133. Friday, 27 August 1948. This is being written from a place named Edigoole, the first of our one night standx on our way down to Cooktown, and, for a change, our departure went off quite smoothly. It was very cold last night and getting up this morning and moving about was rather pleasant. I had been up until after 11 last night, as had the others, so all the packing was well in hand. Joe went in to Coen and came back to camp at some small hour singing loudly but at least he did come back. Our first call in Coen after leaving the Bend was on Walter Rose, the postmaster and local correspondent, as I had promised to let him know if the snake Leo Ferris sent in really was a Taipan. He was pleased to know it was and I expect Leo will be featured in the next issue of the North Queensland Register. Then I went to the Armbrust house to settle up our meet and other bills and Len went to the hotel to do the same with Herb Thompson. Everything was done most amicably - Herb gave Len a bottle of rum and Mrs. A. gave me a sort of tract about the Armbrusts, family of pioneers. The police force turned out to see us off and we drove away with sincere good wishes on all sides, including ours. The road was the usual narrow trail through overhanging trees and Don, who had taken off his shirt, was rather badly scratched about the body. Otherwise there was little to write about and, leaving Coen at 10 A.M., we reached Ebagoole about 4 P.M. About fifty years ago gold was found here and a little settlement sprang up, only to be abandoned again very soon after as the reefs petered out. There is a delapidated stamping mill, a tin house and a well dug by the government during the gold time, but of course there are no residents though the place shows in large print on the maps. We leave again at crack of dawn tomorrow as the trip to Musgrave is about forty miles whereas Ebagoole was only twenty-six. We have cut our load down again and are making fairly good time but cannot dawdle because of the day lost on our return from the Peach Collecting is supposed to be carried out at each camp and I went out in the afternoon and again this evening. The country is very much on the order of the Jardine, up north - sparse ti trees growing in a sandy soil, with every outward appearance of possessing a lot of natural life, though it is hard to find. I got two small lizards for my share, Moreton came in with a sand wallaby, and George and Van, who have just returned this evening, from a jack-lighting trip, brought in a possum. Musgrave comes next, some time late tomorrow evening. Saturday, 28 August 1948. I have just put a question to those of my colleag- ues who are here and they don't know the answer. Some- Somewhere in the Bible there is a phrase or verse to the effect "Thou shalt bruise his head and he shall bite thy heal." The question was where in the Bible and the reason was that I fall off the truck and bruised my heal. Other than that it was an ordinary day and I write from Musgrave, the secone one-eight stand. It was bitter cold last night - I had a blanket and raincoat over me and woke at some small hour, reached out and pulled out a rubber ground sheet, which forms my bedside rug, over me. Our tents have been aban- donned at Coen as our remaining camps, Shipton's Flat and Mount Firnegan, will be done in a timber cutters' camp and under the sky respectively, and the only possible use for tents would be en route to Laura. Their weight and bulk is greater than our need for them so we are just setting up cots and lying on them these nights. We have descended today to an altitude of about 400 feet so there is reason to think we shall be comfortable enough.