The bold crimson rosella below was more than willing to help out... but noticing that he had many 
friends in the trees around us, we decided discretion was the better part of valor. It was nice to see Hanging Rock again, and on a bright clear summer day (last time was murkier, more mysterious light), but it's even clearer to me that you can't capture the experience in a photo - it's an all-around bodily feeling, as paths (or are they not paths?) beckon from all sides, leading up or down or around a corner into a dark cave, a narrow ravine, a tiny forest between towering volcanic stones... Hope the pictures below give some idea at least.
