Goroka - Gono 110 Sunday, August 23. Day spent on Mt. Michael notes and some letter writing. There was a long break for lunch. Rus Webster, our host at Buntings while Ken James is on leave, invited Matron Bedelia Mulchay to eat with us. She nursed Geoff Tate when he was critically ill at Samarai in 1953. A stout, jolly person, top notch in her profession, and fond of beer and rum. Now in charge of the Goroka Hospital. Bedelia contributed an item on the annual beetle visitation. A white family of Goroka eats them, boiled, and say they taste like prawns. Monday, August 24. Left Goroka at 9:40 a.m. and arrived Gono Resthouse 3:20 p.m. Distance 62 miles. Before leaving Goroka I called on Acting District Commissioner Foley to ask permission to use the Gono Resthouse. He took me to the Sub-District Officer Holmes . The ADO hesitated noticeably before granting the permission. Asked to be assured that Patrol Officer Aitkin, when he turns up, would be given room. One of the few small minded officials we have had contact with. At Lufa we called in to deliver mail and a carton of $ores to the McSevenys and of course were invited to stay for a cup of tea with the usual things to go with it. This was at 1:30. We had stopped for morning tea at Ian Fraser's place near the Bena Bena, but we were hungry and glad of the snack. About half way between Lufa and Gomo we ran into mist, which turned into rather heavy rain soon after our arrival at the resthouse. The resthouse on top of a high ridge open to the full blast of the SE wind and the mist and rain it carries, funnelled up a narrow valley in very steep mountains. In my first notes on Gono I positioned it on the south or southeast slopes of Mt. Michael. I lost sense of direction on our first trip out, and again today. We are on the west slopes of the mountain, the sawmill on the north slopes. Missionary Ben Wertz and daughter Ruth (about 10) drove up to see us in the evening, a tremendous load of mission natives piled inside and all over their jeep. They are much interested in what we are doing and Wertz (Penn- sylvania Dutchman who lived a long time in California) collected insects in his boyhood. Ruth departed with one of my nets and a killing bottle. She has spent half her life among these natives and speaks the language very well. It is a peculiar language, reminding me somewhat of the Vailala talk of the Gulf of the Papua coast. Wertz an adept at pidgin English, which is the language of the mission. Under the new government ukase that all instruction in schools must be in English proper, his mission school was closed down recently. Tuesday, August 25. And a wretched day. When I awoke this morning our door- less resthouse was full of mist and things left out of boxes overnight were covered with a film of moisture. The mist stayed all day, sometimes down to the ground on our ridge top, sometimes thinning so that we could see two or three hundred yards, often accompanied by drizzling to fairly heavy rain. Main work of the day was rigging two work tents, and a work table, etc. in mine. Tent poles were brought in on the Land Rover. The weather slowed the work but my part of it is about finished tonight.