27 Saturday, 6 March, 1948. Last night, after dinner, Len and I went around to visit some old friends of his, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, whom he had not seen since 1932. This morning Gil Bates called for us and we started out in his Bedford truck for Mossman, about fifty miles to the north of here. The road was of Bitumen, good going, and followed the coast very closely. At times we were barely above sea level and only a few yards from the water, then we would come to a bluff over which the road led, and would find ourselves five hun- dred feet above the water, gazing almost straight down on it. Truck trouble began to develop after some crossings of streams which flowed down from the mountains, which rose three thousand feet abruptly on our left, and shortly after we had passed the half way mark, a sort of look- out spot commemorating Capt. Cook's visit in 1779, something fell out from inside the truck and there was a succession of fearful bangs. Gill decided that we had better not try the remainder of the trip and we came all the way back to Cairns in second gear. On taking the truck to a garage, nothing could be found wrong with it. The evening passed with little event except a brawl between Capt. Bahr- nemann, of the Yalata, who was drinking with us, and a drunken first mate who wanted to know where Behrnemann came from. It was diverted but the first mate was far too far gone to know what he escaped. Bahrmann is a lad about twenty-eight and still an ardent Nazi; I judge him to be of the young, tough and cruel type which we ran into in the war, very fit physically, and I think he would have devoured the first mate, who had a broken wrist anyway. The dance hall opposite my window is in full swing but I shall close this and try for some sleep. Gil comes again tomorrow and we try again to reach Mossman. Incidentally, there is no habitation of any sort in that fifty miles of road between there and Cairns. Sunday, 7 March 1948. Gil arrived bright and early again this morning with another truck and we reached Mossman without incident, other than pleasant ones. I was greatly impressed with the view from the high bluff over which we travelled on the winding and climbing road. The beaches were a series of golden scallops, the sea was completely unruffled and the whole area looked like the place that I have dreamed of in which to end my days. Mossman is a little hamlet of perhaps a thousand persons and is backed by mountains ranging from three to four thousand feet in height. Gil is going there again tomorrow on an inspection of the sugar cane plantations in the district, and of course is well-known anyway: he dug out Mr. Lane, who is in charge of the small plant which supplies Mossman with its electric power and light. Lane drove us up the mountain to the plant, buried deep in the forests of the mountain and drawing its power from a rushing stream which cascades down the mountain side. It would be another good collecting site for us; the trouble of course is that we have no camp equipment available and very little collecting gear. On our return from the mountains, we stopped at the local lawn bowling club where we were regaled with beer and tea, the former being more or less bootleg as beer is not supposed to be sold on Sundays. None of us knew any- thng about bowling and therefore were not invited to take part in the games, which suited us well.