108. Tuesday, 13 July 1948. Yam Creek proved a complete must, so far as reptiles are concerned, when I went over there this morning. It is nearly two miles back along the trail to Iron Range, the intervening country being arid, sandy and somewhat dismal. Creeks in this part of the peninsula are rare and consequently established camping spots for the journeyer. I climbed up the hill on the further side of the creek, turning boulders and stirring up dead leaves and underbrush until I was so tired I could not have turned a pebble, but no death adders showed themselves and only one scorpion, which is something of a record. The trail to Ralph Dodson's tin mine turns off the main Wenlock Road at Yam; Ralph's place is some miles along that barely visible trail and there he lives all alone, occasionally visiting Portland Roads to send some ore out and making an annual trip to Cairns. We had visitors for lunch today, two lads passing along the road to Wen- lock. They gave us the news, which came over their radio last night, that the Lochiel had an explosion on board and was beached on the Barrier Reef. Eight men were taken off her by the Wandana, which probably would be her whole comple- ment. There were no details other than the above but undoubtedly we shall learn more about it somewhere along the line. The Lochiel and her crew seem like old friends to us and we are all interested in learning what happened. Surmises vary from sheer barratry to an explosion in Terry's galley. These two boys also told us that the Leisha still had not reached Port- land Roads and it seems very likely that our short commons will continue until we return to Iron Range next Monday. Last night I was out jacking and came back with scores of spiders of all degree. The mammal boys did not do any too well and spiders seem the most plentiful of anything around here. This afternoon I went along the main trail to Wenlock and branched off into a deep gully about a mile and a half further on. The soft ground in it gave plenty of sign of many animals, pig, native cat and other things but not much in my line. Between Yam this morning and four miles or so this afternoon I shall not go out this evening for spiders or anything else. Wednesday, 14 July 1948. This was just another run-of-the-mill sort of day, cloudy, some rain, a little sun, relieved for me by turning out to be rather a good one from the point of view of collect- ing. I went along in the morning to the gully referred to in yesterday's entry and at a point where it is perhaps fifteen feet deep, I noticed a hole in the sloping bank. Thinking it might be of interest to the mammal men, I climbed up, to hear, when I scrambled nearly to the top, a strange hissing sound. It turned out to be a goanna hole and its occupant was standing at the top of the bank warning me to go no further. I didn't; instead I slid down, knowing that a goanna can bite as large a chunk as a police dog, and shot the thing. It was four feet three inches in length and the first sand goanna I had taken, being slightly dif- ferent from those taken at Lockerbie. It could be compared either with a very large lizard or a small crocodile. The gully also afforded a good variety of butterflies and altogether is the best collecting ground for me that I have found in this area. Skinning a goanna is a man's sized job and took all the forenoon, after which I was sadly in need of a bath. It was raining fairly heavily but I had a pleasant bath and did a laundry, during which I heard the plane fly over, north- bound. Don't know when we shall get our mail.