The Non-Working Out Of Things That Should Be Simple

Captain Goose and Captain Wally are having their DNA tests when Lisa comes in.

Dave, says Lisa. Don't bother. I've just found out their provenance. They're ordinary surf barnacles from the mainland. The owner just turned up to claim them.

Whee! says Captain Wally, happily.

Captain Goose maintains a dignified silence.

Did you say Whee? asks Lisa.

No, says Dave. It must have been the barnacle when I stuck the needle in him. I'll finish taking the sample anyway.

Okay, says Lisa.

It doesn't take too long.

Here, says Dave, handing her Captain Goose and Captain Wally.

Thanks Dave, says Lisa.

She takes the barnacles back to the foyer, where Gaius and Schopenhauer are waiting.

Here, says Lisa. Have you got anything to put them in? Where's that bag gone?

Arthur took it, says Gaius. It was his. Oh drat! He also has the tin.

Where's he gone? asks Lisa. I was going to give him some extra bandages, and some Betadine.

Give them to me, says Schopenhauer. I'll give them to him. He's gone off with Unni to look at hats.

I thought they were going to wait until tomorrow for the Salamanca Markets, says Lisa.

You know what young people are like, says Gaius. Impatient.

Do you have a tin? asks Schopenhauer?

We don't use tins, says Lisa. We have limited funding. But we have a water cooler, with polystyrene cups. You're welcome to take one. And I'll fill it up for you with water from the salt water aquarium.

To cut a long story short, that is just what happens.

Gaius and Schopenhauer say goodbye to Lisa, promising to return on Monday for Captain Louttit.

Goodbye, says Lisa. Enjoy the weekend. If you go to Howden, stop off at Blackmans Bay. Your barnacles will enjoy the blowhole.

They leave the building through the big glass doors, Gaius carrying Captain Goose and Captain Wally in a polystyrene cup of salty water.

Let's see how long Gaius keeps it up.

They go over to their bicycles.

Schopenhauer old chap, says Gaius. You have a basket. Would you mind.....?

I wouldn't mind, says Schopenhauer, if the polystyrene cup had a lid on it. But you know how particular I am about my trousers.

If only Arthur were here, with the blue bag and the tin.

Or if only Unni were here. She would buy a Boost Juice, and let them use the lid.

But Arthur and Unni are somewhere down the road looking for a hat shop.

This is an example of how things don't always work out as we might like.

Why The Scientific Community Is So Awesome

Lisa reappears, with antiseptic and a bandage. She kneels down and dabs at Arthur's knees.

I see you've spotted the famous vessel, says Lisa. Fantastic isn't it.

What's fantastic? asks Gaius. And why a famous vessel?

I thought you were part of the crowd out there, says Lisa.

We were at the back, says Schopenhauer. But I did see something being held aloft. Something roundish.

But not longish, adds Gaius. I remember that most clearly.

You are obviously members of the scientific community, says Lisa. So you'll be thrilled by this. Very early this morning this blue bag was discovered floating down the Derwent. Inside, along with a much depleted lobster, were two surf barnacles, which are not endemic to the riparian zone along the Derwent. And what's even more peculiar, one was perched on top of the other, sort of like a hat, if you can believe a barnacle would exhibit such behaviour. Anyway it caused a furore here at the Research Centre. They're doing DNA tests on them now. We think the barnacles may be a completely new species. Either that or it's a total mystery how they got here.......

Gaius is beginning to think an interruption is in order.

Ahem, says Gaius.

Yes? says Lisa Gershwin.

I can throw some light upon the subject, says Gaius. This vessel is Arthur's blue Seahorse World bag.

Then how...? asks Lisa Gershwin.

I lost it at Lake St Clair, says Arthur. Those are my seahorse postcards in the bottom. Wet and ruined.

And, says Unni, the lobster is Captain Louttit. Where is he? Is he okay?

Captain? says Lisa Gershwin. He didn't look anything like a captain.

Madam, says Schopenhauer. I beg to differ. He wears a captain's hat. Even a jellyfish expert ought to understand the symbology of headwear.

There you are then, says Lisa. He wasn't wearing a hat of any description.

He must have lost it, says Unni, looking in the bag.

Tell me more about the barnacles, says Lisa Gershwin.

They were specimens of mine, says Gaius. I collected them from one of the beaches along the Great Ocean Road.

So they are ordinary barnacles, says Lisa. What a hoot. Wait till I tell the others. You know, it's rewarding being part of the science community. Sharing information as we do. How wonderful that you came along just now.

What about Captain Louttit? says Unni. Can we see him?

Sure, says Lisa Gershwin. Come with me.

She leads them to the room with the private saltwater aquarium, in which reposes a sorry-looking Captain Louttit.

Some visitors for you, says Lisa, tapping on the glass.

Captain Louttit looks up from his unhappy situation, and feels the need to justify himself.

Ah, says Captain Louttit feebly. There you are. No doubt you've noticed I have lost my captain's hat. But my crew came to the rescue. It was just unlucky that ......

Crikey, says Lisa Gershwin. He did have a hat. He lost it!

What was unlucky, Captain Louttit? asks Unni.

Never mind, sighs Captain Louttit. Please, leave me now......

Lisa, says Unni, do they sell hats at the Salamanca Markets?

You bet they do, says Lisa. Cool hats. And fresh fruit and vegetables. And wooden artifacts. And fudge...

That's good then. Things are looking up for Captain Louttit.

Non-Essential Parts Of An Acquaintance

These cakes are stale, says Schopenhauer.

Are they? says Gaius, who has been eating without paying much attention.

Yes, they are, says Unni. How long have you had them, Arthur?

A day or two, says Arthur vaguely, looking at his reflection in the glass doors of the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre.

He watches himself eating.  Chomp chomp chomp.

The stale crumbs drop from his mouth towards the pavement, past his knees.

And look, his knees are bleeding......

Thus occupied, Arthur doesn't hear Unni say: Tomorrow we can buy more cakes at the Salamanca Markets, because it's Saturday.

Arthur is still looking at his own reflection. Why does his face not look like his own face?

Because it is the face of Lisa Gershwin.

She has spotted the blood dripping from Arthur's knees.

She opens the door of the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre.

Were you injured in the melée? asks Lisa Gershwin.

Yes, says Arthur, not exactly lying.

Come in, says Lisa. I'll get you cleaned up and give you a bandage. I feel a bit responsible. We shouldn't have encouraged that crazy crowd.

Arthur, Unni, Gaius and Schopenhauer are now inside the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre. How fortuitous.

Gaius looks around. No jellyfish . But then, they are standing in the foyer.

My name is Lisa Gershwin, says Lisa. I'm the resident jellyfish expert.

By Jupiter! says Gaius. Just the very person we have travelled here to see!

Goodness, says Lisa Gershwin. Don't tell me you've found a new species of jellyfish. They seem to be washing up everywhere. It's so exciting.

Don't get too excited, says Schopenhauer. We just came to see the ....what was it, Gaius?

The giant lion's mane jellyfish, says Gaius. One and a half metres wide.

Oh, that one, says Lisa Gershwin. I'm afraid you won't be able to see it. Dead jellyfish don't last all that long.

How disappointing, says Gaius. Perhaps you might give us some indication of where you found it. We might go and have a nose around, and perhaps find another one.

It was found in Howden, says Lisa. Not far away. And by the way, I didn't find it, it was found by a young man called Xavier Lim. But you must excuse me. I'll go and get the first aid kit.

She hurries off to the first aid room.

Arthur looks around to see if there is anything interesting on the floor.

His blue eyes come to rest on a wet blue object, that has been kicked into a corner. It looks familiar.

Unni, says Arthur, could you get that blue thing and bring it over here?

You lazy slacker, says Unni. There's nothing wrong with you. I saw you picking at your scabs earlier....

But now, she has seen the wet blue object and recognised it.

The blue Seahorse World bag. She drags it from the corner to the space in front of them, and looks inside.

Three seahorse postcards, one semi-folded into an unfinished captain's hat.

And several non-essential parts of Captain Louttit.

Four People Outside Eating Cakes.

Next morning, early, they ride into Hobart. It only takes an hour.

Gaius leads the way, having consulted his maps.

 They ride past the plane trees and mellow sandstone facades of Salamanca Place to the waterfront, along Castray Esplanade

A large crowd has gathered outside the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre.

Where is he? cries a voice from the middle of the crowd. Hold him up! Let's see him!

Let's see him! Hold him up! echo several voices, from the back regions.

No one can see anything properly.

We can't see anything properly! they cry,

A scientist goes back inside the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre, and comes out carrying a ladder.

He props the ladder against the wall of the Research Centre and climbs up a few rungs.

Another scientist hands something up to him.

The scientist on the ladder grasps it, and flourishes it aloft.

The crowd cheers.

What is it? Is it a jellyfish? asks Gaius, still unable to see what it is.

No, I don't think so, says Schopenhauer. It's not amorphous.

Humph! says Gaius. A jellyfish need not be amorphous.

Nevertheless, says Schopenhauer. It is not one of them. It's roundish.

A jellyfish may be roundish, says Gaius. Is it also longish?

No, says Schopenhauer. It is rather small.

........

The scientist retreats down the ladder, and vanishes inside CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre.

The crowd grumbles and disperses towards the many restaurants and cafes dotted round about.

........

Inside the Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre the scientist stuffs Captain Goose into a specimen jar.

Captain Wally is dropped into another.

Captain Louttit, whose energies have been spent, is lying at the bottom of the blue Seahorse World Bag, legs twitching.

To make matters worse for Captain Louttit, he has begun to moult.

Another scientist peers into the bag.

Oh, she says. He's moulting!

She picks up Captain Louttit tenderly and places him in a private salt water aquarium.

How kind is Lisa Gershwin.

As she walks back down the corridor and past the glass front doors she sees four people outside eating cakes.

Secrets Of Dark Waters

Gaius and Arthur are at the Bush Inn in New Norfolk, waiting for Schopenhauer and Unni.

There is  roaring open fire in the lounge bar, but they are sitting outside on the deck overlooking the dark shining Derwent, drinking tap beer.

It's freezing out here, says Arthur, doing up his black jacket and rubbing his knees.

It is, says Gaius. The others should turn up soon.

Are you ready to order? asks Tom, from the doorway.

Not yet, says Gaius. We'll wait for our friends.

We could wait inside, says Arthur.

Yes, wait inside, says Tom. There's a warm fire, and historical artifacts.

I'm going inside, says Arthur. Are you coming?

Soon, says Gaius. You go.

Arthur goes inside.

Tom shows him some of the historical artifacts. An old clock on the wall and some sepia photographs.

The Bush Inn was built in 1825, says Tom. It's the oldest continuous licensed pub in Australia. There are secret convict tunnels that start in the basement and run off under the town.

Can I see them? asks Arthur.

No, says Tom. Why don't you order some food? We've got lamb shanks and chocolate pudding on the menu. And smoked rainbow trout is one of our specialties. Look, young Cassandra over there's having the smoked rainbow trout.

Arthur looks. Cassandra has peeled the flesh from her smoked rainbow trout, and is showing the bones to her father. The bones look like a fine tooth comb. She waves it about. Her dad laughs.

Gaius sits out on the deck, feeling melancholy. They are so close to Hobart. And yet not there. It is only a few days since they arrived in Tasmania. Why does it seem like a month?

He gazes across at the twinkling black water of the Derwent. On its banks, the autumnal trees, red, orange and yellow in daylight, are as black as tar lily volcanoes.

There is no way Gaius could possibly see, in the black water through the black trees, a black Seahorse World bag beating its steady way down to Hobart with black Captain Louttit and two black barnacles on board.

Gaius! calls Schopenhauer from the doorway. Come inside and have dinner. I've ordered lamb shanks and chocolate pudding!

Gaius sighs, and makes his way slowly inside.

Two Ways Of Looking At Ghosts

Gaius and Arthur have arrived in New Norfolk. It is not yet dark.

Good, says Gaius. It's not dark yet. Now to find Betty King. Will you come with me?

All right, says Arthur.

They follow the Back River Road to the Methodist Cemetery, and look for the grave.

They find it, next to a fence. The grass around it is pale green. The hills in the distance are darkening.

Betty King, reads Arthur. Laid to rest near this spot.

Near this spot, says Gaius. You know what that means.

She's not here, says Arthur.

Exactly, says Gaius. How disappointing.

I've got cakes, says Arthur. Want one?

A cold shiver passes through the soles of Gaius's feet.

No, says Gaius. It'll be dark soon. Let's go now.

They turn away from the grave of Betty King and pick up their bicycles.

.......

An hour later, Schopenhauer and Unni arrive in New Norfolk. It is already dark.

It's dark now, says Unni. Do you still want to?

Yes, says Schopenhauer. Unless you're afraid.

Me? scoffs Unni. I'm not scared of anything.

They follow the Back River Road to the Methodist Cemetery, and look for the grave.

They find it next to a fence. Schopenhauer swings the Platonic Ideal round sideways and flicks on his Knog light, in order to read the inscription.

Elizabeth Thackery King, reads Unni. Arrived First Fleet 1788.... and wow, she was ninety three years old when she died....

Laid to rest near this spot, says Schopenhauer. That means.....

Suddenly a shivering breeze runs through the grass like an electrical current passing through the soles of his feet. The Knog light goes out.

Yikes! says Unni.

I'm over there in the corner, whispers a voice from the shivering grass.

Did you hear that? says Unni. A woman's voice. She's over there in the corner.

Schopenhauer makes his way to the corner, his feet tingling

Are you there? he says, softly.

No, says the voice.

Don't play games, says Schopenhauer. I can hear you quite well in this corner.

Please yourself, says the voice. Shall I tell you my story?

All right, says Schopenhauer. But I must warn you I am a philosopher. I believe that, as individuals, death is the end of us. But the real or noumenal part of us cannot die. Our real being knows neither time nor beginning nor end. The immortal part of us is indestructible.....

I haven't got all night, says Betty King.

What are you saying about the afterlife? says Unni. That there isn't one as such?

Yes, says Schopenhauer. Not as such. Certainly not as a continuation of our mortal selves.

I'm just an old woman, says Betty.

No, says Schopenhauer. That's exactly my point . You are no longer an old woman.

I was a convict, says Betty. I stole five handkerchiefs. Two black silk ones and three other ones. I was the first white woman to set foot in Australia. Only twenty years old, I was then.

All quite meaningless, says Schopenhauer.

You can be an insensitive shit sometimes, says Unni.

Betty King fades back into the gloom. She knows perfectly well what she is.

Insight And Fear Of The The Supernatural

The barbecued trout have been eaten. Schopenhauer is asleep in the grass.

He dreams of his poodles, Atma and Butz. He dreams he has died in his sitting room sitting next to his cat.

What is this? Could it be what Sweezus is writing?

Or could it be true?

He is roused from his pastoral torpor by a sharp kick from Gaius.

Sorry old fellow, says Gaius. Time to move on.

Did you kick me? asks Schopenhauer.

Of course not, says Gaius. Get up.

Goodbye Greg, goodbye Flossy, says Unni.

Goodbye Arthur, says Flossy.

Thanks for the cakes, says Arthur.

Here take a few more, says Flossy.

Goodbye Greg, says Schopenhauer, thanks for....

But let us omit any further camaraderie of tourists, and assume one party is glad to be going, and the other is glad to be seeing them go.

.......

On the road to New Norfolk, Unni rides beside Arthur.

Cars whizz past.

Through the trees there are glimpses of river.

Isn't it lovely, the Derwent, says Unni. And such pretty autumn trees. Like boxes of coloured pencils.....

That's a very insightful simile, says Arthur.

Thanks, says Unni. I try to see things as they actually are.

So do I, says Arthur.

However, they have not seen the blue Seahorse World bag floating parallel to them on the river.

To be fair its a fair way away.

........

Where are we going? asks Schopenhauer, who is still half asleep.

He is trying to keep up with Gaius, who is pedaling fast.

New Norfolk, says Gaius. It should take us two and a half hours, if we ride without stopping.

Three hours then, says Schopenhauer. Because we'll be stopping.

I won't be stopping, says Gaius. Not till I get to New Norfolk. I want to see the attractions before it gets dark.

Attractions? says Schopenhauer. That's not like you, Gaius to look at attractions.

It's these tourism flyers, says Gaius. They have me intrigued. Every place has a story. In New Norfolk for example is the grave of Betty King, the first white woman to set foot in Australia.

My, my, says Schopenhauer. Isn't that something. I should like to see it myself. But surely it wouldn't matter if it was dark when we got there? Not afraid of ghosts are you?

I am not afraid of the supernatural, says Gaius. But there may not be adequate lighting.

Oh, there may not be adequate lighting, says Schopenhauer, not believing a word.

Dreams Of Older Women

Sweezus is glad to have something to do. Ghost Schopenhauer. How awesome is that.

He starts jotting notes on his notepad.

Life is a struggle. God is not necessary. There is only one question, that of existence. Science and jellyfish. The platonic ideal. Poodles.

He doesn't know much about poodles. But Katherine is sure to.

He calls Katherine.

Hello dear, says Katherine. How's everything in the office?

Heaps busy, says Sweezus. Hey, did you know Schopenhauer liked poodles?

I'm not in the least surprised, says Katherine. I can't bear them myself. Little mincers.

So you don't know much about them, says Sweezus. Bugger. I have to ghost this article by Schopenhauer. It needs a personal angle.

Turn on your computer, says Katherine, and type Schopenhauer and poodles into the search box.

Thanks Katherine, says Sweezus. You're awesome. Mother of Dragons.

You said that once before, says Katherine. I don't get it.

Type it into the search box, says Sweezus.

Katherine does, and is terribly flattered.

.........

Arthur and Flossy are still up at the clock, eating cakes.

Got any paper? says Arthur. I've got my poem.

Here you are dear, says Flossy, and a pen if you need it.

Arthur scribbles his poem.

May I see it? says Flossy, wiping the cream from her lips.

Here, says Arthur, thrusting it towards her.

She reads it aloud:

Buzz power lines strung high
From skeleton shanghai
To xray slingshot
Phallic in the sky
Under the network
Lies
The flat green clock
With gravel stones
And pointless numbers
Not in bloom
Watching
Time
Go by.

That's very good, Arthur, says Flossy.

It should be, says Arthur.

Ha ha, laughs Flossy. You might be famous one day.

She squints at the signature.

Arthur Rimbaud.

You can't use that name though, she says.

...........

It's lunch time. Everyone meets back at the campsite.

Greg, who fished from  a different canoe, has caught four large trout.

Unni is describing her Tree Walk.

Not very pretty says Unni. Some trees have been burnt in the fires. But I did see some tall ones.

We saw the clock, says Flossy. It wasn't that pretty either, but Arthur wrote me a wonderful poem.

Arthur looks surprised. He didn't write it for her.

Greg cooks the trout on the barbecue, silently, thinking of pipelines.

Gaius studies the map. Next stop New Norfolk. They should make it by late afternoon.

Schopenhauer lies back on the grass in the sunshine, smelling barbecued fish.

The Nature Of Non-Coincidence

Schopenhauer trails his hand in the cold waters of Wayatinah Lagoon.

Will we continue to Hobart? he asks.

Certainly, says Gaius. We'll go to the CSIRO Marine and Atmospheric Research Centre, and ask to see Lisa's research.

Good luck with that, says Schopenhauer, turning at the sound of a plop.

Plop! (It's a trout plop).

I find doors generally open to me, says Gaius.

Well of course, so do I, says Schopenhauer quickly. Did you hear that plop?

No, says Gaius. Was it behind you?

Yes, says Schopenhauer. But whatever it was, it's gone.

Not much doing, is there, says Gaius.

Not much, says Schopenhauer. But it's pleasant all the same.

If  the plop had occurred two minutes earlier, and Schopenhauer had turned round at that time, he would have seen the blue Seahorse World bag, drifting, with Captain Louttit inside.

Such is the nature of non-coincidence. Happens all the time.

.......

Unni is back from her Tall Tree Walk. It has not been as nice as she thought.

She walks down to the edge of the lagoon, sits on the grass, and phones Sweezus.

Yep? says Sweezus. What's up?

It's Unni, says Unni.

I know, says Sweezus. How's it going?

We're chasing the wrong jellyfish, says Unni.

Uh? says Sweezus.

There's a new one, says Unni. We're nearly in Hobart, but there's this new cool species of jellyfish washed up in Coolum. Fluoro purple! And Lisa Gershwin's gone up there to look.

Yeah, I know, says Sweezus. I've been following it on the ABC website. Turns out someone took a photo of one pretty much like it in Saudi Arabia in 2005.

No kidding! says Unni. So, it's not new then.

Yeah, it probably is though, says Sweezus. The Red Sea one had pointed ends to its oral arms. The Coolum one has round ends.

 Is it a Thysanostoma? asks Unni.

Lisa doesn't know yet, says Sweezus. But get this. The only  information about Thysanostoma is written in German. And Lisa's not real good at German. She's trying to figure it out.

Oh wow, says Unni. Schopenhauer speaks German.

That's kind of spooky, says Sweezus. Hey, that reminds me...

Oh yeah, says Unni. He wants you to ghost his Velosophy article. He's having too good a time to be bothered. He'll pay though.

Awesome, says Sweezus. Any clues on what I should write? Something personal?

Poodles, says Unni. He likes them. And also, he's totally changed his philosophy.

Too easy, says Sweezus. Okay then. Good luck with the jellyfish thing.

The Grey Nomad Surprises The Poet

Where is Coolum? splutters Gaius.

Sunshine Coast, says Flossy. Have you been there? Me and Greg went in the caravan last winter.....

Calm down, Gaius, says Unni. If Flossy looked at the ABC website, that means we've got coverage. We can check out the new purple jellyfish.

She taps at her phone rapidly, with her thumb.

Awesome, says Unni, look at this picture. It's like, fluoro purple, with really long tentacles. Lisa Gershwin thinks it might be a Thysanostoma. Oh no, wait! No she doesn't. There's an update....   Oh no, the jellyfish passed away after Lisa and this guy Puk Skivyer examined it last night.

Passed away? says Schopenhauer. That is unscientific language.

Nicer than died, don't you think, says Flossy. Much nicer.

Nonsense! says Gaius. But never mind about that. Where is Lisa Gershwin?

It doesn't say, says Unni. But Puk Skivyer is a Mooloolaba jellyfish expert.

It doesn't take long to put two and two together.

She's not in Hobart.

Have another? says Greg, waving the bottle of whiskey. Drown your sorrows?

Thank you says Gaius. I will.

.......

Next morning everyone wakes up in the caravan, feeling stiff and surprised.

Did we sleep here? says Unni.

Looks like it, says Arthur.

Morning, says Flossy. You still here?

Dear me, says Gaius. We have overstayed our welcome.

Not at all, says Greg. We were happy to have you. How did you sleep?

Like a happy little poodle, says Schopenhauer.

Did he say poodle? No one takes this up.

Are you in a hurry? asks Flossy. Would you like to look around Wayatinah? Greg's going fishing on the Lagoon. I'm off to look at the Clock.

.........

Later in the morning....

Schopenhauer, Gaius and Greg are trout fishing on the Lagoon.

Unni is doing the first leg of the Tall Tree Walk.

Arthur has gone with Flossy to look at the Floral Clock.

It's just lovely in the spring, says Flossy. Full of gorgeous yellow daffodils.

But it isn't spring. And the flower beds are filled in with gravel.

The clock has green hands that don't seem to be moving. That, or time has stood still.

I'm disappointed, says Flossy.

I like it, says Arthur. I might write a poem about it.

Are you a poet? says Flossy. I always liked poetry at school. That was a long time ago, though, in the sixties. I used to like..... Jack Kerouac. Everything/Is ignorant of its own emptiness/Anger/Doesn't like to be reminded...... how did it go? Anyway I used to like it.

Arthur is surprised for the second time this morning. (First time was when he woke up).

A grey nomad like Flossy, quoting Kerouac. Not Wordsworth.

He likes Flossy. He wonders when she will remember the lunch box she's packed full of cakes.

.........

On Wayatinah Lagoon , Gaius and Schopenhauer are fishing, from a canoe.

They haven't caught anything. But the lagoon is lovely. The banks are grassy on one side and treed on the other. There are steep hills and glimpses of pipelines.

Gaius thinks he may have seen a platypus.

Schopenhauer thinks he see may have seen a trout.

Neither of them have seen, behind them, a blue Seahorse World bag drifting slowly across the lagoon.

More Like A Club Than A Pub

It's cold and it's dark, after two hours riding down through the mountains to Wayatinah.

And luckily the Tavern is open.

They leave their bicycles outside, propped up against the stone basin fountain.

The Tavern is warm and friendly. More like a club than a pub.

(That's what it says in the flyer).

Sorry, says the proprietor. It's quarter to nine. Kitchen's closing.

Aw, come on Gary, says a woman throwing darts at a dart board. They look famished.

All right, says Gary. As long as you order something quick. How about bangers and mash?

Bangers and mash all round, says Gaius. And beer for everyone.

Thanks, says the woman, hitting the bullseye. I'll have one and so will my hubby.

Gaius looks taken aback. But Schopenhauer is unconcerned.

Gary vanishes into the kitchen.

The woman comes over to their table, followed by her hubby.

I'm Flossy, says the woman. And this is Greg, my hubby.

Is everyone called Greg in Tasmania? asks Unni.

Only the menfolk, laughs Flossy. Where are you people headed?

Hobart, says Gaius. On bicycles.

Brave people, says Flossy. Greg and me have a caravan. It's warmer, more comfy.

Not locals then? says Schopenhauer.

You remind me of someone, says Greg to Schopenhauer.

Is it Schopenhauer? says Schopenhauer.

Ha ha! laughs Greg. No, Albert Einstein.

We're not locals, says Flossy. But this is more like a club than a pub. We often come through here. Greg does research on water pipes.

I do, says Greg. Just this afternoon we saw two magnificent old wood stave water pipes, stretching all the way down the hill to the Liapoota Power Station. Each about four metres diameter. They were great engineers in the old days.

Indeed, says Gaius. Almost as good as the Romans. Ah, here comes our dinner.

Even Arthur cheers up when he sees the sausages, fat, juicy and brown.

Flossy and Greg are staying at a campsite nearby.

Come down for a nightcap, says Flossy.

Soon they are all in the caravan, drinking award winning Tasmanian whiskey.

The talk turns to the quest for the jellyfish.

You know, says Flossy, I read about a jellyfish this morning, on the ABC website. Bright purple, it was. They found it in Coolum. They called in this expert, Lisa someone. She said, yeah, it was a new species. How's that for a coincidence?

Gaius is thunderstruck. He turns purple and burps up the taste of his sausage. Br-uurk!

Some Disadvantages Of Reliability

The ten tiny platypus beetles are excited. At last they are free.

They run without thinking. Running running.

Looking for something to eat.

Now they are scattered all over the venue, under different carved panels.

One by one, they stop running, and sniff. So ends their initial excitement.

Sniff sniff. Huon pine? We don't eat that. That's why they use it for boats.

One by one they make their way back to the tin.

Arthur has left the lid open.

But they don't know how to get in.

........

Unni is showing Arthur her favourite panel.

Look at her face, says Unni. Her husband has died. She's got young children. It's so poignant.

Arthur looks. To him it doesn't look poignant. It looks like it's meant to look poignant.

You don't like it, says Unni.

Too earnest, says Arthur. And anyway, I've had it with this trip. I'm sick of being reliable.

Arthur, you're not reliable, says Unni. Just look how you opened the tin and let the beetles out......

Arthur do this, Arthur do that, says Arthur. Wade in and pick up the shrimp. Phone the jellyfish lady.

I bet you didn't, says Unni.

No I didn't, says Arthur.

........

Greg Duncan has finished his sanding.

I'm closing up in a minute, says Greg. What did you think of it?

Very commendable, says Gaius.

Ditto, says Schopenhauer. Very nice wood. Is it expensive?

About five thousand dollars a panel, says Greg. But it's worth it. Huon pine lasts forever.

Nothing lasts forever, says Gaius.

That reminds me, says Schopenhauer, we haven't had any dinner.

There's a nice restaurant in Derwent Bridge, says Greg Duncan. Or if you care to push on to Wayatinah, you could have dinner in the tavern. It's friendly and warm. More like a club than a pub.

Wayatinah, says Gaius. Oh yes, the Liapootah Power Station, and the Floral Clock.

Himmel! says Schopenhauer. What's this nonsense you're spouting?

Tourism flyers, says Gaius. Yes, we shall push on to Wayatinah. Thanks Greg, for showing us your wall.

No worries, says Greg. By the way, is that your tin?

It is! says Gaius. Arthur. What's my tin doing down on the floor?

Arthur goes to pick up the tin.

He can't believe it. The beetles are back, lined up hopefully.

A reliable person would pick them up gently and drop them back in.

Whereas Arthur just picks up the tin.

The Dead Weight Of The Future

So you are the sculptor? says Gaius.

I am, says the man in the hat.

And you have been working on this wall for ten years now? says Gaius.

I have, says the man in the hat. And it still isn't finished.

I believe it is considered one of the art treasures of Tasmania, says Gaius.

You're too kind, says the man in the hat.

Comparable to the works of the Egyptians and Assyrians, says Gaius.

This pleases the man in the hat

How disappointing we shall not get to see it, says Schopenhauer. I've always thought artistic forms of awareness help to overcome the pain of the human condition.

It's almost as if you know my wall already, says the man in the hat. Come in. I'm just going to sandpaper a fist in one of the panels.

How fascinating, says Gaius. I am Gaius Plinius Secundus, natural historian. This is Schopenhauer, my philosopher friend, fellow traveller.....

And benefactor, adds Schopenhauer.

And temporary benefactor, says Gaius.

I am Greg Duncan, sculptor, says the man in the hat.

This is Arthur, says Gaius. My right hand man. And Unni, our .....

Right hand woman, says Unni.

Greg Duncan turns on the lights and the ambient music.

A magnificent wall of hand sculpted flat relief Huon pine panels, one hundred metres long, depicting the stories of those who shaped both past and present of the Tasmanian Central Highlands.

Enjoy, says Greg Duncan, taking out a sheet of sandpaper, and walking off to sandpaper the fist of a woodsman.

Gaius is attracted to the panel depicting the extinction of the Tasmanian Tiger.

See this, says Gaius to Schopenhauer. These men are bounty hunters. And these are Tasmanian Tigers.

Wonderful, says Schopenhauer. Those were the days.

No, says Gaius. It is thanks to the bounty hunters that the Tasmanian Tiger is extinct.

As are the bounty hunters, says Schopenhauer, philosophically.

Schopenhauer wanders off to look at panels showing the herculean efforts of hydro workers, timber harvesters and pastoralists. Such efforts, such strain, such determination. Many of them look like Greg Duncan, and are wearing a hat.

Unni is looking at a panel showing the indigenous custodians of Tasmania. Good on Greg for not leaving them out. Then she turns to the panel showing a pioneer woman who has just buried her husband, and is loading her kids and possessions into a car.

She feels rather serious. Is life really that hard? Hers isn't.

She wonders what Arthur thinks of it. Where is Arthur anyway?

Arthur is sitting on the floor, breathing the strong scent of pinewood.

In out, in out.

Feeling the dead weight of the future.

Holding the tin.

Don't even think about it says Unni. Those are mountain pinhole borers in there.

I'll just see what happens, says Arthur.

Unni watches in horror as Arthur prises open the tin, and shakes out the ten tiny beetles.

The beetles scatter, who can say where?

The Balance Of Power And The Hat

Captain Louttit, Wally and Goose sit in their blue Seahorse World canoe, on the calm surface of the Lake St Clair Lagoon.

Black currawongs fly this way and that overhead, trilling: Wee-wee-ha!

Who's going to paddle? asks Goose.

It can't be us, says Wally. It'll have to be Captain ....no, not Captain..... it'll have to be Louttit.

Captain Louttit regrets giving up the captaincy so easily.

If I'm to paddle, says Captain Louttit, and you are not going to paddle, I shall resume the title of Captain.

Point of order, says Goose.

I know, says Captain Louttit. I have no captain's hat. But these things happen at sea. We must improvise.

Improvise, says Wally. What does that mean?

Use whatever is to hand, says Captain Louttit. For example, these seahorse postcards could be folded. Does anyone......?

No. No one knows how to make a captain's hat.

Remember that shrimp? says Wally. He thought me and Goose were hats.

Of course! cries Captain Louttit. Problem solved! Who'd like the honour? Or will you take turns?

If only Captain Louttit had not made that last suggestion. The idea of self-determined turns is not consistent with autocratic leadership.

We'll all take turns being captain, says Goose. And turns at being hats.

Wait a minute, says Captain Louttit. I can't take a turn as a hat.

I'll be Wally's hat when he's captain, says Goose. And he'll be my hat when I am. Since you, Louttit, can't pull your weight hat-wise, you'll do all the paddling.

How galling. Something seems wrong with this reasoning. But what is it? Louttit has little choice but to agree.

Goose is elected first Captain. Wally climbs onto his head.

This is good, says Wally.

Silence, hat! Full steam ahead, Mr Louttit! says Captain Goose.

Mr Louttit starts paddling slowly, towards the head of the Derwent.

Black currawongs dart to and fro overhead, trilling mockingly : Wee-wee-ha!

...........

We must be pragmatic, says Gaius. Captain Louttit knows where we're going.

You think he has gone on ahead? asks Schopenhauer.

A black currawong flies over. He would laugh if he understood German-accented English. Gone on a head!
Wee-wee-ha!

.......

Half an hour later they reach Derwent Bridge, and follow the highway to Wall in the Wilderness, which has already closed for the day.

They are just turning away when a man in a leather hat appears, with woodworking tools, and a key.

Evening, says the man. Sorry we're closed.

But you're going in, says Schopenhauer.

It's my Wall, says the man in the hat.

In Your Own Blue Canoe

Captain Louttit pulls himself out of the lake with a supercrustacean effort.

He sits on a half-submerged pebble. He looks for his hat in the water.

Up comes the mountain shrimp..... bubble bubble......

Wally and Goose slide off his back.

Here we are, says Goose. Together again, but this time as equals.

Because you're not the captain, says Wally.

No, you're not the captain,says Goose.

I know, sighs Captain Louttit. No hat. But there's worse news. We've been deserted.

We can't live here! says Wally.

And we can't leave, says Goose.

How did you get here? asks the mountain shrimp.

Blue bag, says Captain Louttit.

If I'm not mistaken, says the mountain shrimp. It's over there.

It is. Eddy has left it on the jetty.

So you can leave, says mountain shrimp. In your own blue canoe.

What? And paddle round the lake forever? says Captain Louttit.

No, says the mountain shrimp. Lake St Clair is the source of the Derwent. I thought everyone knew that. Just around this promontary is the St Clair Lagoon. You can follow it down to the Derwent Bridge, and then all the way down to Hobart.

Too easy.

Captain Louttit launches the blue Seahorse World canoe.

.......

Gaius, Schopenhauer, Arthur and Unni can't plan the next stage of their journey.

It sucks that there's no coverage here, says Unni, putting away her phone. I can't get maps or anything.

They must have maps at the lodge, says Gaius. Hold my bicycle. I'll go inside and see.

He goes in just as Greg is coming out.

Greg looks like a different person.

Wow, says Unni. You look .......clean.

Very smart, says Schopenhauer, checking his own trousers, which are still pristine.

Thanks, says Greg. I wanted to catch you guys before you leave. I've got something for Gaius. To say I'm sorry for blitzing his shrimp.

Arthur thinks he knows what it will be. Ten platypus beetles. In a tin.

Greg hands him a tin.

Thanks Greg, says Arthur. He's just gone inside to find a map.

Where're you headed? asks Greg.

Hobart, says Schopenhauer.

Following the Derwent? says Greg.

No idea, says Schopenhauer.

Yeah, you will be, says Greg. When you get to Derwent Bridge, go and see the Wall in the Wilderness. It's awesome.

Ooh! says Unni. The Wall in the Wilderness! Yes, we will.

Gaius comes out with a sheaf of tourism flyers.

We head down Lake St Clair Road, says Gaius. Are we ready?

Greg's given you a present, says Arthur.

For your collection, says Greg. By way of an apology.

Thank you, says Gaius. But no apology is needed. What a nice tin. Arthur, would you put it in the blue bag with Captain......

It is only now that everybody realises: There is no blue bag! And no Captain Louttit.

Everyone To His Taste

Alone on the Ida Clair, except for a few platypus beetles of which he is unaware, Eddy starts coiling ropes, closing hatches, wiping down seats.

What is that sound?

Eddy stops wiping, and listens.

It seems to be coming from the blue bag in the corner.

Blue bag! Damn!  Those fool passengers must have left it behind.

Eddy looks into the blue bag. Pulls out a few sea horse postcards.

Scra-a-a-ape. There's something else in there.

He runs his finger around the bottom of the bag. Barnacles!  He lifts out Wally and Goose.

Plop, plop. He drops them into the water.

.........

Greg, Arthur and Unni have arrived at Lake St Clair Lodge.

You know when I sat on your shrimp? says Greg.

It was Gaius's shrimp, says Unni. Don't worry. He's probably forgotten it already.

I feel a bit bad though, says Greg.

.........

Gaius and Schopenhauer are not far behind.

That ferry trip was not what I expected, says Schopenhauer.

Nor I, says Gaius. It was a stroke of luck to meet a collector of beetles.

That's not what I meant, says Schopenhauer.

........

When will someone remember Captain Louttit? And Wally and Goose? And the blue Seahorse World bag?

..........

Before disembarking, Eddy scans the surrounding water.

There, about to drift under the jetty, floats the incriminating hat.

Eddy takes a grappling hook from a locker, and lifts the hat out of the water.

What a cute little hat. His three year old daughter will like it.

.........

Under the surface of Lake Leeawuleena it's like grand central station.

Captain Louttit rises, the barnacles fall. They pass in the middle.

Mountain shrimps ( nameless) encircle the barnacles.

Which one of you is his hat? asks a mountain shrimp ( nameless).

Whose hat? says Goose.

Wugherapunganah, says the shrimp, pointing upwards to where Captain Louttit is breaking the surface. The great ocean crab.

If you mean our captain..... says Goose. He's a lobster. A simple mistake.

We are isolated here, admits the shrimp. And come to think of it, he did tell us he was a lobster.

Has he lost his hat? says Wally. He'll be gutted.

So you're not hats, then? says the shrimp. You do look like hats, both of you.

How come you know what hats look like? says Goose.

He is suspicious by nature.

But if you live in Lake Leeawuleena long enough, you see a few hats.

Can you give us a lift up to the surface? asks Wally. This water is toxic for barnacles.

Chacun a son gout, says the shrimp.

(World heritage listed, lots of tourists, some speaking French......  it's not inconceivable).

The Law Of Diminishing Returns

Captain Louttit sinks down through the cold waters of Leeawuleena.

down down through the sleeping dreamtime waters

he opens his mouth to cry out

his mouth fills with freshwater

he closes his mouth just in time

a mountain shrimp ( nameless) drifts past

he swims underneath captain louttit

he swims round and around captain louttit

and says: wugherapunganah?

are you talking to me? asks captain louttit

his mouth fills with freshwater

he closes his mouth just in time

yes says the mountain shrimp ( nameless)

are you wugherapunganah?

captain louttit has no idea

all he knows is the name of the lake

leeawuleena sleeping waters

are you? says the mountain shrimp

are you the great ocean crab?

NO cries captain louttit recovering his senses

never a crab, how insulting

a lobster sea captain from the mainland

the proof is my hat

he indicates with his dominant claw

but there is no hat

it floats on the surface of lake leeawuleena

.........

On board the Ida Clair, some success has been had with the counting.

Eighty five beetles! says Greg.

Right! says Eddy. Bring me those missing fifteen beetles and I'll let you all off.

.......

I don't want eighty five beetles, mutters Greg.

Why not? says Arthur.

It's not a round number, says Greg.

How about sixty beetles? says Arthur.

Fifty is better, says Greg.

Just give me fifteen of those beetles, says Arthur.

Greg loosens one side of the cling film. Lets out fifteen beetles one by one. As each beetle emerges Arthur squashes it with his finger.

Fifteen, says Arthur, showing fifteen squashed beetles to Eddy.

Eddy has been gazing over the railing at Captain Louttit's hat.

He feels somewhat guilty at causing an accident.

He hopes no one else sees the hat.

Fifteen? says Eddy. I believe you. Okay you can go now. Enjoy the rest of your day.

Ingratitude

Unni peers into the tin of platypus beetles.

They're so tiny! says Unni. Are they even beetles?

Gaius leans over to look.

Mountain pinhole borers, says Gaius. Platypodids.

Or ambrosia beetles, says Greg. They excavate tunnels in dead trees and grow fungus gardens to feed on.

There you are, says Gaius. A cure for your toe and groin fungus.

Greg looks doubtful.

They've got wings! says Unni. Oh watch out, they're flying away!

Stop them! cries Eddy. They'll ruin my ferry.

Too late, some of the platypus beetles fly off and land who knows where.

Greg snaps down the lid of the tin.

Eddy is angry.

When the Ida Clair docks at the jetty at Cynthia Bay, he won't let them off.

Not till you find every single one of those borers, says Eddy.

This is ridiculous, says, Schopenhauer. We don't know how many there are.

Yes we do, says Greg. There were exactly a hundred.

Exactly a hundred. It seems Greg is a little bit anal.

And now? says Eddy.

If he tries to count them, says Unni, they'll all fly away.

Arthur likes this. It's strategic and military. He sets his mind to solving the puzzle.

I've got it, says Arthur. Where's the cling film? If we take the lid off and cover the tin with the cling film we can look through it and count them.

Brilliant! says Greg.

Except we used it to wrap up the shrimp when we thought he was dead, says Unni.

The one I sat on? says Greg. There was no cling film.

He wasn't dead, says Unni.

I've got some, says Schopenhauer. From my sandwich.

So, while Greg, Gaius, Arthur, Schopenhauer and Unni are busy trying to slide the lid off the tin and replace it with cling film without leaving an escape hatch, what else is happening?

Eddy leans on the railing, next to the gangplank, thinking negative thoughts.

Captain Louttit takes the opportunity to speak to him quietly.

I am no local, says Captain Louttit, but even I can name the mountains surrounding Lake St Clair, and can tell you the aboriginal name of these waters is Leeawuleena.

Eddy's fuse is a short one. He kicks Captain Louttit.

Captain Louttit is shocked. Is this how to treat a fellow captain, offering friendly advice?

He loses his balance and tumbles awkwardly into Lake Leeawuleena

The Collector Of Platypus Beetles

The ferry stops at Narcissus Hut to pick up a hiker from the half-submerged jetty.

At least that got my boots clean, says the hiker, stamping his sodden boots and spraying muddy water all over the deck.

Completed the Overland Track, have you? says Eddy. How was it?

Good, says Greg. Except for the rats and leeches. And the slippery boardwalk, and the rain and mud. And the humidity when the sun came out.  Reckon I've got fungus in places I didn't know I had.

Eddy starts the engine, and turns the ferry for the trip back to Cynthia Bay.

Greg sits down heavily, next to Arthur.

You ever done it? asks Greg.

Depends what it is, says Arthur.

Don't I know you from somewhere? says Greg.

He's a poet, says Unni.

Nah, that's not it, says Greg, wriggling uncomfortably.

Would you like some ointment? asks Unni. For the fungus?

Thanks, if you've got some, says Greg.

I haven't, says Unni.

Gaius turns around.

I know him too, says Greg.

He's a natural historian, says Unni.

Greg shakes his head.

Schopenhauer wonders if he also might look familiar, being a famous philosopher.

But Greg ignores him.

Bikes! says Greg. You guys are Tour de France riders. What was your team?..... let me think....

Team Philosophe, says Unni. And Team Provenance.

Wow! says Greg, scratching his bottom.

Greg needs ointment, says Unni, for his fungus.

Vinegar, says Gaius. Garlic....oregano....bee pollen....Pity I don't have any.

No it's not that, says Greg. I've sat on something ......

He stands up.

Fifteen tiny segments of mountain shrimp are stuck to the seat of his pants.

Sorry, says Greg. Was that someone's lunch?

No, it was a specimen, says Gaius. Never mind.

Are you a collector? asks Greg, as he picks mountain shrimp off his trousers. I collect beetles.

He reaches into his pocket and brings out a tin.

He takes off the lid with a flourish.

Platypus beetles, says Greg.

Platypus beetles. Who knew there was any such thing?

When To Speak Up And When To Be Silent

The mountain shrimp floats tail up on the surface of the lake.

At last! says Gaius. There's one!

So it is, says C.H. Cook. Looks like a dead one.

So much the better, says Gaius. Arthur, will you please wade in and pick it up.

Arthur takes his shoes off and wades into the icy water of Lake St Clair.  He picks up the mountain shrimp between two fingers.

Quick! says Gaius. Something to put it in!

Here, says Unni, handing Arthur the cling film from her sandwich.

Arthur wraps the mountain shrimp in cling film.

So that's one more for the ferry trip. A dead one.

Taking leave of C.H.Cook they make their way along the muddy track beside the lake to the ferry pick up point, a wooden jetty.

The ferry leaves at three o'clock.

Let me see that mountain shrimp, says Gaius. I shall examine it while we're waiting.

Arthur hands him the wrapped up shrimp.

Gaius unwraps it.

Interesting, says Gaius. Two sets of antennae, soft body in fifteen segments......

Plurp! says the mountain shrimp. I'm dying. Wrap me in peppermint leaves and say a prayer. Make me a bier, float me down to Camelot.

Dear me, says Gaius. He's alive and hallucinating!

Let me see, says Captain Louttit. He peers at the mountain shrimp severely.

Man up, says Captain Louttit. A little bit of salt won't have hurt you.

Plurp! repeats the mountain shrimp, bringing up a little piece of Vegemite Fudge. Where am I?

We're about to take the round trip on the ferry, says Captain Louttit. You are lucky.

My death canoe, says the mountain shrimp.

No, says Captain Louttit. Not your death canoe. A ferry.

The mountain shrimp racks his memory. Ferry.... ferry.... Yes! the Ida Clair. And Eddy.

It's three o'clock.

Four for the round trip? says Eddy, the captain of the ferry. That's forty dollars each.

It seems expensive for just half an hour on the water, but Schopenhauer pays up.

At least there is no charge for Captain Louttit, Goose and Wally, and the mountain shrimp.

Brurrrbrurrrbrurrrmmm, the ferry starts moving in a northerly direction.

It is pleasant on the water. Eddy waves vaguely at the scenery.

Mountains, says Eddy. Lake. Trees. Alpine huts. We head for Echo Point, then up to Narcissus. Then turn back to Cynthia Bay.

May I ask, says Schopenhauer, the names of the individual mountains?

Mmnnm, says Eddy, pretending to be doing something important to the engine.

Does the lake have an aboriginal name? asks Unni.

Not that I know of , says Eddy.

What trees are those? asks Arthur, just to annoy Eddy further.

Errm, says Eddy. Not sure about that one. But those ones over there are gums.

This isn't very good. The mountain shrimp feels ashamed of Eddy.

Ought one to show up the captain though, while one is still on board?

The mountain shrimp turns to Captain Louttit and whispers, while indicating with his eye stalks:

Mount Hugel, Mount Olympus, Mount Orthys, Mount Byron, Mount Ida. Lake Leeawuleena. The trees are cabbage trees.

You don't say? says Captain Louttit. Can I believe you? You with your life span of three or four years.

Wrong, says the mountain shrimp. We went to London!

That is not incompatible with dying at some point in the future, says Captain Louttit.

The mountain shrimp remembers that he has nearly died already this afternoon, and recovered.

He shrugs. He doesn't care what Captain Louttit thinks. The future is cloudy.

Captain Louttit is now faced with a dilemma. Disseminate the information or keep mum.

Honour And Karma

The beauty of Lake St Clair delights Schopenhauer's senses as he bites into his sandwich.

He no longer fears losing his philosophical direction.

So, says Schopenhauer, addressing C.H.Cook, with whom he is sharing the sandwich. G.E. Nicholls wrote a paper based on the specimens you sent him?

He did, says C.H.Cook. It was reported in full in the Mercury.

But you were credited with your part in the affair, pursues Schopenhauer.

Certainly, says C.H. Cook. There is honour among natural historians.

I heartily concur, agrees Gaius.

Good, good, says Schopenhauer. No doubt there is a corresponding honour among philosophers .

Arthur looks up from his apple.

Arthur, says Schopenhauer. How is Sweezus at writing?

Arthur is about to say: Average.

He's very creative, says Unni, before Arthur can reply.

Creative! says Schopenhauer. That's encouraging. Can you give me an example?

Beyoncé, says Unni. He wrote stuff exactly like it would be if she wrote it. Beyoncé was very appreciative, because she's so busy........

Ah, says Schopenhauer. I don't know Beyoncé. Is she a modern day philosopher?

Yes, says Unni. She invented the saying, If you like it, put a ring on it.

Very sensible, says Gaius. Good advice for all disciplines, but mine in particular.

Schopenhauer has not been entirely convinced by Beyoncé's maxim, but he respects Gaius's opinion.

Arthur, ask Sweezus to give me a call, says Schopenhauer. I have a proposition for him.

I'll do it, says Unni.

Thank you, says Schopenhauer. That's a load off my mind. Ah, what a beautiful setting. Those majestic mountains! Look at that one!

He points to Mount Ida, with its distinctive triangular summit.

You should take the ferry trip, says C.H. Cook. A round trip of the lake. You'll see all the mountains close up.

No time, says Gaius. We must be in Hobart tomorrow.

Ferry trip, says Captain Louttit. I'd like a ferry trip. Let's take a vote on it.

I vote for the ferry trip, says Schopenhauer.

Me too, says Unni.

That's five votes, says Captain Louttit.

Three, says Gaius. Arthur and  I vote against it.

So I get a vote, but the barnacles don't, says Captain Louttit, looking pleased.

Gaius realises too late that he has been outsmarted. Not by maths but by cunning.

Wally and Goose have been listening.

Does that mean we're not going? says Wally.

Yes, says Goose. It means we're not going.

A mountain shrimp has been listening too. He has come to the surface to nibble the choc-coated Vegemite Fudge.

It doesn't mean you're not going, says the mountain shrimp, to Wally. Even if you don't get a vote, it's three to two. You're going.

Woop! says Wally. We're going! Thanks for the heads up.

The mountain shrimp starts to say, You're very welcome, and thanks for the fudge it's delicious...... when a sudden and painful  internal constriction prevents him from completing the sentence.

He stiffens, turns tail up, and floats redundant on the calm surface of Lake St Clair.

Death, Natural Science And Fudge

You sent them to London? says Unni. Did they die?

Antennae and eyes on long stalks break the surface of the water. The mountain shrimps wait for an answer.

They arrived safely alive, says C.H.Cook. I had a letter to confirm it, from G.E. Nicholls.

The mountain shrimps look at one another, as if to say:

Mountain Shrimp: Brothers, as a species we rock.

Mountain Shrimp: Survival of the fittest. We went to London!

Mountain Shrimp: Yar! Where is London?

Mountain Shrimp: Who cares. We didn't die!

(From this short exchange you may gather that mountain shrimps are so primitive, they don't have individual names).

Gaius squats to look into the water. He thinks he has seen a small movement.

But no. It is nothing. Just black and yellow leaves slowly disintegrating into skeletal fans.

Gaius may be mistaken.

The mountain shrimps are black and yellow. Their tails are like fans.

Have you spotted any lately? asks Gaius. I have come out of my way in the hope of a sighting.

No, says C.H.Cook. But I can tell you that they are Syncarids, an ancient group of crustaceans. The young hatch in June or July. They grow up to five centimetres in length, and live for three or four years.

Luckily the mountain shrimps have stopped listening, having sunk to the bottom in the happy belief that they are immortal.

Captain Louttit however, is listening. Three or four years! That is pathetically short. No doubt it is due to the lack of salt in the water.

Anyone like to share my lunch? says Schopenhauer, opening his pre-made sandwich of tomato and cheese.

Yes, says Unni. I'll share my sandwich as well. Arthur, have you got anything?

A couple of apples, says Arthur. He brings out the apples.

He reaches down further into his pocket. What's this? Something sticky and brown......

Mmm. It's the last of the choc-coated Vegemite Fudge from Cottage Box Chocolates, in Murray Bridge.

Anyone want to try this? says Arthur. It's a bit sticky, but it should be alright.

That's disgusting, says Unni. Throw it away.

No wait! says Captain Louttit, sticking his head up from the Seahorse World bag. Is it salty?

Of course it's salty, says Unni. It's Vegemite.

I'll have it, says Captain Louttit. It may save my life.

Arthur hands the half-melted choc-coated Vegemite Fudge to Captain Louttit, who bites into it eagerly.

He swallows some, but Unni is right, it is disgusting.

He throws the rest into shallows of Lake St Clair, showing a misguided sense of ecological responsibility.

Aspects Of Science And Tourism

How long are we here for? asks Schopenhauer. Should we book in to the Lodge?

No, no, says Gaius. I suggest we go down to the lake to look for anaspides tasmaniae.

But it's lunch time, says Schopenhauer.

You go ahead and have lunch then, says Gaius. I'll start on my own. Come on, Arthur.

Arthur still has one or two apples in his pocket. He follows Gaius down to the lake.

The door of the Lake St Clair Lodge cafe is open. Smoke is issuing out.

Unni and Schopenhauer walk up to the counter.

I hope you don't want any food, says the manager.

We actually do, says Unni. Where's that smoke coming from?

I can sell you a pre-made sandwich, says the manager. Nine dollars per sandwich.

Schopenhauer and Unnu buy two pre-made sandwiches and wander down to the lake to find Gaius and Arthur.

Gaius and Arthur are talking to a tall man in old fashioned clothing, at the edge of the lake.

Yes, the tall man is saying. That was me. My discovery.

Schopenhauer and Unni appear, with their pre-made sandwiches.

On fire again is it? says the man.

Just a great deal of smoke, says Schopenhauer. Does this happen often?

It's their log fire, says the man. When they run out of soup of the day, they stoke the fire up and drive everyone out of the cafe.

The manager appears from behind a black peppermint tree.

Now then, Chooky! says the manager. That's defamatory.

The manager then smiles disarmingly at everyone.

There are certain people intent upon damaging our reputation, says the manager. We waste far too much time responding to negative comments on TripAdvisor.

But the smoke, says Unni.

There was no smoke, says the manager firmly.

He marches back through the black peppermints and mountain white gums to the cafe and restaurant.

 Gaius makes introductions.

Chooky, says Gaius. Meet Schopenhauer, and Unni Moon. Schopenhauer and Unni, meet Chooky.

My name isn't Chooky, says Chooky. It's C.H.Cook.

I do beg your pardon, says Gaius. I assumed.....

Quite naturally,  says C.H.Cook. But I prefer to be called C.H.Cook. It sounds more like the name of a contributor.

Indeed, says Gaius. It does have that ring.

May I ask to what you contribute? asks Schopenhauer.

It was in 1929, says C.H.Cook. Back in the days of my youth. I collected from this lake several examples of aspanides tasmaniae.

The mountain shrimp? says Schopenhauer.

The very same, says C.H.Cook. I sent them to London, to a certain Mr G. E. Nicholls, D.Sc., A.R.Sc., F.L.S. and he presented a paper on them to the Royal Zoological Society.

Gaius and Schopenhauer nod respectfully.

Arthur and Unni look bored.

Captain Louttit and the recently scraped barnacles, Goose and Wally, however, have a question.

Several small mountain shrimps, who have been lurking in the shallow lake waters under floating leaves and twisted root snags waiting for tadpoles, worms and carrion to feed on, have the same question.

Did they all get to London alive?

The Art Of Being Right

It is frosty early next morning. Time to pack up and move on.

Schopenhauer rides next to Gaius.

Tell, me, says Schopenhauer, when you think of me what do you think of?

Good living, says Gaius. Not something of which I approve.

Most people would disagree with you, says Schopenhauer.

I fear not, says Gaius. Most people aspire to it.

I mean when they think about me, says Schopenhauer. I have written a great deal on the Suffering of the World, Asceticism, Chastity, the Horror and Absurdity of Religion and the Art of Being Right. Most people think I'm..... not cheerful.

They obviously don't know you as I do, says Gaius.

Thank you, says Schopenhauer, cheering up.

.........

Schopenhauer drops back to ride next to Arthur.

You know that I have an extension, begins Schopenhauer.

Yes, says Arthur.

I'm finding it hard to begin, says Schopenhauer. How do you find inspiration?

Total derangement of the senses, says Arthur.

Schopenhauer looks doubtful.

But you are a poet, says Schopenhauer.

.........

He drops back to ride with Unni.

Writers block? says Unni.

How did you know? says Schopenhauer, impressed.

Dad used to get it, says Unni. When he was writing sermons. He said it helped if he picked a fight.

..........

Schopenhauer speeds up to pick a fight with Arthur.

By the way, Arthur, did you pick up the jug?

No, says Arthur. I only picked up the contents.

Idiot! says Schopenhauer. What if Captain Louttit should die?

It'll be your fault, says Arthur. But he'll die anyway.

Captain Louttit is within hearing. He is in Arthur's blue bag with the barnacles. He has heard Arthur's ghoulish prediction.

He will die anyway.

Captain Louttit has not considered that this might occur.

He becomes angry and takes it out on the barnacles.

You two! says Captain Louttit. What do you mean by reproducing so carelessly? Are you girls?

Goose is offended.

We are non-gender specific, says Goose.

Are we? says Wally. Speak for yourself! The way I see it, I'm the father and mother of your children, and you're the father and mother of mine.

Goose looks daggers at Wally.

You're both a disgrace, says Captain Louttit. No doubt you did it in the font. Come here! I'm going to give you a scrape!

Panic and pandemonium ensue in the blue Seahorse World carry bag.

.......

Luckily, due to a tail wind and it being three hours later, they have arrived at Lake St Clair.

How beautiful! A lake formed by the confluence of three tributary glaciers which long ago scoured the landscape into a deep u-shaped valley.

A pantheon of dolerite mountains surround it, and at the southern end is a drowned moraine of tumbled rocks.

Here, black peppermint trees and mountain white gum are home to black currawongs, strong-billed honey eaters and yellow wattlebirds.

And it's not as cold as Cradle Mountain would have been.

Night Thoughts And A New Direction

Where is Cradle Mountain anyway?

Gaius decides it is time that he looked at a map.

He is shocked to discover that they are still in the north of Tasmania, and that Cradle Mountain is off to the west. In fact the very opposite of..........but he supposes that it is his fault.

Since no one wishes to go to Cradle Mountain..... begins Gaius.

Everyone looks up expectantly.

I suggest we don't go, says Gaius.

Faint cheers.

Instead, says Gaius, first thing in the morning, we shall take this route ( he traces the route with his finger), straight down Lake Highway to Lake St Clair, where the Mountain Shrimps are. From there it is not far to Hobart.

More cheers.

Now, says Gaius, I suggest we all get some sleep.

How easy it is lead people. Gaius is first to nod off, followed by Unni and Arthur.

.......

Schopenhauer can't sleep. He gets up and ventures outside. He wanders down to the river Meander.

He hears the faint grunting of ducks and swans, the faint popping of trout.

Roooarr! A train thunders by.

A wallaby hops gently between two dark bushes. An echidna steps on a twig.

Schopenhauer thinks about what he might write should he ever get round to it.

The barnacles turned out to be a great disappointment. Quite resistant to human intentions.

Lucky he has an extension.

.........

He re-enters the cabin. Everyone is awake, thanks to the train.

Gaius is telling a story.

Goose barnacles, says Gaius, are edible.

Goose and Wally wonder if they ought to be glad.

The Spanish and Portuguese eat them, says Gaius. They are considered a delicacy.

Gaius picks up Goose and turns him over.

Put him down, Gaius, says Unni. Can't you see you're making him nervous?

No, no, says Gaius. Goose has no need to fear. He is not a Goose barnacle.

Put me down! says Goose. Put me down next to Wally.

Gaius puts him down, picks up Wally, turns him over.

No one stands up for Wally. Gaius puts him down anyway.

In the Goose barnacle, continues Gaius, the fleshy stalk resembles the neck of a goose. The ancients used to believe that seagoing wild geese hatched from the barnacle.

Huh-huh, laughs Goose.

Heh-heh, laughs Wally.

Funnily enough, says Gaius.......but never mind, no doubt you know this already.

What? says Arthur. I don't know it.

Me either, says Unni.

Turn them over, says Gaius.

Ooh, says Unni. They're brimful of larvae!

Goose and Wally pretend that they knew.

Unnecessary Coincidences

An unnecessary coincidence is about to occur.

Arthur, passing the Westbury post office, remembers his Sea Horse post card.

He texts Sweezus.

Did U get the postcard?

Then Arthur rides on, a little faster.

He catches up with Schopenhauer.

His phone rings. It's Sweezus.

And so it is that Schopenhauer obtains an answer to his question.

But not right away. Arthur is talking to Sweezus.

If you think sea horses are funny, wait till you hear about barnacles, says Arthur.

Deadline! hisses Schopenhauer.

Deadline? says Arthur.

Oh yeah, says Sweezus. Tell Schopenhauer he's got an extension.

You've got an extension, says Arthur to Schopenhauer.

Schopenhauer looks joyful.

Goose raises an eyebrow at Wally. ( A barnacle eyebrow, who knew?)

He's got an extension, says Goose.

Just like us, says Wally.

I didn't notice it when we were in his pocket, says Goose.

It must be a short one, says Wally.

..........

Gaius and Unni are in Deloraine, waiting.

Arthur and Schopenhauer rock up.

Where've you been? says Unni.

Talking to Sweezus, says Arthur. He told me how cold it would be on Cradle Mountain.

How cold? asks Gaius.

Snowing, says Arthur.

A shiver passes through everyone.

It's so lovely here, says Unni. The yellow wattle trees, the River Meander. The ducks. And it's not snowing. Let's camp here tonight.

We'll get a cabin, says Schopenhauer.

..........

A cabin! With a log fire. Enough beds for four people. It's two degrees outside.

A conference is in progress......

Schopenhauer: It was you who wanted to go to Cradle Mountain.

Gaius: I thought it was you.

Unni: It was the barnacle, remember. She was going to have babies.

Gaius: Jupiter! Where are those barnacles?

Arthur: In my Seahorse World Bag.

Gaius: Without water!

Captain Louttit: We are bearing up well in the dry.

Wally and Goose (coughing raspily) : So are we.

Gaius: Which one of you is the clever one?

Wally: She went to the place called beyond.

Goose: Like she wanted.

Gaius: So you are?

Goose: Goose and Wally.

Gaius: Goose? You're a Surf Barnacle, not a Goose Barnacle. Who gave you that name?

Goose: Wally.

Don't Be Too Optimistic

Gaius is too optimistic. They will not be reaching Cradle Mountain tonight.

They set out from Launceston on the road to Westbury and Deloraine.

It is already quite chilly.

Squeak squeak. The Platonic Ideal is squeaking. What can this mean?

Schopenhauer is obliged to slow right down. He regrets eating the Poached Pear Financier.

Arthur too is riding slowly. Not for any reason.

Unni is fed up.

Come on! says Unni.

Yes, come on! Full steam ahead! says Captain Louttit, sticking his head up from the jug in front of Schopenhauer's face.

This is too much for Schopenhauer.

He stops and places the jug containing Captain Louttit on the roadside. He rides on slowly.

Squeak squeak.

Captain Louttit looks around to see where he has landed. It looks like farmland country. Poppies, herbs, onions and potatoes. Charming!

There are two distinct ways of saying Charming! and Captain Louttit's is the second.

What's up? says Arthur who has been riding slowly for no particular reason, and has now caught up with Captain Louttit.

We have been dumped, says Captain Louttit. A mutiny has occurred.

What do you want me to do about it? says Arthur.

It's not ideal, says Captain Louttit, but you could fit us inside your blue Seahorse World bag.

No, says Arthur. I couldn't.

Then he says, What about the water?

Perhaps he is about to change his mind.

.........

But let's catch up with Gaius and Unni, who are riding faster.

They have already reached the pretty town of Westbury, the most English village in Australia. Westbury contains an excess of delights, superb buildings and lovely bays. It appears to have been preserved in aspic. The Post Office opened in 1832.

They pass a camping ground, without stopping.

At this rate they will soon be in Deloraine.

........

Schopenhauer is in between two parties, and he doesn't like it.

Why don't the ones in front of him slow down? Why doesn't Arthur speed up a little?

Where might he find a toilet?

What is the matter with his bicycle?

So many existential questions.

He stops to relieve himself behind a tree.

Scheise!

Shopenhauer remembers something.

He is supposed to be writing a philosophical article for Velosophy magazine. When is the deadline?

Here comes Arthur. No doubt he will know.

Something To Do With Saint Augustine

While Arthur is wondering if there might be jellyfish on Cradle Mountain, Unni is finding out.

No jellyfish, she says. But there are these things called Mountain Shrimps. Considered living fossils. Good thinking, Arthur! That should tempt Gaius to change his mind.

Arthur really doesn't want to go to Cradle Mountain, even if there are Mountain Shrimps there. It's a mountain. It will be freezing.

Inside the Gorge Restaurant, Shopenhauer has finished his Poached Pear Financier.

Excellent, says Schopenhauer, patting his stomach. I wonder why it's called Financier?

Gaius can't remember what the Poached Pear Financier looked like. He only remembers that it had a translucent pear on top.

Perhaps, says Gaius, it is something to do with Saint Augustine.

I doubt it, says Schopenhauer. More likely it's something to do with the cake.

Cake! says Gaius. Now I remember.

Do tell, says Schopenhauer. I am all ears.

I remember the cake, says Gaius lamely. It was rectangular.

And yellow, says Schopenhauer. Yes, perhaps we are getting to the nub of it. A gold bar reference.

Of course! says Gaius. Now I begin to wonder why mine was called Chocolate Ripple.

Don't be a fool, says Schopenhauer. Shall we order coffee? Where are those youngsters?

Arthur and Unni are just coming in the door.

Gaius, says Unni. You'll never guess what's at Cradle Mountain. Living fossils!

That should suit you, Gaius, says Schopenhauer.

Gaius looks up from the hot drinks menu sharply.

And it's not that far from here to Cradle Mountain, says Unni. About five hours ride. AND the living fossils are found in St Clair Lake, kind of south-eastish.....

Dear girl, says Gaius. What are these living fossils that you speak of?

Mountain Shrimps, says Unni. You only find them in Tasmania, above three hundred metres. And they're shrimpy, but they don't have shells......

Arthur, says Gaius. When did you tell Lisa-Ann Gershwin we would be arriving?

Arthur can see where this is heading.

Tomorrow, says Arthur. She's expecting us tomorrow.

Call her and say we'll be there the day after tomorrow, says Gaius.

Wonderful! says Schopenhauer. I look forward to visiting Cradle Mountain.

I, too, look forward to it, says Captain Louttit. As do my crew.

Wally and Goose remain their normal surf barnacle shade of grey-white with greenish tinge. But on the inside they have turned pink with pride. My crew, he called them!

So, says Gaius, after coffee, we ride to Cradle Mountain. We should arrive by early evening. No doubt there is a campsite.

A campsite? He has no idea.

Are There Jellyfish On Cradle Mountain?

Lunch is over. Arthur and Unni have both had Seafood Steak Eye Fillet Pocketed with an Oyster.

A choice that has not escaped the barnacles, and Captain Louttit.

Eating an oyster! says Goose. That's what I call grossness.

Erk! says Wally. Catch me eating an oyster.

If I did, says Captain Louttit, you would be sorry.

Eat one? says Wally.

Catch you, says Captain Louttit.

Who? says Goose.

Hypotheticals, says Captain Louttit.

It is mildly interesting to follow the intellectual progress of the barnacles, and to note that their relationship with Captain Louttit is improving.

Dessert? says Schopenhauer. Go on, why not? I shall have Poached Pear Financier.

Gaius decides on Chocolate Ripple Vacherin on Kahlua cream.

Pass, says Unni.

I pass too, says Arthur. I've got some apples.

He takes from one of the four pockets of his new military jacket a couple of Coxes Orange Pippins.

Sorry, sir, says the waiter. I must ask you to eat those outside.

Arthur goes outside, followed by Unni.

This is crunch time, says Unni.

They're not crunchy, says Arthur. They're only crunchy when you eat them straight off the tree.

Like you would know, says Unni. But I 'm not talking about apples. We're in Launceston. This is where we head west to Cradle Mountain.

If we're going, says Arthur. Gaius doesn't want to.

I know, says Unni. You have to make him want to.

Arthur thinks about how he might make Gaius want to go to Cradle Mountain.

He wonders if there might be jellyfish there.

Sometimes Good Things Just Fall Into Your Lap

Unni waits for Arthur at the top of the steps beside the Inclinator.

Arthur appears at last, in a cool black jacket.

Nice jacket, says Unni. Where'd you get it? And how did you pay for it?

Modelling, says Arthur.

A disbelieving bubble arises from the sangria jug.

Modelling! says Unni.

Yes, says Arthur. I went into Neil Pitt's, in Launceston. They were waiting for a model to come in for a photo shoot. They must have thought it was me.

Unni looks appraisingly at Arthur. Yes, at a stretch, he could be a model. He has the tousled hair, the piercing blue eyes. But how could they have thought......

You told them, says Unni. You said you were the model.

Yes, says Arthur. And they made me put this jacket on.

It's wicked, says Unni. Kind of military looking.

It's evolved menswear, says Arthur. A Bossini button-through double-pocket jacket with a Johnny collar. Based on early twentieth century conflicts.

Did they give you any pants? asks Unni. It looks weird with purple paisley board shorts.

I had to take them off, says Arthur, regretfully.

Unni decides not to probe him any more.

.........

From the bottom of the Inclinator, Schopenhauer spots Unni and Arthur.

Come on down! he cries. Lunch is on me!

Really! says Unni. That's all very well but what am I do about his bicycle?

I'll take it down, says Arthur. Then I'll come back up for mine. You wait here.

( Arthur now feels like a man used to military conflicts and logistics).

He thumps the Platonic Ideal down the steps, spilling saline solution, ( thump, thump, thump), annoying Captain Louttit.

Wally and Goose watch Captain Louttit's face.

You can learn a lot from watching someone's face, says Wally.

If they have a face, says Goose.

He has and we haven't, says Wally. What does that mean?

The barnacles are beginning to question their  place in the scheme of things.

......

At last the members of the cycling party are sitting at a table with a view in the Gorge Restaurant.

Not the Kiosk. Schopenhauer is in a generous mood.

Have whatever you like from the menu, says Schopenhauer. I shall have the Mushroom and Caramelised Leek Parcel, with sweet potato and chilli jam.

Gaius chooses Eye Fillet Steak with Red Onion Marmalade.

It's that sort of menu. Brilliant. Awesome. Wow.

We Are The Smart Ones Now

The two rescued barnacles are once again in the sangria jug, under Captain Louttit.

Where's whats-er-name? asks one barnacle, of the other.

Gone, says the other barnacle. Looks like WE might be the smart ones now.

You know what? says the first one. She weren't all that smart though. If she were smart she would've had a name.

Yer? says the other one. Let's get names then. Let's ask Captain Louttit.

Shut up, down there! roars Captain Louttit.

Noo! says the first one. Let's not. That won't do.

Goose! says the other.

Wally! says the first.

And so it is decided. The first step on the road to being smarter is to have a name.......

..........

It is cold in Tasmania. We all know that. Today will be a maximum of fourteen. Hello autumn.

.........

Unni and Arthur are riding side by side.

You look cold says Unni. You need a jacket.

I'll get one in Launceston, says Arthur.

......

They arrive in Launceston. Unni has decided they will all have lunch at Cataract Gorge. They follow Basin Road to the Inclinator.

The Inclinator is a people mover, a glass-walled compartment on rails. You can travel in it from the entrance at the top of the cataract down to the grassed area and Basin at the bottom. There you will see the First Basin with the South Esk running through it, a swimming pool, a kiosk, a suspension bridge, a restaurant and peacocks.

What an excellent contraption, says Gaius. Pity.

........

Schopenhauer travels down on the Inclinator, because he has the inclination.

Gaius wheels his bicycle down the steps.

Unni waits at the top with her bike and the Platonic Ideal, with Captain Louttit, Goose and Wally in the basket.

She is waiting for Arthur, who has gone to Launceston to acquire a jacket.

Time ticks by. What is holding Arthur up?

..........

Gaius and Schopenhauer are admiring Cataract Gorge and First Basin from the bottom. They try to see it as it was first seen by William Collins on the Lady Nelson, in 1804.

(They have been to the Interpretation Centre).

"The  Beauty of the Scene is probably not surpassed in the World". (One may agree with William Collins)

.....

But where is Unni? Where is Arthur? When is lunch?

Why are there peacocks?

I Miss My Habitat

Helen might trip over a particularly stringy patch of calystegio sepium. But she doesn't.

She walks away, with the pregnant educated surf barnacle in her pocket.

She walks along the river path and meets up with Angela, another disjunct naturalist..

It is nearly lunch time. They sit down to eat some snacks.

Helen pulls her snack pack out of her pocket, with the pregnant educated surf barnacle attached.

Look at this, says Helen.

Angela looks.

A surf barnacle! says Angela. What a turn up for the books. Where exactly did you find it?

Right beside that patch of calystegio sepium near the boardwalk, says Helen. I'll go back later when those people have gone. There may be more of them.

There are more! squeaks the pregnant educated surf barnacle.

This time Helen hears her.

How many more? asks Helen.

Two, says the pregnant educated surf barnacle. I'm the smart one.

You must miss your friends says Angela, a sentimentalist.

I miss my HABITAT! cries the pregnant educated surf barnacle. I like heavy wave action! I am normally found on rocky sea ledges just above the tube worm zone.

Well, we all know that, says Helen. What are you doing here then?

I was brought here against my will in a sangria jug on the orders of Captain Louttit, says the pregnant educated surf barnacle, unwittingly getting it wrong and sealing her fate at the same time.

Helen looks at Angela. Angela smiles sweetly and looks sympathetic.

Bad luck, Helen. It's not a strictly a disjunct population.

Helen shrugs, and chucks the pregnant educated surf barnacle into the Tamar.

Calamity!

But it may not be all bad though. The Tamar is saline and tidal.

It will be a tame life for her 2000-odd surf barnacle larvae, but not impossible.

..........

Come on, says Unni. Lunch in Launceston!

Good, says Gaius. We're moving on. Arthur, have you got that barnacle?

Yes, says Arthur, although he hasn't.

He suspects that Helen has made off with it.

In the grass he spots two barnacles, half hidden.

He picks them up and drops them in the jug.