Wednesday, 9 June 1948. There has been a little change in weather and occasionally we get through the whole day w thout any rain whatever. Not so today, a heavy shower came up about 8 A.M. but fortunately I had not then gone out, having some little thing to do. The morning turned out to be a tough one, however. I went about half a mile along the road west and then turned into the scrub up the side of an unnamed hill nearby. After crashing through for perhaps half a mile, and crashing through scrub takes time and energy, I came upon a clear broad track, leading still further up the hill. Following it, I found a mine shaft right at the very top; I knew the mine was somewhere about but did not expect to find it right at the apex. It is in operation but the miners were down the shaft and I did not disturb them but walked on and down another side of the mountain. My collecting was poor, consisting mainly of scorpions and centipedes but I caught a glimpse of some of those huge blue butterflies, which fly at tree-top height. At present I have hit on no means xx whatever for collecting them. probably This will/turn out to be mainly about mines and miners - at the foot of the hill I passed another, abandoned, mine which is on the list for exploration before long as it is a refuge for countless bats which interest Van and George, and has some huge spiders, about six inches in span, which is my department. It has three adits, two of which have caved in; the third, cut in virgin rock, is still holding up and should do so for many years yet. The miners are all much of the same stamp. Practically all of them are at least middle-aged and most are the "old and bold", "ruthless and toothless", the veterans of the 1914-18 war. Being one also, I got along splendidly with them. They are a grizzled gang, never have done anything except look for gold, have never found it in enough quantity to keep them much more than barely alive, their clothes, the few that they have, are ragged and patched, they all could do with a shave and none of them would even consider any other job than theirs. Always "tomorrow" they may strike it rich and make enough to live in luxury for the rest of their lives. They have nothing but contempt for the young man of today who prefers to live in luxury in the cities, with a solid roof over his head and good food to eat, instead of taking his pick and shovel in his hand and battling with nature for a strike. Just at the moment my sympathies are entirely with the young man; my pet weakness, ice, is upon me again, and my craving for the clink of it in my evening tot of rum and tepid water, a joy to the ears, eyes and palate, is great. Mail came in this afternoon and all hands are busy in getting outgoing letters ready for tomorrow, when the southbound plane leaves the airport. I must finish this and do the same though I spent the afternoon writing letters. The B-P statement, the first since our departure from Cairns, came in at last and tomorrow for me will be a day of accounting. Thursday, 10 June 1948. Perhaps the most exciting news of yesterday passed quite un-noted here, the arrival from Coen of fresh meat for us by air. I had ordered it from Portland Roads, its cost was sixpence per lb, plus sixpence per lb air freight, a total of just about 16 cents per lb at present exchange rates. The steak we had for breakfast was a bit on the tough side, but Joe prepared a rib roast for lunch which was really delicious. It would have been so at any time but after our constant diet of canned stuff, except for the occasional bullock shot at Lockerbie by Ginger Dick, it has been a sort of can-to-mouth existence. We received about thirty pounds of beef and have placed a standing weekly order for that approximate quantity. Barrie called for our mail at 7.15 this morning, so that has gone.